Brooklyn's Manhattan

In college, we used to chase sunsets through the cornfields of Indiana.

Wide open skies and long dirt roads led us west, following the sun. (I probably miss this the most about Indiana – that and star gazing on soft ball dugouts but back to the sunsets.)

Don’t get me wrong we get plenty of beautiful sunsets here (ever heard of Manhattanhenge??) – the skyline erupts in oranges, pinks, and purples before fading to black, with city lights flickering on as buildings illuminate the night. Yet, there’s something unmatched about sunsets in the middle of nowhere: minimal distractions and colors that light up differently. If you haven’t seen one, you really should make a pass through those flyover states sometime.

If you’ve known me very long, you know that I love chasing light in all the beautiful ways both metaphorically and literally. In a city that never sleeps, light is everywhere. Flashing lights. Stop lights. Lights in the windows. Bright-light advertisements. Sunlight that is mostly just reflected from the next skyscraper down. Light is everywhere at all times in tons of ways.

This week I decided to take a boat ride on my sabbath (rest) day. I timed it out so that I’d be on the roof deck of the boat at sunset and sitting on the next pier as the sun dipped down so that I could be back on the next boat as the sky faded to black.

It was perfect.

And then I started thinking about how I couldn’t remember the last time I simply sat in the sunlight, with no specific place to go and in no hurry. Because the city is so tall, I often go without open-sky exposure to the sun. But light is everywhere, as you can see in the pictures above.

While on the boat, I was reading in the book of Romans where Paul writes these words:

Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things (Rom. 1:22-23 ESV). 

Have I exchanged the glory and beauty of Light for manufactured lights?

If I’m honest, sometimes it’s easier to rely on my own know-how than to take the time to fill myself with God’s presence. Rather than being refreshed like sunlight on my skin, I’ve settled for things that don’t actually nourish me.

I catch myself chasing value in what people think of me or how much I can produce. I spend hours scrolling through social media, thinking it’ll help me feel refreshed—but those manufactured lights never give me the real boost I’m after. And the real kicker? I’ve been okay with that.

Have you been there?

In the book of John, Jesus describes himself in several different “I Am” statements. The one that stands out to me is found in the 8th chapter, verse 12 where Jesus says:

"I am the Light of the World. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

Jesus, the source of light that brings life, and life to the full.

I firmly believe that there is an enemy who comes to destroy and steal. One of his tactics is to distort the truth—manufacturing things that mimic and remind us of true light but are merely facades. These distractions can appear appealing, like bright neon signs, but they’re not the nourishing sunlight we need.

I find myself wandering towards the lights that burn out—chasing approval, seeking quick fixes, and striving forward. But Jesus offers a different reality: one where we don’t need to chase artificial lights or validation that fades away. Instead, He invites us to find real refreshment, to experience a light that genuinely pushes back the darkness and restores our souls.

I hope that when the story of my life is told, people would say that I lead people towards this kind of true Light. This week, Jesus caught my attention, and I feel like we’ve got some work to do together.

What might His invitation look like for you? What lights are you chasing? What is distracting you from true Light?

May your life be a beacon, radiating God’s goodness and mercy – behind you, beside you, before you. Amen.

Community is such a buzz word in my head – anyone else? In college, it was all about getting “connected” and finding “community” and building “community.” I was an RA and then an ARD in college, so I was the “community” person! My staffs used to joke that my major was ResLife – I was so invested in Reed Hall life. College lent itself so well to community – you’re constantly surrounded by people in a similar life stage, with similar interest, similar schedules, and within walking distance of you! For an extrovert with lots of capacity for other people, this was the dream!

And then, I moved far away from university. While most of my friends stayed in and around Indiana, I moved to East Harlem. And suddenly community didn’t feel easy. I remember a lot of the tears I shed during my first few months here. Not only did I not know anyone, but I was experiencing culture shock in crazy ways. I moved here as an intern at a church and was also a host at a restaurant in Times Square.  The people around me where not people I would choose to know, coming from my Christian bubble experience leading up to this point. New York was full of people, and I felt entirely alone.

Eventually, I found a beautiful and life-giving and fantastic community. During the summer of 2019, I felt confident in my work, had a really solid community of friends at church. I was having SO much fun with my work community. And life felt good. I left the city for a few weeks to go home for my best friend’s wedding, and when I came back everything changed. There was a false-alarm active shooter situation in Times Square that left me with debilitating PTSD. My grandfather died, spiraling me into a weird and difficult trauma/grief response. And then a few months later, the pandemic hit. I was then also processing a devastating heart break. Over the course of the next two years, I found myself distrustful of the church and anxious about joining any church related community due to the pain I had experienced with the church, both as a pastor, and as a PK. I felt entirely alone.

