Love Knows Your Name

I love nicknames.
In college I lived with a roomie whose name was also Jenna.
So our friends gave us a lot of nicknames to set us apart.
I became a variety of names: J, JLu, Jen, Beautiful, Her Majesty …
(Okay, maybe not all of those were my nicknames. I'll let you guess which ones were not:)

But I also love nicknames because, in my opinion, they show affection.
They tend to show that the relationship is more than just professional.
When I use a nickname, that means I really know her or him.
And usually love her or him.

My dad still calls me "Jenna Wenna." It's a special nickname he calls me.
And for whatever reason it makes me feel loved.

Maybe that's because when people say our names, whether it be "nicked" or not, that means we are, to some extent known by them.
And we all want to feel known, right?
Why do think our culture is so obsessed with fame, social media, even blogs:)?
To be known.
And we don't just want to be known in a shallow way.
But in a relational way, in a loving way.
Because when we are known in a deep and loving way, it changes us.

It changed my girl Mary.
Ever met Mary? A lot of people call her Mary Magdalene.
But properly, she is Mary from Magdala.
Magdala is a village on the Sea of Galilee, a village Jesus would have visited, a village where He probably met Mary.

First thing we read about her?
Well, Luke 8 tells us that Jesus had cured her of seven demons.
In typical boy fashion, Luke keeps it short. Seven words to describe seven demons.
"from. whom. seven. demons. had. gone. out." 
Real cool Luke. 
Give us girls some details! 


But all we know is that before, Mary was living in darkness and despair. 
And now she is different.
Now she is following Jesus, even helping Jesus. 
Something about Jesus compelled her to follow Him, even minister TO Him. 

So what in heaven's name happened? 
Well, I believe love happened. 
What happened to transform Mary? 

It was a love that not only had the power to cure her but the power to transform her. 
And even more than that, it was a love that was personal, relational.
A love that made her feel known. 
A love that knew her name.
How do we know this? By looking at the end of her story.

Mary sees Jesus die a brutal death on a cross. 
After he was buried, she went to visit His grave.
But when she arrived at the grave, something was very wrong. 
The tomb where Jesus was buried was empty. 
So she began to cry, thinking someone had stolen His body.
As she cried, she heard a voice. 

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”Supposing Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.” Jesus said to her,“Mary!” She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” (which means, Teacher).

When did she finally recognize the voice of Jesus?
Did you catch it? If not, look again.
She recognized Him when she heard her name. 
"Mary."

What does that say about Jesus? What does that say about the relationship she had with Him? 

You know, looking back …
In high school when I did anything so that the "cool girls" would know my name,
Or when I would load on the makeup so that the cute guy would know my name…

Or looking at today …
When someone I admire actually knows my name,
And as silly as this sounds, when a someone tweets or Facebooks my name…

It all roots back to this deeper desire I have to be known.

So when I think about the truth that Jesus knows my name...
I mean, the Creator of Pluto knows my name!
The moulder of the mountains to know my name!
The essence of love knows my name!
It changes me, just like it changed Mary. It takes me from darkness to light. From empty to filled. 

You have a God who knows your name.
Love knows your name.
"He calls His own sheep by name …" 

And if this truth hasn't changed you, then maybe, starting today, you can get to know Him in return.



P.S. If you don't know what all this "knowing Jesus" stuff is all about, but you are interested … contact me here. 

Valentine's Day GIVEAWAY!

Another Valentine's giveaway is here!

This is a short giveaway so SIGN UP NOW so that you can win by TOMORROW!

In honor of heart day, I'm giving away another free copy of a book I wrote about love called, "Love Is…"

So retweet it, Facebook it, let all your buddies know!

The more you spread the word about the GIVEAWAY, the more chances you have to win:)


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Love Is … Healing

Wounds. We all have them.

Wounders. We have all been them.

After all, we live in a broken, wounded world.

2013 came with many wounds - the passing of my father-in-law, the passing of a grandmother, the passing of our unborn baby. And with these wounds, I became a wounder.

Ever heard the phrase, "hurt people hurt people"? It's true. (And my poor husband got the brunt.)

I think that's why this past year, I found myself hanging out with one particular girl in the New Testament a lot. I just feel like I “get” her a little, and if she knew me, she would “get” me. 

(See her full story here.)

I don’t know her name.

The Bible doesn’t tell us.

But we instantly sense her shame.

See, for 12 years Mark tells us that this woman suffered from “constant” bleeding.

A lot of scholars think it was a hemorrhage of the womb, so that means vaginal bleeding for 12 years.

Twelve years.

Constant.

And with this kind of bleeding, under the Jewish law, she was legally "unclean."

