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Seasons of NINE YEARS…

Many of you have heard that we were in San Antonio this weekend for their independent Christian film festival and that we were thrilled for Seasons of Gray to win the Audience Choice Award for best film at the festival. We were so encouraged by the kind words and overwhelming supportive responses of so many. I’ve come away with a lot to think about, a lot to chew on and a lot to be thankful for. And I just wanted to take a minute and share just a few of those things…

First, the journey to making Seasons has been, by no means, conventional. It has been a journey of faith and a labor of love that has not fit any mold or formula other than us learning to continually ask, along with others, God, what do you want us to do and give us the strength to do it. Aside from the actual production of content, the journey has been, to Paul and me, a lab for learning a thousand different things… how to communicate with each other through differences, how to celebrate each other’s strengths and not compete against them, how to persevere when the passion for something dwindles (which sometimes happens over NINE YEARS), how to receive direction from the Lord one step at a time without the comforting illusion of long term security, how to remain grounded in our sense of the Lord’s calling without riding the waves of public opinion… a lot of growing took place through this process. A lot of growing still needs to take place and is continuing to take place as we face one crazy turn after crazy twist still. But the specific, singular point that I am getting to, which I know you are surprised to find out exists after this paragraph, is: We cannot let ourselves underestimate the value of the journey because we are so fixated on the destination. Oh, I am such a destination person, with every fiber of my being, and the Lord is so determined to break me of it, for which I bless His name a thousand times. I am a slow learner sometimes, becoming too attached to desired outcomes and seeing everything that seems to stand in the way of those outcomes as my enemy. But if Isaiah 46:10  is true when God says: “My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please”, then the outcomes can be left to Him (which may or may not line up with my ideas or expectations). And the life if found in knowing Him and trusting Him and obeying Him all along the way, no matter what comes.

Secondly, while down at the festival we had so many people give us such gracious compliments on our work. And while it was extremely encouraging to hear, and while we are unbelievably grateful for the roles God has allowed us to play throughout this endeavor, I have been so overwhelmed by the reality of what it took to get to this point… it took hundreds, if not thousands of people. They gave their money. They gave their creative energy. They gave their summer. They gave their stuff. They gave. They gave. They gave. And you will see their names on the screen for a moment at the end of the film, and if you know them personally, you will no doubt remember stories of blood, sweat and tears from a hot summer in Texas a few years back… but in moments like Saturday night where five of us got up on a stage for two minutes in front of a thousand people and were handed a glass trophy, I wanted to shout, you have no idea!!! You don’t know how Jordan Thompson got there early and stayed late or how Sara Fusco navigated location issues under circumstances that would have been laughable had the viability of the entire production not been hanging in the balance. Or how we worked all night and then went home to rest- except Lisa Doolittle and her team who went and worked some more. Or how Karen Bundren figured out how to feed masses of people while losing a loved one and wouldn’t even let me send her home.

And people watched our boys so I could be on set, and let me tell you from personal experience- I would die for my children but those volunteers did not sign up for a glamorous job when they contributed to the film that way. And there were a handful of people who supported us long before anybody else knew what we were doing or were excited about it… they gave quietly and prayed faithfully before we put one frame on a screen or won any award. And you will see Austin Walker’s name and Amy Levy’s and Tamara Smith’s, but if you knew what they did day after day, you would know how inadequate it felt to get up on stage with four other people Saturday night.

Not that those who served did it to be recognized or praised by others for their efforts. It’s just, the whole thing reminded me that we serve One who is always there and always sees. He knows when we give and how we labor and what we sacrifice, even if no one else on this earth understands. And I think of Paul’s words in Colossians 3:23-24…

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

So to everyone who has joined in this crazy journey over the last NINE YEARS, I just want to say, it has been such an incredible privilege to serve with you. Who knows what outcomes the Lord has planned?

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. – Proverbs 16:9

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by sarahonpurpose on February 28, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by sarahonpurpose on February 28, 2012

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Two years at Willow…

I was thinking about it last week when he trotted into my house… the little boy who has trotted into my house hundreds of times. He came in one afternoon last week and greeted me in his little man-ish way, and I gave him a smile and called out his name. And I was happy to see him.

And the happiness struck me because though it’s been there for a while, it has not always been this way. Scores of times he knocked at our door and my heart sunk at the sound. Maybe because he is the type of person one might consider (that I might consider) “high-maintenance” or “extra grace required” or some other completely ungodly designation. I cringe as I confess it, but there it is. And honestly, is there any other kind of human? Are some of us gifts to God and others just baggage He has to carry?