So when I was preparing for my sermon, the first sermon I’ve preached in four years, I laughed. Of all people to speak on community, this girl is not one who always has positive joy-filled things to say these days. And yet, Jesus continues to speak to my heart, through other people oftentimes funny enough. I say all of this to say, for those here who feel alone, who have been hurt and don’t know how to move forward, who don’t know if they can trust this community, I am with you. 

Maybe community comes easy to you. You have a great community group right now, you feel plugged in and connected. Maybe you are sitting here today and it’s your first Sunday with us – you’re new to the city and you don’t know where to find good community. You’re feeling alone and nervous, but hopeful. Perhaps you know community important and all you want in the whole world is connection with others, but you don’t know where to look. So you go EVERYWHERE. You’re in every community group, you joined a workout community, and you still feel alone. Maybe you are the biggest introvert and know you need community, but you’d rather go home every single day than meet up with that friend you’ve been putting off for months.

Wherever you are, in whatever state you find yourself in, I believe that there’s a word for us today as we look to Jesus together. 

Let’s look back to this passage in Luke. 

‘About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray.

Before we get to this adventure up the mountain, we need to back track a little bit to fully understand what’s going on. In this same chapter, Jesus feeds a crowd of 5,000 people miraculously with five loaves and two fish. Then, he retreats to pray in private and when he returns, Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. While they’re all chatting, Jesus predicts his death and talks to his disciples about picking up their cross and denying themselves. 

And that’s where this passage picks up. It’s been about a week since Jesus tells his posse that he’s going to die and now he’s inviting Peter, John, and James to pray with him. 

We haven’t seen him do this yet. Jesus up to this point has gone off to pray in private, which is also important! But now, some pretty bold statements have been said, and he brings his inner circle with him to pray with him. 

Can you imagine the pressure Jesus might be feeling? He’s getting closer to his death, and I can imagine there might be some anxiety present. After all, he was fully human. He’s told his friends for the first time about this, and now he gets away to pray with his 3 closest friends. 

As a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man – this is convicting. As I’ve wrestled this passage this week, I am feeling personally victimized by what Jesus is inviting us into. I do not want to admit that I need help, and inviting people into my intimate faith life feels risky. As an Enneagram Two (the Helper), I pride myself on being the HELPER, not the HELP-EE. But I don’t think this is unique to me. Heck, New Yorkers are strong and independent people who are successful because we’ve figured out how to make it here, and if you can make it here – you can make it anywhere! I think there’s this fear that if we admit that we need others and need help, we’ll be perceived as weak or a failure or that we’ll be taken advantage of in our weakness. 

I love this quote by Brene Brown:

One of the greatest barriers to connection is the cultural importance we place on ‘going it alone.’ Somehow, we’ve come to equate success with not needing anyone. Many of us are willing to extend a helping hand, but we’re very reluctant to reach out for help when we need it ourselves. It’s as if we’ve divided the world into ‘those who offer help’ and ‘those who need help.’ The truth is that we are both.” 

We are both. I know in my head that I need others, and I’ve experience the beauty and connection that comes with this kind of vulnerable need of the other. But my heart doesn’t know how to reconcile the hurt or the change that comes its way.

One of the hardest things for me about living in New York has been the never-ending transience of the city. It takes me a while to warm up and trust people, and by the time I do, they move away. And yet, Jesus was only in ministry for 3 years with these guys before his resurrection and ascension. He knew time was limited, but he still risked vulnerability to a group of guys that let him down, a lot. 

Here in this story, we see that his besties fell asleep on him. And they do it again later in Matthew, where Jesus is visibly in deep grief.

‘Then Jesus went with them to a garden called Gethsemane and told his disciples, “Stay here while I go over there and pray.” Taking along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he plunged into an agonizing sorrow. Then he said, “This sorrow is crushing my life out. Stay here and keep vigil with me.”

Again, we see Jesus separates from the group to pray and he brings Peter, James, and John (the sons of Zebedee) to pray with him. He even gives them more detail than he gave the group – he’s inviting them into his sorrow. And they fall asleep. 3 times. 

And yet, Jesus continues to invite them into his vulnerability. I find it interesting that there’s a distinction between the 3 and the 12. Drew talked previously about discernment, and I can’t help but wonder if this is an example of that at work. In the same way that Jesus is not divulging all of the information to everyone, I believe we need to discern who we can share the most intimate moments of our lives with. There’s wisdom in discerning that not every person you grab a coffee with is worthy of your story. We need to put in the work of relationship in order to earn the right to share in vulnerability with each other. 

Let’s continue on in our story. Look what happens: 

As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (He did not know what he was saying.) While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and covered them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. A voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.” When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and did not tell anyone at that time what they had seen.

