Fogging

Some days (April 1, 2015) I wish my life was awesome like the people who I see at church on Sunday's, at Central Market, and everywhere else. I hear their stories as I pass by them, those people who don't have car problems or job problems or kid problems. You know the ones I'm taking about right? They are the ones who look good when they tuck in their shirt and have hair that can actually be brushed. That is them over there; the ones with six figure salaries and a savings account that rivals Fort Knox. They are way more awesomer than me. 

I wish I was more like everyone else that isn’t me. Like all the people who take chances and never ever fail at stuff. One of the millions of humans who wake up to sunshine and rainbows everyday. I wish I could have a page of super spectacular quotes that other people posted as their status on Facebook. That would be so cool. 

Today is one of those days I don't really fancy being me. It's not working out like I want and I just want to be someone else for a little while. I’d pick one of those people who has a kick ass life all the time. Probably like yours…just not like mine today.

I can tell you how I believe I got here: People fail. God doesn't give us everything we want. People suck. Grad school is legit. And hospice is sad…like the “everyone I meet dies” kind of sad.

Woe is me.

My body is tired. My hair is grayer. My wallet is lighter. My patience is thinner. My communion is more distant. My desire is waning. 

But...

I get paid this week. Stacey kissed me good-bye this morning. I turned 35 this year. My youngest ate all her breakfast today. My oldest can buckle herself in. My dogs love me. My parents still claim me. And I'm having steak for dinner tonight.

Today that little voice we all have won. Today that voice told me I didn’t matter and I needed to be something else. Or someone else. That if I wanted to matter, I need not be me. I have a friend who calls it “fogging”. She says it’s the male version of PMS. Today I fogged out big time.

Then Jensyn started singing, “Jesus Loves Me” on the way home from school.

I am really glad God loves me. Not the “me” that I think I need to be to make you happy or make work turn around or home better, but the “me” that sucks and fogs every couple of weeks. The “me” that fails and smells. I am happy that God doesn’t see Shane like I see Shane. Seems silly to say that, but I really am. Maybe for the first time in my life I am learning that God loves me in my present form. Sure, he wants me to be better, do better, and live better…but today (April 1, 2015) he loves this me right here.

Goal tomorrow: remember this earlier in the day and get more awesome at quotes…

The time 350 people died...

January 2nd, 2011 was my last official Sunday as a paid youth pastor. I spent the next few weeks riding around with a few other chaplains, hanging out with friends, and checking things off a to-do list. January 17th I went to work at Alpha Omega Hospice for the first time. 

That first morning was easy...dressed in my best slacks and pressed shirt, I smiled and nodded and tried to remember as many names as I could. Staff meeting, on-call reports, and free breakfast were a breeze. We prayed, people left, and it was time to get hospicing. 

Stopped at Staples for pens, a new folder, highlighters, and some paper clips. Got everything sorted in my shiny new Alpha Omega satchel and Googled my first address...it was off to Arlington. 

I parked the car ready to head inside and bring Jesus to the masses, comfort to the dying, and basically revolutionize hospice chaplaincy. I was sure I was destined to start my world-wide speaking career in a few short weeks. 

Then I started crying. Uncontrollable sobbing ensued. I realized I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and I wanted to go back and be a youth minister. I knew about teenagers, parents, pizza, summer camp, and had an endless supply of ice-breakers. What the hell did I know about old, dying people in nursing homes?

So I cried. 

Since then (by my best count) I've lost close to 350 people with whom I had some sort of contact before they died. Anywhere from just talking to the family to actually being there when they passed away. I've done somewhere around 50 funerals. The vast majority of which I had little or no connection to the person other than a few small conversations with them or a family member. The oldest person was 102 and the youngest was 33. 

I do a job that will shut down any small talk after a person asks "so what do you do for a living?" My answer almost always gets an empathic sigh and quick change of subject.

I get it, death sucks and makes us uneasy. We don't talk about death at church unless it is to speak of heaven and mansions over hill tops. We don't teach our people how to care for and walk with people and families struggling with things like dementia, Alzheimer's, or cancer. We try our best to avoid the end of life if at all possible. 

Four years later I cry less. I have a little better idea of what I'm doing and that makes it much more enjoyable. Death and dying have something to teach us. Yes, it can make us cry, but I promise it can make us laugh and smile.

