It’s been a summer.

It’s been a summer. More to come on parts – Im still sifting through. We’re all OK. But, part of navigating some hard things this summer was seeing old people in my life in new lights.

I have seen the “Christians” who want to weaponize prayer and scripture to exclude others. They’ve had a very busy summer of conplaining. Keep griping. Don’t care. I will not participate in contributing to anyone’s religious trauma. I will not be loved based on who I excluded. I would rather be excluded for who I love. Your “shunning” of me is the greatest gift you could have given me. We may both identify as Christians, but we are not the same. Thank you for removing your toxic spirit from my life. Best of luck wherever you end up, I hope your heart thaws out soon! ❤️

Teachers from my kids’ schools who want to make jokes about parents’ communication with the school. That’s fine: just remember, if you all did your jobs, we wouldn’t have to follow up 🙂 Also, if anyone thinks I’ll ever apologize for going to bat for my kid, you’re actually worse at your job than I thought. (BTW, this behavior and the “how many sleeps until our next break” status updates are why your profession doesn’t get the respect those who actually do a good deserve). But, I just sent a coffee gift card to one of the teachers who I know cares. Thanks for reminding me to focus on the good ones, not the ones like you. I hope the teachers who love ALL the kids feel how much they’re loved ❤️

People in general who want to make digs and let others know they look down on them through “not-so-subtle” middle school girl antics can kiss it too. I’ll never apologize for standing up for what’s right. Keep whispering. When you find your grown-up voice, I hope we can sit down to talk so I can hear your side and you can hear mine. Until then, I’ll sit back and wait for your fit to run its course. Thank you for reminding me to still be a decent human even in the face of disagreement. I hope someone else got some peace because your anger was directed at me for awhile. I hope they know I love them. ❤️

Mostly, I’ve been thinking a lot about life and people. Its funny how some people are only meant to be in your life for a little bit while some will be with you for the duration. I’m  also wondering when it became cool to be mean. When did laughing at the end of an insult begin making bullying acceptable and how come some people who swear they support everyone are some of the most judgemental people? Consider my mind boggled.

I’m not without my faults, heck some of that up there is actually hitting closer to home than I’d like to admit. But I am brave enough for self reflection and strong enough to do the heavy lifting to improve. That’s got to count for something, right?

The saddest realization of all, is knowing so many people won’t do the same. 

Order Sunday School Dropout Today!

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March 15-20 only – SAVE $5 on the Signed Deal! Don’t miss out!

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BIG NEWS

I wrote a book in the 4th grade. Technically, two because the first story didn’t fill all the blank pages Mrs. Eastman gave me. The tale of Sparky the Firedog paired with children’s poems felt like such a big, vulnerable undertaking that I did what many great authors do:

I took on the pen name of Renee’ Mctyre since I was nervous and also sure I’d be marrying Joey from New Kids on the Block someday (and learning to spell our last name correctly).

I remember finishing this book and wondering what authors who write books that are published on a wide scale feel like when they see their work in actual print.

“Someday, you could find out for yourself if you want. Just keep working,” Mrs. E told me.

I’m not sure she knew the power planting those words in me would have.

I moved schools after that school year and moved on with my fifth grade work as was expected, but the idea that I could share my words with the world continued to live in the back of my mind.

In fifth grade, Ms. Plomer pulled myself and a few other students aside to attend “Young Author Day” at Hope College. I arrived with a handwritten manuscript in hand, then spent the day learning about writing, storytelling, and the publishing process. I can’t even recall which author was there because my mind was too preoccupied with the idea of publishing a “real” book someday.

Now, nearly 32 years later, it’s finally happening. Thanks to seed planted and watered by teachers I found my voice. Thanks to the encouragement from many I was brave enough to use my real name. Thanks to my family and friends: I wrote a book that is being published.

Today, with an ever grateful heart and immense pride I am able to announce that my debut book, Sunday School Dropout, will be released on March 28, 2023.

I am excited, terrified, and proud of this book. I hope this message of struggling to live the faith you were raised in can help others to heal and grow. I know the process of writing this book and exploring my own faith has been an amazing experience for me. One of growth that never ends.

Thank you for your love,  prayers, and support so far – I wouldn’t be here without you either. As pre-orders open, I hope you’ll be moved to order and read more from me.