What an exciting and wild end to this prayer time! Jesus’ appearance literally changes on this mountain, and when his buds wake up – they see Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus! And if that isn’t enough – the very voice of God comes out of the cloud saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.” 

These guys got to be a witness to what God was working in Jesus! They were there with him as God was literally changing his physical appearance. Imagine if Jesus had gone up to pray alone and came back with news of this fantastic experience with the Father. If I were a disciple, I’d like not believe him – I’d think he’d fallen asleep and had a crazy dream. BUT Jesus has his friends with him. They get to be part of the story God is telling through Jesus. 

We don’t know what the day-to-day conversations of Jesus were, but if I were Peter, I think this is the story I would bring up anytime Jesus expressed any fear or concern or worry or anxiety. Like, “hey Jesus, I know you’re anxious right now and not sure if you can do this, but REMEMBER that one time God literally spoke through the clouds?”

And there lies the beauty of community in prayer. When we are honest and vulnerable with those closest to us, and we invite them into our deepest fears and our suffering, we have built in testimony and witness to the story God is telling in our very own life. 

I love what Drew said in a staff meeting recently. He said: “It’s important that we find forgiveness in Jesus, but healing happens in community.” 

In our suffering, our community can carry us. 

In our joy, our community can celebrate with us. 

In our mundane day-to-day, our community can encourage us. 

In my reflection this week on my community, present and past, I am really grateful for the countless people who have stood in my corner with me. I’m thankful for the people I’ve lost touch with but who were meaningful in my story for a season. I’m thankful for the people who live all over the country and pick up my occasional phone calls to catch up. I’m thankful for those who have stood with me in this most recent season of my life – the ones who have loved me and allowed me the space to question and doubt and to have fun. Even in the darkness of the wilderness, there has been such light shining through my people – even when I couldn’t see/identify it in the moment. So to those reading, I hope you know who you are. Thank you for being Good News to me.

I remember going to the AMC on 86th Street with Laura + Casey to see Frozen II for the first time. If memory serves me correctly, we went for a matinee. Laura sat in the middle with tissues, and Casey + I cried the entire movie. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, do me a favor and GO WATCH IT. It’s one of the best Disney movies I think I’ve ever seen it’s so good.

This morning, I listened to a message on transformation of the heart. Throughout the entire sermon, I couldn’t get this movie out of my mind. For those of you familiar with this iconic film, you’ll remember how the gang heads to the enchanted forest to find the voice calling out to Elsa. Olaf says to the group: “Did you know that an enchanted forest is a place of transformation? I have no idea what that means but I can’t wait to see what it does to each one of us.”

I’ve written regularly this year about how difficult of a year it’s been. I’ve referenced this season as a wilderness experience and I can also understand it as an “enchanted forest” experience: one full of confusion and unanswered questions and confrontation of pain. Much like Elsa at the beginning of the movie, I’ve felt a serious discontentment and confusion around identity and beliefs, even when things on the outside appear to be going according to plan.

Trans-for-ma-tion: a thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance.

I would like to add “not for the faint of heart” to that definition. I am not one who enjoys change (does anyone?) and transformation doesn’t sound all that appealing of a process even when the end goal is what I want. Transformation is hard.

We’ve all been through seasons, wilderness-like times in our lives that permanently shape us from that point on. We’ve been transformed by events, experiences, emotional moments, knowledge, you name it. When I think about faith and transformation, the first thought that pops into my head is the verse in Romans 12 that says:

‘And do not be conformed to this world [any longer with its superficial values + customs], but be transformed + progressively changed [as you mature spiritually] by the renewing of your mind [focusing on godly values + ethical attitudes], so that you may prove [for yourselves] what the will of God is, that which is good + acceptable + perfect [in His plan + purpose for you].’

ROMANS 12:2 AMP

Side note: I read the Amplified version of this passage for the first time tonight, and I love how it adds in ‘progressively changed.’ I sighed a deep sigh of relief after that reminder that this kind of change isn’t a one-and-done type of situation.

My church is walking through transformation holistically, based on the passage from Mark 12. A teacher of the law approaches Jesus and asks which commandment is most important. Jesus responds by saying, “The most important one is this: Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:29-31). The type of transformation Jesus taught about includes our mind, our hearts/souls, and our hands/actions. Our entire being is made new.

Okay so with that in mind, back to the enchanted forest.

Elsa has everything expected from her – a loving community, the Queendom. Things seem to be settling. BUT she can’t shake the voice calling to her from the unknown (cue “Into the Unknown”). She firmly believes that something has called her into this forest. She has to confront each of the four elements, face the reality of her parents’ death, and battle her way to answers. There’s a scene towards the end of the movie where Elsa is so close the source of the voice. She’s running on water where she is confronted with the final element in a pretty epic animated fight. She’s so close to finding the answer. All that separates her from it is the sea.