Anyway, I did not know he was God’s gift to me. I could not envision that he would be such an instrument of God in my life, because I was so blinded by the way he obliterated all boundaries and respect for my personal space. And so many days he came knocking so many times each day. And I tired of it. I tired of him… my flesh feeling almost at times like he held me hostage. In my subconscious justification of myself, I wordlessly argued that I was already giving enough time and energy, and this little boy was just asking for too much.

I wrestled with it for months though, because it felt so unloving. But it wasn’t. There was plenty of love. Love for my time. Love for my space. Love for my comfort. Love for my control over my schedule. And I remember praying last summer, “Lord, remind my heart that he is the fatherless.” And I remember that even the very day I prayed it, this little boy came over and shared for the first time about losing his dad. Sometimes God can be quite clear about prayers He is willing to answer.

And at some point God changed my heart for him. And changed my heart through him. I’m not sure when it happened. Maybe it was while we were reading stories or sharing a snack or making Christmas cookies or playing whiffle ball in the cul de sac, but when he walked in my house last week and I smiled to see him, I thought about it then… how God has used that little boy to bring me closer to Jesus.

And He did not do it through asking me to “set healthy boundaries” or “find the right balance” or other beautiful sounding things that offer the undeniable appeal of moderation. The Lord asked no less than the complete death of my will. And maybe because He knew how reluctant I can be to truly– truly– offer everything, he graciously sent a little boy to demand it. Every day.

And in the journey of submitting, He exposed how selfishness resides so stubbornly in me still, revealed more how extravagant the love of Christ is, taught me deeper how to discover joy in surrender and filled a little piece of the gap in a young boy’s life who doesn’t know any better than to ask for someone to fill it.

And my flesh would have skipped it all to have more quiet afternoons???

Two years ago this week we moved to this place. And I marvel still in gratitude at how God has used it in our lives to shatter our own kingdoms and increase our hunger for His.

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by sarahonpurpose on February 21, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by sarahonpurpose on February 21, 2012

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My Funny Valentine

There are a lot of qualities I believe go a long way in a relationship. Being a good listener. Possessing a consistent sensitivity to others. Having a relentless commitment to forgiveness. Also it helps if one of you is funny.

This works out well for me since the love of my life also happens to be a riot. Just the other day, he proved this once again when we were hanging out with our three boys and the two kids we mentor. With five feverishly energy-fueled kids and a few hours of free time to fill, Paul Stehlik had the hilarious audacity to suggest we go… wait for it…

to the eyeglasses store… to pick out glasses for, not one, but two members of our family. And this eyeglasses store happened to not be in the middle of a playground, as any normal person would hope it would be if they were taking five children there. It happened to be in Northpark Mall. On a Saturday.

But was Paul Stehlik deterred by this in the least? No. Because not only does he have a fabulous sense of humor, he is also brave beyond all sanity. This is another great quality he possesses.

So there we were, mixing seamlessly into the crowd at Eyemasters. Wait, I forgot I was talking about us. So there I was, watching Noah and D’Kyiran try on all the fabulous eyewear, while Sam was knocking the demo lenses out of their display case, while Ben was spinning the chair that didn’t completely knock the woman standing behind it to the floor. Her cat-like balance was most impressive. And while I was a little nervous that I couldn’t find Haylee in the mix of all this, I realized it was only because her statue skillz are Ah.maz.ing. It took me a few minutes before I realized that cute little pink-clad model in the store-front glass striking a pose with one hand on hip and the other in the air was actually my mentee.

But this is the beauty of having a spouse with humor, because while I was honestly starting to fray a little bit- and defying logic by still actually trying to find frames for Noah- Paul Stehlik had not lost his sense of humor at all and came to my side like the real life Rescue Hero he is. He sent me and Noah off with the glasses man for a fitting while he took over the troops.

And when I say “took over the troops”, I mean “he came back over to me a few minutes later by himself .”

By. him. self.

I think the half curious, half terror-stricken look on my face made him feel like I wanted to know where the four little human energy bombs were, to which this was his reply:

I sent them out to do some exploring.

I can hardly type this right now I am laughing so hard. But by my silent, blank stare in that moment I think he felt he should offer me some sort of reassurance, so he said, “There’s safety in numbers, right?”

Oh, Paul Stehlik, you crack me up. It wasn’t our four children you sent out that I was worried about. It was the rest of the general, unsuspecting public.

But you know what? They survived. And so did we. And Paul Stehlik, beloved, you created a few moments of bonding with precisely zero injuries sustained and no collateral damages inflicted whatsoever. You walk on the wild side sometimes, but somebody give me a shovel cuz you know I dig it deep down.

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by sarahonpurpose on February 13, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by sarahonpurpose on February 13, 2012

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The Child Asks Me a Question…

It starts and ends here: the child asks me a question.