As always, stay tuned here (or subscribe below!) for up to date info. This is the start of something big, I’m so glad you’re here to do this with me.

Go Green

I spent yesterday touring the campus of Central Michigan University with my son to help him decide on a college. We spe t our day meeting professors, seeing classes happening, and talking with students. I walked away feeling good about the idea of sending him off to college.

In the car, we talked about his favorite school though, Michigan State University. He knows that’s definitely a school he wants to go to. It’s his number one, always has been.

He has loved MSU his whole life. Probably because we have too. We have so many friends and family who have attended there. We know quite a few kids who go there now (they’re all safe).

We love MSU. We bleed green and white here (and maroon and gold, CMU is just as special!). Saturdays in the fall, you will find us cheering for our Spartans, sometimes from within the comfortable confines of Spartan Stadium.

We love Sparty. We love Zeke the Wonder dog. We love the Dairy Store, small animals day, and believe in the power of Izzo in March.

We have always felt safe at MSU. We felt embraced by the collective buzz of learning, doing, and comradery of good people working for a better future.

This shooting feels so much more personal. It feels violating. Enfuriating. Disgusting. And we weren’t even there – I cannot fathom what those directly impacted are going through.

More disgusting? The fact that this keeps happening. When is it enough? When do we finally push back and demand more from our leaders? Don’t we owe it to each other to start using our voices and votes to demand our leaders crawl out of the NRA’s pocket? It’s time to start doing what is right, instead of what pays best. Lives are literally on the line.

Spartans will, because Spartans do.

Go green.

Brown Tray Christmas

All I need to learn from Jesus, I learned from brown cafeteria trays.

They take me back to my grandma’s very crowded house, filled with our very large family, on Christmas Eve. The dining room and table were far from large enough for the crowd, but it was never a problem. When the table filled up, you grabbed a tray. No one was left out or forced to wait for room to enjoy the food and fellowship. Grab a tray, find a spot somewhere, and settle in for good food with a side of familiar conversation.

It was always so crowded, so loud, and so hot, but I didn’t care. My family was all together on Christmas Eve. We were having fun, getting presents, and taking a break from the world to bask in love. Short of a small, dirty, crowded manger many years before, I can’t think of a better place for a Christmas story to be lived.

Me enjoying Christmas, with Grandma taking care of business in the back.

My heart was taken back to those Christmas Eve meals the first time I walked into my son’s Sunday school class to see many tiny people scattered about the floor in a haphazard circle-oval-octagon sort of shape coloring pictures of the good shepherd. There was no table to be seen, just brown plastic cafeteria trays filled with crayons and colorfully marked papers.

“We backed up to make room for us all,” my son shared later, “It’s nice we don’t have a table to get in the way. We can make lots of room if more friends come.”

From His birth to His work as our shepherd, the reminder of His love and promise to care for all of us is so very clear. It doesn’t matter if you are in a crowded place, without table, young, or old – with Jesus there is always room for everyone. Grab a tray and find a spot for His love to shine in on you.

Luke 2:7 says “…they placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available.

Jesus’ story started with no room. No place for him. No one made a space for Him in their homes or the inn, but Jesus’ still found a spot. They squeezed in where they could fit, filled the space with love, and the news spread from this humble small spot. The Greatest story ever told began to unfold in the least likely of places. We hear a similar story when Jesus speaks about us in the story of the Good Shepherd later in his life.

John 10:16 “…I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also.”

No room in the sheep pen? No problem! Get another. When that one is full? Get another. No one is turned away or forgotten with Jesus. He remembers all of us, scattered around the world. Like a crowded family celebration or preschool Sunday school room, there is always room for more. Grab a brown cafeteria tray, make a little room, and let everyone in. Jesus is for everyone. Jesus’ love is for us all.

Merry Christmas, I’m thinking 1983.

They Just Wanted to Dance

They just wanted to dance.

I’m running out of words to convey how tired I am of reading about hate-fueled violence.

My mind becomes mush as I try to comprehend how one person can hold so much hate and carry out out such a horrific act. I search to the deepest, darkest places in my mind, wondering if I could ever hate anyone that much, and I come up empty every time.