Elsa makes it (spoiler alert) to the frozen island, and her uncertainty hits the climax of the story. She’s finally going to find answers. So naturally, in true Disney form, she sings the emotional song “Show Yourself.” It starts with these words:

“Every inch of me is trembling
But not from the cold
Something is familiar
Like a dream, I can reach but not quite hold
I can sense you there
Like a friend I’ve always known
I’m arriving
And it feels like I am home”

She gets to this pivotal moment in her transformation story, and I weep every time. She is not the same from this point on. The story doesn’t end here for her. She doesn’t just find the Voice calling out to her, she rediscovers her own identity. Without giving the whole story away (but seriously if you have not seen this movie, have you lived under a rock?), Elsa didn’t get to the end of transformation on her own. She needs her community to be a part of her story. It’s not just a personal transformation, but one that includes the people closest to her.

I mean just look at her transformed glow.

It’s been a very long journey through my own enchanted forest. The discomfort and discontentment and discouragement and confusion. But there are some things I know for sure.

I know for sure that there is a voice calling out to me in the midst of it. Like Elsa follows this fifth spirit in the enchanted forest, I am sensing with more and more clarity the voice of the Holy Spirit calling out to me. Throughout the past several months, I know that I know that I know that God is in active pursuit of His people (read: you, me, us). In the deepest of doubts, I fell back on that promise. And if that was true, then my questions were not too scary for Him, even when they were for me.

I know for sure that in the presence of the Holy Spirit, my identity is found. And that it’s in His presence that my very being is redeemed and restored and transformed.

I know for sure that I cannot do this alone – that I need community who can pull me out of the hole when I’ve gone too far.

The transformed heart is confident in her identity in Christ. It’s accepting and aware of emotions instead of dismissive and overlooking. It sees redemption and lives in community. It allows us to live loved instead of living for love.

Like Elsa, a transformed heart can live confidently out of her gifting and calling in the community. Elsa no longer lives in fear or lives based on what is expected of her (conceal don’t feel, anyone?). She gets to explore the beauty of the newness of her own self.

I’m feeling hopeful that one day soon, I too will live confidently out of a transformed heart. But in the meantime, I will continue following the Voice that promises to pursue me. Even when I don’t see it or feel it or believe I deserve it. The Voice in the forest that calls me to Himself. Because that’s the beauty of Christ-like transformation – it’s purely invitational. And I’m relearning the beauty of saying ‘yes’.

A woman on her phone. Another woman choosing to sit next to me on a near empty train car. Houses passing me by. Only 20 minutes left until Connecticut. I’ve spent 16 hours sitting on these Metro-North trains the past 7 days, which has provided a surprising amount of quiet time in my routine. While I am grateful I don’t have to commute that track anymore, the time spent commuting hasn’t felt wasted. My therapist reminds me often that I need to be finding stillness to get in touch with myself (I don’t always listen). So here I am. 16 hours of self-reflection later. With lots of thoughts rumbling around in my head.

October. 2022. Not boring in the slightest, and the past few months have rocked my entire life (okay, maybe dramatic, but everything has changed). My NYC family moved disrupting what little faith rhythms I had in place and I quit my job and started a new one (one that is fully corporate – no more GM, hallelujah). And these changes are all good changes – I’m so grateful for the time with my friends-like-family in the city, and it was time for a new season for them. My new job is good, and leaving the old was hard. There’s a lot of holding space for the feelings of grief that come along with the close of a chapter. Life feels like it’s starting to settle, new rhythms are settling in, and I’m finding my balance again.

And at the same time, I’m left wondering a lot of different things. Some on faith. Some on purpose. Some on career. Some on location. While I was talking to my Alaskan friend this weekend, she laughed and said, “BK, we’re only in our twenties. We can have an entire quarter-life crisis, change careers a bunch of times, move around, and no one will bat an eye. We’re only 26. No one expects us to have it all figured out.”

And thank God for that. Because as soon as I think I have something figured out, something else starts to unravel. I think I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to have it all figured out – to have all the answers. And if this year has taught me anything, it’s that I have more questions than answers and way less figured out than I thought I did.

For those who know me know that I pick a word for the year each year. 2021 was my behold year: behold I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert (Isaiah 43:19).

And this word has followed into 2022 along with my new word. build.

At the end of ’21 and during the Christmas Eve service at my church, I was so frustrated that my behold year hadn’t produced anything new other than questions, doubt, and anxiety. I could barely go to church without unraveling. I didn’t know (and still don’t know fully) what I believed about most things. And yet, the Holy Spirit, in all of her compassion and kindness, whispered a promise from the words of Jeremiah.

