Me, Summed Up in 11 Pictures.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who I am. Perhaps it’s because I’m currently living in a city that my great-great grandparents lived in, and the tangible marks of their legacy live on in the very building where my husband goes to school, Concordia Seminary. Or maybe it’s because I’m incredibly curious about genealogy.

Finding out as a teenager that my family was chock-full of Lutheran theologians, college presidents, writers, and master artisans on one side was intriguing to me.

And then finding out a few years later that I’m a direct descendent of two Pilgrims who came over on the Mayflower, John Alden and Myles Standish, was fascinating.

Then, finding out this year that our family’s history as master blacksmiths extends back to being mentioned in Beowulf, one of the most epic pieces of historically based fiction ever written, and that Thomas Jefferson was a family lawyer for my distant grandparents, has completely captured my imagination.

But who am I? How do I sum myself up in just a few words, as I’m destined to be remembered by on a scrap of paper that one of my great-great-great grandchild looks at someday?

I don’t know. But what I do know is that I can sum myself up in a few memorable pictures, captured over the course of my lifetime:

1) Part of an incredible family. My parents gave their all in raising my brother and me, and their sacrifices haven't been in vain. The most important thing they ever did for me was helped instill a hunger for learning and a passion for a relationship with my Creator. For that, I can never thank them enough. My life was only blessed even more with my marriage to my incredible husband, Tyler. This picture is from one of our many wonderful family trips, in this case, to Washington when I was a junior in high school.

2) A talker and listener. I love to talk, and I love to listen to others talk. Deep discussions are one of my favorite pastimes ever...and have been since I was little, as seen in this picture of me when I was just 3.

3) A bold adventurer. I love new experiences. I'll try nearly anything once, even snails--as seen here in a picture from my junior prom. I feel that you can always learn something from each new experience, whether it was a good one or bad one (for instance, I now know that I'll never enjoy eating pickled pigs' feet!)

4) A determined hard worker. I ran cross country for three years in high school--not because I enjoyed it, but because I knew it was a good discipline for me to practice. As I logged the miles every day, I spent time thinking about my life--and that reflection allowed me to know myself better than most people my age, I think. This picture is of me with my team during my senior year of high school, right before a big race started.

5) A down-to-earth person. I'm incredibly detailed, a meticulous planner. I direct large functions, gigantic groups of people, and often vent my frustrations in no uncertain terms. But at my core, I'm actually pretty laid back and don't mind the curve balls that life throws at me...as seen here in this picture from freshman year of college, after playing on a muddy soccer field one night.

6) An artist. I've always been passionate about writing and art. Growing up, I always thought I'd be an artist--from the time I was two, scribbling wildly colored crayon sketches in construction paper packets. As I've grown older, these two hobbies have brought me so much joy and allowed me to express myself in unique ways. Here's a picture of me from senior year of high school, displaying a painting on my bedroom wall.

7) Someone who likes to laugh. Looking back at pictures throughout my life, I'm struck by how many I'm giggling in. I was raised in a family that laughed all the time, has a copious amount of inside jokes, and who even whispers gaffs at funerals. I have a good sense of humor, thanks to them--and it's one of my favorite features about myself now. This picture is of my younger brother, Chase, and me as youngsters.

8) A leader. I've always been a leader, as long as I can remember...and I always knew it. And I consider it a spiritual gift from God. Some of my biggest lessons and most difficult challenges as a leader came from the year this photo was taken, my sophomore year of college--when I led this hall of over 40 unique students as a resident assistant.

9) A strong and confident woman. One of my male friends in high school once said that this picture said "everything you needed to know about Cassie". I think he's right. I'm strong, and not afraid of who I am. This was after a night out with my friends during high school, and we're standing on the bed of my pick-up truck.

 

10) A mischievous goofball. Many of my students know this, but most of their parents do not--I'm one of the biggest pranksters you'll ever meet. You can't take life too seriously, after all. I practice what I preach, as you can tell from this picture with my husband a few years ago in St. Augustine, Florida.