I look around at the people I love, could any one them be next? Could they be on either end of the next gun that makes us collectively pause for a moment? The next headline, the next crying emoticon over a shared news story… only to be forgetten when a TMZ darling does something we deem more deserving of our collective attention?

When I walk into new places, I make note of the exits. Not because I want to leave early but because when seconds matter I want to be prepared if I am the next target.

I prefer to sit on the aisle in theaters, fewer people to get through. I don’t like being near the entrance, I hope I’ll get more warning if something happens this way. Definitely not in the upper part, it’d be like a carnival game to the wrong person. I eyeball each person who enters, watching those who are too quiet, who stay too close to the edges, and find myself trying to see their eyes. Are they filled with rage? Hate? Adrenaline? Pain? Fear? Could I even identify these feelings in a stranger’s eyes if I wanted to?


Why do we send thoughts and prayers and positive vibes while ignoring the common denominators these shootings have:

Access to guns
Hate
Mental health crisis

Childhood trama

Easy access to radicalization and hate

Desire for fame and access to “how to’s” provided by previous shootings

Courtesy of The Violence Project

Why do we accept this is how life in American should be? No other country lives this way. Why do we? How can we live like hunted animals while simultaneously claiming to be greatest nation on Earth?

We teach kids how to respond to shooters, but not how to prevent them. In fact, teaching kids how not to hate, how not to bully, and how to respect others’ lives is “too much” for many. Attempts to broaden our kids minds beyond their bubbles are met with fierce opposition from adults content with the current status quo. Too many of us fail to recognize we cannot solve this problem by doing things as we always have


What will it take for us to finally have enough and demand changes?

When we’re killed for wanting to worship?
When we’re killed for wanting to learn?
When we’re killed for wanting to shop?When we’re killed for wanting to listen to music?
When we’re killed for wanting to dance?

When we’re killed for wanting to live?

Why are People Leaving Church?

I read a lot and last week someone shared a wonderful post by John Pavlovitz that I feel everyone needs to read titled “Dear Church, Here’s why People are Leaving”.

After I read it, the words kept rattling around in my head. After reading and re-reading it a few times, I came to one simple conclusion:

He nailed it.

People are leaving the church because the church is leaving them.

Instead of being a welcoming place for all kinds of sinners to gather and learn about forgiveness and love, many churches are focusing on telling people who can or cannot worship with them. Instead of loving everyone they limit who can only partially participate in services and who cannot participate at all.

The “you can’t sit with us” attitude of the modern church has created a theological Mean Girls sequel many people do not want to be a part of. Pastor Regina George, anyone?

When people are openly told they are not welcome, of course they’re not going to stick around. https://johnpavlovitz.com/2019/05/14/dear-church-heres-why-people-are-leaving/Neither are the people who love them. We are told countless times in the Bible to love and welcome all – not just those who are like us. This seems even more obvious since we are all sinners. Who are we to decide who is better or worse? We are in no position to decide who is worthy of God’s love and who is not.

People aren’t just leaving because they don’t love God or find religion outdated. They are leaving because so many in religion are literally telling them they do not belong. Church leaders can act confused and continue scratching their heads in wonder all they want. They can blame it on Satan and host all the emergency meetings they want to try and fight this evil away, but until more churches start looking inward at their actions it’s not going to get any better.

When you side with oppression, promote omission, and continue to shame anyone different than you, you will end up losing every time.

Jesus didn’t ask us to judge and exclude. He asked us to follow him, then led us straight to the most marginalized people and embraced them. He told us to love them too.

We cannot hold others to our flawed human expectations and continue to wonder why people are leaving churches.

It’s not because of a lack of faith, it’s because of a lack of decency.

Yes, I’m still writing

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Apologies, but I have been hammering out the final details for my debut release (yay!). I don’t have the final release date yet, but stay tuned here and you’ll definitely be among the first to know. 

What I can tell you is my book, Sunday School Dropout, is for anyone who has ever felt left behind by their Christian faith but loves Jesus’ teachings too much to stay away from Him. People, circumstances, religious teachings, and churches may let you down; but God and Jesus still keep space for you. Finding your very own personal relationship with them is completely possible – I know because I have been doing it. 

I’m really excited to share my story and experiences with you, so stay tuned!

