Zesty Sauce: A Lesson in Compassion

So whenever I take a spiritual gifts assessment, I score horrifyingly low in compassion. Like, based on my scores, you would most likely think that I spend my free time kicking puppies and laughing at those commercials to support third world children for just pennies a day. That is not at all the case, but I have struggled most of my life with being a compassionate person.

A lot of it is my personality. If you need someone to help motivate you or provide assistance to help you work to get your life on track, I'm your girl. No matter how bad you've screwed up, if you're ready to turn it around, by all means, give me a call. We'll make a plan. We'll work through it. If you want someone to listen to you complain, while you do nothing... don't call me. Ever. I find that totally infuriating. And for a long time I just. didn't. get. it. Why would people just want to talk about how bad something sucks when they can't or won't do anything about it?

Cue a trip to BK the other day. It was probably last Sunday because by the middle of Sundays Nate and I are both always way sleep deprived and ready for some nasty fast food. When I go to Burger King, I usually get a Whopper Jr. with fries and Zesty sauce. Now, if you're not a BK pro, you may not know the magic of the Zesty sauce. It's often offered if you sub onion rings for your fries, but it's actually most magical on fries. It's the most wondrous of fast food sauces - dare I say, better than Chick-Fil-A sauce. Nate and I went through the drive-thru and as we pulled back onto the road I said, "Oh no... I forgot to ask for Zesty sauce!"

Nate mumbled, "Oh no! I'm sorry! I think we have ketchup at home..."

And as much as it pains me to say this, something fantastic happened in that moment. It was like the heavens opened and angels sang - and I had flashbacks of fat people whining about their weight while eating cheeseburgers and poor people whining about their finances while on their smartphones and so on and so forth. I was like MY HUSBAND CARES ABOUT MY ZESTY SAUCE.

Now if he would have said, "Okay, let's go back." I would have been like, "No, are you stupid?"
Or if he was like, "You'll be fine." I would have felt neglected in my Zesty sauceless mourning.

Just because he acknowledge my saucelessness, I immediately felt better.

"Wow," I said. "That was really sweet."
"What was really sweet?" Nate asked me confusedly.
"Your concern over my Zesty sauce."
"What are you talking about?" He responded. Then he looked at me for another few seconds and said, "Sorry, I'm really tired and don't know what's going on."

So it wasn't the most sincere concern, but here's what I learned: right, wrong, or otherwise, sometimes people just need you to acknowledge their pain, concern, frustration, or anger. Not fix it. Not minimize it. Just acknowledge it. It might seem like just a superfluous issue to you... Zesty sauce or the like... but when we are willing to acknowledge how people are feeling without inserting our own thoughts or judgement about their situation, we provide them with comfort just in that.

What's Holding You Back?

Occasionally, I get in ruts. I think we all do. I used to bury myself up to my neck in my rut and just mope around in it. Now, I dangerously asking myself - what's holding you back?

A rut is just that. You get stuck in one way of doing something. A habit. A belief. An acceptance of "the way it is, is the way it always will be."

So this weekend, after an awesome message on being Fully Alive at Innovate Church, I asked myself what was holding me back from being Fully Alive. I won't lie, lately I've been tired, stressed out, battling chronic headaches, and fighting what seems like my own personal dark cloud. Here are the things I immediately identified as holding me back:

Caffeine - If you're addicted to caffeine, you can probably sympathize with me on this one. I was to the point where if I didn't have the equivalent of an IV drip of coffee in my veins at all times, I would get terribly painful headaches. Also, my caffeine always came in the form of a super sugary soda or coffee- with loads of cream and sugar. Not exactly healthy.

Going out to eat - Again, not healthy. But also, TERRIBLY expensive! We had gotten in a really bad habit in March and April from how busy we were to just go grab something to eat for dinner. At work, I was buying my lunch almost every day because it was convenient and it was a way to "splurge" when I was having a stressful day.

