Well dear readers, I made it to Nashville. My journey has not been without it’s neurotic fits (my closet) and losses (my bifocals) yet so far, it has been joy all the way around.

My closet did indeed finally birth not three, but four acceptable outfits for me to wear. I neglected to check the weather (ice sleeting here) and so I’m cold, but hey, I’m dressed. Besides, I wasn’t packing for weather, I was packing for comfort, and guessed mood. That is not easy to do. I guessed right and I’m happy; even if I was shaking out of my boots before the summit started from nerves at least I looked cute doing it. Yes, I really can be that vane – sorry.

I spent this morning at Lens Crafters replacing my lost glasses, and the people in the hotel – and the highways of Nashville are singing songs of praise today. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the case last night when I drove from the airport to the hotel (20 miles away) with my prescription sunglasses at night. Nope, I’m pretty sure that last night, there were more people cursing me than blessing me. And I’m not walking around squinting at people anymore.

I only had one, slightly alarming incident once I arrived. I was heading downstairs to look around when two older business men got into my elevator. One man seems normal enough and behind him stumbles in this fellow in a comb over, with a scotch on the rocks in his hands. Drunk guy takes one look at me, staggers backwards, grabs his chest and slurs “My God! you look amashzing!”

I squinted at him and notice his buddy is leaning against the wall, staring at his shoes. Thanks for helping me out pal.

My new fan, finds the back wall and leans on it while the elevator decends the remaining six floors. Hours pass (or so it feels) and my fan is now leaning forward staring intensly at my red and black duster. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to vomit only he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out and rubs my arm and jacket sleeve with out any warning whatsoever. Shocked I pull away to look at him, but he just keeps reaching, and asks who made it.

The doors open and I bolted out of the elevator and into the lobby. My friends never made it, I think he passed out.

My answer to his inquest, comes to me at 3 in the morning, while I’m sound asleep and wakes me up.

“Who made my jacket? My tailors – Smith and Wesson. The same people who make my pepper spray!”

Proud of myself for my brilliant middle of the night rebuttal, I go back to sleep. By morning, I’m refreshed, full of coffee, and I think this is funny – so I tell my husband all about it when I call him to say goodmorning.

He didn’t think it was funny. Granted it could have something to do with how I worded it. “I got felt up in the elevator by some drunk guy in a comb over. Kinda creeped me out, but I”m okay now.”

That probably wasn’t the best way to put that when talking on the phone to my husband while he’s driving to work.

Know what I mean?

Welcome to Red Bridges Home. I’ll admit, I picked a strange title for my blog. Part of it comes from my love for old country bridges and part of it comes from my desire to build relational bridges with my family, with my friends, and with the world.

My husband and I are members of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod and we are passionately following the call of Christ to go forth and make disciples of all nations. For us, today, that means participating in the Ablaze Movement, sponsored by LCMS in what ever way God calls us.

We are an odd mix, my husband and I. He was raised in the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod (Red Hymnal pages 5 and 15), while my family didn’t go to church as a child. My family had at one time belonged to a church, until my pay parents got divorced and the priest asked us to leave, so they left. I was crushed. I loved church.

I was for years the little girl no church wanted. I could visit, but I couldn’t join. There is a story in that and I share bits and pieces throughout this blog. I am also the child who went to outreach events and who heard the Gospel in the most unusual of places. I am the woman who was/is passionately pursued by the lover of my soul (Christ) for as long as I can remember. My husband is a man whose love for Christ bleeds into his business, his work, his music, his friendships and our family. He has the heart of a pastor and I am blessed to be his wife.

There are a lot of us who walked ourselves to church or outreach events as children and while we may not have joined YOUR church when we grew up, we are here. Even if you never meet us today, your work for Christ was not fruitless. We are here. We are teachers, pastors, evangelists, Christian comics, and so much more; members of the body of Christ and we are paying it forward

The poem I posted the other day references the Father of Lies – Satan. I found it in an old prayer journal of mine. The same one that listed the seven woes warned about in Matthew. In learning about the dirty cup, and letting go of my rubbery mentality, God took me through the book of Matthew – I wrote down everything I learned, and pondered them in my heart for once, instead of just my brain.

Every time the water in my cup would go down, satan would speak an offering of some sort or other to pacify my heart. Junk Food – no more no less. I was so busy learning and teaching, I’d forgotten how to ponder, and digest. My cup was so full of misadventures and the fear of being found out (fog) there was no room for grace.

The only solution really, was to allow the cup to break. Then and only then could God get my attention long enough – to do something with it.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be blogging about the different things God showed me, not about leaders or rulers, but about myself. Someone else might read those verses and receive and entirely different message from God – and that’s okay.

