I’m trying a new project. I’ve become a book reviewer for Thomas Nelson. It’s a pretty sweet deal – they send me free copies of their books, and I review them and post them here for all of my readers. And then, hopefully, you love some of their books too and go out and buy them. Genius I tell you.

Fearless by Max Lucado is a book about…well, conquering fear (in case you couldn’t tell by the little snorkeler squirrel diving off the dock. He’s being fearless…ahhh, I see what you did there.)

In summary, I am going to give you what Thomas Nelson describes the book to be, because in general, I think they do a pretty good job of covering all the major bases. Read the rest of this entry »

Recently I have been struggling with something that I think is a common fight for most artists.  It has been something that has been mostly unspoken for most of my writing career, but it came to a very poignant  head a few weeks at ConversantLife’s First Friday (August) event. One of the musical  features at the event was John Torres on vocals and guitar with Konstantin Grigorious on rhythm. John has a song called Part of the Plan which I have embedded below in a video because it’s worth a listen.

As I sat there in the full art house, surrounded by people and letting his words penetrate my ears and heart, I was actively fighting to keep from breaking into a full sob. Something about his lyrics struck a chord with me. He was singing words that described a fight that I’d been feeling, yet had been unable to describe up to that point. As an artist, he felt what I felt. He sang and I cried.

And as I sat there, one of my friends caught my eye. She saw me tearing. She knew I had been affected. After the show, she told me “It would mean a lot to John if you told him how his music moved you.”

Which I thought was perfect, because I usually love walking up to people I’ve never met before, covered with snot and tears and introduce myself by saying, “Hi I’m a big baby and I cried at your show.”

A Song for Min Joon by Sacha Penn

But then she said something that caught my attention. “Come on Jenni, you’re an artist too, so you know how it is. It’s important for people to tell you how they are affected by you. Isn’t it the same with your writing? You like knowing how your expression affects people? I know it will mean a lot to him. ”

Ah, stabbed. She was totally right. From the perspective that John was a “stranger,” I didn’t like the idea of walking up to someone and blabbing my heart. But from the perspective that John was a fellow “artist,” I knew that verbalizing my appreciation for his contribution was priceless. Standing in front of people and being vulnerable is at the core of being creative, and I can recognize that this is what a musician does every time he really plays from his heart. My friend had nailed it, it is important for people to give feedback about the results of art and vulnerability amongst an audience.

Miss Elema, Borana tribe and Samburu tribe woman by Eric Lafforgue

So, I dried my snot nose, and decided to find John. I told him that I cried, and that it was hard for me to admit that I cried. And, as predicted by my friend John was warm, open, and glad to hear it. I explained to him that I’d initially hesitated to tell him because I didn’t want him to think I was baby – but I am a writer, and in a way I understand what he is going through when he stands on stage and displays his heart through his songs. I have to admit, it was nice to hear that his thoughts were similar to mine: vulnerable art is a struggle, and that sometimes there is a significant need for validation from your audience. Not necessarily in an egotistical sort of way, but it helps to know that you were at least in the ballpark.  I don’t think either of us found it comfortable to admit that we could be so fragile.

Painting by S. Viswakarma

The Heavy Dream

I think the part that has been really hard for me lately in my own writing is that  I have begun to  feel the weight of the dream. There are days when the very inside of me screams to know that the writing matters. That it isn’t just a hobby. That it’s legitimate and that I’m professional in what I do, even if it’s on a very small scale. I don’t say this with ego involved, please know that. I don’t mean that I get an emotional plug knowing that people like what I write.  Instead I mean that if the writing was simply a puff pastry of crap (”today I went to the grocery store…wow it was fun….”), I would be happy to keep the thoughts in some sort of private journal. I would simply write for myself because I love it. But, on the other hand, if what I am writing and thinking and asking does matter, even to one person, then I share it because bringing value to the world through my creativity feels like a beautiful thing.

And that notion seems to get very complicated sometimes. And it gets very heavy. I think this is an issue that that all artists go through, but there are moments where the dreams feel too heavy to carry anymore. I nearly tell God, “God this dream hurts too much. I don’t know what would be worse…letting it go or to hold on to it and fight for it. God, can you take this passion back? My hands are tired and my heart hurts.”

