Hi Dallas! I think it’s pretty cool you opted to stop by and check out some of my writing. To start, I’d like to share with you some words I prayed on September 17 as I heard your first teaser about the Chosen-related shows you were going to announce in your livestream from Chosen Con:

Good and glorious and gracious God, King of the Universe, I come to You right now with an ambitious writing idea into which I want to invite Your wisdom and Your insight and Your input. Only You can know the merits and pitfalls of such an idea and only You can open or close the doors to make such an idea happen. Lord, I have watched The Chosen and marveled at the story they are creating based on Your Word and Your hand upon each of those involved. I am also one who tends to yearn to be a part of something so big it’s not something I can create or participate in on my own, not without You. You know my heart and the ways I have longed to be in the spotlight or involved in groups and projects and shows that are well beyond my tiny sphere of influence and connection. Even so, as I listened to Dallas Jenkins today refer to Chosen-related shows he is going to announce on Friday, I was drawn immediately to the idea of being a part of such an adventure. I bring that to You. I bring my desire and my goal and my ambitious writing idea to You for You to shape and form and guide through Your hands as the Creator and the One who shapes me, my talent, and my opportunities. Speak to me in ways I will hear You and know it is You. Guide me according to Your perfect wisdom and perfect will. I place this auspicious goal in Your hands and ask You to do with it as You will. In Jesus’ name I pray this, Amen.

It’s been a just about a month since I prayed those words (today is October 16) and despite the arrival and subsequent devastation Helene wrought here in Western North Carolina, and the shift in the focus of many of my prayers to the immediate needs of my family and my community, those words also have remained part of my writing-related prayers. Part of my where-to-next prayers. Part of my let’s-take-a-risk-for-something-that-matters prayers. 

I think we can both admit this is a pretty out-of-the-boat idea — altering my website to try and get your attention and share some writing samples with you. Will this work? Only God knows the answer to that one. Well, and maybe you do, too, Dallas. But there are some things I do know about my writing:

• my writing is clearly and definitely a gift from God and one I try daily to nurture and sharpen for God’s glory;
• I am a gifted storyteller;
• despite the longshotess of two writing-related positions, I applied to write for In Touch Ministries (this was over 20 years ago) and to write alongside Jordan Raynor (this was more recently) and in each of these, I was invited to the next round of the writing application process. In fact, with Charles Stanley’s organization, I was one of the two considered for but not offered the position (an opportunity for which I am still grateful);
• God is in charge of where my writing will eventually be used for the good of others and for His glory;

And so my husband created a website focused solely on getting your attention and encouraged me to do something, well, big. He can tell you how focused (some may say obsessive) my autistic brain gets around certain subjects that speak to my heart. The Chosen is one such subject, specifically, the writing on The Chosen, and I have wondered what it would be like to be part of the amazing writing team you have as well as how one might create an opportunity and find a way onto your team.

That is what this site and these words and my prayers are hoping to do – create an opportunity to speak with you directly about writing for 5 & 2 studios as you launch your new projects. Perhaps you will read the sample writing here and maybe, just maybe, you might feel led to reach out for a brief conversation over some virtual coffee to talk about all things writing and whether my words can fill a need on your team.

Thanks for stopping by and I hope I’ll get to hear from you!

Judith

(excerpt from my book, At His Dusty Feet: Storied Moments from the Road to Golgotha; based on John 12:1-8)

Today, on the journey to Jerusalem, we stop in Bethany, the place where Lazarus lives. The Lazarus who lives because Jesus raised him from the dead. And so, I recline with Jesus and Lazarus at the table. But my focus is not on Jesus as we sit around this table. It is on Judas Iscariot and Lazarus and the incredible difference in their responses to Jesus.

Judas exudes what feels like a sense of duty and obligation combined with unmet expectations. Jesus is neither who Judas wants Him to be nor who Judas expected and hoped He would be. Rather than a warrior king sent to defeat Israel’s enemies once and for all, Jesus is a rebel of redemption and a humble servant who takes on the religious elite rather than the Roman rulers. Unlike Judas, Lazarus radiates absolute, resolute joy; it’s in his smile, in the way his eyes light up as he speaks to and listens to Jesus, and in the relaxed, reclining position he has taken at the table near his dear friend and redeemer.