Under no circumstances do I ever presume to say “This is an oracle of the Lord.” All I know is this is what I learned, and how I am trying to apply it to my life today.

Just so you know, I’m no theologian. I am in fact a very simple minded woman. With a simple faith. I am a Christian because Christ died for me. No more, no less. I forget that sometimes and get hung up on fruits of faith.

Here’s a question that has come up not once, but three times in the past two weeks. What is a Christian exactly?

First via a friend who’s being attacked for her political views and being accused of being Anti-Christian. Half my friends support Obama – I’m on the fence sifting through the media garbage looking for facts instead of sound bites. But I’m still a Christian, and so is she.

The second came via my son who is part of the planning committee for Journey in January – a high school retreat at Camp. The camp leader asked them “What is a Christian” and these kids listed a bunch of characteristics that describe a Christian (Evidence of Faith really) but apparently did not answer his question. He looked over their list and said “If that’s a Christian, than I’m not a Christian.” This totally confused my son because he insists every attribute on that board fit that man. What was he looking for? My son has until Sunday to figure that out.

And three – I have a Lutheran friend who does not believe in hell. And you know, that kinda freaked me out. I understand now that the no such thing as hell thinking isn’t new, and that a lot of Christians really do believe that even if their church or denomination doesn’t. I momentarily climbed up on my deer stand and wanted to take aim, because I think if you don’t believe in hell (which was created for Satan originally) than why do you believe Jesus died, from what did he save us… and spiral just goes down from there. But then I remembered some things.

Mainly, I remember sitting in my car with a speaker I was hostessing last year as she offered a spontaneous prayer “Dear Lord, forgive us when we gag on a gnat and call it a camel.” We were talking about how I love the fact that LCMS Lutherans believe that the Bible is the complete and inerrant word of God as opposed to a piece of literature subjective to the days and times it was written. I went on to add that I believe it to be alive and active, a present active participle kind of word, true yesterday, today and tomorrow. It was then she said that prayer.

I didn’t ask why she prayed that or what gnat was being gagged on and by whom. I was afraid to. I wanted her to like me and if she didn‘t, well I just did not want to know. It could have been me, the fact that I am LCMS Lutheran (there are people who believe we are not Christian btw..) or the fact that I smoke, or it was simply a reaction to my sharing about the splits in the Lutheran Church Who knows. As for liking me? I was worried for nothing. She has such a mothering spirit that I wanted to crawl into her lap by time the weekend was over. I wish she lived nearby. But God knows me. I tend to make idols of out mentors and to keep me from doing that, he only offers them seasonally – keeping me ever needy and focused on Him alone. That is for my benefit – believe me.

Some people gags on gnats, I climb up on deer stands. Different thing, but yet the same. Both lack love and yet love keeps finding us.

Truth remains no matter what. And truth can be shocking. A Christian is saved by Grace through faith, Justified by the Blood of Christ and Sanctified by the Holy Spirit. Salvation, Justification and Sanctification. Those are the things that make a Christian.

There are things about me that choke other people … things that are strong holds for others when they look at me and may have been for Mama T, I don’t know.

I’m hyper and tend to be passionate about weird things. And yet, passion is a gift from God.

I smoke. I’m trying to quit, but I still do it nonetheless. Smoking will not keep me out of heaven – it will however quell the Holy Spirit, hurt my testimony and get me to heaven more quickly than I might be ready for.

I was born in a home for unwed mothers, given up for adoption and retrieved from my foster home by my grandparents. – Truth – I may have started out illegitimate, unloved, and abandoned, but in Christ? – I am adopted, cherished and redeemed. His blood gave me my papers so to speak.

I have deer stand issues as well – things I look at and gag over.. Things I won’t bore you with because frankly they are just judgmental issues that show you how shallow and unloving I can be.

The truth is, you can be a Christian and not believe the Bible is inerrant, you can be a Christian and have differing political views, you can be a Christian and not believe in hell. A Christian is a sinner whose been forgiven by God, through the blood of Christ. There are no tic marks on God’s wall, because his blood covers them all, past, present, and future.

His blood covers the gnats, camels, and deer stands as well. His blood covers you and it covers me. That’s a good thing, because even though I’m a Christian, I mess up a lot. I blow my witness. My actions sometimes deny Christ, I run on my own steam until I drop, I forget to pray, I throw pity parties complete with balloons and streamers and invite the world along, and in the end, I come running to Him, on my knees, yet face up, so that his blood hits my heart. And he speaks to my heart, and loves me still. How cool is that?

post thought – please don’t misunderstand me here. I am not speaking of inclusion theology. Jesus made it perfectly clear, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one shall come to the father except through me.” This is most certainly true.