Facebook - Yup, I love Facebook. I love the way it keeps me connected with acquaintances new and old, I love to document Blakely's firsts and post pictures... but I didn't love how much time it was consuming. I didn't love that sometimes I was picking it over spending time doing things with the people I love. And while it seemed like a great option for "vegging" I actually realized that some of the things I read on there were actually causing me more stress!

So what did I do?

I went cold turkey. ON ALL THREE OF THEM. In a weird way it helped because the nauseating and distracting headache from cutting caffeine made me considerably less inclined to miss getting on Facebook or going out to eat. I guess you could call it fasting. For me, I needed to reset, and the easiest way for me to do that was to totally cut myself off. The caffeine withdrawals are pretty much done. I haven't bought food outside our house for a couple weeks. And because I didn't even think about signing onto Facebook tonight during Nate's worship practice, Blakely and I read books, played with toys, watched some cartoons, and took a bath tonight, without any interruptions.

What's holding you back, and what are you going to do about it?

The Business of Being Jesus

Some people have really awesome, really clear ministry gifts. My best friend Holly has a huge heart for kids. She does an amazing job teaching and nurturing them. My husband's gift, among others, is that he is awesome at leading worship - both singing/playing guitar and being able to connect with people. I've never really felt like I've had that kind of gift. The closest I've felt to that is my ability to make things happen. Get things paid, get people where they need to be, get things on track... so when we started the process of planting this church, I gave myself the honorary title of Associate Pastor of Getting Sh...tuff Done. Ali Morrison, APGSD.

At first, that "job" was really fun. I got to proofread, format, and assemble Shawn's proposal that was presented to the district board to approve our church plant. Boom, accepted. Yes! There were several other really cool things that I got to do to help get Innovate off the ground.

But after a while, the fun of the job... and why I was doing it... really started to fade for me. And that was my fault.

Writing checks, scanning receipts, designing postcards and flyers, ordering things... They didn't feel like ministry. They felt like a hassle. I felt like I was helping run a business... not a church.

Oh, and you know what's really fun? When the postcards you expedited for a hefty fee don't actually end up arriving in an expedited fashion. OR when you want to strangle your bank because their computers were down when your insurance company tried to run the church's liability policy premium and your calling back and forth between the two to figure out how to resolve the payment before your policy is canceled. Oh AND everything they are looking at says Innovate Church all over it, so if you tell them to go... fly a kite... like you want to, you're really delivering that message on behalf of the whole congregation and Jesus too. *Just as a note, I managed to get thanked for my patience from all parties involved, due to the abundant grace of Jesus and how he helped me take deep breaths and count to 47,000*

But today, I got to sit in service for the first time to enjoy the worship experience, instead of serving. It was the first time since we've started the church that I've got to watch my husband lead worship. It actually brought tears to my eyes to see him fulfilling that part of his calling. Shawn delivered an amazing message. I told him it was the best sermon I've ever heard, and I'll stick with that. And as I sat in worship, I was so humbled and honored to have been able to support the amazing things that are happening there in some way.

I saw people that Nate and I invited. But I didn't just see them sitting in the congregation. I saw them do the video announcements, play in the band, and run the sound board. I saw equipment that was purchased from the account I set-up, items I had written reimbursement checks for, and items I had saved my own receipts to be reimbursed for. I knew everyone was protected with the liability policy that I painstakingly worked to maintain when the bank couldn't figure out how to run the premium through our account. And I watched people walk out with postcards and invite cards that I had worked hours on designing, making, and ordering, so they could invite their friends to know about Jesus.

Don't mistake, today wasn't a day that I patted myself on the back like look what I did. On the contrary, I had to take a hard look at the attitude I had about many of the things I had done as part of my ministry, that I had forgotten was a ministry.