I've never been into doing New Year resolutions. I fail at them by the end of the first week, but maybe this year will be different. So here is to a year of sick, dying people and the wonderful team of people who care for them from my perspective...

10 for 5

There was a moment in July or early August where I looked at Stacey and the girls and thought "welp, we did it. Made it through that!" The nights became easier to sleep. The days away became easier to handle. The fear of a leak or a bubble slowly went away.  She got stronger. She started school. We are now fully into our routine: up, dressed, breakfast, work/school, home, dinner, dishes, baths, bed, repeat. June 11th seems so long ago in a lot of ways. 

So naturally I believe that God should now be done with the Utley's. We learned over this last summer that we are not in control. She laid flat for 17 days and I tried my best to keep things going and we both learned...we aren't in control. 

Last week I tried to make a deal with God. I tried to get him to agree to a 10 for 5. (Look, it's hospice, so I get this is horrible in ways..but I wanted 10 new admissions for 5 deaths. We are in need of one of those runs where the admissions out gain the deaths. It's business.)

Yes, I prayed for this multiple times over the last 7 days. Wanting to make God move the direction I wanted him to move. Baiting God. Trying to get him to prove he could do it. 

God had until today to make good on our 10 for 5 deal. Final score: 4 admits and 6 deaths. 

I'm glad God has a sense of humor. 

Basically I thought I was done learning the lessons of letting go.  That I received a PhD in giving up control. I thought we had come through the fire and we high-fived God and now it was time to get back to normal. It was time for things to be easy again. That we had proven our worth and somehow now God owed me some favors. 

Last week I tried to turn in my "Jesus Bucks" for some patients. I had brought my bible to class, I knew the memory verse, I was dressed in my Sunday best...now God needed to give me my shiny prize. 

Letting go. Giving up control. Life. Whatever you want to call it is hard. There is no promise that because your wife has 4 brain surgeries or someone steals your money from you that you'll get something awesome the next go around. I wish I could tell you something different. Trust me, it would make my job so much easier.

"The movement in our relationship to God is always from God to us. Always. We can't, through our piety or goodness, move closer to God. God is always coming near to us. Most especially in the Eucharist and in the stranger."

Nadia Bolz-Weber

This year has been crazy. This has been the hardest year of my (young) life. But despite some of my best efforts, God keeps coming closer. He shows up in the people and places that I go. He uses them to whisper "let it go" to me again and again. 

I'm trying. Hang with me. 

The one with a whale...

“So, GOD, if you won’t kill them, kill me! I’m better off dead!” 

GOD said, “What do you have to be angry about?” 

But Jonah just left. He went out of the city to the east and sat down in a sulk. He put together a makeshift shelter of leafy branches and sat there in the shade to see what would happen to the city.

(Jonah 4:3-5 MSG)

I read Jonah the other day. It was bible study day at the nursing home and Jonah is a good and short book to read. 

Four things stood out:

First, lets all try and stop reading the Bible to find quick answers and try hard to read it as a story. And also get rid of all the quick reference lists as well. No more "are you angry? Need more money? Just read this passage" type stuff. I really don't think that's why it's inspired. Try it. Go read David and Goliath because you want to get lost in a story, not because you are looking for some way for it to help you and I'll bet you find something you never saw. 

Second observation...sure God wanted the boat to turn around. The wind and the waves were God's idea. The idea of Jonah being in the water, drowning...that was on the guys in the boat and Jonah. God did not punish Jonah by making a whale eat him. Maybe you know that, but I didn't really remember it that way from Sunday school. I remembered Jonah disobeyed God and then a whale swallowed him. So naturally, God punished Jonah by having him eaten. Not true. The whale (big fish) actually saved Jonah. He was drowning and overcome with waves, so God sent a whale to save him...because God is in the saving business. 

Third observation...I'm with Jonah after Nineveh repents. They are, by all accounts, pretty awful people. Yes they repent, I get that part, but I still want my God in the punishment business when it comes to the people I deem "bad"...even if they repent. 

I said this a few posts back, but I'd like to give God my list of people to have four brain surgeries if he'd just ask me. I look around at the people in and around my life and I'm pretty sure by my calculations most of them are worse than me. (No, of course not you reading this! The bad ones.) How can God continue to bless and not punish them but not me?

