Originally published Wednesday, 25 June 2014.
This article first appeared on www.prodigalsister.com. You can read more from Brett there, and be sure to follow her on Facebook or follow her on Twitter for the latest updates!
Hello, friends! First and foremost, THANK YOU ALL for all the support you have shown me. You have no idea what it means to see something you've written spark thousands of views.
Or, maybe you do, I'm not certain.
One thing I am certain of, however, is that this would not have been possible with you all. To show my appreciation (and because I sort of don't really know where to go from here), I thought I'd share the introduction of a new project I'm working on.
This ebook, Prodigal Sister: Redeeming Stories for the Bad Girl Returning Home will release by the end of summer 2014. Grab a glass of sweet tea, and settle in for this sneak peek! I hope you enjoy!
Note: names have been changed to protect the identities of the sassy.
“You know, our friendship really isn’t for the faint of heart,” my friend Sam said to all of us one Tuesday night. I know she had to have said that on a Tuesday because those were the nights we had our weekly Bible studies in my apartment.
And by “Bible study” I mean “drinking-wine-and-eating-popcorn-but-not-really-talking-about-anything-
scriptural” study.
Sam grinned at each of us with a cheshire smile that stretched wide across her face, then took a sip of white wine from her stemless glass. She was right. Our Tuesday night friendships, our sassiness and our very honest conversations were not for the faint of heart at all.
We had to be careful, because while the things we talked about–sex, drinking, sleeping over with the men we were dating, making out with strangers, being that girl at a bachelorette party or waking up in an apartment we didn’t recognize–was a lot of fun, they weren't necessarily…edifying.
I felt myself listening to the whispers of guilt every now and then. Maybe we should have been praying more together, maybe we should have pretended to really enjoy diving into heavy theological bits together after straining our minds all day at our respective nine-to-fives.
But this group wasn’t about pretending. Besides, the white wine we sipped and swirled around in our glass that smelled like lemons broke down our barriers. It was impossible to pretend.
The best friendships are born out of transparent, almost painful, honesty. We’ve all become so scarily accurate at refining our virtual selves into perfection on social media, and even in church. But we can’t be earnest friends with two-dimensional people online, and we can’t create community and support each other through our trials and triumphs if we’re living our spiritual lives in the same manner.
On Tuesday nights, the girls and I could have talked about scripture, theology and church community. We could have gone through the devotional book I had picked out for us: a day-by-day guide for the twenty-something women in the post-graduate world.
But that wouldn’t have been genuine. Not really. We didn’t need contrived communication or a feigned retelling of how we witnessed God moving in our lives.
We needed to find our way back to faith and God and the community that hurt us by allowing ourselves to be a little prodigal with one another. We needed to share our prayer requests, our frustrations and our shortcomings.
Why?
Because each of us are prodigal daughters by our own right. All of us need grace. All of us need redemption. All of us need a place where we can bare our burdens. Where we can admit that we may have some problems. Isn’t that the first step we are instructed to take toward healing? Toward recovering from an addiction?
We were there, my girlfriends and I. We identified with the women who owned up to their mistakes. We didn’t need to be shamed, or scared into a righteous way of living. Right then, what each of us really needed was a homecoming with our Savior.
So we nicknamed my large dining room table “the circle of trust” and we shared our secrets; those that we were proud of and those that we wished we could take back. We pushed our thoughts aloud, simultaneously on the brink of tears and too-much wine.
And that, sweet friends, is what this ebook is all about.
This is a series of stories about friendships, being a Christian in the “real world” and developing relationships and discussions that are based on truth, rather than of fear and judgement. It’s about growing up. It's about generating honest conversations and encouraging one another to tell the truth. Even if it’s ugly.
Especially if it’s ugly.
I’m convinced that there is no other way. Honesty is our only option. There is no better philosophy of love or friendship. And of course, there is no better means of storytelling.
Lies may deceive, but they do not captivate. Dishonesty is a shortcut. It will only leave your cup full with the dregs of community. They are the grains that remain after our words are pressed through the filter of religious legalism. And they do not belong here.
That is not what the “circle of trust” is about. It’s about returning home after walking alongside our bad girl tendencies. It’s about telling the truth. Exposing the parts of our lives we wish we could change–the parts that are buried so deep that we’re actually hoping they are exposed to the world. Because we’re tired of holding onto them.
We know that the sooner we expose them, the closer we are to retuning home.
If you can handle nights out with sassy girlfriends and white wine (or even a less-controversial beverage, like coffee) poured to the rim of the glass, then you were born for this journey. It’s the path that we should all explore. Because if you really believe in grace and Christ, then you must believe that His goodness transcends the bad in our lives.
So, welcome. Welcome into the “circle of trust.” Welcome to a series of stories that, much like my conversations with my girlfriends around the “circle of trust" table, are not for the faint of heart.
Here’s to letting stories from scripture guide and mold us. (If you have any doubts, read a few chapters from the Old Testament. They’re not for the faint of heart, either.)
And here’s to you, prodigal daughter. Rest in the fact that no matter your story, no matter what you bring to confess around the table, when you return, there is a loving Heavenly Father anticipating your arrival. He’s inviting you to sit in the circle of grace and redemption.
We’re here, too. My Tuesday night girlfriends and I. Grab a glass of the wine that tastes like lemons. Take a seat at the circle. You are wanted and lovely here.
photo credit: overseastom via photopin cc
photo credit: Mr.TinDC via photopin cc
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