The "business" of being Jesus doesn't always have the cool immediate pay-offs of other gifts, like seeing others sing along in worship, or listening to the kids recite their Bible verses. But I will work tirelessly at the business of being Jesus, if that is how I can help connect people with Jesus. Every check I write. Every time I call CEFCU and say, "Oh hey buds, it's Ali from Innovate Church again." Everything I can do to help the church and help people find Jesus, I will do it, thanking God every day that he has gifted me in some small way to do his work.

A Pastor's Wife

If you would have asked me even three years ago if I thought I'd ever be a pastor's wife, I would have said no. Actually, "pastor's wife" was in the top ten things I never thought I'd be, scattered somewhere between drug dealer and Olympic pole vaulter.

And I guess in a small way, it's kind of my own fault. Not long after Nate and I got married, over two years ago, as we were attending a couples' small group, I began to feel like he was going to be a pastor. Or should be a pastor. Or something. At the time, he was working at Affina (a call center). He had reluctantly agreed to go to the small group with me because it was out in South Pekin and then we had to leave early for him to make it work (third shift). One night in the car, I finally said, "Nate, I feel like... maybe God wants you to be a pastor." And then I sat silently, hoping he'd disagree. And he did.

I know that probably seems weird. Like usually if I tell Nate something, I want him to agree. But if you've ever been close enough to God that you can feel your calling, but far enough away that you hope it backfires in your favor... well that's where I was at.

I didn't bring it up again until the early part of 2012. Between those two events Nate had started volunteering more, strengthening his relationship with God, and becoming more involved in church. Every time I prayed for Nate, I feel God saying, "Support him." I had no idea what that even meant. In January 2012, we committed to be a part of Innovate and when we met with Shawn and Holly one-on-one, I just started babbling. That's not typical at all for me, but when they asked us about joining the church, I just started talking about how I thought Nate was being called to ministry. I don't know if he even talked because I just started rambling.

I'll be honest, I don't know if Nate fully agreed that he was called to ministry at that point, but he went along. The first time he tried to explain his calling to ministry, I listened in mild horror to a slightly jumbled stream of consciousness that sounded like a book review of a book he never read. Praise Jesus for Connie Borth who could see Nate's heart and calling through it all. She (along with others) confirmed his calling to ministry.

As the prospect of Nate becoming a pastor became more and more real, I'll be honest, I started to panic. I was all about him becoming a pastor! I knew that was what God had for him... but that made me... a pastor's wife.

Here's three things about me (in a vast array of others) that I feel should probably have precluded me from that role:
1. I have road rage. Bad road rage. I'm considering buying mittens to wear while driving, so I'm not able to flip people off when they drive like idiots. I will wear them inside McLean county, as Nate has told me that area is off-limits for road rage, in case I'm road raging against someone who goes to our church, or might go to our church if the worship pastor's wife doesn't run them off the road first.
2. I'm not domestic. I hate cooking, cleaning, anything related to crafting... I even hate Pinterest. Actually, I especially hate Pinterest. Reading from left to right, it's like "Exercises for achieving the best booty," "BEST CHOCOLATE CAKE EVER," and "How to make flower headbands." It's confusing and it seems to expect a lot more out of me than Facebook does.
3. I recently told someone that my husband was studying ministry and becoming a pastor and they said, "Oh! What kind of church?" Except it wasn't like they were asking what denomination. It was more like they were confused by what kind of church would let me be the pastor's wife...

But God has some crazy plans. If you've had God in your life very long, you already know that. And yesterday at District Assembly as I sat there wearing pantyhose (that could be a whole other blog entry), I wasn't sitting there as a pastor's wife. I was sitting there as NATE's wife. The person who will (and has) run errands at crazy hours to find worship stuff, the person who always has his back in life, the person who talks through struggles with him, the person who first asked him about his call to ministry, and the person that God created uniquely to be with him and support his calling.

I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nate is going to do amazing things for God. He already has! And I am excited to be there, every mile of the journey, holding his hand... and flipping off anyone who gets in the way.