Anyone or anything she touched would be legally “unclean.”

So it may not be a stretch to assume that for 12 years this woman couldn’t attend synagogue, couldn’t hug a friend she passed in the market, couldn’t hold her husband’s hand or pick up a baby.

What would this do to your self-esteem, reputation … your heart?

Twelve years of being called “unclean.”

Twelve years of separation.

The physical wound was nothing compared to the emotional one.

Can you relate to her a little? What wounds are hurting you today?

Maybe it was her cutting words. His unfaithfulness. A dad who wasn’t emotionally involved, or a mom whose expectations you couldn’t live up to.

It could be that this Valentine’s week only brings you pain because you haven’t met him or you miss him.

And what do you do with this hurt?

Maybe you deny it.

Maybe you dwell on it.

Or maybe you, like me, turn to people or stuff to fix it.

Not too long ago I was worked up with worry. I had to go to the mall to return an item. 

I walked into the mall with one bag and walked back out with five.

Popping shopping pills.

I’m guilty.

I frequently find myself telling one girlfriend about how the other girlfriend hurt me. I call it “venting,” but let’s call it for what it is – gossip.

Rubbing a little gossip ointment on the wound.

I’m guilty.

But instead of turning to shopping, gossip, social media, a new man, job success or way too many margaritas for healing, what if we do what our friend does in Mark 5?

“She had heard about Jesus, so she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his robe. For she thought to herself, “If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.” 

She turned to Jesus.

And she didn’t just turn to Him.

She turned to Him with faith.

“I will be healed,” she thinks.

And when she does, her bleeding immediately stops.

But that’s not enough for Jesus.

Physical healing is never enough for Jesus.

“He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my robe?” 

And “he kept on looking around to see who had done it.” 

I love that word “kept.”

He kept after her until she was drawn out of the madness of the mob who marginalized her and into the presence of the God who sees her, knows her, loves her.

And He does the same with you and me.

He keeps after us.

Keeps after us until we see the success, the shopping, the new man, the new figure ... can’t cure us.

He keeps after us until we step into His presence.

His presence is healing ointment for our deepest wounds.

Because in His presence, we are seen, we are known, we are loved.

In His presence, He says to her...to you...to me,

“Daughter, you took a risk of faith, and now you’re healed and whole.” 

Valentine Giveaway!

Thought I would share the "love" with my first-ever GIVEAWAY!
Hooray for free stuff!

Enter TODAY to win a free copy of a book I wrote called: Love Is ...
In the book, you and I do a 6-week study on what love really looks like.
We will dive into 5 stories about Jesus interacting with women in the New Testament.
But don't worry!
Whether you know the Bible like a best friend or a third cousin you have met at two family weddings over the course of 25 years, it doesn't matter.
It's very "user friendly."

(Also good as a small group study.)

So good luck!
(When you click the link below, notice that you can enter multiple times to increase your odds. So click away!)

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Love is a Someone

Well it's February. You know what that means.
Cold weather, delayed flights, the end of football season, MLB spring training, Mardi Gras buzz … oh yeah, and that little day called Valentine's Day.

Don't start rolling your eyes yet Valentine haters. I'm not going to go "Nicholas Sparks" on ya.
But I do want to hang out on this idea of "love" over the next few posts.

I know, I know, the "love" theme is cliche.
But aren't cliches, cliche for a reason?
Why do you think almost every song, every book, every poem, every commercial includes this idea of "love"?

Because we were made for it - made to love, made to be loved, made to say love, made to know love.

And did you know that you were made by Love?
Love thought you into existence.
Love knit you together in your mother's womb. It breathed life into your soul.
Love gave you a purpose, a name.
Love knows the number of hairs on your head and number of thoughts inside it.
Love knows your every secret, every victory, every tear, every chuckle, every sigh.

Love made you.
You see … Love is a Someone.

Sure, love is a word.
Love is an action.
Love is a feeling.

But above all else, Love is a Someone.

So I want to spend this month looking at some of my favorite stories about Love - the capital L kind - so that even you Valentine haters might find a reason to celebrate.

1 John 4:8, "God is Love."

So today, when you are stuck in traffic listening to a song about love, curled up on your couch watching a TV show about love, or watching the latest wedding proposal on Youtube that's gone viral, remember that you are loved by Love.

The capital L kind.

(taken from an excerpt in Love Is …  )

The Day My Husband Wrote Me a Speeding Ticket

Tomorrow Brett and I celebrate five years of marriage.

This number five is a little extra special to me.

You see, it took my husband Brett five years…

Five years of chasing before this noncommittal girl took off her running shoes.

Five years of consistency before this snowflake of a girl decided to land on the ground.