“This is what the Lord says:

The people who survived the sword

found favor in the wilderness.

when Israel went to rest,

the Lord appeared to him from far away.

‘I have loved you with an everlasting love;

therefore, I have continued to extend faithful love to you.

Again I will build you so that you will be rebuilt,

Virgin Israel.

You will take up your tambourines again

and go out in joyful dancing.”

Jeremiah 31:2-4 CSB

And now, it’s October. And for the first time in almost two years, there seems to be a stirring of something new being formed or rebuilt or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s not like I have answers to most things, or more clarity on most things. But something is stirring in me. It’s unsettling and uncomfy. And at the same time, I’m feeling more optimistic than I have in a while. I’m taking steps towards Jesus in ways that I haven’t in a while, and something is happening in me.

I don’t really know what to expect over the next few months. But what I do know is this: in the middle of all of my doubts and questions and fears, God has been in constant pursuit of me. It’s the one truth I can confidently fall back on. Maybe, at the other side of the shit storm wilderness experience, there will be the promised land. And that maybe, just maybe, I will go out in joyful dancing again.

When I posted my first blog to Instagram, a sweet friend of mine reached out to me offering her perspective on work. She was one on my list, so I was thankful for the head start on her interview. This project is exciting for so many reasons, but a primary one is that it offers perspective on women all along the career timeline – from those just beginning their career to the ones looking towards retirement.

Welcome to the story of a friend who is working her first post-graduate job. Let me introduce you to my friend, Emily H., a Department of Justice Accredited Representative for Immigrant Connect, a non-profit based in Logansport, Indiana. 

To understand how Emily got to this point in her career, we need to go back a few years to her college days. Emily spent a summer working overseas in Eastern Europe the summer before her senior year. While there, she worked alongside asylum seekers and attorneys for refugees and thought, “That’s so practical and I would love to do something like that.” She returned to finish her degree in Community Development as the world shut down in 2020 due to the global pandemic. Not only was Emily navigating a job search in the middle of a pandemic, she was also watching racial justice issues come to the national spotlight as Black Lives Matter protests broke out all over the country. She wanted to do something, anything, to make a difference for the marginalized in her community. It was during this time that Emily found a business card she had been holding onto for two years. The conversations started for Emily to work at an Immigrant Connect church as a barista, a part-time youth pastor, and an aide in the immigration office – three jobs for which she had been applying. While talking through the possibilities, her boss mentioned that, as she went along, she would be able to go down whichever path she felt most passionate about. Emily started in September 2020, and by May of 2021 her path was obvious. Emily applied for her accreditation application with the Department of Justice to become an Accredited Representative. Her application was approved in January of 2022.

So what exactly does a DOJ Accredited Representative do? Emily is able to provide the same level of legal advice as an attorney but is unable to go to immigration court on behalf of her client. She and her co-workers offer legal advice for free to those who need help on their path towards citizenship. This is incredibly rewarding when her clients can become citizens. Emily also talked about how difficult it can be. She regularly has clients who have no pathway forward. “Until there’s reform, there is nothing we can do.” 

For Emily, it feels like an honor to do what she can to help those on the margins. She is motivated by Philippians 2 in the Bible, where Paul talks about how Jesus humbled himself to the point of death on our behalf. While an undergraduate, Emily had a professor who opened her eyes to a new way of looking at the Bible and theology. Prof. Kayla Cruzo and her lessons in brown-skin theology showed her how Jesus had all the privilege and power, yet he laid down that privilege and power to redeem humanity – to provide a way for wholeness. “I keep trying [with my clients] because I want to be like Jesus to humble myself for the sake of others.”

As Emily’s role has evolved, she talks about how re-learning Spanish has been the most advantageous skill she’s picked up along the way. “Language learning skills are humbling. It’s like taking a two-year-old’s vocabulary level and being forced into adult situations.” Humility sets in as she relies on others for their patience and understanding as she offers support as best she can. Emily is fortunate to have other teammates who are fluent that she can tap for help as needed. 

Emily’s greatest strength is her high desire/motivation to learn and improve. As we spoke, she talked about wanting to do her very best so that her clients have the best chance for success in their journey towards citizenship. Emily is constantly looking to improve her Spanish and her knowledge of the law so that she can be a more competent and dependable representative. On the flip side of this, Emily’s weakness is that “I take work too personally.” When mistakes are made at work it takes a lot of effort to separate herself from the case. In a job that is weighty, I can only imagine how much mental and emotional discipline it takes to leave work at the office. 

Although the work is challenging, Emily is inspired by her clients who are actively walking down challenging paths where the system is broken. Nevertheless, they persist with great hope and determination. 