No, no forget my precious wife and the house and the cars and food and health insurance and good kids and loving families and pay checks and clothes and shoes and a playroom my kids can't open the door to for all the toys and the giant flat screen TV...I'm talking about all the real blessings like the other people I think shouldn't have them get. 

Hop inside my head and you'll hear prayers to God about how I seriously doubt he knows what he's doing. You'll see how quickly I go all Jonah when someone else's life turns around or a blessing comes or a test is negative. Come with me and scroll through my social media...you can hear my thoughts and opinions on who does and who doesn't deserve the nice vacation they're posting about. 

The fourth thing I learned reading Jonah out loud...I tend to miss the moments when God does the amazing because I'm scrolling through Instagram pouting. I've become really good at looking at you and being annoyingly bitter about how great I think you have it. 

I'm sorry. 

It really is dumb. Dumb to assume I need to understand the story better than God needs me to. It's ridiculous to think I have to grasp God's who, what, when, where, and how totally for it to be "right and fair".

I've missed the beauty of redemption because I am way to caught up in how it came about. I've been busy questioning grace in those around me and not busy enough enjoying their grace in front of me. 

I'm really sorry. 

I don't know if I'll get better or not. I'm sure going to try though. I don't want to miss anymore more beauty. I'm starting to annoy myself. 

Maybe I need a whale...

(un)Forgetting

Thank you. 

Thank you if you've read a status update and prayed. Thank you if you've read this and prayed. Thank you if you did either of those and said you'd pray and then forgot...that counts, we'll take it. Thank for the cards and gifts and money and food and more food. For the texts and messages and emails. For stopping me at Walmart and telling me it's okay to lie when you ask how we are. Thank you for sitting in the corner of a waiting room and not giving me easy answers. Thank you for showing up without asking, just because presence matters. If we have ever crossed your mind in the midst of your own chaos and life, THANK YOU. 

Today makes it one week. One week since we walked out of Harris and drove home. We made it two thirds of the way home and her back (lumbar drain site) started leaking. We turned around, both crying, and headed to the ER. Doctor told us to turn back around and go home and lay flat. So we did. She in the bed, me in the recliner across the room. 

"Here we go again" is all I could think. Every move she made was monitored. I stared at her incision, willing it closed. Changing her bandage and begging that a hole I could barely see to seal. It was like getting back on that roller coaster you really wish you could never ride again. I'm such a disciple. 

I've been digging around the Gospels and the stories of the disciples with Jesus. More and more I find myself drawn to them. They seem really human and I really like human. 

How long was it before Peter forgot he walked on water with Jesus? What about after they all enjoyed the wine at the party, how long before the forgot? They see him feed 5,000 and then call him a ghost. Over and over again they saw Jesus do something amazing and a chapter later they are booking it back to Emmaus. 

We have a cool story to tell. We have been blessed beyond measure. She's home, she's laughing, she's giving me orders again, and she's dry. Call me crazy, but I believe God told me a few Saturdays back to tell her he'd fix her. That he'd heal and seal her. I believe he invited us out into the water, held our hands when we got scared, didn't hesitate, and helped us walk out of that 5th floor. 

But she got a headache two nights ago and I forgot. Im such a disciple. 

"Hey Jesus, what have you done for me lately?"

I got lost in fear and anxiety. I scolded Jesus for not making this easy. I wondered, again, where he was. I'm such a disciple. 

The cool thing about reading through the Gospels...Jesus never quits or gets tired of them forgetting. He meets them on the road back to Emmaus, appears through locked doors, and even makes them breakfast on the beach. He keeps showing up and being Jesus. I'm grateful for that. 

"It's so tempting to believe that God, too, operates from the scarcity principle. But there is always enough grace. Always and ever enough." Rachel Held Evans

Try and not forget. You will. I will. We will together, probably sometime today. But try. Try and remember that God never quits, never stops running, never stops healing and sealing, never ever stops being God just because you forget. 

Keep us in your prayers and thank you for the radical hospitality you have showed my family. 

#teamhealandseal

Without hesitation

Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come ahead.” Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!”

Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?” 

(Matthew 14:28-31 MSG)

Jesus didn't hesitate. There was no teaching Peter a lesson on the part of Jesus. There was no letting him almost drown and then reaching for him. No committee meeting was called. Jesus didn't hesitate. 