Five years of chipping before this dense girl finally cracked.

Five years before this happened:

If anyone needs a picture of pursuit, look no further than my husband.

He wrote me notes, sent me flowers, honored my parents, forgave my faults, respected my space, prayed, waited and even got to a point where he let me go.

But not before he attempted quite a few crafty methods to win me over.

My favorite attempt of all?

The day he pulled me over and gave me a “speeding ticket."

I was home from college on Thanksgiving break. Brett and I had spent a couple of days together. 

I found myself falling for him, but my pragmatic self wouldn’t allow it. 

I’m too young! I have a career to pursue! I have goals! I don’t have time for a relationship! I want to “play the field.” (FYI, if there were a “field,” I never played in it.)

So, the last night we were together, I drove away from his house in tears after telling him, “I can’t do this!” Drama. Mama.

Did that scare him away? Oh no. Quite the opposite.

He concocted a plan with my sister, Andrea.

The next day, she and I were in the car on our way back to college when I saw this unmarked vehicle with a flashing red light on top (like the kind you see on a mall cop car) begin to tail me. There was NO way I was going to pull over. It all looked a little shady to me. But my sister, in on the plan, urged me. “Jenna, you don’t want to try to outrun a cop! Pull over!”

So I did.

A tall man with wild grey hair, a retro cop hat and tight, high-water cop pants stepped out of the vehicle and approached my window. It wasn’t until I looked into his face that I saw it was him.

"Brett!" I screamed. "What are you doing?"

He was wearing a wig and a cop costume that could comfortably fit a 13-year-old boy.

He pretended to sign a “speeding ticket” and handed it to me. 

He said that I was speeding and that he didn’t like the way things ended between us.

Then, he handed me the “ticket.”

It was a note. Not a love note. Because he knew that would scare me away. Just one that said he valued our friendship. After that, he walked away. 

You and I were made to be pursued like this.

Okay, not in the fake cop outfit kind of way.

I mean through sunsets, through a child’s laughter, through a mouth-melting apple pie.

Daily, God pursues you. 

Daily, He pursues me.

Yet so often I refuse to pull over. I just keep driving. Missing out on His message of love.

Today, on my five-year anniversary I am thankful for a man that reflects God’s loving pursuit.

And I am thankful for a God that relentlessly chases after me. And after you.

What if today we pulled over? What if today we stopped for a moment, amidst our busy lives and just received His love? Want to?

“Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6, NLT).

Why I'm A Creepo (and a little about this blog)

So my mom tells me that when I was little, I would sit up tall and straight in my stroller and just stare at people. Yeah, kinda creepy. I know.

Every so often, she said I would point at someone and ask her, “Mommy, does he know God?”

I guess I haven’t grown up much.

Because I’m still pretty good at sitting up tall and straight, thanks to all those piano lessons.

I still love to watch people. (Wow. I’m creeping you out even more. Please don’t give up on me just yet.)

What I mean is, I love to be around people, listen to their stories, occasionally yell at them in 5pm traffic, even make up hypothetical scenarios about the ones I don’t know running through the airport terminal.

And I still ask the same question, but not as much to others, as I do to myself:

“Do I know God? Like really know Him?”

I guess that’s why I have this blog.

I want to write about my journey to get to know God more and more.

And I want to hear about your God journey too.

Let’s ask questions, admit doubts, tell funny jokes and vent about bad days.

And then, after all of that, I want to remember what I believe this crazy life and even this silly little blog should be all about:

“And this is the real and eternal life:
 that they know you, the one and only true God,
 and Jesus Christ, whom you sent” (John 17:3, The Message).

Speaking of knowing (smooth transition, huh? J), since this blog is new and we are just getting to know each other, here is a little more about me.

My "always-have-time-for":

My husband (cliché), peanut butter (crunchy), playing Catch Phrase, texting with my two sisters, sitting at Starbucks with dad and in the kitchen with mom, sour candy, Teva sandals, old hymns, eating breakfast, clean sheets and NBA basketball.

My "aint-nobody-got-time-for-that":

Driving (I struggle with road rage in a bad way), crowded malls, jars that I can’t open, stubbing my toe, flossing, shaving (just hygiene in general), delayed flights, mosquitos, room-temperature coffee, diet sodas (give me the read deal), the pink eye.

What about you? Tell me some of your "time-for's" and "nobody-got-time-for's".

As I read your posts, I’m just going to pretend we are sitting together on my back porch, sipping on some cider gettin’ to know each other.

And since I believe we are each image bearers of God, my prayer is that as we learn about one another, we will learn more about God too.

That’s, at the end of the day, what matters.

That’s, I believe, where we find real life.