Maybe you, like me, are curious how Emily maintains work/life balance in the middle of a job like this one. She admitted that she isn’t always great at this, but that she does have a great support system in place to keep her in check. Her co-workers call her out when she’s getting too emotionally invested. Her husband, James, knows that it’s good that she cares, but gently reminds her not to over-exert herself on the things that she can’t change. 

In five to ten years, Emily is looking towards law school. We spoke at length about Emily’s desire to continue to elevate voices from the margins. As a white woman who comes from a privileged background, Emily is learning to use her voice as a megaphone for those who have no voice. Someone once told her to “take my story and tell others what I’ve been through.” This advice offers encouragement for Emily to share the stories of immigrants in white spaces, where the immigrant may not be welcome, to inspire and encourage change. 

Emily is becoming Emily H., a married twenty-something. She’s becoming more comfortable with disappointment and unknowns and tears. And whether she realizes it or not, Emily is becoming a more and more competent, strong, inspiring woman whose work is not in vain. Someone who is allowing the priorities of the Kingdom of Heaven to shape the way she views the world around her. 

For more information about Immigrant Connection, click here. 

Emily’s Favorite Book List:

• The Poisonwood Bible – Barbara Kingsolver
• The Insanity of God – Nik Ripken
• Welcoming the Stranger – Jenny Yang, Leith Anderson, Matthew Soerens

When I first set out to interview women, Jodi’s name came to mind first. Not only is she one of my colleagues, but she is an all-around badass. It was an honor to sit down with her to listen as she shared her story through her career to this point. Jodi currently works as the Director of Operations at a cafe chain and oversees 4+ cafes and coffee shops in NYC.

While this is a project that taps into the professional lives and journey of women in all stages of their career, it’s also about who people are and what brings them to life. The word “individualization” kept coming to mind as Jodi spoke. (For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the CliftonStrengths, do yourself a favor and learn more here.) Individualization is described this way:

People exceptionally talented in the Individualization theme are intrigued with the unique qualities of each person. They have a gift for figuring out how different people can work together productively.

Taken from All About the Individualization StrengthsFinder Theme | EN – Gallup

Jodi is exceptionally gifted in listening for and learning about what motivates others. In fact, the very thing she loves about her job is finding “creative ways to engage with people.” She loves the connection she makes with her general managers and seeing the “spark” around problem-solving. It’s this connection that allows her to resource her team in a way that will bring everyone success.

When asked what her greatest strength is, she had to think for a minute. “There’s a different answer at different points.” Jodi’s response is spot on to how I encounter her. She is great at translating the need from her boss to her team in a way that hits at their motivations. Without identifying what motivates her team, she cannot solve problems in efficient and effective ways. One example of this is in our weekly GM meetings. Jodi has captured her team in a way that we all enjoy being together, because we want to learn from each other. She keeps the conversation open and the pathway towards the goal open to suggestions. We open dialogue about what’s hard about the targets, and she works one-on-one with each GM to achieve those goals.

With extensive background in the hospitality industry, I was interested to learn how she got started. Jodi started her career in finance – not because she particularly loved it, but because she was good at it, and it was the easy choice. As Jodi spoke about her experience working in finance in the 1990’s in NYC, she laughed about a business lunch here and there that led to rather unproductive afternoons. Eventually, she moved to Boston when her company opened offices there. By the time those offices closed, she loved the city and didn’t want to leave. So, she quit. “The Food Network Channel was really starting to grow in popularity,” Jodi spoke as she thought back on this time of her life. “PBS cooking shows were already on, and I loved watching.” While on a walk with her sister, Jodi finally said it out loud – she wanted to enroll in culinary school. And that she did.

After some time working in kitchens all the way up to executive chef, Jodi migrated out of the kitchen and into full restaurant operations. While still in Boston, she and her boyfriend at the time opened a restaurant together. This farm-to table, French and Italian cuisine-inspired restaurant gave Jodi a chance to make her own rules and find fresh produce and meat from local farms. After one year, she and Keith closed the doors to the restaurant. “I blew my creative chef load there, and that was it.” The end of a chapter led to a new one. Jodi and Keith got married after their restaurant closed and moved back to NYC where Jodi continued on in her operations level positions with hospitality groups (where, now, I have the privilege of working with her).

When asked what career setback later proved to be an advantage, Jodi’s first answer was closing the restaurant. As she spoke about her time with that restaurant, she ended saying that she’s in an entirely different place now because of it – not better or worse, just different. Jodi told me that she “doesn’t identify setbacks often because I view them as progression instead.” It’s been a few weeks since our interview, and this was not a major topic of conversation, but this response still hits right at something in me. I hope to continue growing in this mentality – that our setbacks are pivotal for our progression.

