Guest Blogs


This is SO EXCITING. Remember back in August when I went to The Yellow Conference and couldn't stop talking about how great it was? Well, now I'm contributing to their blog every quarter! How cool. Here's my first post for this quarter's theme on being it. Continue reading here!

Image by Sandra Pagaimo via  Flickr

Image by Sandra Pagaimo via Flickr

Introverts, Let’s Get Real…

We live in a culture where celebrity reigns, big personalities are praised, and all of society is urging us to do more, be more, go go go! We have a deep-seeded extrovert ideal in our world today, whether we realize it or not.

Susan Cain, in her book, Quiet, defines the “Extrovert Ideal” is “the omnipresent belief that the ideal self is gregarious, alpha, and comfortable in the spotlight,” preferring “action to contemplation, risk-taking to heed-taking, certainty to doubt.”

Yeah, that’s not me at all. Hardcore introvert over here!

Introverts like me can feel so much pressure to act like extroverts: be outgoing, be loud, be on all the time and perform…but that’s not our nature.

How can we, the ones who might rather hang back and observe, listen, be quiet, and spend time alone, live and thrive in a world that holds extroverts in such high regard? How can we be truly ourselves without feeling like we have to play charades or put on a façade just to keep up with everyone else?

Hint: it’s not by acting like somebody (or some type) that we aren’t, and it’s not by hiding who we are. It’s about being real with ourselves and those around us.

Continue reading here!

Loving Like Jesus Requires Touching the Untouchable

It was a sunny day and I was outside playing with the two little boys I nanny every afternoon. While getting the dump trucks and fire trucks from their bin in the shed, the boys discovered a spider web bigger than their heads, with a spider in the dead center. They were fascinated, and their fingers instantly reached out to touch the spider. I quickly pulled them back and told them "Just use your eyes! Look, but don't touch."

I didn’t think much of it—I was protecting them, keeping them safe from the potential harm that could have come their way if they had gotten too close.

Later that week, that moment came back to me as I was flipping through the Gospels. I realized something about Jesus as I scanned over those chapters and books. He touched a lot.

The man with leprosy came before him, asking to be made clean. Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him and his leprosy was cleansed. (Matthew 8:2-3)

Peter's mother-in-law was sick with a fever. Jesus touched her hand, the fever left her, and she rose and began to serve him. (Matthew 8:14-15)

The daughter of a ruler was dead in bed.  Jesus took her by the hand, spoke to her, and she got up at once. (Luke 8:53-55)

Two blind men followed Jesus, crying that he would have mercy on them. He touched their eyes and healed them because of their faith. (Matthew 9:27-29)

The stories continue throughout the Gospels- Jesus moving, speaking, touching and healing person after person.

I think about those people in our world today. They are still just as real as they were when Jesus was here. There are people on street corners holding ragged signs that announce their circumstances to passersby-- homeless, broke, hungry, no job, down on their luck. There are people living under underpasses and bridges, surrounded by trash and broken bottles, with just a slab of concrete for a bed. There are still blind, sick, lonely, hurting, deaf and dying people all around me.

I look, but I don't touch.

...continue reading the rest of this post over on!

How to Leave a Lasting Mark in a Temporary World

photo via

photo via

In January, I moved into my very own apartment. I loaded up my family's van with all of my bedroom furniture, bunches of clothes on jumbled hangers, boxes and boxes of books and knick knacks and everything I had accumulated in my 21 years of life. This was monumental. I finally had my own place. My own rent. My own bills. The next chapter of my life was beginning. I was an adult! A real one!

We lugged everything up the stairs and into my new little place and it began to look like my own space. I arranged the pieces of furniture I had in the best possible configuration, I hung art on the walls and tried to make it look as cute and cozy as I could. I've lived there for 9 months now, and something struck me as I was cleaning this weekend.

This is home, but it's temporary. My lease will end, my time here will be over. I'll move out and only a few holes in the walls from once-hanging frames and shelves will prove I had been there. There won't even be colored walls to blanket with white again-- I knew I wouldn't live there long enough to make painting worth it.

I lived among white walls, just waiting for the next place.

This past week, I sat in a circle of the best people I know in the bright and open concourse area of my church. I listened as the newest class of 10-month interns was introduced to the staff, fidgeted awkwardly as I, too, was introduced in my temporary role here. I heard our pastor speak to the five of us. We want you to make your mark here. We want you to make an impact. We want you to put your stamp on this place.

This, like my apartment, is temporary. But this time, I don't want to leave the walls white.

continue reading this post on iBelieve!

Breaking Bread: Savoring Communion with Others and Christ

This post originally appeared on here.

It all starts at a table. Maybe it’s your dining room table, maybe it’s a cozy bistro table, maybe it’s a table at a corner booth at your favorite restaurant, maybe even a table at the front of your church sanctuary.

