What To Do When You Disagree With A Fellow Believer

"MOM!!!!" 

I always knew that particular sound.  The one that said someone was angry.  It might be that someone stepped on his feelings, it might just be that someone stepped on his cookie, but he wasn't happy.  It was an angry brother.

And when my boys were young and prone to disagreements, I was hearing that angry cry far too often and became a little desperate in looking for a way to help them move past their differences and celebrate the sheer fact that they were brothers.  I often tried lecturing, but I knew they really didn't need to hear a lot of preaching.  They knew everything I was trying to tell them already, they just didn't want to do it in the heat of being wronged.  I needed something else.

And that's how it was born.  A simple tactic, really, but it seemed like it was magic in how effective it was.  First, I would make them stop. 

"Just stop what you're doing and look at each other."  This was usually followed by unhappy stares, but also silence, so that was a win.

"Now, put your arms around each other."  This would be followed by grumpy grunts, with chubby arms stretching to circle around someone's midsection.

"Okay, repeat after me."  Silence.

"I like you."  Sometimes a pause, but eventually two voices in unison, "I like you."

"I love you."  Another pause, followed by, "I love you."

"I highly respect you."  Getting faster now.  "I highly respect you."

"I greatly esteem you."  I'm not sure they even knew what this word meant when we started, but they figured out by context it wasn't the slam they were wanting to give.  "I greatly esteem you."

"And I think you smell good."  And that's where it worked.  Every.  Single.  Time.  Because when you're a pre-school boy, you just instinctively know that not only does your brother decidedly not smell good, you don't either.  So somehow, saying those words produced giggles and guffaws and sheepish faces.  And after the shared laughter, there was some kind of bond, some grubby little olive branch that helped them move past the offense.

Granted, we still sat down and hashed things out when they needed to be, but this simple act put it all in perspective.  We are family.  We don't just love each other because we have to, we like each other and we respect each other.  We speak to each other with honor.

And in this tense political season, with harsh words flying all around our culture's airwaves, I find myself wanting to have a family meeting with other followers of Jesus Christ.  Because we are family.  And even when we disagree, we shouldn't be grudging with our affection.  Jesus calls us to a much higher level of accountability than that.

In fact, his words were "love each other as I have loved you." (John 15:12)  And I am so grateful that my Jesus didn't love me begrudgingly, holding out his affection and respect for me until I towed the line in every aspect.  If He had waited until my thoughts were in perfect alignment with His before He allowed Himself to esteem me, or even like me, I would still be lonely and afraid apart from Him.

But, instead, He took me as I was.  And He loved me in the most honoring way any person could love another.  He gave His life for me.

And so, if I could call that huge family meeting for Christ's brothers and sisters, I'd make them put their arms around each other and look each other in the eye.  I'd remind them that no one group has it all figured out.  There's always places where we don't yet smell so great.  But, it doesn't mean we won't.  And it doesn't mean we should be treated without honor while we search for the bubble bath.

"I like you.  I love you.  I highly respect you.  I greatly esteem you.  And I think you smell good---it must be the fragrance of Christ."  (2 Corinthians 2:15)

My Favorite Day

After 20 years of marriage, my husband and I have recently had a new experience.   A weekly day all to ourselves.  Technically, I guess it’s not completely new.  There were those 16 months we had alone before our first baby was born.  But, that’s been so long ago, we can’t remember much about them.  And after years of pre-schoolers and homeschoolers, we now have all of our kids in school and also have the same day off from work. 

Fridays.  Fridays are the new Christmas.

Because that’s what it feels like.  A gift!  Every single week.  An entire day of coffee, gym time, errands, lunch, laundry, naps, yard work.  It doesn’t really matter what we do.  It’s just a gift to have an entire day to be together.   To talk if we want to talk.  To not talk if we want silence.  To just be, even if we need to get things done.  To be together.

And I believe we consider it a gift because those moments have been rare while raising four kids.  Not that I begrudge one moment of the crazy and the chaos of a big family.  I just appreciate the stillness when it comes, and appreciate it even more when the man I fell in love with is in the same room with me.

And the most joyful part of Fridays?  Realizing we still love being in the same room.  Even after all these years of working in the same office and growing the kids in the same house, I like having him around.  Another gift.  Being alone with someone and still liking them.

Every Monday, I already look forward to Friday.