She continued to talk about some of the biggest challenges instead of setbacks. She had a difficult boss whose communication to her made her feel insecure, even when she knows her value. This experience forced her to confront her biggest weakness head on – internalizing emotional encounters to the point of mental/emotional/physical distress. While working with said boss, she learned ways to work through the feelings to get to a point of rationalizing them and pushing through. Her confidence is not built on the opinions of these others. But it’s something she continues to work through and learn through.

Jodi’s career is impressive and exciting and has taken many a twist and turn. But there’s so much more to who she is than a job title. At one point in her career, she had the honor and privilege of meeting Jane Goodall, the “more extravagant inspiration” in her life. Jodi’s inspired by the path Jane’s passions led her, even though it’s not something she herself would do. Along the same lines, one of the most transformational books she’s read is called “The Puma Years.” It’s a memoir of a woman who took a backpacking trip in Bolivia who volunteers at a wildlife refuge park and cares for a puma. While Jodi’s experience has not taken her to the wilderness working with wild animals, she loves to learn from a variety of perspectives. “It’s important to be well-rounded culturally in order to be good at a job.”

I would be doing a great dishonor to Jodi if I didn’t share her first and most important inspiration, her husband Keith. “I like who I am with him.” She talked about how it was this inspiration that brought them together to begin with. Having spent time with both of them, I’ve seen firsthand how confident and comfortable and safe she is with him. While it felt like the easy answer, it’s because it was the honest one.

So, who is Jodi becoming? “Someone who can get to the point of financial security to spend life exploring the world and traveling – working or not.” An explorer and adventurer. Curious and open. It’s this curiosity and natural desire to learn more about people and places and cultures that sets Jodi apart. All along the way, she shows a dedication to this type of learning posture and spirit.

Jodi inspires me to be better at my job, but more importantly, to be more than my job.

11th & H (aka this blog) has evolved significantly since it’s conception back in the summer of 2017. I started this blog as a way of writing through my time as a city host in DC during the summer before senior year of college. And then it never stopped. You’ve followed me through my last year of school, my move to NYC and my ministry here, the traumas of a false alarm and of a pandemic, and the learnings that have ensued. And now it’s time for a rebrand and the launch of a new project.

Over the next year, I am hoping to interview a woman a week to listen and learn more about what it looks like to be a professional in different industries. I’m curious as to how women get to where they are and where they hope to be next, as well as what brings people joy/purpose in their career. Some of the questions I’m looking forward to asking are:

What do you love about your job?

What motivates you?

What did your journey look like to this position?

Was there a career setback that you later realized was an advantage?

What skills did you develop early on that have been most advantageous?

What is your greatest strength? Weakness?

How do you maintain work/life balance?

What books have been transformational in your journey?

Who inspires you?

What’s the best piece of advice someone has ever given you?

Who are you becoming?

This project emerged out of nowhere. I don’t know what exactly I’m hoping to discover through this, but I do know I want to listen and learn from as many people as possible as I continue leaning into the opportunities in front of me. I’ll be blogging my way through the interviews, sharing the stories and wisdom along the way. If you would like to be part of the project, or if you know someone who would be great, please reach out to me! The only qualification is that you are a working woman!

Stay tuned for the first fantastic interview. I can’t wait to share with you.

I wrote this over 1 year ago – it’s honest and vulnerable and raw. I share now as a reminder to my occasionally lonely heart and as an encouragement to you, the one who is lonely. Breath in, breath out. We’re going to make it through.

---

I wish there was a better, less sad word 
To describe how I feel.

Because there are good things,
Great things even,
Happening right now.

Clarity.
Direction.
Purpose.

And yet,
Loneliness.

One year of heartbreak
That has left me alone
To pick 
        up
            the
                  p i e c e s
And find me again.

Unseen.
Unheard.
Overlooked and rejected.
By the ones I least expected,
And needed the most.

Who will be there for me?
Who will see me?
Who will hear me?

Yet there is One
Who sees me,
              hears me,
                         wants me.

The One who sings over me,
Sits beside me,
Goes before me. 

One who recklessly loves,
Patiently awaits,
Honestly speaks.

When I am alone,
He is near.

When I can't see Him,
He is constant.

When I am overlooked,
He sees me.
Fully and completely.


In the middle of my loneliness,
May I experience the presence 
Of the very One 
Who promises
Never to leave me
Nor forsake me. 

Another year has passed, and I find myself getting sentimental and reflection-driven around my birthday (which also happens to be the end of the year). Ah those natural rhythms of reflection. Also, around this time, I like to go back through old journals to see just how far I’ve come – to reminisce on the beauty of the year, to remember the pain, and to celebrate the victories. For those of you who have known me any amount of time also know that I pick a word for the year every January and get a necklace made with the word etched onto a key. So here we are, December 2021 after months of having no words to share publicly. Bear with me, I’m rusty.