11) A caring, relationship-driven individual. I absolutely adore people--even though they're the biggest source of conflict and frustration in my life. I strive to love others as Christ has loved me, and the many wonderful relationships I've been blessed with in my life are my greatest joys. In this picture, taken on our middle school mission trip last summer, you can almost see the bonds of love between all of these students and me.

Things I Probably NEVER Should’ve Said Out Loud…

While in the office today, chatting with some of my male coworkers, they confessed that they think I’m a very intimidating person.

Dare I mention that one of these coworkers saying this was my own husband?

When I pressed the issue–genuinely a bit concerned, I might add–they wouldn’t stop laughing long enough to give me serious reasons why they view me this way. I think they were snickering at my disbelief.

Finally, one of my coworkers stopped giggling long enough to say, “When you write things like, ‘I’m going to chop your fingers off’, that scares people!”

Hm. Good point.

Let me explain…it’s not as bad as it sounds.

I think.

Back away from the cookies....

About two years ago, I had a problem with people from the office sneaking into my candy and cookie stash that I was saving for middle school events. When I dragged in several large cookie trays one day and had to leave them overnight, I was obviously concerned for the welfare of said cookies. So, I did what any other creative young individual would do, to deter people from creeping into my cookie stockpile:

I wrote a note saying, “If you steal a cookie from here, I will chop off your sticky fingers and feed them to you.”

It worked. Not a single cookie was stolen.

However, I haven’t lived it down since then. It gets brought up at least once a week around here.

I had another one of those, “Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud” moments a few weeks ago, as I was teaching a Communion Instruction class at church on a Sunday afternoon. As it was a large group and I was busy with organizing paperwork and prepping for the long lesson I’d be teaching, I had a few young students standing around me, pestering me mercilessly.

Since I was about ready to get up and teach the large class of students and parents, I had to get this youngsters to leave me in peace for a few moments. So I asked them to leave me alone and go sit down.

I actually don’t remember what I said, to be quite honest–but plenty of witnesses later reminded me of exactly what I said:

“Hey, go sit down or I’ll have to stab you with a pencil.”

Their response? “Whaaaaat?! You wouldn’t stab us, would you, Cassie?”

Me: (glancing around the table) “Well, you got lucky today. I only see pens here. Go away.”

I know, you’re wondering if I would actually stab a sixth grader with a pencil, aren’t you?

Come on–I don’t want to ruin my pencils. Silly.

I think the problem stems from the fact that I’m coupling my sarcastic and witty humor along with the fact that I work with such a turbulent and boisterous age group.

Often, I’ve caught myself saying things at youth events like, “Don’t make me throw you off the roof, pal” and ”If you don’t put that basketball away, I’ll shove it up your nose”.

You think I’m joking? Ask my kids.

Or my coworkers.

Or…anyone that knows me.

I’ve become infamous lately for the “Focus Fist”, an effective (albeit cruel-sounding) form of silencing a large crowd during Bible study. The “Focus Fist” actually used to be the much more humane “Focus Fox”, where I held up my hand and formed an adorable little fox by extending my index and pinky fingers and clamping the other fingers down into a little snout. The purpose of the “Focus Fox” is to distract the group just long enough to refocus them. And it’s usually quite effective.

But, after an extremely long day at work and an evening capped off by attempting to lead a Bible study with the most tenacious group of ten and twelve year olds you’ve ever seen in your life, I abandoned the “Focus Fox” and instead waved my fist at them. Thus, the “Focus Fist” was born, and a new youth group tradition was started. And quickly spread to other youth groups a few weeks later, at a retreat.

My legacy: one of fear and control. How nice.

I guess my coworkers are right. I’m quite an intimidating person.

Now, stop reading my blog or I’ll throw you off the roof, buddy.

Don’t Judge the Savior By the Screwball…

(Author’s Note: This post is part of a multi-author blog site called “The Question”, where a variety of authors will be blogging about a sole topic. To check out the site, please go to whygrudge.blogspot.com or facebook.com/The-Question)

It’s the epic question that, provided you had the right answer, could land you a multi-million dollar book contract and enough speaking engagements to last you a lifetime.

