Letting the Crazy Show

Last week, someone told me they thought I sounded unhappy while reading the Beacon article.
I have to admit, I laughed a little.
Not because I was offended, but because I understood exactly what they meant. If you only read the first half of some of my articles, you might wonder if I need a vacation, a nap, or perhaps professional intervention.
But then they finished the article.
And by the end, they changed their mind.
That conversation actually got me thinking about why I write these articles in the first place.
Almost exactly one year ago, after the death of Charlie Kirk, I found myself carrying a lot of thoughts and feelings that I didn't quite know what to do with. I had already had this idea for a church newspaper-style bulletin, but I wasn't sure what it should look like or how to bring it to life.
So I did what I have always done when my mind and heart are overflowing:
I wrote.
And somewhere in those first words, the Bonney Lake Beacon was born.
Over the past year, the Beacon has grown and changed. We've talked about faith, family, motherhood, frustration, gratitude, Scripture, community, and all the wonderfully imperfect pieces that make up our lives.
But somewhere along the way, I realized that the Beacon was becoming something more to me than just something I write.
It became a place where God was doing some pretty great work in my own life.
For most of my life, I've struggled with letting people in all the way. I've felt like I needed to appear as though I had it all together. Maybe you've felt that way too.
We know how to say, “I'm good.”
We know how to smile on Sunday morning.
We know how to answer, “How are you?” with the expected response.
But sometimes we're not good.
Sometimes we're exhausted. Sometimes we're angry. Sometimes we're confused. Sometimes we're grieving. Sometimes we're struggling to be the parent, spouse, friend, employee, or Christian we think we're supposed to be.
And sometimes, quite honestly, we're a hot mess.
I think we need to talk about that.
Because church was never supposed to be a place where we come pretending to have everything figured out.
Church is a hospital.
It is where hurting people come to be cared for. It is where broken people find grace. It is where we should be able to say, “I'm struggling,” without wondering whether everyone is going to look at us differently afterward.
Jesus didn't spend His time seeking out people who had everything together. He moved toward the hurting, the broken, the confused, the ashamed, and the people who knew they needed Him.
And perhaps that's why I love the words of James 5:16:

“Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.”

There is something powerful about being known.
Growing in our faith doesn't always look beautiful. Sometimes it looks like praying through clenched teeth. Sometimes it looks like admitting we don't understand what God is doing. Sometimes it looks like apologizing. Sometimes it looks like crying in the car before walking into church with a smile on our face.
Sometimes it looks messy.
Sometimes it looks ugly.
And sometimes it looks like writing an article that makes someone wonder if you're unhappy—only to discover by the end that you're actually trying to remind people that God meets us right in the middle of the mess.
Galatians 6:2 tells us to “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”
We can't carry one another's burdens if we never admit that we're carrying anything.
Maybe that's what I hope the Beacon can continue to be.
Not a place where I pretend to have all the answers.
Not a place where every week has to be wrapped up in a neat little bow.
But a place where we can be honest.
A place where faith and real life can sit at the same table.
A place where we can laugh about the ridiculous parts of motherhood, admit when we're exhausted, wrestle with difficult things, celebrate the good, cry when we need to, and continually point one another back to Jesus.
Because I don't want to write about a perfect Christian life.
I want to write about a real one.
A life where we fall down and get back up.
A life where God meets us in our weakness.
A life where sometimes we have absolutely no idea what we're doing—and somehow God is still faithful.
So if you've ever read one of these articles and thought, Wow, she really has a lot going on, you're probably right.
But I hope you also see what I'm learning through all of it:
God is in it.
He is in the beautiful moments and the frustrating ones. He is in the answered prayers and the unanswered questions. He is in the laughter, the tears, the victories, and the mess.
And maybe that's what the Bonney Lake Beacon was meant to be all along.
Not a picture of people who have it all together.
But a reminder that we don't have to have it all together to belong to the family of God.
So bring your joy.
Bring your questions.
Bring your struggles.
Bring your doubts.
Bring your burdens.
And yes, bring your crazy.
There is room for all of it here.
Because we're not meant to do this life alone.
And thank God for that.