🕊 PRE‑WORD

This reflection was written before the recent escalation of war involving Iran.
While I spoke about these events in person at Crossroads, I won’t attempt to address them fully here.

Instead, we pause together in grief and prayer, holding the whole human family — all who are afraid, grieving, or in harm’s way — before God. We listen for how we might become people of peace in both prayer and action.

With that awareness, I offer this story about grace, humility, and the unexpected lessons of Lent.

✨ VERSACE AND VERKLEMPT THIS LENT ✨

Look, I’m a pastor.

At the height of my tenure, I made an ordinary pastoral salary. Nothing flashy — just steady and ordinary. I voluntarily took pay cuts for fifteen years and gave up my salary entirely over 2 years ago.

💰 Money — and the love of money — what I have — have never been my go-to.

🖼 Image? That’s more complicated.

If I’m honest, my addiction recovery is about what other people think about me.

A Mentor’s Wisdom

In my early twenties, I had a mentor who told me:
“Never believe your own press — whether it’s good or bad.”
(A helpful corrective for achievers, helpers, reformers — honestly, most of us.)

That sentence lodged in my soul like a holy splinter. It has stayed there, irritating and refining me in equal measure.

Recently, I was nominated for an award for advocacy… and I struggled.

Advocacy is about survivors. Full stop. When the spotlight swings toward the advocate, I get twitchy.

The only other personal award I’ve ever received, I didn’t attend. I sent a colleague in my place because the discomfort of receiving something that others deserved felt overwhelming.

So when this nomination came, I wrestled.

🧥 Versace in Chicago

Last weekend I was in Chicago (more on that “what-the-worlld❣️” kind of weekend soon) in a late-night conversation with my host and dear friend Eva — a lawyer who has given her life and much of her “stuff” away to others. She once offered a kidney. That’s not metaphorical. That’s just Eva.

Mid-conversation, she walked me into her closet and said:
“Let’s find something to wear for the gala.”

Clothes were flying. The first suit I tried on, Eva said:
“You’re wearing this Versace to the gala.”

Versace.

Friends, I am not a Versace woman.

I am a clearance rack, second-hand, “does this come in black or something darker?” kind of woman. (My inner Nine prefers invisibility; my inner Three briefly considered a rebrand.)

But there I stood, stepping into Versace… with my compression socks pulled confidently to my knees.

Not subtle compression socks either. The kind that whisper:
“We’ve been on ministry flights and stood on concrete floors, and we are not apologizing.”

Other friends were in the closet, too. Phones came out. Photos were taken.

Let me assure you: whatever was happening in that closet was not destined for the cover of Vogue. It was more like Practical Theology Quarterly: The 64-year-old Circulation Edition.

Compression socks. Couture. Clergy. (Somewhere, a practical Six felt deeply affirmed.)

There was belly laughter. Delight. And something almost sacramental about it.

I wasn’t being dressed for prestige.
I was being loved. 

💡 A Quiet Thought

Somewhere between the zipper and the sock line, a thought came quietly:

✨ The first survivor who compliments your suit — give it to her. (Eva loves this idea!)
✨ Be ready to change after the gala. Watch what receiving and saying yes might do.

The Text That Changed Everything

Before I left Chicago — Versace carefully hanging in the back seat next to my extremely non-Versace clothes — I received a text.

It was not affirming.
It was not kind.
It was a detailed explanation of why someone doesn’t like me, why they don’t respect me.

And just like that, the generosity dimmed. The Versace felt heavier.

And I heard my mentor’s voice again:

“Never believe your own press.”

Not the Versace.
Not the villain.

Don’t believe the glowing bio for the gala.
Don’t believe the late-night critique.
Don’t believe that choosing moderation, taking less money, buying second-hand, devoting yourself to advocacy, resisting awards — don’t believe that any of that automatically makes you righteous either.

You can curate humility just as easily as glamour. (Enneagram Style Threes in the house?)

External optics don’t define you — whether they sparkle or sting.

Live true. From your center. Belong to yourself. Belong to God.

 Living in Love

Let the outfits and the awards — and yes, even the compression socks — form you into the character of Christ.

Watch out for living from the image others project onto you, whether it’s hero or heretic.

Let your light shine in the darkness. 🌟

Haters gonna hate.
Awarders gonna award.

Your work is to be formed in, by, and for love.

And when something is handed to you — whether it’s Versace or vulnerability — receive it with open hands.

Receive something that forms you, and give something away that contributes to the greater good.

🕊 A Lenten Reflection

So let me ask you: are your addictions
“I am what I have? I am what I do? I am what others say about me?”
— h/t Henri Nouwen

(Lent has a way of loosening whatever identity we cling to most — and that includes every Enneagram style and subtype.)

This Lent, I know what addiction I want to fast — how about you?

If this reflection stirred something in you, you’re not alone. Many of us are longing to live from a deeper, truer center — beneath the roles we perform and the stories we carry about ourselves.

This April, we’re gathering in Chicago and online for an Enneagram Retreat or Certification experience — a gentle space to uncover the false stories we live from and rediscover the beloved self beneath them.

If Lent is opening a door for you, this may be your moment.

👉 Click here for retreat and certification details.

And whether or not you join us, may this season keep forming you — slowly, honestly, and lovingly — into who you already are in God.

If Lent is stirring something in you, this may be your moment.