Bloodwall by Sy parrish

That part is a very real and hard part.  There are parts of this dream that feel like I am just chasing unicorns and pink clouds. The realistic and logical part of my head says, “This is fluff. And it’s not real. Thanks for the passion God, but you can have it back.”

So in light of those struggles, you might understand why John’s words cut to the core of me sometimes. I’ve listened to this song about 100 times. I think the lyrics that paint in my soul are these:

What you do doesn’t have to be big

Its ok if you just want to live

So pull back the covers my dear if you want to sleep in.

It’s like that present tucked under the tree,

It was always there but you just couldn’t see.

And just ’cause you want it doesn’t mean that it’s a sin…

Just take a moment  and drink it all in – don’t stop dreaming

This is the part where the magic begins – don’t stop dreaming…

Working Class Hero by Tyla’75

These lyrics have literally taken the breath out of me like a deep sorrow. I have only had that feeling a few other times in my life, and most have them have involved death or trauma. I think it hits the part of my artist heart that begs the question “Does my art really matter? Does anyone care? Am I resonating with anyone else out there? Is this significant, or am I alone in this?” And I understand that this has the potential to sound very narcissistic, but I think as an artist it hits a chord deeper than that.

Hiking, PCH, Honesty and Loneliness.

This Sunday, a good friend of mine and I headed down the coast for a good hike in the Canyon. You can’t beat a view like this:

What I like about this particular friend is that our friendship has been like a smooth wine or a sharp cheddar cheese in that it has gotten significantly more valuable to me over time. We have grown into one another, which has felt like an unexpected surprise and I like that.

Aside for my growing affection for this person,  I love that recently she has had a growing sense of self-awareness. She is asking some really hard questions about herself, including, “Am I hard to get to know? Am I a warm open person? Am I friendly? What type of  experience do people have when they first get to know me?” She isn’t asking to be affirmed, but really wants to know if there are areas where she needs to grow.

On our hike, she was mentioning that over the past few years she’s really battled a long and hard war with loneliness -constantly feeling left out, forgotten, not connected, and anxious about it. It’s like that feeling of junior high never left. However, in the past few months she’s  come to a place of acceptance in her war with loneliness.  It’s like a ghost that follows her around. A ghost that used to scare her. And now she simply turns to it and says, “Hi Loneliness. I know you’re there. And that’s ok.” Read the rest of this entry »

For those of you who are frequent readers, it might not come as a surprise that the conversation we started about sex might need some revisiting. The S-E-X article is one of the most read and most commented on, with all of you falling in various parts of the spectrum. Even several months after posting the piece, I am still having new people join the conversation. So I think it’s fair to conclude that we struck a nerve.

Knowing this I have wanted to do a follow up post, but for a long time I didn’t have anything new or profound to say about it. Last week however I read this really interesting article in Christianity Today by Mark Regnerus (which was sort of a big deal because normally I find Christianity Today WAY too conservative for my tastes). His article was called A Case for Early Marriage, and you can read the full piece here.

Regnerus takes the whole conversation of single Christian sexuality and adds an interesting twist, refocusing the conversation into something different than mere sex.  He points out that as a Christian culture, we are highly focused (and maybe over focused) on physical conservatism before marriage, but we are missing the larger issue. Instead of being focused on how to be able to wait longer and longer to have appropriate sex within marriage, he argues that we need to see the value of, and support young Christians entering into marriage. He illuminates the shift in culture away from marriage and commitment, happening both inside and outside of the Church.Yet at the same time, we haven’t allowed for any shifts in our thoughts surrounding sexuality. We have been left with an entire generation of Christians who are trying all of the virginity commitment gimmicks they can muster, while needing trying to abstain for a continually elongating period before marriage. And in the midst we are wondering why the Church’s 80% sexuality rate isn’t that much behind the world’s 90% rate.

In a single statement, Regnerus says that we don’t need to learn how to be more pure, we need to learn how to get married. Read the rest of this entry »

I recent came across this video on ConversantLife.com via one of their columnists, Sean McDowell (yes, he does share DNA with Josh McDowell, the man that wrote Evidence That Demands a verdict and  More than a Carpender, which are both good books. Dear reader, please do not get confused and think that Josh McDowell is the same person who wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye. The credit for ruining an entire generation of Christian daters has to go to Joshua Harris. McDowell does NOT equal Harris. I know, it is easy to do).

