As I write this, I am flipping through my well-loved, well-traveled Bible — the margins of which I’ve been writing in since I received it upon my high school graduation. The content of these margins is all the proof one needs that how you read and understand the Bible changes drastically over the years. These notes are a good reminder that what I once read as absolutely concrete and beyond human influence, I now read through the various lenses of my upbringing, experiences, education, relationships, and work. As I began searching for a particularly meaningful passage to me, all I needed to do was to follow the highlighting and scribbles. I remember believing that this book had all the answers in life, and finding myself continually disappointed as I got deeper and deeper into my social work career, and finding that for me, it didn’t.  

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I have fond memories of going to Sunday School as a kid. My family was active in the United Methodist church we attended, and my classes there were always filled with friends and caring teachers. I recall the upper elementary class being particularly fun. About once a month, the teachers would draw a huge diamond on the whiteboard, and we would play Bible Baseball. It was my favorite! We divided into two teams to answer Bible trivia in order to score singles, doubles, and home runs.

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Since the Co-Position position has been shared, the search committee has been actively reviewing candidates who have submitted materials. As of January 5, 2020, we had received about 23 candidate submissions! We have been impressed with the quality and diversity of backgrounds. The team reviewed 10 applicants very closely, and based on that review, decided 9 of those applicants will move onto the next round.

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The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. - Psalm 9:9

Shame is universal and started in the garden of Eden. God covered our shame over and over, but Christ absorbed it once and for all at the Cross. We get that intellectually, but those of us who have been abused hear other voices — voices of condemnation and humiliation. Our shame seems so much deeper. It can easily enter our souls like deadly venom.

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Despite hearing countless sermons over my life and attending Bible studies and reading the Bible myself, it's hard to pinpoint when something I read or heard made a direct impact on my living and behavior. One instance I specifically remember is when I read the Mary and Martha passage from Luke 10 as part of a Bible study. It was near the holidays, and back then one of my sisters hosted both a Thanksgiving and Christmas gathering. I sometimes helped with the prep upon arrival. But it was post-meal, post-dessert when I'd see the dirty dishes needing to be washed and the leftovers needing to be divided and put away. And since I didn't do the bulk of the preparations, I felt I should help with the clean-up. Not everyone was aware of the need or interested in helping. Sometimes multiple people chipped in, and with more people it's more fun and goes quicker. 

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I stopped reading my bible three years ago. I removed it from its long-inhabited home in my nightstand and put it in a cabinet. Behind a door. Out of sight and out of mind. In reality, though, getting it out of my mind is one of those easier-said-than-done things. Growing up evangelical drilled it into me deep, impressing a narrow and rigid interpretation upon my young mind and heart.

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My grandmother was a devout Catholic, the kind that prayed the rosary every single evening. The sweetest woman in the world. I know everyone says that about their grandmother. I’ll fight you on it and I’ll win, but right now I have a word limit to observe.

Growing up Catholic I believed in the Bible, but I had no idea what it actually said. When I became a freshman in high school, I got a lot more serious about my faith and started reading it daily. It’s a habit that hasn’t stopped to this day.

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What does it mean to love all? 

For me, my most memorable experiences of “loving all” occur in Haiti...just a short 2 hour flight south of Miami. 

On the southern coast of Haiti in a tiny village of Cyvadier stands a 6,000-square foot concrete building the Haitian people call “The House of Life.” American medical volunteers together with a staff of 30 Haitians provide essential medical care to 10,000 people each year during four two-week medical clinics and weekly “urgent care” clinics. 

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I first traveled to Honduras with Imago in 2015. That week, I met two sisters, Andrea and Fanny. They are sweet and sassy, respectively. These girls keep me coming back to Honduras year after year. Do I love digging trenches and mixing concrete too? Absolutely not. But I do it anyway. Because of these relationships. I quickly formed a bond with these girls in the span of just one week five years ago. The following year, I was unable to go on the trip due to a school commitment, but wanted these girls to know that I had not forgotten them. So, I sent a photo along with my husband, Kyle (or Carlos, as he’s known in Honduras), of us together taken the year prior, as well as a brief note to let them know that I think of them often and that they are loved.

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I am supposed to write to you about giving more. It isn’t easy to do that without falling into the trap of telling you all the wonderful ways I have given of myself or all the wonderful things I have seen doing outreach work. So, I would like to challenge you to think about the idea that giving more equals really knowing the person you are giving to. Have you ever done a Secret Santa at work or school? Do you find yourself wishing for a certain name as the hat goes around and you get to draw?

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In November of 2008, we were involved in a car accident. Our SUV was t-boned after a truck pulling a trailer of horses ran a red light. We were fine, except for Libby having a few bruised ribs and a mild concussion. Everyone else involved (including the horses) was uninjured. However, our SUV was totaled. 

We were engaged at the time and in the process of figuring out how to join our two lives under one household, including finances. Thankfully, we had good insurance, so we received a payout amount for the vehicle. It was enough to basically cover the car loan plus a small sum leftover. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really enough for another down payment.  

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March 22 of this year was something I was never prepared for. I received the phone call from my sister that she had found our brother, John Fuller, dead in his bed having committed suicide. I screamed (scaring our daughter), ran up to our room and fell to my knees wailing. The days followed and the roller coaster cycle of grief began. My brother had lived a life that we considered to be so full. He was larger than life, engaged in the community, met with veterans to integrate art and healing to handle PTSD recovery, as he himself had served 17 years in the Army. We had not realized the extent of darkness that led to his death.

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We at Imago Dei Church have found ourselves again in a season of transition and waiting, as we search out a new pastoral candidate. The Leadership Team at Imago acknowledges the mixed emotions that come with any transition, especially one where we will be losing two people who have for so long been at the heart and soul of making our church run. While we anxiously await what this new phase of our church’s life will bring, I am reminded that God is never surprised by such changes. Just as he has brought us this far, he will continue to bring us into our next season of life as a church.

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I went to a small high school in a smal town. It was hard not to be part of an extracurricular. I was in nearly everything that wasn’t considered a sport. Every band (there were 3: marching, jazz and concert), scholastic bowl, musicals, plays and choir. But there was an activity that was considered a combination of music and sport: show choir (and if you’re wondering why marching band wasn’t considered a sport, ask the popular kids, who were in show choir, and not marching band).

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