And it occurred to me sometime today that there is someone who feels that same way about me.  Someone who loves our alone time.  Someone who counts down the days until we can be together, just me and Him.  Someone who still likes me, even though He’s known me for forty years.  Someone who hasn’t even once gotten bored with me.

In this moment, I could listen to the guilty musings that I don’t return His affection properly.  I could meditate on all the time wasted on trivial distractions instead of in His presence.  And I could try to fix it with checklists and schedules.

Or I could just let Him woo me.  Like a wife responding to the husband who adores her and wants to spend the day with her.  I could turn from the crazy and the chaos and enter into the place where He is.  And the place where He is waiting to be. 

To be with me.

 A list of discussion topics for your time alone with your spouse, or maybe even for your time alone with the One who loves you most:

* What is a dream you have for you?

* What is a dream you have for us?

* What is your favorite memory of us?

* What is the most beautiful place we’ve ever been together?

* Where would you most like to go together in the future?

* Why do you like me?

* Who do I remind you of?

* How would you most like to spend a day together, if money or location was not an obstacle?  (Then make plans to get as close as you can to your dream, even if it means substituting a local landmark for the Eiffel Tower.)

Your Great High Priest

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet he did not sin."    - Hebrews 4:15


If you've been judged for giving grace to a sinner...He has, too.  (Luke 7:36-50)

If you've been judged for speaking the truth in love...He has, too.  (John 6:25-66)

If you've been lied about and maligned...He has, too.  (Matthew 12:22-24)

If you've had your words twisted and used against you...He has, too.  (Mark 15:29)

If your intentions have been misinterpreted...His have, too.  (John 12:12-13)

If you've looked at the task you've been called to and wished there was another way...He has, too.  (Luke 22:42)

If you've been deserted by everyone who once committed to stay...He has, too.  (Mark 14:50)

If you've been betrayed by the one who professed to be a friend...He has, too.  (Mark 14:43-46)

If you've been pierced by the ones you're trying to help...He has, too.  (John 19:2, 18,34)

And then, from the cross, unrecognizable as a man, He prayed this prayer,

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."  (Luke 23:34)

And you can, too.

Because your priest, the healer of your soul, was never buried into bitterness or apathy.  

He did not quit.

He rose. 

He rose from the tomb and into His Father's arms. 

He rose from the vile accusations of man and into the light of truth.

He rose from the disgrace of being naked on a cross and into the glorious realm that had never ceased to proclaim His majesty.

He rose to make a way for the very ones who scorned him to come to the Father.

And if the Spirit of this beautiful man has taken up residence in you, then you need not die by the criticisms or rejections of mankind.  You, too, can rise above them.  You, too, can extend forgiveness.  (Colossians 3:13)

And to journey forward, you need only look for approval from one pair of eyes.  Eyes that won't be hard to find if you refuse to stare into the gaze of judgment.


For they have never stopped looking at you.  (Romans 8:34)

It Takes All Kinds

Our family came across a poster this last week that caused a good laugh in our house.  It read, "Introverts UNITE.....separately....in your own rooms."

Because we have a full house of six people that is also pretty evenly divided when it comes to introverts and extroverts, we could see the humor.  The extrovert bunch love to go and do, they love crowds, and they are energized by being around people.  The introvert bunch loves the moments of solitude (hard to come by in a house our size), intimate moments with close friends, and being energized by quiet reflection and creative endeavors.

Neither are wrong.  Just different from each other.

But, I also came across a passage by theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer this week that carries a warning to both.

“Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community. Alone you stood before God when he called you; alone you had to answer that call; alone you had to struggle and pray; and alone you will die and give an account to God. You cannot escape from yourself; for God has singled you out. If you refuse to be alone you are rejecting Christ’s call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called.”

“But the reverse is also true. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone.  Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray. You are not alone, even in death, and on the Last Day you will be only one member of the great congregation of Jesus Christ. If you scorn the fellowship of the brethren, you reject the call of Jesus Christ, and thus your solitude can only be hurtful to you.”

“We recognize, then, that only as we are within the fellowship can we be alone, and only he that is alone can live in the fellowship. Only in the fellowship do we learn to be rightly alone and only in aloneness do we learn to live rightly in the fellowship."

“Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone.”       (from Life Together, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

So, like everything else in life, balance is required. 

My introverted self needs community to be sharpened.  My extroverted friends need some quiet time to deal with their own hearts.

And we get to live life together...just sometimes in our own rooms.