Good things happen at tables. Glasses clink together with cheers to happy things, dishes are passed around from person to person, food is shared, conversation flows. Flavors blend and meld as our stories do the same, fueling both our bodies and our hearts with richness and goodness.

Sitting down at a table to share a meal or a drink with someone doesn’t usually just happen on accident or by surprise. When you sit down to that table, you have opened up time in your day out of the busyness of life to be with someone. You’ve decided they were valuable to you, that the relationship was of worth, and that time was worth spending with them. Sitting across the table from them, sharing food, swapping stories, is opening your life and your heart to them.

There are so many conversations that are best had at a table, with a steaming cup of tea in hand or a big bowl of pasta sitting in front of you or a slice of gooey cake waiting to be devoured. Something about that object, that food, that drink in front of you breaks the ice a little bit. Hard conversations seem easier when there’s something to cut the tension, even something as simple as a meal. Easy conversations seem sweeter when something tangible is enjoyed at the same time.

I think food and drink become little (and delicious) vehicles of trust and truth, gentle wrecking balls breaking down our guards and our walls as they fill up all the cracks in our stomachs and souls.

People relax when there’s food involved, maybe even a little more so if red wine is involved... but people loosen up and breathe a little easier and let more of who they are show. It’s like these things on the table are inviting us to dig in, try new things, taste, savor, celebrate.

...continue reading here!

When You're The Young One

Remember when you were a little kid and you saw a high schooler, or even a fifth grader? They seemed so cool, so sophisticated, so untouchable. And then when you became that extremely hip and knowledgeable 11-year-old, remember feeling like kindergartners were such babies?

I would love to look at my life now and think that I’ve really got it going on, that I have things figured out and I’m super secure about it, but in reality, I feel a lot like that little kindergarten kid surrounded in a crowd of people so much more grown up than me.

I’m just 21 years old. I graduated from college a year early, catapulting myself into the real world totally on my own, leaving all my friends back at school, just trying not to crash and burn when I finally landed. I felt like I was all of a sudden in the real world, like I was supposed to be that grown up, real adult, but I still felt like just a kid.

Continue reading over on!

What Would You Say?

Today, I'm over on Cara Joyner's blog! The prompt was this: think back to a time when I wished I had the perspective that I have today, and consider what I would say to myself then, knowing what I know now. Here's part of it, but head on over to her site to read more (and check out her incredibly beautiful posts)!

photo by Rachel Dawson during my last trip to Arizona

photo by Rachel Dawson during my last trip to Arizona

You were a freshman in high school. You lived in the blazing desert of Arizona, in a place you called home since you were 5 and your earliest memories began. You were deeply rooted there, in a white stucco house with a red tile roof and a pool out back that’s surrounded by cacti. You were rooted in a church you have called yours since it met in an elementary school cafeteria, a church that has now grown to what many would call a mega-church, full of people you know and love well. You were rooted in a group of friends that all go to that church—you’ve all been close for years, that mix of guys and girls and millions of memories. You were rooted. You were home. You were safe.

It happened slowly, the changes that came that year. Your dad started looking for other jobs, some in Texas, one in Colorado, some on the East coast. It was talk at first, it was looking at options, making sure there was a back-up plan just in case. But then it got serious, and the list of pros about moving grew longer than the list of cons, and it started looking more and more likely. The house went on the market. Dad moved across the country to start the new job in a state you only knew because your grandparents lived there.

Your mom, your brother and you all stayed to finish the calendar year out before making the move. It was freshman year. High school had just started for you. You were a Hamilton husky, you were an honors student, you were involved, you had new friends and still all the old ones, you probably had a boy you liked.

You had to leave it all.

...continue reading at Cara Joyner's site here! Cara, thank you SO much for the opportunity to share my words on your blog.

One Year In College vs. One Year Out: How We've Seen Jesus

This post is in collaboration with the wonderful Erica Boden. A few months ago, I got a message through my site from Erica. She told me she had stumbled on my blog and that she loved it. Let me just tell you how absolutely heart-warming it is to hear that from a total stranger-- it absolutely made my day and encouraged my heart so much. Since then, Erica has written for Rethink and become someone I call a friend! I'm so excited to bring you this post written partly by her and partly by me.

After one year at college, how have you seen Jesus move?

Erica Boden  is from Cincinnati, Ohio and is a current student at the University of Alabama. She     loves work-out clothes, breakfast, and flaws. Few things bring her more joy than being able to talk about Jesus with friends, family, and strangers. Proudly Type A, you can catch her blunt and semi-humorous tweets at  @e_bodes .

Erica Boden is from Cincinnati, Ohio and is a current student at the University of Alabama. She loves work-out clothes, breakfast, and flaws. Few things bring her more joy than being able to talk about Jesus with friends, family, and strangers. Proudly Type A, you can catch her blunt and semi-humorous tweets at @e_bodes.

How have I seen Jesus my freshman year? That’s kind of a long list. How have I not seen Jesus my freshman year? Well, that list would be nonexistent.