The problem is that I don’t suspect that there’s merely one answer to this taxing question: why do people have a grudge against Christians and the church?

The implications of the answers affect each one of us, as Christians. However, if we’re being honest with ourselves—do we really want to know why we’re so disliked?

To put it in another perspective, isn’t what we’re asking here tantamount to the nerdy dweeb asking the most popular kid in school to bluntly list out all the reasons why he’s not cool?

Quite simply, one of the biggest reasons that Christianity isn’t popular is that we’re soldiers stranded in a hostile enemy territory.

Jesus himself tells us in Luke 12:51, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” The world we live in has little patience for our standards of life. They don’t understand that our philosophy isn’t “every man for himself”, but instead “love your neighbor as yourself”. In a culture obsessed with freedom and success, the idea of submitting and laying down idols seems downright stupid.

And worshipping someone you can’t even see? Ridiculous.

For a year in college, I lived with a roommate who wasn’t a Christian. She was so clueless about Christianity, in fact, that when she watched “The Passion of the Christ” for a mandatory religion class assignment, she paused halfway through the scene of Jesus being whipped mercilessly and asked me, “They don’t kill this guy in the end, do they?”

My roommate observed my behavior as a Christian for an entire year. She asked me questions about why I would get up early on Sunday for church, or why I would waste time reading my Bible when I could be hanging out with the boy I had a crush on down the hall. When I finally convinced her to come to a campus chapel, after months of praying for the opportunity to get her in church for the first time in her life, she sat in mute silence, her face stony. She never came to chapel again.

I valiantly tried my best to point out all the benefits to my life as someone who had a relationship with Christ, but she wasn’t won over by my best arguments. To this ultra-hip, beautiful girl who had everything in the world going for her, she didn’t have the slightest interest in giving up her wild weekends and changing her lifestyle to live a life of obedience and thankfulness for her Savior.

Ultimately, my former roommate became a Christian five years later, after she hit rock bottom in her life. It wasn’t until everything in her life was shaken that she finally realized how important Christ really is.

I think that’s part of it, truly. Our lives are so comfortable and convenient, so fast-paced and chaotic, so distracted, that we forget that we need a Savior. In fact, we’re not entirely convinced that we have anything we need to be saved from. Sure, maybe we screw up every once in a while—but me? Deserve death for my disobedience? Nah.

Sometimes we don’t even realize that our lives have an ending point—and a future home after death—until something earth-shattering forces us to recognize our own invincibility.

And maybe, if we’re being honest, we don’t like to be reminded that we’re invincible. Perhaps we resent the fact that Christianity points out the weaknesses we want to hide, the secret flaws we want to pretend don’t exist in us, and the fact that we, too, will someday cease to breath and will die.

But why, too, are people so opposed to Christians themselves?

Being a Christian, I’m not sure if I can answer that for the “other team” accurately. But I suspect that maybe we find people hating us so much because, well, we’re kind of lame sometimes.

A Christian shirt I actually own...

We wear our pithy Christian shirts. We listen exclusively to our Christian radio stations. We read our Christian books with ridiculous titles, we drive our cars with silly bumper stickers, and we frequent Christian establishments.

Do we ever intentionally look at the bubble of safety we’ve created for ourselves to live comfortably within, and think that maybe we’re not meant to live solely in this zone? That maybe God called us to live out in the world and witness Him to people who don’t read Christian magazines and listen exclusively to Chris Tomlin?

As hard as we try, we’ll never be anything like Jesus. Yet we walk around proclaiming to be His earthly representatives. Unfortunately, when we yell to the world, “I’m a Christian!” and then screw up—as we so often do—we’re representing Him poorly.

Imagine a secretary who proudly claims to represent her boss so well…yet she continually forgets messages, doesn’t return phone calls, loses important receipts, chews out other employees, and bungles one business deal after another. Isn’t that sort of like what we Christians are doing to God?