I cannot help but compare Lazarus’ joy-filled demeanor with Judas’ more stoic and business-like manner. Where Lazarus is comfortable and relaxed, Judas is tense and sharp, both in tone and posture. In the midst of this celebratory evening among friends, Judas’ response to Mary’s actions feels entirely out of place, and Jesus is quick to address it. He defends Mary’s extravagance, and in doing so, he convicts Judas for his greed and for his misplaced focus.

Does Judas feel Jesus’ rebuke? It’s difficult to say. Knowing that Judas, like the other 11 disciples, has been with Jesus throughout His three years of ministry and witnessed miracles and listened to Jesus’ words, how is it Judas remains reserved and reticent in the presence of this king? Who exactly is this man who travels with Jesus? I know where some of the other disciples come from and how Jesus called them to follow Him. But Judas? I don’t know much about him.

And so today I contemplate him. I wonder, was he as willing and eager to follow Jesus as Simon and Andrew, who dropped everything the moment Jesus invited them to follow Him? Did Judas have reservations even then, or was he so excited by the idea Jesus might possibly be the Messiah for whom he’d been waiting that he left all he knew without hesitation? I can’t help but believe he must have been excited at least initially. So when did that change for Judas? When did the reservations set in and when did he decide to steal from Jesus, or, even worse, to withdraw from Jesus?

I watch Judas. I watch the indifference he seems to have toward Jesus. I watch him bristle at the extravagance Mary demonstrates. And I cannot help but marvel at his mock indignation, claiming the perfume could have been sold to help the poor. How can he be in the presence of Jesus, not just around this table, but for three years now, and not be changed? How is it possible for him to be in the presence of Jesus and yet not embrace who Jesus is? Not embrace such powerful, unconditional love. Not embrace hope. Not embrace what Jesus is about and who Jesus is.

And yet even as I watch Judas with his indignation and seemingly duplicitous nature and even as I feel my own overwhelming love flowing from my heart for this Jesus who loves me with all my flaws, I wonder.

How many times have I looked more to my gain than to my Savior? How many times have I, like Judas, missed the opportunity to see before me the plans, the messy truth lurking in my own messed up heart? How many times have I sat in the presence of Jesus with ambivalence, distracted by my own agenda, my own needs, my own desires? How many times?

I can’t count.

And so, today, I am thankful as I sit around this table where Martha serves and Mary worships and Lazarus adores for an opportunity to examine my own heart and my own motivations. Today, I am willing to look at the deep, dark places and ask Jesus to shine His light there. To seek forgiveness for the times I have put my desires for gain above my need for Jesus. To seek forgiveness for chasing personal gain instead of helping others. To seek forgiveness for my Judas moments.

Recently, I was thinking back to my 12-year-old’s initial autism diagnosis – six years ago. Back then, I knew nothing about what an autism diagnosis would mean or what it would look like as the days transitioned into months and years. I confess I was a bit overwhelmed by what I didn’t know, but I was also incredibly relieved, and, yes, even a bit validated. For years I’d been wondering what was going on with my girl and what motivated her behaviors. For years, I’d been asking if she might be autistic. For years, doctors, family, and friends insisted she wasn’t; she didn’t meet the criteria. In other words, we couldn’t check off enough boxes on the autism checklists.

But I knew something was going on. When we finally got our girl’s initial diagnosis, I exhaled a long breath I’d been holding for years. Now, we could get down to providing our girl the support she needed to navigate this neurotypical world as someone who is autistic rather than neurotypical.

Still, there were questions and unknowns. And there was misinformation about what an autism diagnosis means. For example, one of the first things I read, one of the first things I was told by more than one person, was I needed to take time to grieve. I needed to mourn the loss of the child I thought I was going to have. Except I still had her. She sat there before me, no different than she was before being diagnosed as autistic. The only real difference was I now had the information necessary to understand her and to meet her where she was.

As I look back at those early days with her diagnosis, I can’t help but think back to the day she was born. I remember all the preparations we’d made in getting ready for the birth. Unfortunately, I hadn’t spent as much time preparing for after she was born and I’d overlooked something pretty important – breastfeeding. Even though I knew I wanted to breastfeed her, I hadn’t read about nor had I planned for what breastfeeding involved. So, when that sweet baby girl entered the world, I was at a loss. I had no idea how to feed her. 