I’m not completely sure how this video hits me. My first instinct is to be sad. I’m not sure if its just because Atheist Camp doesn’t have the same ring as “Vacation Bible School” where kids hear felt-board stories about a huge God who loves them and wants to be buddies. In comparison, having a camp where children learn that there is no God seems…well, bleak.

I do think it’s interesting that the camp does focus on philosophy, morals, and making good founded decisions, apart from God. I find it interesting to derive morality and standards of being a “good person” aside from God. Granted it’s not the first time that I’ve heard it, it just hit me funny this time. I do believe that people that don’t believe in God can be great thinkers, philosophers and people. And I do like the idea of atheist kids not getting left out of the summer camp experience.

But, I can’t shake a feeling of sadness. Maybe that’s not PC. Maybe that makes me a close minded person to be sad for these kids. What do you think? Atheist Camp? How does that sit with you?

This past weekend I went to the movies and saw Funny People  with my boyfriend, HNB.  Was it good you ask? Hilarious. It was a bit long, but between Seth Rogan, Adam Sandler, Jason Schwartzman, Jonah Hill, and other comical cast, they deliver exactly what you’d want in a Sunday afternoon bro-mance film.

Now I’m sure you all know the premise of the film. But if you live under a rock, I can give you a recap: the film features a bunch of characters who are aspiring comedians and actors. Sandler is an established comedy actor, and finds out that he is dying with cancer. He connects with Rogan and they both go on a little journey learning about fame, fortune, life, disease, love and what is important in life. Horray bro-mance movies.

The reason I talking about this post today is because there is a turn in the story line that puts the audience in an interesting place. The main character is a famous comedy actor, George Simmons (Adam Sandler), and when he finds out he is dying he tries to re-connect with an old love, Laura (Leslie Mann). The thing is, Laura is married. But as the story is painted, you find out that Laur’s husband, Clark (Eric Banna), has been cheating on her for years. And not to mention that there are several scenes where Clark openly disrespects Laura condescendingly. In one scene, Laura teary eyed confesses to George that she loves him more than her husband and wishes that she never would have married Clark.

It’s from this point that the complication begins to weave itself in my mind. As a viewer, I felt incredibly guilty cheering for George in his pursuit of Laura. Part of me wanted him to get her, to love her and have them ride together into the sunset. But the other part of me looked at her beautiful children, her home, her family, and her life and just wanted to scream at George to stop. To leave Laura alone and let her figure out her own life. To not satisfy himself in his need for her, and not destroy her family in the process.

It was an interesting moral split. And the story doesn’t end there – there are 146 minutes of weaving the complicated web, and then leaving you with an adequate sense of closure.

But my question is this: Do you feel bad rooting for the douche bag husband to get cheated on by the beautiful wife? Or do you want the main character to loose so the less popular character wins?

Either way, kudos to the writer, Judd Apatow, for keeping me engaged and divided throughout the course of the film.

What do you think?

Tonight while on a jog  around the bay, the night was so clear that the moon made mirror images on the water. Seeing that it’s a full moon at the moment, it was bright and the night was purple and blue and black – some of my favorite tones.

And while I pumped out all of my energy from the day, a memory resounded through my mind. A few years ago I was in the midst of another dark night lit by only the moon. I remember this moment very vividly – not only for the emotional significance, but for the astonishingly sharp visual that seemed to pair with it. It was the middle of the night when I was en route to New Zealand. In leaving LA, I was leaving behind a host of problems, my life was essentially in wreckage, and I was holding it all together with McGiver-style bubble gum and tape. Little did I know that when I landed in New Zealand I would promptly be deconstructed and begin the process of slowly piecing my life back  together. That moment on the plane was probably one of the darkest, more anxiety ridden nights of my life.

As I flew through the dark night, thousands of feet in the air, the darkness was piercing black. But the moon was soft white, illuminating the ocean as a blanket of sparking diamonds. The night was so clear that even from my height, I could make out the tiniest islands down there in the in the massive blue, and I could see the white caps of waves washing over beaches. It was honestly one of the most beautiful sites I have seen in my life. I remember specifically with tears in my eyes I whispered under my breath, “God I don’t know where you are, and I am scared sh*tless, but here I am.” Read the rest of this entry »

I have had lots of friends asking, “So how did the talks go?” since I have been back from speaking at Summer Camp this weekend. I have two words to describe this weekend:

1) Indescribable.