I hate when I hear a band do a cover of a song from another popular group. Sure, it’s technically the same song—and sure, they can hit all the notes—but at its core, it’s merely an imitation of the real thing. And really, that’s what we are, as Christians. We are merely an imitation of Christ—not Jesus himself.

Sometimes we’re a pretty darn lousy imitation, too. But just as you can’t judge a horrible rendition of a song and give up on the original tune because of the blockhead cover artist, the world shouldn’t judge Christ based on our failed attempt to represent Him.

Somehow, I suspect our mission needs to be getting ourselves out of the way and letting the Holy Spirit shine through us as unclouded as He can. To share that, as Christians, we’re not perfect–but even as the fact that counterfeit money is circulated in the world doesn’t detract from the real money that’s out there, our weak imitation of Christ doesn’t truly represent who He is.

His kindness overflows. Ours does not.

His love is endless. Ours is not.

His forgiveness is limitless. Ours is not.

We are human. He is Almighty.

Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to realize how far we really are from Christ’s perfect love, and to honestly show that gap to the world. It’s only when we’re actually open to the stinging truth of our own failures and shortcomings that we can admit our own infallibility and our desperate need for a Savior.

Because really, that’s the beauty of our faith in a nutshell: in our deepest shame and our biggest mistakes, we can be forgiven and renewed and given a future we don’t deserve through the grace that Christ offers us freely and unconditionally.

And when we, as His earthly representatives, can be candid about this—maybe we’ll encounter a world more likely to sympathize with us.

My (Humorously) Unfortunately Stuck Stiletto…

Sometimes, I think about the zany things that have happened to me in my life, and all I can think is, “This is totally going to be a chapter in a book someday.”

Often, I get that feeling when everything seems to be going wrong–humorously wrong.

Take this morning, for example. Not only did I see the sunset for the first time in months (unwillingly, I might add–darn Daylight Savings) and run out of syrup for my waffles, but I tore a hole in my nylons just as I was heading out the door.

Easy solution–yank that skirt down a few inches little lower. Problem solved.

Then, I took two steps out the door…and promptly sank my stiletto heel into the wooden slats outside our apartment complex.

I twisted my foot left and right, to no avail. Clearly, this little problem wouldn’t be solved so easily.

I bent over and grabbed my ankle, teetering precariously on one high-heeled foot as I tried to extricate myself from what was sure to be an early morning wipeout that awoke the entire apartment complex and set our neighbors’ dogs howling.

Instantly, I was transported back to the 18-year-old version of myself.

Why?

Back when I was a senior in high school, I once got stranded and left for dead when I got my heel stuck in a city grate in downtown Minneapolis.

Fine, that may be a small exaggeration. There aren’t wolves or ravenous grizzly bears roaming the busy metropolitan streets of the Twin Cities, after all.

Well, unless you count the lecherous people coming out of clubs at 3:00 am. It is, after all, the only place in the world where I’ve ever been punched in public–by a strange drunk man.

But that’s another story for another time.

This particular heel-sticking incident happened while I was leaving dinner with my senior prom date, DJ. We’d dined with a large group of friends at a posh restaurant in the heart of the city, and we were headed back to our cars. I was strolling down the street when suddenly I felt a tugging on my foot.

With my dear friend Greta, mere hours before the unfortunate heel-sticking incident...

Looking down, I saw that my strappy black shoe was firmly stuck in a large metal grate.

I pulled my foot and yanked my leg as hard as I could, but I was seriously cemented in that grate. As I’m quite the prankster, I suspect my friends thought I was joking around when I suddenly directed all my attention to the grate. They kept walking, leaving me alone in the middle of an urban jungle, with twilight fast approaching.

That’s when the first of the vampires appeared.

Had you going for a second, didn’t I?

Really, my friends did keep walking until I hollered with enough righteous anger that some of them turned to look. My valiant date obediently came trotting back to me to help me. His laughs quickly turned to consternation, as he couldn’t easily yank my shoe out of the grate, either.