Although it is one of the most natural things, it doesn’t come naturally, at least it didn’t for me. And it also doesn’t come without some challenges (even if you happen to know how it’s supposed to work). Because I was new to this, I relied on the nurses in the delivery unit to help me by providing advice and instruction. Unfortunately, it turned out none of them knew a whole lot more than me.

In fact, following their advice resulted in greater challenges and even greater confusion. Mind you, they meant well, but just because they were nurses didn’t mean they had all the answers. I had had a C-section, and there was some discussion about whether my body would do what it was supposed to do as far as milk production was concerned. As a result, one well-intentioned nurse advised me to begin pumping every hour for fifteen minutes. 

This turned out to be not-so-good advice. This turned out to produce more milk than six babies would have needed let alone my one sweet little baby girl. Fortunately, it wasn’t impossible to correct the course I’d started on. It took a few weeks, but eventually with the right guidance, my milk production evened out, I learned how to help my girl latch so she could get what she needed, and we found the routine and rhythm that worked for us.

Parenting an autistic child is a similar journey.

There are well-meaning people who will offer advice, like you need to grieve the loss of the child you thought you would have. Like the nurses in the Labor & Delivery Unit, these folks believe they are helping, but in reality they are creating challenges you don’t need to face. Because the reality is, your child hasn’t changed. The only change is you have access to the services and support she will need to succeed in this neurotypical world.

Parenting is an adventure filled with unknowns and parenting an autistic child really isn’t all that different. It’s up to us to meet our kids where they are and walk with them into the world. It’s up to us to be their advocate, their guide, their encourager, and their hope. It’s up to us to be their safe space and love them unconditionally.

Trust me, you will find the routines and rhythms that work for her and your family, and it will make a world of difference. Like any parent, you are an expert on your child and when it comes to discovering the resources to help support your autistic child, this book will help you navigate that part of the adventure, helping you plug into the autistic voices who can shine a light along the path. It is my hope that my words will guide you and encourage you when the journey brings challenges along the way and remind you how amazing the adventure can be.

One night a few years ago one of my girls knocked over the glass of red wine I’d put on the floor by the place on the sofa where I was sitting. She didn’t see the glass, and most of its contents spilled out on the floor. I was frustrated, even exasperated.

But it was all okay.

Until my dear girl spoke the words, “I hate myself.”

Immediately I rose and approached her and took her face in my hands. I looked into her eyes for several moments and then I spoke a deep, unshakable truth:

“I am tired. I am human. I am frustrated. Even so, I love you. You are smart. You are amazing. You are creative. You are beautiful in your soul and your heart. I love you beyond words and it is so not okay for you to say you hate something I love so very much.”

I repeated these words two more times, looking deeply into her sweet face and her eyes, eyes that wanted to argue with me.

I saw in her a deep desire to believe the worst about herself.

I saw in her a reflection of me.

I saw in her the need for absolute unconditional love.

Because I have received such love. Because I have known such love in my deepest moments of hurt and shame and self loathing. Because God has whispered His truth, His unconditional love for me to my heart.

Because I received what I desperately needed, I was able to offer the blood of my blood – my dear girl – the truth she so desperately needed to hear and to know.

She is loved.

No matter what she does or what she says or how she messes up – she is loved.

There is no greater truth than the Gospel that says we who are not worthy are made worthy by Jesus and His love for us.

As I sat with her on the couch that night, I hoped and prayed my girl not only heard that truth and felt that truth, but she believed that Truth.

There may be times in your life when you feel like an outsider, like you’ve lost track of who you are in the midst of doing all the things each and every day. And it may seem like you’re invisible to the world around you or maybe even to yourself.

Know that you’re not. 

Hear me on this – you’re not invisible nor are you an outsider.

But that is exactly what the enemy wants you to believe.  And feel. Because when you do, he can steal your joy. In fact, he will use those lies to paralyze you so that you choose to wallow in self pity and question your efforts, even your worth, leading you to disconnect from the world instead of engaging with it.

Believe me, I get it all too well. I get it because I’ve experienced deep feelings of unrest and uncertainty and felt disconnected, untethered, from myself, from friends, from the Truth. 