When I've read this story, and others, in the past I've always seen stern Jesus there at the end. The Jesus who is upset because Peter sank and he had to save him. Like Jesus was mad at the lack of faith. I have the ingrained idea that Jesus walked around annoyed because the disciples were dumb. I have no idea where it comes from, but I find myself reading the Bible as if Jesus is always perturbed with the humans in his life. Maybe it's because I have the whole story in my hand and because I think they're dumb, Jesus probably does as well. 

This journey we are on has made me read the Bible a little different recently. Not so much from a place of superiority or as the self help book we pitch in our churches. I read it now because in the quite places, when I'm scared out of my mind, I need to know that Peter sank and Jesus didn't hesitate. 

(Side note: Where we read the Bible matters. Don't ever forget that.)

When I read it in The Message I even see Jesus smile as he asks, "what got into you?" I like smiling Jesus a lot. I like smiling Jesus when I'm going down the elevator trying to escape the 5th floor, praying the bandage is dry, freaking out, then remembering God is going to fix her, and Jesus smiles and says to me "what's got in to you?"

And he doesn't hesitate. 

He doesn't get mad at my lack of faith. 

He doesn't punish me for looking at the waves and feeling the wind rage around me. 

He doesn't wait for my bargain.

And He doesn't hesitate to grab my hand.  

And yes, we are still dry. 

#teamhealandseal

Holy Saturday

The Saturday between the crucifixion and resurrection has always fascinated me. Yes, the book-end days are where we spend our Easters, but there is something about that Saturday. 

God was dead, now what?

I have to think that not all the followers scattered in fear. Not all of them hid out. Not all of them packed it up and went back home. Some of them waited. Some of them tried to piece together conversations and ideas from Jesus, looking for a slice of hope. A hope that said...maybe, hopefully something we can't see yet is about to happen. 

Imagine going to work, having a meal, taking a walk, or just trying to be normal that Saturday. Waiting. Hoping. Then losing hope. Remembering something HE said. Then having hope again. And waiting more. 

Faith was born on that Saturday. 

We are still watching a drain. We wait for a drip and then count the seconds until the next drip. It's maddening to wait and yet thrilling when it drops. Each time they roll Stacey over to check her incision and bandage is pure anxiety overload, then they tell us it's dry and we relax until the next shift change. We try and piece information together from doctors and nurses for some glimmer of hope. We try and block out the negative noise that gets overwhelmingly loud at times and remember to encourage each other. To hold hands and shut up. We reach for the next small victory. We hope and wait. 

In the next few days we will challenge the incision and drain. We will begin to find out how much healing has happened. 

But I can't help but feel like I'm walking into that Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The space where faith is born. The place that is scary and unknown. The place where demons haunt you and anxiety runs rampant. Did it heal? What if? Why didn't you do this or that? The place where all is quite except those voices you wish you could shut off...

But I want with everything I am to believe that Sunday will come. That new is just around the corner. That dark always gives way to light. That Stacey's dura has sealed and we can go home. We can begin anew. I tell my shower walls and car windshield every morning that "I believe". 

And I do believe. I really do. We will get better and not bitter. But she and HE still have some work to do. She's got a few more days of laying on her back. A few more days of waiting and watching a drain. A few more shift changes. There is still some fight left. 

But I saw her smile that infectious smile today. The one that got me 13 years ago. The smile that's been absent for three long weeks. It was just another step towards the new... 

Here we come Sunday. 

I believe. 

#teamhealandseal

Waiting...

I guess I've never really thought much about miracles. I've been content with stories of dinner for five thousand, resurrections from the dead, and making wine out of some water. They were stories in the book and displayed on a flannel graph. Miracles happened then and they were cool. 

Today I need the miracle though. I need a graft about the size of a half dollar to seal. I need it to be strong and do what it's supposed to do. I need the stitches to hold. The needle holes to close. I need the body to do what the body does. 

I need God to hold that graft and those stitches in HIS hands. I need this miracle in the now.  

She is so tired. Her eyes are red with tears, worn out from crying. She's been poked and poked and then poked again. She hasn't washed her hair in three weeks. Hasn't held her baby girls in even longer. She needs the miracle today. She needs HIM to do what only HE can do. 

