Lindsey Staton Life Coaching

Front row

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Another Bucket List item checked off.

Okay, it wasn’t really on the list. Now that I think about it, I don’t know if I even HAVE an actual list. But I try to sign up for various experiences and adventures to thrill my little heart, take my breath away so I can ‘suck the marrow out of life.’ (Name the movie.)

Last Friday night, Brad and I went to see Billy Joel in concert.

Now I bought tickets to Elton John last February for the concert that was supposed to happen in November. Almost a whole year to get excited about it and then he didn’t show. But he was nice enough to reschedule during Spring Break. (Shoot me.)

But Billy Joel happened quick. On a whim. I heard he would be in town from a friend and life kept happening until we’re a couple days out and I realized that Billy Joel was going to be about a mile from my house and I wasn’t going to see him. Unacceptable.

After getting burned by EJ, Brad and I held our breath until BJ walked out on stage. And then he did.

I only cried twice during the concert, which is much less than I thought I would. The first time was during a song I didn’t even know, but I was just overwhelmed by being in the presence of true greatness.

The second time, during Piano Man.

It was one of those moments where time just stopped. It slammed into me like the SunRail. I was watching THE Piano Man sing Piano Man. The camera zoomed in on his now old, slightly chubby hands flying over the keyboard of his baby grand.

This almost 70-year-old short, paunchy, bald guy who hasn’t released anything new in 20 years had crafted a cocktail of fresh nostalgia, down-to-earth brilliance, melody and poetry for his fans. And I drank it up.

When we left that night, my face hurt from smiling and my throat hurt from singing. And it took me a couple days to get through the afterglow. I kept saying to myself, “I saw Billy Joel sing Piano Man.”

I was too enchanted from beginning to end to even remember that I had a phone so I have no pictures. Thankfully, Brad kept his wits about him and got some video.

It was pure magic.

Billy Joel has lived a long, successful, devastating life. But we all know that pain is the great muse that transforms raw talent into timeless masterpieces. Many of his songs connect with the blue-collar Americana that could easily be lost to posterity if not immortalized by music.

I recently heard a rumor about Billy Joel. Now I don’t know if this is true or not. Maybe it happened once. Maybe it happens all the time. Maybe it never happened at all. But I like to think it has.

According to urban legend, Billy Joel regularly reserves the first two rows of his concert venues. He doesn’t want to look out and see bored, rich people falling asleep during his serenade. So a few minutes before he takes the stage, he sends a couple of his people up into the nosebleed sections, looking for rabid fans that could never afford the best seats. And those selected get escorted down level after level until they’re on the front row, eye-to-eye with The Entertainer.

Again, it could be totally made up, but doesn’t it make a great story? I’ve decided to believe it because it makes me love him that much more.

And it reminds me of another great story, the parable of the great banquet in Luke 14, told by Jesus Himself.

A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’
But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’
Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’
Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.
The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’
‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’
Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’

They missed it. All of those on the guest list missed it. And rather than waste a perfectly fine feast, this certain man ordered replacement guests: the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame, total strangers who would without question enjoy the banquet and celebrate with their whole hearts.

Because someone else didn’t get it, each person was offered an opportunity of a lifetime. And they did not pass it up.

This picture is from an art book by Michael Belk called Journeys with the Messiah. You can see how he perfectly illustrates the idea. Maybe at some point the original guests decided to take a peek at what they were missing.

They saw dirty hands on the linen tablecloths and napkins. They saw the most delicious foods being served to the losers of the land.

And right in the middle of it all is the Certain Man, surrounded by enthusiastic guests, mouth open in laughter, eyes dancing and sparkling. THESE were now His people. Not because of a certain bloodline or heredity. But because He had their hearts.

In the Billy Joel parable, I wonder if any of those in the faraway seats ever turned down the offer to be on the front row.

Maybe they thought it was too good to be true.
Maybe they just didn’t believe Billy’s representative.
Maybe they were self-conscious because their clothes weren’t front-row worthy.
Or maybe they just couldn’t accept such an extravagant gift that they neither deserved nor could afford.

Here’s another thing about the concert that surprised me. After hearing him sing live and in person, getting closer to him than I have ever been in my life, well, it didn’t scratch the itch. It didn’t somehow satisfy my Billy Joel craving for the rest of my life.

It left me wanting more. I haven’t stopped listening to all the albums I have on my phone, in the car, in the kitchen, everywhere.

And that’s what Jesus does. Nobody who has been close to Him ever says they don’t need any more of Him. The more of Him you get, the more you want. And He is all too happy to oblige.

Don’t RSVP no to this party. Don’t be too busy or too distracted or too skeptical or too embarrassed.