“Mommy, can you come to Friday chapel today?” my six year old says. I tell him that I would love to do it another time but that I can’t today.

“Oh. Are you going to jail?” he asks.

“Yes,” I tell him.

And I spend the morning visiting and worshiping with the group of women I wrote about back here.

I listen to their small group discussion over the Bible lesson. It’s the rich young ruler we discuss, and we all at that metal table find our likeness somewhere in his shoes… wanting to hold onto Jesus and something else too… willing to fall on our knees and cry “You are good” yet not quite believing He’s good enough to leave everything for. We contemplate the young man’s response to Christ’s recitation of the law. He says, “I have kept all these since I was a boy.” I read his words and my heart says, “Bull. You have not. I know that game. That false sense of satisfactory performance. As if the sinful human who has truly lived under the law would have the audacity to stand over the law and say ‘done’.” The rich young ruler speaks my native language and it is pride, and I am on to him because I was him.

Then one of the inmates reads her own words scrawled in her workbook. She has not lived under any delusion of self-righteousness. Not for a long time. She knows her unworthiness. And the tears that redden her eyes as she shares her gratitude for God’s grace bring to mind Jesus’ words to the religious leaders in Matthew 21:31 “…The tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

Literally.

Nonetheless, the women I sit with at that table are living with very challenging realities… lives marked with sure consequences, some of which will remain with them for the remainder of their time on this earth. And as I look around at each of them I think how might your life had been different had you started walking with Christ twenty years ago? If someone had intervened when you were…

It is the previous afternoon and I am at Edison Middle School… which is very different from my recollections of junior high. For instance, none of my friends had probation officers. Nor did we have full time police officers patrolling our campus. None of my classmates ever spent the day running up and down the hall screaming profanities, taunting the authorities to “come and get him” and then hiding all over the place until finally apprehended by the cops. We were real small town like that.

One of the older students wanders the hall past my perch at the welcome desk, and I ask him where he’s supposed to be. He mumbles that he walked out of so and so’s class because she threw a book at him and hit him upside the head and now his head hurts. I smile and tell him to get back to class and stop giving his teacher reasons to throw things at him. He smiles, knowing that he has not fooled me with his innocence but complains again that his head hurts. I shake my head, tell him I’m pretty sure he can handle himself and urge him to go learn just one thing. “Just one thing,” I plead with him, “You can do that.” And to my surprise he nods and goes.

Maybe.

It was a hard afternoon honestly. Hard to see the power of grace through so much broken. So. Much. Broken. The parade of f-bombs past my desk as the kids change classes makes me sit there and think how do you get this hard by middle school? How are things this broken this early in life? And even before…

It is hours earlier in the morning when I am at Carver Elementary to work with my kindergartners, trying in meager minutes to make up gaps that are already widening and stretching like a canyon between them and a future of hope and fullness. I walk into the class with all those little bodies hopping around. Like fleas.

Really. They are 70% human, 30% flea at that age.

Their teacher, who is also part angel, welcomes me with her beautiful gray hair and tired smile. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it, Sarah,” she says with a laugh. And amid the sea of hugs that the little crowd of flea-humans come to give, one little girl calls to me. She is tiny, and she is the one I wrote about here. And the child asks me a question:

Are you still praying for me???

Yes, sweetheart. I am praying like mad. Like a person with eyes wide open to what might so easily lie ahead for you and wide open to the so much better– so much better– that might otherwise lie ahead for you. I am praying like mad.

 

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by sarahonpurpose on February 3, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by sarahonpurpose on February 3, 2012

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Letters on Life, vol II

Dear…

… rainy gray skies, you are beautiful. And though the lovely women who teach my precious children are no doubt feeling the brunt of your recess-thieving force, I am loving you.

… Sonya Carson, I just read the first three chapters in the story of your son’s life. You remind me of the staggering privilege of motherhood, and your perseverance kindles the fear of God in me.

… upstairs boys’ bathroom, I don’t know what they did to you. I am very, very sorry. For you and me both.

… Christy Nockels, would you please just come stay in my living room singing this song all the time? I couldn’t really pay you… or give you sanitary bathroom facilities either at this point. But I would be so happy.

… teenage neighbor, you apologized for disturbing me when you and I had an interesting afternoon with the Dallas Police and fire department. No apology necessary. God is going after you, and to be brought in for a closer view was one of the highlights of my week.

… Paul Stehlik, thanks for being willing to do brave things like battle through the unknown, talk about how you feel, and look our children square in the eyes and tell them we’re having oatmeal again for breakfast. I could not love you more.

 

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by sarahonpurpose on January 25, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by sarahonpurpose on January 25, 2012

http://thestehlikchronicles.com/2012/01/25/letters-on-life-vol-ii/

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