He ended up having to get down on his hands and knees to pry that sucker out of the grasp of the metal carnivore. Fortunately, it provided quite the photo opportunity to all of my friends: DJ on his hands and knees on bare concrete in a tux, proudly baring my heel in one triumphant fist, and me teetering on one leg in my flowing silk dress.

It was a humorously unfortunate moment that echoed my morning today…except I had no knight in shining black fabric at my beck and call, ready to sacrifice his expensive trousers to save my rhinestone-encrusted stiletto.

So, today, I got down on my knees and pried my shoe out all by myself.

Oh, the joys of growing up.

At least this wasn’t as bad as the time I was at a party in high school, playing a fast-paced round-robin ping-pong game with a bunch of my guy friends. On that highly embarrassing night, I caught my jeans on the corner of the ping-pong table and ripped them straight across.

Thank goodness there are no pictures of that.

Oh, well. Even on the most unfortunate days, I still have a sense of humor.

And when I write that book someday, I greatly look forward to the opportunity to laugh at myself and all of the unfortunate scrapes I’ve gotten myself into….over and over and over again.

Murphy’s Law Strikes Again…

Murphy’s Law has been in full effect for me this week, it seems.

You know, that whole thought that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong”? Yeah, I think I can confirm that it’s true.

It’s been a frustrating, sad, and grueling couple of weeks for me. I have an incredibly heavy plate of events to manage in the spring and summer, so my workload is increasing steadily. It’s the time of year where our 8th grade confirmands are submitting their written testimonies of faith, so I’ve been reading and editing up a storm.

On top of that, I’ve had a number of kids confiding serious feelings and problems to me. Several things in our apartment have failed and have had to be replaced. We had a serious storm that damaged our apartment complex and forced us to evacuate and hide in the church basement at midnight one evening. Friends from my workplace were let go. My boss’s son was tragically killed in a car accident last week, and our entire staff is heartbroken over his family’s loss.

This weekend didn’t make things much better.

Due to a mistake in our calendar system, I found out at the very last-minute that our entire youth event I had been planning all week would have to be shifted to an entirely different building, as our student center was booked for a private event. I stood outside in 40-degree weather, in the middle of a thunderstorm and a tornado watch, shuffling dozens of kids from one building to another. By the time I got inside to lead the event, I was soaked to the bone.

Not only did I have to come up with an event and new devotion on the fly, I also had to discipline some of my favorite students harshly–which is never fun.

And then I snapped my key to the church off in the door, thus locking myself out when I needed to get in to set up for a class I was teaching.

Apparently I have superhuman strength?

Good to know.

The next time someone needs to lift a tractor trailer off of a preschool playground, I’ll volunteer.

I spent literally all day at church on Sunday, worshipping in the morning, teaching a Communion Instruction class to families in the afternoon, and leading our senior high small group in the evening. Somehow, I managed to get a horrific papercut on my finger, which was only made worse by the object lesson I did on Sunday afternoon that involved me plunging my hand into a basin of vinegar and salt.

As painful as it sounds? Yes.

Yesterday, I ate a salad at my desk and dropped a large chunk of bleu cheese on the floor under my desk. It promptly rolled to some unknown region of darkness, and is now lurking there, out of my reach and likely to stink abominably for the next few days.

Oh, and I also got my pant leg stuck in my desk chair so badly that I had to cut the hem of my jeans in order to extricate myself.

See? Murphy’s Law.

I am completely and utterly demoralized and drained.

But you know what? I received this text this week, from one of my high school students:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)

I realized something: in the midst of all that frustration and pain, I hadn’t given much attention to the amazing things that God was revealing to me in the last week.

I had the opportunity to worship on Sunday with three college boys–kids from the very first youth group I’d ever volunteered with, when I was a college student living in Florida for a summer. They took a long roadtrip just to see us this weekend and hang out with us in St. Louis.

As I sat with them, head bowed, reciting the Lord’s Prayer, I had tears in my eyes as I remembered sitting with them at a different church four years ago, praying with them there. I was only a college student then, but I was just as passionate about reaching people and sharing Christ’s love with them. Even though I didn’t know them very well at that point, I loved them fiercely.