He’s reserved the front row for us, you guys.

Don’t miss it.

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Stay close

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Few people readily sign up for discomfort.

I mean, we do. We get tattoos, we pierce our ears (and other things), etc. And therapists make a lot of money picking apart our millions of reasons for self-destructive tendencies.

But generally speaking, we try to move away from pain as quickly as possible.

It goes against every survival instinct we have. Get away. Flee from pain or danger. Avoid problem areas. Don’t get your hands dirty. Stay away from messiness.

Most of the time when we are faced with an uncomfortable situation, we resist and try to get away from it. And that’s normal human nature.

But normal human nature is not the highest calling of a believer. We are called to the difficult, the messy and yes, sometimes even the dangerous.

Missionaries do it all the time, many of them giving up the comforts of the good ole USA to venture to the four corners of the earth to make sure every ear has heard the gospel. Undercover Christians still seek out ways to get into China while their government cracks down on churches.

And yet even in what should be our safest places with our friends and family, we try to avoid or ignore conflict. Instead of fighting for the relationship, we often back away slowly so no one notices to protect our own inner peace.

As my kids say, weak sauce.

As a coach I am currently working with several broken families. Parents or siblings who disagree when their child’s/sibling’s choices and back away. I find myself serving as a mediator in these situations and the first thing I address is those who have purposely distanced themselves in protest.

It’s natural. The situation is messy, difficult, unpleasant and they don’t have to stand for it. It would only be enabling if they stayed close, right? They must communicate their disapproval to their loved one by disappearing, with the implication that once said loved one moves back into what they deem acceptable, they will reopen themselves to a relationship.

Granted, most of these family members have no idea that this is what they’re doing. Again, it’s natural to move away from uncomfortable.

I was having this discussion with some disapproving parents, very loving people who expressed genuine concern for their daughter. But they have made their disapproval very clear over the past 30 years or so, which has slowly chipped away at their relationship with her. They had no idea what a burden they had put on her shoulders. And when I told them, it broke their hearts.

We talked through different options of reconciliation and healing, all involving stepping into the messiness surrounded by years of baggage for a raw and painful conversation. At one point, the father squirmed in discomfort.

“You know,” he said honestly, “this just may not be worth it. I’m not sure this is a hill I want to die on.” I knew what he meant. The prospect was too daunting. The pain too real. Too much time had passed. And it would get messier still before it would get better.

“With all due respect,” I answered, “I actually can’t think of a more important hill for you to die on.” Last I heard, peace talks have begun, apologies have been made and the family is moving toward healing.

I remember talking to a pastor and his wife over lunch about a mutual friend who had experienced a moral failure and the lack of accountability prevented healing. And he fell away.

“I blame his parents,” the pastor announced.

I looked at him, completely lost. “Why?”

He stabbed his salad violently. “They should have been standing so close to their son that when his life exploded, the shrapnel hit them too.”

In that case, the well-intentioned parents backed away from the mess, offering encouragement at a safe distance, at the cost of their son’s restoration.

Another family I know of involved the parents disagreeing with their daughter’s current lifestyle and choices. They walked away, saying they’d be there for her when she came to her senses. They have ignored her birthday, don’t speak of her at the holidays, they have cut her off in every way.

Little do they know, she is no longer living the life they so adamantly disagreed with. And she has no intention of telling them. Because as much as she misses them, the risk of reengaging their conditional love is more frightening to her than a life without them.

When I’m working at home, I like to have something on in the background, usually Grey’s Anatomy reruns. Just the other day, I came across a perfect description of staying close or moving toward a problem.

George had just married his girlfriend in Vegas on a whim. His best friend, Izzy, is in full-blown protest mode and makes her opinions known to anyone who would listen (and even those who wouldn’t).

Izzy: I can’t lie about how I feel.

George: Actually, you can. You can. People lie all the time. They hold their tongues and they wait. You should hold your tongue because if I’m not making a mistake, you’re gonna look like a jerk. And if I am [making a mistake], I’m gonna need you. I need you. And you keep taking that away.

I couldn’t have said it better. When you distance yourself from a loved one because you disagree with some part of their life, you 1) betray that whole unconditional love thing and 2) burn the bridge they might need to cross for your support.

We must fight our instincts to flee when things get messy. We must move toward the problem. Stand in the gap. Stay close. The bigger the problem, the closer you need to be to your loved one.

God the Father stays close. He promises,

Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you… And the Lord, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed. Deuteronomy 31:6, 8

And don’t ask WWJD. Because the Man LIVED in the mess.