I've begged. I've kneeled. I've cried. I've ejected. I've come back. I don't know what to do anymore. I know I can't make God do what I want. No more "God if you will just do A then I will do B." No more karma.

I just want to believe God can and will fix her.  

I can't believe any harder. I can't hope more than I already am. I can't give up and give in any better. We are raw and vulnerable. We have, I really do believe, fallen into HIS arms. 

But we still have to wait and see. God, we do believe, just help our unbelief. 

Your kingdom come. Your will be done...on earth as it is in heaven.  

HE will fix her. 

#teamhealandseal

On a boat with Jesus...

There is a story in the bible where Jesus calms a storm. It's a really neat story about the power and awesomeness of God. My favorite part of the story though is that Jesus was sleeping while all hell was breaking loose in and around the boat. The disciples, the 12 people Jesus hand picked, freaked out. Go read it...

When we go to church on a Sunday, when we sit with our small group, or when we have fancy coffee with our friends we tend talk all about how we always know Jesus is in control. We talk really good about "giving things to God" and praying and all that. Truth be told in those settings, I bet we kinda laugh at the disciples for freaking out on that boat. 

I'm guilty. I'm guilty of rolling my eyes sometimes at the weak faithed and broken people I come across. Oh them of little faith. I'm guilty of laughing at Peter for sinking in the water. Dude, it's Jesus, he's got you. I'm guilty of being over confident because after all...I'm a chaplain by trade, work at a company called Alpha Omega, worked for a church, have lots of bibles, 94.9 is a preset station in both cars, I knew about and read Jen Hatmaker well before any of you, and WE HAVE A CROSS WALL IN OUR HOUSE! I'm pretty freaking awesome. 

Last Saturday night I felt like a disciple on the boat though. I freaked out. My wife was in pain beyond belief and I couldn't make it stop. I got scared. I got pissed because Jesus was in the back of the boat sleeping and he obviously didn't care about my wife and family. Didn't matter how many Max Lucado books I had read or Crowder songs I had listened too...there in that moment...my faith-meter bottomed out like a disciple on a boat in a storm. 

I won't lie, I didn't run to wake him up. I didn't really know what to do. I curled up in the corner scared, almost believing he didn't care what happened to us. 

Right now its storming outside as I type...Stacey has had 3 surgeries in last 15 days. She's asleep right now, very comfortable. We are hoping and praying that this incision will heal and seal in the next few days. That's really all we can do. We have run to the back of the boat to shake Jesus and ask, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"

Again, it's all we can do at this point. Hope and wait. 

I am a proud boat disciple who's scared and honest. Fear and doubt are real. We need to be a little more honest about that in our churches and circles. I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you can't be scared and be a disciple. You can be, I promise. I'll show you 12 really good examples. 

This storm may or may not be over for us. I have no idea what happens next, just that I'm on a boat with Jesus. 

And I'm still kinda scared...

#teamhealandseal

That time we had surgery. Twice.

It's 6am the morning after Stacey's 2nd surgery, this one to repair a leak in her incision. I am curled up in a chair not really meant for sleeping, so why not blog?

We found out in January this surgery was going to take place. At the time it was elective and so we decided to wait until June. We wanted to get through school, kindergarten graduation, and other fun stuff, then tackle Chiari. 

Chiari...google it. Basically her brain was compressed against her skull and spinal cord causing some severe headaches, etc. I won't go into detail, but she had a procedure last week to correct the compression. Surgery went well the first time. Then it started leaking spinal fluid when we got home and we went back in for repair surgery. She's doing better now and recovery is underway...again. 

She's honestly amazing. She's going through hell and making me laugh. She's holding my hand way more than I hold hers. She's had two surgeries, lots of pain meds, eaten a ton of not good hospital food, and she still looks beautiful in her little hospital gown. I don't know how she does it. 

Me? Idk. I try my best to hold her hand and shut up. After all, silence is better than bullshit and she has the 3 inch incision down the back of her head, not me. I try to be big and strong and all that. Then she falls asleep and I cry a little. Okay, a lot. I tell God I'm mad at him. Like really mad. I keep trying to tell him we get it...whatever "it" is...and he can go elsewhere now. I even have a list of people for him if he just asks me.  