For starters, I see Jesus in the sky. No, not in the cliché sense of seeing and feeling The Lord physically watching over me, but I see His creation. Being from Cincinnati, it is truly not a myth what you hear about the Alabama skies—sometimes I swear to you Jesus just squeezed an entire bottle of blue food coloring out amongst the clouds.

I see Jesus in the way that my parents let me go to a college eight hours away. I see His grace in the fact that they would love to have me closer, but they trust and care about me enough to know that what’s best for me and my well-being may take precedence over proximity.

I felt God holding me during the first few weeks of confusion. He dried my tears and made me feel less alone, as I sobbed in a dorm room after watching my parents drive away. He made the days easy and the home sickness disperse. He was next to me as I stood there awkwardly when I learned I got 130 new sorority sisters; He reassured me that you do not miss out on the college experience by not going out every night. On the occasions when I did, however, He was supporting me as I turned down drink after drink, half-smiling and acting like I wasn’t drained.

He’s provided people in my life who love Him, challenge me, and inspire my heart. With every leap I took, He met me halfway; every stumble I encountered, He picked me up.

When I was sick and extremely stubborn, I saw Jesus in my friends and the way they forced me to go to the Student Health Center. I saw His truth in their words and the way they shoved me headfirst in their car as I was resisting; I saw His love in the sacrificial way they gave up their Saturday, gas, love and energy for me. Jesus was found in the car rides, late-night ice cream runs, and the “thanks-for-saving-me” moments. His reliance has been found in the way that friends have graciously allowed me to borrow their cars, and His selflessness in the way they spend hours curling my hair and about ten minutes on their own.

When I busted through the office doors crying, Jesus was in the words of my favorite Dean, reassuring me that no one would die if I got a B in a course, and that nothing is ever final until it’s finished.

When Jesus said “It is finished,” you guys, it is finished. Whether it’s my freshman or senior year, my first or last breath, it is finished. Jesus finished it all and that is the truth I rest in and have seen play out, my entire year. Glory to Him for a freshman year that was fulfilling and fantastic.

After one year out of college, how have you seen Jesus move?

Rachel Dawson  is a writer, believer, adventurer and passion-follower. She gets to be an unwavering champion at her day job at  UMFS  and a world-changer with  Rethink Creative Group . She loves taking naps, cooking gluten-free vegan food and constantly doodling.

Rachel Dawson is a writer, believer, adventurer and passion-follower. She gets to be an unwavering champion at her day job at UMFS and a world-changer with Rethink Creative Group. She loves taking naps, cooking gluten-free vegan food and constantly doodling.

When I left the university everyone calls the happiest place on earth a year ahead of schedule, leaving behind a ministry I had absolutely immersed myself in and countless rich and meaningful friendships I had deeply invested in, I wondered how Jesus would top that. I wondered how I would encounter Him more than I did at that school with those people.

I graduated, and I came back to a town I never liked, a town full of ghosts of old memories and broken relationships. I expected to find people I didn't like in the stores I frequented, I expected to get stuck without a job, I expected to never find true friendships. What I didn't expect, though, was to Jesus move like He did.

I've seen Jesus in the loving hands and care of my parents after a big knee surgery, showing me that I'm never alone. I've seen my flesh fail, but I've seen Him remain constant and unfailing. 

I've seen Jesus open doors I had only ever dreamed about, and I've seen Him hold my hand and lead me through them. I've seen Jesus create opportunities for me that I was never even remotely qualified for, and I've seen Him work through my weaknesses and be my strength. 

I've seen Him near me, felt His closeness, and rested in His intimacy as I moved into a new apartment and found how to be independent and rely fully on Him. I've seen Him move in my heart in the stillness and the aloneness. I've seen Him work to create beauty in things that feel a lot like ashes sometimes.

I've seen Him in the beauty of a town I had almost given up on. I've seen Him in the city skyline from the overlook. I've seen Him in the fiery sunsets after a day of clouds and rain. I've seen Him in the buds and blooms and new life sprouting all around me this spring. 

I've seen Him in communities that are different from any I've ever known, but that are also rich with hearts that are seeking and asking and yearning for more. I've seen Him in not just the physical body of the church, but the selfless and authentic living and growing body of the Church. I've seen Him in the attention of those who are older and wiser than me, yet want to pour in to me and walk beside me as I grow.

I've seen Him in the Easter story like I've never seen Him before. I felt more wrecked by the way He sacrificed everything for me on Good Friday, I felt more desire for nearness in the waiting of that Saturday, and I felt more complete joy and total gladness on that glorious Easter Sunday than ever before. I've seen the Spirit make Scripture come to life and my Abba captivate my soul with His truth and love.

Glory to Him for giving undeserved grace and unending love.

We want to hear from you! Comment with how you've seen Jesus move in your own story; we would love to celebrate that with you.