I remembered going to bed every night, praying for these teenagers by name and trusting that God would guide them through the difficult years of high school and college that were just ahead of them.

I remembered sitting up with them in the hallways at the National Youth Gathering in 2007, counseling them as they worked through some serious doubts about their faith–talking and praying for hours into the night as they wrestled with challenging feelings and difficult questions.

I remembered them gleefully throwing me into a pool when I was fully clothed…and then sharing their towels with me when I climbed out of the pool, shivering.

This weekend, I sat with three former students who are now incredible men of faith. And as I sat there with my head bowed, it was if the Holy Spirit was whispering to my heart, “See? This is what I do. This is what you get to have a small part in. I’m reaping a harvest. Don’t give up. I’ll be your Strength. I’m working here.”

As distracted and busy and worn out as I get, I know God is still working in mighty ways. And it is my true privilege to get to have a small role in His incredible work.

And when Murphy’s Law strikes again–as I know it will–God will still be working then, too.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:35-39)

My Ponytail-Anger Correlation…And How A Squirrel Is Driving Me Insane.

Even as a little tot, the Ponytail-Anger correlation apparently existed...

I overheard an interesting conversation last night.

I was rounding up my eighth and ninth grade student leaders, who have been helping me lead our Wednesday night Bible studies with a rowdy bunch of fifth and sixth graders. Since we were running short on time, I quickly started explaining how the Bible study would run and assigning jobs to my student helpers for the evening.

As an assertive and highly efficient leader, I’ve learned to counter my strong personality by being overly friendly and warm when dealing with other people. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I cast off that fuzzy exterior and get down to business.

It unsettles my younger leaders, because usually they’ve only ever seen me as nice.

One of my helpers confusedly asked, “Cassie, are you mad? What’s wrong?”

Before I could respond, one of my other helpers piped up and matter-of-factly said, “No, she’s not mad. If she was mad, her hair would be in a ponytail.”

That one caught me off-guard.

Immediately, I could recall at least a half-dozen times when I had been at my absolute angriest…and yes, I’d been wearing a ponytail every time I could remember.

I thought of a blow-out fight I had with a boyfriend in high school. I trounced away from him, down the long hallway, and later had a friend remark that she could tell how mad I was by the “killer vibes” she was getting from my swishing ponytail.

I remembered the first big fight I had with my now-husband, Tyler. He eventually followed me back to my dorm room and told me that watching my ponytail swinging “furiously” was his wake-up call to how angry I really was.

So, was I angry last night?

Yes. A bit.

You see, I’m pretty sure there’s a rabid squirrel hanging out around our apartment complex.

And I honestly think he’s out to get me.

Squirrels. They look so cute and cuddly. I always secretly thought that they’d make great pets–after all, they’re small enough to throw in your purse, infinitely more amusing than gerbils and hamsters, and so dexterous.

That childhood dream has been dashed to pieces by the cold reality of trudging up a long flight of stairs to my apartment, and all of a sudden shrieking as this darn rodent swings out mere inches from my face, scampers down the handrail over my hand, and then hangs upside down from the railing, chirping angrily at me.

Listen, you insane little animal: do you pay rent here? Do you have a right to chirp at me with your bossy little voice when you have no business loitering in my apartment complex?

I didn’t think so.

Needless to say, my nerves are a little on edge. This happens nearly every day, after all. I think my little foe actually skulks around, just waiting to attack me every afternoon. Sometimes he’ll even pop out at me in the morning, as I’m trying to carry a mug of steaming hot coffee down the slippery steps to my car.

Devious little rabid monster-squirrel. He’s going to kill me one of these days. I just know it.

Well, guess what? My hair wasn’t in a ponytail last night…but it is today.

Watch out, world.

“This Moment Is Unlike Any Other Time In History”

Recently, I was chatting with my husband about literature. The conversation occurred when he stood looking at my office bookshelf, which is quite tiny and so crammed with books that I can barely pull one out without ripping my fingernails off.