3 Prayers for Your Hardest Times

A few years ago, I started saying 3 prayers for some of the hardest parts in my life. For me, at that time, they were specifically for 3 people in my life.

I did not pray for God to change them into who I thought they should be. I did not ask him to prove I was right or to open their eyes to how wrong they were.

I asked God to change me.

I prayed three simple prayers: I wanted the wisdom and grace to talk to them without hurt feelings, leeriness, and past conflicts running the show. I wanted to see things from their point-of-view and I wanted to not just assume I was always right.

Some stay, some go

Within a few months, the first person walked away. Sometimes in life that happens. The second person unexpectedly started to meet me where I was in our conversations. We were able to approach past hurts and figure out a good path forward from a place of peace, love, forgiveness, and respect. We’re doing fine and piecing ourselves back together to this day.

The third was trickier. We’d met each other with distrust and overtly aggressive words for so long I wasn’t sure things could ever improve. However, two years ago things started to shift. Our conversations stopped becoming arguments. Even when we didn’t agree, attacks weren’t thrown out. Our last email exchange in the Spring of 2020 contained an apology, best wishes, and an optimistic plan for moving forward.

As the world shut down, life happened and we lost touch. There was no screaming fall out or Real Housewives worthy blow up, things just kind of stopped. Sometimes that happens in life. I meant every word when I wished him well and kept him in my prayers.

Sadly, he passed away last month. I was shocked. And I’m kind of mad. Just when things were finally getting to a good place, the rug was pulled out from underneath us. Nothing about this seems right or fair.

Pain is an unavoidable part of life. No matter your religious beliefs, practices, or non-beliefs we all deal with pain in our lives. Faith doesn’t promise a pain-free life (if you hear otherwise, run away – they’re lying).

Beauty from Pain

When we begin the painful process of picking up the shattered pieces of our broken hearts we have no choice but to try our best to put it back together. If you’ve ever broken something fragile, you know how difficult this is. In the end, even if you find every piece, things never fit back together the same.

We have two choices then. We can be ashamed of and hardened by the scars our hearts carry, or we can be proud of how we grew through hard times. There is beauty found in the scars of our broken hearts.

The Japanese practice of kintsugi is the best representation I’ve ever seen. This practice involves taking beautiful, but broken, items and putting them back together with shimmering gold among the cracks. The new-old piece resembles its former self, but with more beauty and value than before. It’s the best reminder I’ve ever seen of how pain can bring beauty into life.

It also reminds me of one of my favorite verses I lean on when the pain is too much, Psalm 34:18:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

You’re Not Alone

Even in our pain, we are not alone. Even in our broken places there is love and beauty waiting for us. Gathering the pieces and putting them back together takes time, but in the end we will become who we are meant to be if we do the work.

Asking for God’s help in becoming who you are meant to be in times of pain or struggle is not always easy, but it is always worth it. I am grateful for the peace it brought to my life and the beauty I see now in the broken places.

I hope you find peace in your struggles today.

It’s a bit of a shock…

It’s a bit of a shock when you realize much of the theology you learned as a kid isn’t as much Biblically based as it is politically based.

Billy Graham, Dwight Eisenhower, and many denominations weren’t being led by God but by their own ego, disguised as what’s best for us.

Jesus was a migrant, hidden in a foreign land as a child…so why do the people leading us speak harshly about refugees? We LITERALLY worship one.

God never once blessed America. Do we hope he does? Of course. We all hope we are blessed…but this idea that America is some God-chosen blessed land? I can’t get behind it. Where does it say that? God’s chosen land is in the middle east. We aren’t sure exactly where, but I’m confident it’s in a nation many Christians claim are out to destroy us.

And this idea that God won’t give us more than we can handle? That’s crap too. Of course He will. Why else would we need Him? Or the church? Or each other?

The idea we should be able to handle things without help because it’s “God’s will” is preposterous. He doesn’t set us up to feel like failures. He gave us Himself, His son, and each other to lean on. Stop thinking you’re a failure because a flawed human made up a saying and keeps shoving it down your throat.

So many things I’ve questioned but been shushed on in the past are starting to make sense. But with every answer, a new question arises. I want to take the easy answers at face value… but maybe that’s the problem?

The searching continues.