Love Tanks and Simple Acts

This past month was "Pastor's Appreciation" month.  It just might be my family's favorite four weeks out of the year, made fun by the fact that our church appreciates us well.  This last Sunday, all six of us sat in the living room floor and read a huge stack of notes and letters that had been given to us by our congregation that morning.  They had been handed to us in a huge bucket the church had titled our "love tank."  And those letters really did fill our love tanks. 

Some were short, some were long, all were encouraging, and all were precious. 

My children have only ever known the life of being pastor's children, and I believe they handle it well.  My husband and I have worked hard to help them understand that while they are our "first church," we also serve a body.  And that service will require sacrifice and will require it often.  They have become used to Dad needing to step out of the room to answer a phone call or leave for the office again after he's already come home for the evening because someone needs him.  They understand that much of the weekend, when they are home from school, is his busiest "work" time.  They have made peace with the truth that their parents "jobs" involve ministering to people's hearts, and people's hearts still have needs after regular business hours.

So, it was a joy for me to include them in the reading of the letters.  To see them receive the encouragement, thanks, and respect that came through the lines of the many, many pages.  It was a joy because I knew they were being able to see their dad's sacrifice, as well as the sacrifices we make as a family, are worth it. 

Yes, they will always come first.  And they know they have complete access to us, whenever they need us.

But, they also now they are appreciated for the way they share us.

And all because people took the time to put pen to paper and let their thoughts be known.

Such a simple act.  Such profound results.

Whose love tank do you need to fill today?

My First Love

This is the second post I've written today.  The first is finished.  And it ministered powerfully---to me. 

I realized as I was writing it that it couldn't be shared.  It was just a conversation between me and the God who loves me.

And it was beautifully refreshing.

I'm beginning to understand that when I'm processing something and I seek to "talk it out" too early with a friend, my spouse, or even on a blog post, I can tend to cut short the finished work. 

We all need sounding boards (especially women!), but what happens when I do not allow Jesus to be the first to hear and to speak?  What do I miss by rushing to the input of the world instead of first sitting at His feet?

Yes, I have people who listen and listen well.  They exhort me and edify me, often reminding me of God's truths when I have trouble remembering.  I hold on to them in gratefulness.

But, I do have a first love.

And He has a cup of coffee, sweetened just the way I like it sitting beside Him at His table. 

I'm fairly certain it's my dream house table, a shabby farmhouse type with some vintage linens and plate ware. 

And I have a chair waiting for me right beside Him. 

My first love. 

My love whose eyes light up when I take a seat and put my hand in His.

Taking His Name

Our sixteenth wedding anniversary was last week.  My husband surprised me with a one-night trip to a bed and breakfast in the Texas Hill Country.  The Haven River Inn is run by a Christian couple who minister to ministers by providing a place of retreat, and we were refreshed just being there together, rocking on the big wrap-around porch.

He had one other surprise up his sleeve, as well.  He had made a donation to the ministry there in my honor, and in return, they placed a lovely brick on the walkway to the river.

Due to to the fact that he married a woman who is not always watching where she's going, my beloved had to stand over said brick and cough loudly several times before I finally saw it.  But, when I did, I was astounded. 

Our name.  For all to see. 

Only, it wasn't always my name.  My maiden name was Davis.  Quite simple and easy to spell.  Now, it's von Atzigen.  Quite difficult all around.

Seeing it there in print reminded me of a sermon my husband preached a couple of years ago about the joys of changing your name to "Christian" when you become a follower of Jesus.  I think I can relate to the fact that it can be difficult to change your identity, to take on a new name.  But, I will also shout it from the mountains that it's worth it. 

Being known as HIS is worth it.

It's worth every little piece of sacrifice.  Because HE is worth it.



From the author:  If you have a few minutes, I invite you to listen to this humorous excerpt of that message as my husband invites me to explain just why it's worth it....

Click here to listen.  (recording is about 6 minutes long)  You may wish to scroll to the bottom of this page and pause the music before you link to the message.

True Love?

I've sat in a quiet house for over an hour this evening.  The kids went to bed a little late, squeezing in the finishing of homework and evening showers.  My tired husband joined them in sleep not long after.  I told him I would be turning in soon, but I haven't been able to follow through.  It's because of the silence.  I needed it.  And if I sleep, I'll miss it. 

There is not one thing I would change about our happy home or the beautifully loud people in it.  They fill every sun-filled hour with giggles and shouts and the thumps of wrestling and questions and still more laughter.  I adore the sounds in our house.