Would that count in a worker’s comp lawsuit?

If so, I better note all those papercuts I get from doing mass postcard and letter mailings, too.

Tyler gazed over the titles of my books, and said to me, “Some of these books are probably the life’s work of some of these people. Do you think that their life’s work–their legacy in ink–matters to anyone else?”

Good question.

I think the real question is whether or not a book can truly transform your life. If so, the hard work and sacrifice to write the book is definitely necessary.

In my humble opinion, my life truly has been impacted by literature. I’ve been deeply provoked, challenged, comforted, and inspired by countless authors. In fact, I’ve written to a few authors over the last few years and told them how much their books have meant to me. I’m convinced that some of these authors and I would be kindred spirits if we actually knew each other.

One such book that has impacted me is Gabe Lyons’ book, The Next Christians: How a New Generation Is Restoring the Faith (I received this book for free from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group for a review).

Holy cow, people. If you read one book this year, make it this one.

And trust me, I’m quite the book critic. I don’t highly recommend any old book–only the truly outstanding ones.

Lyons writes brilliantly and clearly, with honest passion and intensity as he tackles a complex subject: the future of Christianity in the upcoming generations. His optimism and belief that the younger generation desperately wants to be a “force of restoration in a broken world” and is embarking on a revolution to rebrand the name “Christian” as something that stands for authenticity, truth, beauty, and intelligence resonates completely with what I’m seeing in the world of young Christians around me.

Lyons states, “I believe this moment is unlike any other time in history. Its uniqueness demands an original response. If we fail to offer a different way forward, we risk losing entire generations to apathy and cynicism. Our friends will continue to drift away, meeting their need for spiritual transcendence through other forms of worship and communities of faith that may be less true but more authentic and appealing.”

Preach it, brother.

Through statistics, stories, and personal reflections, Lyons weaves together a gem of a book that hit the nail on the head so many times that I literally stopped and pumped my fist in excitement in a few places…however endearingly nerdy that may sound to actually admit.

Fine, I may have a bit of a geeky streak. Proof? I was in marching band, love musicals, and adore art history.

Counterproof? I hate Star Wars, Star Trek, and video games.

Let’s get back on track.

Lyons gets it. He has his finger on the pulse of young Christians. He knows what he’s talking about.

One of the most compelling chapters in this book was where Lyons explained the different types of Christians and the way they generally interact with the world. I read through the entire section, and started getting worried–none of these descriptions fit me. “Am I a total misfit?” I wondered.

Lyons then went on to describe what he calls “the restorers”:

“I’ve observed a new generation of Christians who feel empowered…They have a peculiar way of thinking, being, and doing that is radically different from previous generations. Telling others about Jesus is important, but conversion isn’t their only motive. Their mission is to infuse the world with beauty, grace, justice, and love.

I call them restorers because they envision the world as it was meant to be and they work toward that vision. Restorers seek to mend earth’s brokenness. They recognize that the world will not be completely healed until Christ’s return, but they believe that the process begins now as we partner with God. Through sowing seeds of restoration, they believe others will see Christ through us and the Christian faith will reap a much larger harvest.

They are purposeful about their careers and generous with their time and possessions. They don’t separate from the world or blend in; rather, they thoughtfully engage. Fully aware of the seachange under way, they are optimistic that God is on the move–doing something unique in our time.”

It’s amazing, really–not only that Lyons described me and many of my young Christian friends to a “T”, but that Lyons echoed a sentiment here that I’ve been preaching to my middle school and high school students for a year now: God is doing something unique in our time.

Trust me. This is a must-read. It will challenge and inspire you, and give you hope for the future of our faith.

You can always judge how much I truly liked a book by how vigorously I wrote my notes in the margins. I circle, highlight, draw arrows, write my reactions and observations, and disagree with the text all the time–and leafing through, you can see just how much I wrestled with the text and therefore let it saturate my brain.

Guess how jam-packed the margins of this book are?

You got it: full.