A Letter to a Father Who Wrote to Victoria's Secret, from a Mother

I will go ahead and throw out there right away that I am not a proponent for 13-year old girls to wear lace thongs that say, "Call Me" on them.

However, I had mixed feelings when I read the "Letter to Victoria's Secret from a Father" that has been getting a lot of publicity lately. Don't get me wrong, I agree with so much of what he is saying.

YES, it is sad that our society continues to sexualize younger and younger girls.
YES, our daughters should be focused on more important issues and thinking about careers and philanthropy and whatnot.
YES, I hope girls like Blakely don't find their self-worth in their underwear choices.

But as a parent, albeit a new one, I refuse to place the blame for how this next generation turns out on Victoria's Secret. It is NOT Victoria's Secret's job to raise my child. It is NOT their job to influence her clothing choices, her morals, or certainly not her life choices.

I've noticed more and more that this generation of parents have become "facilitators" of their children's upbringings. They've become "supervisors," who dictate how everyone else needs to make sure their kid turns out right.

We want to tell teachers how to teach, what to teach, what NOT to teach...
We want schools to teach sex ed... to not teach sex ed... to teach abstinence only sex ed...
We want sports leagues to give our kids participation trophies, so we don't have to tell them that they PROBABLY won't grow up to be an NBA superstar...
And we want stores, like Victoria's Secret, to base their offering around shaping our kid's morals, behavior, and taste in clothing, so we don't have to.

Does it suck that now as parents we're going to have to navigate another struggle in raising good, moral, Godly kids? Yup. Will I do my best to tackle this issue with honesty and openness, with or without Victoria's Secret's help? Yup.

Because I worked for Bath & Body Works (owned by the same company as Victoria's Secret), I KNOW that they have done huge amounts of research, and if they are making this line, they absolutely have reason to believe that it will sell, resulting in big profits. I'm not going to hold a for-profit company  at fault for making business decisions that will result in profit.

So what will I do if Blakely asks me to go to Victoria's Secret this side of high school? *Gulp*... I will talk to her. I will be open and honest with her about my thoughts, and I hope that I've raised her to do the same. If she can give me a compelling reason that she wants Victoria's Secret underwear, and she wants to use her own money to buy them... I will consider it. I will talk through it with her. I will choose my battles, and I will instill morals through my behavior and a relationship with God, not by trying to rip every possible bad choice out of her grasp.

If we're not going to give Victoria's Secret credit for our kids turning out well, we can't give them credit for them turning out poorly either.

When the Dryer is Broken in the Promised Land

So many of you know that this past weekend was a HUGE milestone for the Morrisons in their church planting journey - we FINALLY moved to Normal!

We had about 10 people (more including kids!) come out and help us move, which was a HUGE blessing. A lot of those people truly made personal sacrifices to be there... we have such, such cool family and friends. :-) The first night in the house, Nate and I sat at the kitchen table and he prayed, thanking God for the blessing of our house and the calling on our lives. It was honestly one of the best little moments of my whole life. We were HERE!

But then... the promised land began to fall apart. Sunday morning, we noticed some water on the floor downstairs. Sunday evening I realized that the load of laundry I had washed (causing water to get on the floor), wouldn't dry no matter how long/how many times I ran it in the dryer. By Monday night, we realized that every time the water was run, the drains downstairs were backing up. EVERY TIME. Luckily, as part of our purchase agreement, we negotiated that the seller would pay for a home warranty, so we called our home warranty company to get a plumber to come out. They agreed to make it an "emergency" status, but lo and behold, 24 hours later we still didn't have a plumber for the service call. They gave us the option to call plumbers on our own, but we'd have to pay the full amount up front and be reimbursed in a few weeks. Oh, and then Sears lost my dishwasher. LOST my dishwasher. Which I guess didn't REALLY matter because I couldn't run the water for it anyway.