2) Hades.

Let me start with point two:

Yes, this is the one of the coolest days. The heat of the day is 127…and it’s 113 at night. Basically, you lay on top of your sleeping bag and try not to be miserably drowning in your own sweat until sleep over takes you.

Ok, onto the first point, which is obviously the better of the two.

Have you ever had a moment when you realize that you just stumbled upon something bigger than yourself? Talking to these kids this weekend was an experience that could be described as just a glimpse of the massive story that God is writing. It was for all intensive purposes…chilling.

I was sitting in church the weekend before when I got the inspiration for what I wanted to talk on. I had been praying for days, “God what do you want to tell these kids? Because I really don’t have much to say and it would be really embarrassing to just stand up there for four days.” Well, inspiration came like a flood.  Sitting there in the midst of a service, my mind began spinning, and I started asking complete strangers for a pen before I drowned in my own thoughts. I scribbled on bulletins – my own and other people’s as I desperately grabbed whatever I could get my hands on. Read the rest of this entry »

Yesterday I was attending one of my networking groups that focuses on public speaking.  No one signed up to give a speech that day, so I sent an email out to the group indicating that we were each going to do “Mini Speeches.” The assignment to the group was to bring in their favorite book and we would take 3-5 minutes to speak about why you liked it, what touched you, and maybe read a small excerpt out of the book. The point of the exercise would be preparing content and delivering the speech in a clear concise way.

When I started looking through my books, I knew right away what I wanted to talk on. Don Miller happens to be my favorite author and celebrity crush. I have all of his books and love his unorthodox version of pursuing Jesus with a tender and open mind.  One of my favorite of Don’s books is Searching For God Knows What.  One of my favorite chapters in this book is called “Children on Chernobyl.” This particular chapter was really impacting because it describes a picture Miller keeps on his desk of a small five year old boy whose body was grossly mutilated by the horrors of the nuclear leak in the Soviet Union in 1986.

Miller explains it may seem drastic to compare this boy’s pain to humanity’s pain, but there are parallels that are somewhat striking. This boy’s body was the result of a terrible tragedy. And yet, our soul are terribly disfigured by tragedy. That we are all distorted by the war between God and evil, and even though we appear to be fine on the outside, our souls have really become very damaged and pained.

As I was researching what to say in my mini-speech, it hit me how spiritual this book really was. I imagined myself standing in front of my club, telling them that their souls were damaged because of an unseen spiritual war. Which is just perfect because it happens to be the fastest and easiest way to be classified as the Crazy-Christian lady who you shouldn’t be friends with. Being confused, I did what I always do when I can’t decide something: I called my mom. I loved this book, but really didn’t want to preach or offend my friends that don’t believe in God…or Miller. My mom said a quick prayer, and I decided “what the heck – I’ll give it a try. I mean the worse thing that can happen is that they’ll all think I’m nuts..and I’m pretty good at convincing people of that on my own anyway.” Read the rest of this entry »

Just today, one of my good friends asked me to speak at the Summer Camp for her youth group. My knee jerk reaction was to say yes. So, I said yes. Then the questions came. I found myself realizing that I don’t know if I have much to say to 16 year old kids. “Drink beer kids, it’s great!” or “Have sex, just wear a condom!” Right. Maybe not the best place to start. (And for the record, I wouldn’t actually say that. I know after the Sex Post, some of you think I stand outside the school yard gate and hand out condoms to Jr. Highers. Haha.)  But after telling my friend that I would speak, I legitimately sat down and freaked out thinking, “WHAT IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO TALK ABOUT?”

Ironically, just yesterday my mom swung by my house. She and my dad have been cleaning out their house and attic, sorting through old things, and throwing away old junk. Buried deep in the attic, my mom came across a few boxes from my high school era. Being my wonderful mom, she figured that past memories could inspire some good creativity, so she promptly left the boxes on my front porch. Nothing beats coming home to find a box inscribed with your 16-year-old boyfriend’s name, and the contents of high school youth spilling down the porch stairs.

So, as I grapple with what Jesus and God want me to tell these kids, I have been doing my homework by walking through memory lane of my own high school experiences. Read the rest of this entry »