But, my days are so filled with the noise of taking care of the people I love, I sometimes hunger for the silence that takes care of my own heart.  The kind of silence that invites my mind to slow itself into a pause.  The kind of silence that wraps itself around and shields from the laundry undone and the floor unswept.  The kind of silence that beckons my Jesus to speak into the inmost parts of my soul.

It's why I lept at the opportunity to take an hour and a half drive to run an errand for my husband last week.  All alone on my beloved Texas roads, the hills capped with a rare snow.  Sometimes music, sometimes not.  Just me.  And Him.

I read once that you know you have true love if you can sit together for an hour in silence and not feel awkward in the least. 

I think we're there, He and I. 

The Mystery of One Flesh

^"And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again."   - 2 Corinthians 5:15

Sometimes it helps to put Scripture in a personal context.  "And he died for me, that I should no longer live for myself but for him who died for me and was raised again."

It also sometimes helps to focus on only a few words.  "That I should no longer live for myself, but for Him."

I understand this best when I look at my life as a single woman compared to my life as it is joined with another human, creating that mysterious "one flesh."

Before I was married, my choices were just that.  They were mine.  If they stayed that way after marriage, we would definitely have a problem.

Out of love and honor for him, I consult my husband on anything important, and often on things seemingly unimportant.  Out of love and honor for me, he does the same.  Just this morning, as I passed through the living room and saw him in his recliner with his fuzzy morning hair and cup of coffee in hand, I was overcome with the thought, "There's not another person in the world I would rather have joined myself to."  And that is exactly what I've done.  I've joined myself to him.  I am no longer one person making my own choices.  I am half of one flesh, as we make our choices. 

And Paul says it is the same for Christ and His church (Ephesians 5:31-32), which means I am joined to Jesus in the same way.  I no longer live for myself, but for Him.

He has already laid down His life for me, tenderly illustrating His passionate love for me on an intensely painful cross.  He has already proven His ability to be trusted, gloriously defeating sin and the grave through the resurrection.

Oh, my Jesus.  Such a glorious King.  Such a trusted friend.  Such a tender lover of my soul.

Truly, there's not another person in the world I would rather have joined myself to. 

Because that is true, why would I live any other way than for Him?  What could possibly be gained by living for myself?  How could I make even one decision on my own, without considering His desires? 

Out of love and honor for Him, I must not forget that I am no longer one person making my choices, but half of one flesh with the One who loves me most.

"And he died for me, that I should no longer live for myself but for him who died for me and was raised again."

The Perfect Wedding Dress

I made a decision to be a follower of Christ at the tender age of seven, almost three decades ago now.  Decades that translate to so many seasons I've spent discovering His goodness, seeing my life transformed into His likeness.  So many years to watch how He works, tracing the patterns of His grace through time.

And for years I've been following a thread, tracking it from the fruit I see around me back to His heart.  Every time I see evidence of it, I am provoked to amazement, for how can He be this good? 

The fellowship of the believers.  The communion of the saints.  The church as the bride.  All names for the thread I've watched weave itself back and forth for years in the lives of those around me, producing fabric of indescribable beauty and incredible strength.

I noticed it for sure the first time on the mission field to Mexico at the age of sixteen, listening to Spanish speaking believers pray with fervency.  I didn't understand their words, but I had no problem joining my prayers to theirs, knowing the God we prayed to understood us both.

I saw it again the first time my husband and I attended a new smallgroup.  We sat with people we had just met and shared our revelations about Scripture, our questions about the same, and what we saw God doing in our lives.  We didn't know these people, yet they could relate to every word we uttered because He was doing the same in their own journeys.

I celebrated it in the Czech Republic when the wife of a pastor and I prayed together with the help of an interpreter, both of us hungering for the same things and desiring the same touch from God as we lived lives thousands of miles apart.  And again in Poland.  And again in Austria.  And again in Guatemala.  And again in Brazil.

I marvel at it when I pick up a book written by a believer who I will never meet and discover the questions I have asked have already been asked in his mind and the answers I have sought are being freely shared, for the Kingdom of Heaven is all about giving and receiving.

I stand in awe of it when I listen to a living room full of ordinary people pray over a family they have just met, their prayers specific and accurate not because of years spent with one another, but because their hearts are knit together by the presence of the Holy Spirit.

The fellowship of the believers. 

The communion of the saints. 

The church as the bride.

How beautifully He clothes her.

How grateful I am to have been woven in.