Wednesday I texted my husband and said, "If Gary Busey and Lindsay Lohan had a baby... that is me today mentally and emotionally." (Luckily for both us, our sense of humor is the last faculty to leave us)

And ya, those things stink... and Normal didn't feel like "home" yet... but why the violent/emotional reaction on my part? I think it's because Normal was our promised land.

• The days when my alarm would go off at 4:50
• The days when I would see Blakely for 15 minutes the whole day
• The days when I worked all day and then came home and worked all day on church stuff
• The days when I couldn't find my work shoes because my dear mother cleans obsessively and had "put them away"
• The days of house showings trying to find renters - packing our crap up in our car so our 720 square foot house looked more "open" if that's even possible...

It was a beast and there were many, "We were better of in Egypt" land between moments... but that's what they were - moments in the land between. In transition. In flux. In between. Those days I would say, "It won't be forever! Some day we will be right where God has for us." That thought woke me up, put me to bed, and kept the grain of sanity that I had.

So while the issues we were having probably didn't warrant the full Busey-Lohan meltdown that I had... It was in the promised land! THINGS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER IN THE PROMISED LAND. MY DRYER WAS SUPPOSED TO WORK IN IN THE PROMISED LAND! This is what I waited for... this is what I worked for...

But the more I grow in faith... the more I realize that everything we experience until Heaven is the land between. It's dangerous to look at any place, any calling, even if it's from God as "the promised land"... God's called us to be movers and shakers for his will, and I think the Busey-Lohan Promised Land meltdown of 2013 was just God's way of reminding me that my personal comfort never was and never is His will. His hope and His call isn't in a house or a city or even a church, and He won't let me sit back and say, "I made it"... Ever!

So the flooded water is cleaned up, the plumbing is fixed, the dryer is fixed, and Sears knows exactly where they can put the dishwasher when they find it (hint: it's not in my house...), so it's quiet again in the Promised Land... or should I say... the land between.

Death of a Coward

I'm scared of a lot of things - heights, losing loved ones, large bugs/spiders - and while I wouldn't necessarily call it a "fear," I also have a strange aversion to raw meat.

But I'm not a coward.

I will draw the distinction for you... EVERYONE is afraid... scared... fearful. No matter how strong your faith is, the human side of all of us is terrified of something. Usually more than one thing. And usually something that we have to face every day. Cowards are the people who allow other people to be hurt because of their fears.

You might be thinking of people who are faced with a split second decision of whether to take a bullet for someone else and decide not to, but the decision of whether to be a coward or not is much less dramatic and much more widespread.

My last boss was a great example of a coward. I don't really feel bad saying that because I have significant amounts of evidence that was the case. He would consistently find someone to blame for anything that might be perceived as negative on his behalf. In fact, we had a joke about not missing meetings, because you would most certainly be blamed for something in your absence. The fact was, he was scared of being inadequate. He was a coward because he let him fear allow him to blame and manipulate others.

Sometimes being a coward means NOT taking action. Not standing up for someone who is being blamed or made fun of or ridiculed. And how do we justify this? "Oh, it's one of those political things..." You hear it in churches, workplaces, even families. Whenever someone doesn't want to do what should be done it's "politics." This literally drives me crazy. I refuse to be a part of the political game, which anyone who knows me can tell you (and a few people who don't know me, but once witnessed me telling a Senior Vice President of our company that he needed to "get out of my face" when he tried to intimidate me). I would contend that "politics" is a code for "we're keeping the status quo, for our own benefit." And if rising in the ranks and not rocking the boat are your objective, by all means, fall into the "politics" of your organization. But I can tell you that when I left my last job, the CEO requested to meet with me, wanted MY feedback on the organization, to thank me for my work and find out if there was a way I would stay.

Everyone is scared of commitment. Cowards cheat.
Everyone is scared to be a parent. Cowards leave.
Everyone is scared of losing their job. Cowards place blame.

Embrace your fears, give them to God, and let your coward die.