In other words, I’ve questioned who I am in other people’s eyes.

Questioning, and then answering myself with the enemy’s lies about me: I’m not good enough; I’m not doing anything worthwhile; everyone else has it all together except me. The list of lies can get long.

And that’s the thing, right? Those are lies, lies we hear, lies we start repeating to ourselves, and, if we’re not careful, lies we begin to believe.

But they *are* lies. The are *not* truth. 

Don’t fall victim to the lies because it’s not an accurate portrait or measurement of you. Oh, we can convince ourselves that it is, but that doesn’t make it accurate and it doesn’t make it true.

Truth relies not on our interpretation or our perspective. 

Truth simply is. Like God, the source of Truth. Truth doesn’t need us to prove it for it to be true. It doesn’t weigh itself on the scale of whether we believe it. It doesn’t wait for our approval. 

It simply is.

That’s why we need to take our example from Truth and simply be. We need to see ourselves in the eyes of the Creator and simply be.

Be you. 

Believe in who you are created and designed to be by the source of all Truth. 

Trust Him. Trust Him with you. 

Let Him define you rather than letting circumstances or people or the enemy define you or cause you to question your worth, your ability, your talent or the things of which you alone were created to do. 

God designed you for where you are, as who you are, and for such a time as this. 

So, please, be you. Be you with purpose and on purpose. Be you boldly. Believe in the you God and I can see and you will *be* amazing.

I believe in you, friends.

My mind wanders in search of You. I seek the place of the ancient paths with the oasis of trees that invite a weary sojourner to rest in the shade and to taste the cool waters from well dug in ages past. I stand upon the road and look up to the hills, the sky, the fading sun and dusk-infused clouds. 

Along the side of the road, the oasis I seek. I sit, my back against the tree and I rest my head against its trunk, close my eyes and anticipate the coming of the night, the night I know will find me here and invite me to come and see, to look up at the night sky. There in the sky I will see the stars, yes, but also eternity held in the dark of the night above me.

Stars shimmer with the Light of ages past, only just now reaching this place where I sit. In this moment I long to hear the Voice that spoke the stars I see into existence. It is a yearning that stretches over the night’s endlessness of sky, carried on whispers of breezes along the years that stretch back and well beyond this very moment.

I am a seeker among seekers. I am a sojourner among strangers. I am a pilgrim cloaked in Truth, the Truth of stars placed upon my shoulders like a yoke by the Knower of my soul and the Designer of my journey.

Here in this desolate desert I am seen; I am known well beyond any shadow of doubt or faltering. Even my stumblings are welcome here beneath the vastness of a sky filled with galaxies my eyes long to see yet cannot discern.

Here against this tree the night reminds me – You are here. You are in the grains of sand of the desert through which my feet have trudged. You are in the sound of a distant insect hum and the rustle of the leaves of this ancient tree against which I lean my head.

There is within me as I rest here a bone-deep longing that runs as deep as the oceans and as high as the stars. A longing to be connected to something more, something well beyond myself. This longing is a fire within my bones and a memory of Your eternal presence that exists within me but beyond my understanding.

The desert is a place with whispers of who You are through the journeys of those who came before me and now testify to Your presence in the pillars of smoke and in fire, in lion’s dens and in parted seas, in years of exile and in journeys of return, in prisons and in cisterns.

In this solitary and silent space in the shadow of looming mountains that seem to scrape the skies, I see the pilgrims who walked this road before me. They planted this tree of shade, creating the oasis of hope in the desert. They dug this well deep into the rocky ground beneath my tired feet, a well with its cool water to refresh my weariness. 

A cool cup of water passes my lips, the same lips touched by coals carried by unseen angels to purify me and to prepare me, readying me to press on for the Kingdom work here and wearing down paths, ancient paths, to carry sojourners like me ever closer, ever closer to You. 

You, the Creator who numbered and named the stars and who numbered the hairs upon my head and knows a name for me even I do not yet know. 

Indeed I am fully known.

I am loved unconditionally in all my weariness and in all my searching and in all my bond-deep longing and in all my imperfect humanity. You bid me rest in You here in this desert oasis, and so I do. 

And when you bid me, Come, follow me, rested and fully known, I do so.