In order to see this year with any clarity, we have to go back. It’s July 2019 and I am on cloud nine. Things finally feel like they’re coming together. I’m excited, hopeful, and content with where life has taken me. Within one week in August, everything changed. It’s interesting how trauma has a way of bringing up a lifetime of pain, and mine was no exception. Then 2020 happened. Heartbreak, lack of clarity at work, a global pandemic, a job loss, a cross-country road trip, a new job. In the midst of those 18 months, pain was a close friend. She followed me everywhere. Thankfully, so did Jesus. I remember therapy sessions during that time where my counselor would ask me “where do you sense Jesus physically in this moment?” Session after session, the answer remained the same – “He’s right beside me.” “He’s one step ahead of me, holding my hand.” “He’s encouraging me to sit down next to him.” He always felt so, so close.

2019 was my “stand” year.

2020 was my “yes” year.

Enter 2021. My “behold” year.

“Remember not the former things,

    nor consider the things of old.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;

    now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

    and rivers in the desert.

Isaiah 43:18-19, emphasis mine

Behold, I am doing a new thing.

A new thing? Yes please!

When I prayed over this word, I might have also prayed for new things that would be easy and great and fix all the pain from the previous couple of years.

Yet here we are, December 2021, and new, easy, great things haven’t really been the narrative either. Yes, there have been fantastic, great, new things this year – I’ve been promoted this year, moved into my own apartment, been a part of friends’ weddings, established deeper community, etc. And at the same time, it’s been a year of deep questioning and dealing with those feelings from the previous years. The church hurts that come from being a PK (pastor’s kid) and from being in ministry myself, the emotional stress of family members in and out of the hospital all year, the big move of my family, the stress of finding work/life balance as a 2 who just wants to help everyone so big. 2021 feels like a year of big both/and moments. Both excited and sad. Joyful and grieving.

Behold, I am doing a new thing.

This year has also brought about the first time in my life that I’m not a “professional Christian.” Let me define that for us: I am not in formal ministry (pastor, non-profit, RA at a Christian college) nor do people know me as a PK. While I hope my life is still a signpost to the Kingdom, I don’t get paid/fundraise to talk about it anymore. No one is looking for me on a Sunday morning to set up the welcome table nor am I constantly surrounded by other pastors and church leaders. I live a very normal, everyday person kind of life. I’ve worked weekends much of the year and have stayed connected to the small group in my neighborhood. I say all of that to get to this: this year has been a year of questioning and wrestling and wandering. Not away from God per say, but rather who God is and who he isn’t. I’ve been confronted with beliefs that I’ve held a long time that aren’t rooted in God’s words but in twisted religion and messed up people (not a judgment, just a reality of humanity).

Behold, I am doing a new thing. I will make a way in the wilderness.

I’m learning in this season what it looks like to trust that God is with me on this adventure, even when I feel like I’m questioning alone in the dark. He is making a way in the wilderness. Something new is being stirred in me, even in the pain and the grief.

Right before the pandemic lock down 18 months ago, God used a few people to speak messages of life and hope and promise into me that I’m still clinging onto. While I don’t always feel it, I am hopeful for what is to come and working on trusting in the words from Isaiah.

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

Perhaps you, too, are feeling a lot of these things. I hope you know you aren’t alone. That it’s okay to deconstruct and doubt while at the same time celebrating and experiencing hope. These things don’t exist as isolated experiences, nor are you alone in them.

May we hold tight to the promise that new things are springing forth. Even when the things from the past feel unbeatable and unbearable. May we have the courage to relentlessly pursue truth, even when it causes us to question the “status quo.”

I’m hopeful. And cautiously optimistic. Let’s see what you’ve got, year 27.

My brain used to be filled with lots of words. In fact, writing was the way I could process the world around me – to make sense of everything going on. Over the past year, I’ve journaled through a notebook and a half, written various blogs, and talked at length to close friends.

But now, I find my brain quiet. I’m at a loss for words.

I don’t know how to write out my thoughts because I can’t find the words. It’s like my life is stuck in writer’s block and I can’t find my way out.

I had hoped that by writing anything, words would come, but instead I’m sitting here more frustrated that I can’t articulate anything other than the word “word”.

Over the past several months, life has not been dull. I’m learning my new job, hiring and training a new team, dealing with family emergency after emergency, and trying to maintain rhythms of rest and of connection. I’m questioning and discovering and relearning. And yet, words escape me.

Hopefully soon I’ll find my words again. Until then, I’ll keep trying new strategies to find my way out of writer’s block. As the wise old Google suggests: maybe I’ll go on a hike, spend some time picnicking in the park, or pick up yoga again. ((If you have other ideas, let me know!))

I’ll leave this post with this encouragement I am carrying with me from Morgan Harper Nichols (highly encourage theStoryTeller app).

May it be so.