(Yes, my theology is a load of crap in this season of suffering. I'm okay with it and I'm pretty sure he is as well.)

I just get frustrated and feel more helpless everyday. I've learned a ton about myself in the last six months. Two things stand out...1) waiting sucks and I'm not good at it and 2) I'm not good at not being in control. 

We basically hit pause on life until June 11th. Everything was about getting there. At first it wasn't so bad, but it progressively wore us down. Things became items on a check-list and the more we checked, the closer it meant surgery was. I think over the last week we attempted to stop checking off items in order to not have to do follow through with all of this. Waiting sucks. It messes people up I think. 

And it's not that I really love control (who doesn't though?), it is more that I'm comfortable in control. See problem, fix problem. Hear story, empathize with story. I'm good at it. My gift is presence. Reading a room and reacting as pastor is natural to me. It's almost robotic at times, emotions are left out and you do what you do. This is different, this is the other side. The side with a full plate of emotions and no control. 

For six months both at home and in other places I've simply been out of control. Literally I've had no control. I can't trade places with Stacey. I can't make the hurt go away. I can't take the second surgery since she took the first. I can't keep her going here and be home with my girls. Hell, I can't even get my dogs fed. There is just a lot of can'ts. I can't, I can't, I can't. I just stand and grasp and never touch anything. I feel utterly useless and suspended in a weird place. It is torture. 

I'd love to tell you about the moment God made me feel better because he made me remember that he's in control, but it hasn't really happened yet. I have no amazing story of bright lights or inspired moments in scripture. Just a couple of tired and broken souls trying to put one foot in front of the other. 

I know he is in control. Promise. I make a living on faith and hope. I know all the right answers and I still have faith and hope...I was just blessed with some healthy doubts to go with those. I know we are going to be okay. Just today, right here, it's hard. The journey just sucks today and I want to quit and go home. We are tired. We want our life back. 

She's awake now. Hopefully we can go home soon if she's feeling up to it. She wants me to take the TV remote and watch whatever I want. 

Finally I get some control...

Telling better stories...

Honestly it sounded like an email forward and I wasn't paying full attention, but it went something like this: there was a woman with cancer. She was praying to God one night and asking all kinds of questions. She asked God why He had not created a doctor to cure cancer yet. God's response to this woman and her question was that he had created a doctor with the cure to cancer, but...because of pro-choice...the baby, who would have grown to cure the terrible disease, had been aborted. She was left to suffer. 

I have no idea if this is a true story. I have no idea where it came from or why it was being discussed over lunch. I'm not interested in the debate actually. 

It just left me with this terrible emptiness after hearing it. I believe the stories we tell matter. The stories we tell define things. This story (to me) didn't speak to the debate at hand, but told a story of a God who quits. A God who is waiting around the corner for us to screw up so he can point out our consequences. It was, or is, told to shame us. To guilt us. To fill us with that terrible emptiness. 

We need to tell better stories. Stories of the God of second and third and forth chances. The God who never stops running. The God who doesn't quit because we suck. Stories we find on page after page of scripture. 

Like the God of Adam and Eve. He could have ended it there after all. 

Noah spends few months on a boat, watches the world destroyed by God and rain, plants a vineyard, and then gets drunk in a tent. Give me the God who still gives us the rainbow after all of that. 

Moses said "no" a few times. He tried hard to talk God out of sending him. God never told the people of Israel, "well I was gonna save you but there was this guy who told me no..." Moses went because God didn't give up. 

David got another chance. So did Jonah. So did that woman at the well. And the one caught in the act. And Peter. And Paul. And me. And you as well. 

I know. I know. Insert stuff about obedience and sin here. All of that matters. I know. I promise. 

But can we start using more stories of a God who NEVER stops chasing His love for us because of the stupidity of us? Let's go looking for the redemption and grace of others because our own story found it first. 

"When we see and accept the unacceptable in our own lives, we recognize the unacceptable in other people's lives and yet accept them anyway. Then we are truly able to help others, to lead them to grace, to help them discover transformation." Jay Bakker in Faith/Doubt

God isn't going quit all of us because you had an abortion, or you cheated, or you lied, or you stole, or you cussed. 

God doesn't quit on his own story.  He'll see you from a long way off and start running towards you...

That is a story worth telling.