Healed the unclean.
Made friends with the outcasts.
Protected the victims.
Dined with sinners.
Talked back to the bullies.
Stood up for the underdogs.
Pissed off the big dogs.

He rocked every boat, walked right into the hornet’s nest of Jerusalem, disturbed all the ‘peace,’ and yes, literally died on that hill.

Died on that hill. To reconcile the broken relationship between God and His children.

May we all be so willing to stay close and stand in the mess for those we love.

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Look up

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I hate lonely.

I remember saying that statement to my 20s-30s Sunday School class and getting nods from around the room. Lonely has reached epidemic proportions and is unnecessarily destroying lives, figuratively and literally.

And I hate it.

I hate it because, like all negative emotions/actions/behaviors, it’s based in fear. The fear of not being accepted is bigger than the desire to connect. Lonely seems like the safest option, when really it’s the most dangerous.

I was invited to speak to a class at UFC last week. (Shout out to Ms. Boman’s 4:30 Digital Marketing Class: Africa, Jessica, Eric, Pedro, Lindsay, Emily, Amanda, Mateo, Amanda, Jennifer, Valerie, Ashley, Jane, Brennan, Om Dabhi, Louise, Renan, Morgan, Evan, Alison, Camille, Adrianna, Xevia, Nelson, Melanie, Franki, Jason, Valeria, Zoe, Amber, Dawaynna, Devin, Madison, Hayley, Patrick, Rachel, Savannah, Julie, Justin, Hannah, Victoria, Colette, Tyler, Stephanie, Michael, Cameron, Savannah, Adam, Celina, Mike, Jason, Aaron, Katherine, Cristian, Giovanni, Sherley, Jose, Carlos, Juliana, Alena, Zachary, Thao, Gunnar, Kayla, Patrick, Jelle, Alissa, Olivia, Brittany and Michael. Loved spending time with you guys! And some of you turds owe me an email reply. You know who you are!)

I wore my speaker outfit: black pants, plainish top and pink high heels. And that outfit works GREAT for standing in front of a group of people giving a talk.

What that outfit, specifically the SHOES are not great for is parking in a parking garage and walking several blocks to get to your speaking location. I was NOT in the college campus mindset. Needless to say, I WILL be wearing my Converse next time.

On the walk back, I completely gave up on my shoes and walked barefoot around the campus trying to remember which garage I parked in. There’s a covered kind of bus stop where the tram picks up people and moves them around campus. As I was walking up, I looked at what was before me and was… shook. (Did I use that right?)

There were probably 20-25 students standing under the shade waiting for the next tram and it was dead silent. Everybody’s faces looking down at phones, completely oblivious to the other human beings around them. I excuse-me’d through the crowd, no one even looked up. Most didn’t even move, so I had to accidentally bump into a few of them. (Whoops! Heh-heh.)

We can’t stand to be bored while we wait for ANYTHING EVER, so we medicate with our phone.

We can’t stand the creeping anxiety, so we distract ourselves with our phone.

And the loneliness is almost more than we can bear, so desperately try to reach through our screens trying to connect while staying protected by our little glowing shield that promises ‘safety,’ but at a price.

We’ll pick fights on Facebook and Instagram because at least people care enough about us to insult us. Emojis and ‘likes’ replace real face-to-face interaction. And when we finally pry ourselves away from them at night to go to bed, we find ourselves still very much alone.

Caroline decided she was ready to listen to the Les Mis soundtrack on our roadtrips back and forth to Okahumpka to meet her dad on his weekends. She asked me to talk her through the story as we listened to each song. (I never realized how complicated it all was until I tried to explain it.)

Remember how it starts?

Jean Valjean is a prisoner, doing hard labor for stealing food for his sister and her child. Prisoners are singing, commiserating as they work. The name of the opening song is Look Down:

Look down, look down
Don’t look ’em in the eye
Look down, look down
You’re here until you die

I heard the haunting melody and those dark and hopeless words for the millionth time and was suddenly presented with a new image: The college students waiting for the bus: Look down, avoid eye contact, you’re just… here. Until you die, that is. No connections. An inconsequential existence. Your life reduced to just another online presence.

And who was singing it? Prisoners.

Prisoners of our own devices, if you will.

I know you’ve seen it:

A family sitting around the living room together, TV on, everybody looking at their phones.

Even worse, everyone isolated in their own rooms, Snapchatting, texting, playing Two Dots (guilty).

Waiting in line at Publix.

It’s all a Bandaid on a bullet hole.

We’re never quite alone enough to reach out for real human connection. Our screens scratch the itch, so the deep loneliness continues to plague us.

 

I have a crazy idea:

What would happen if someone looked up? What would they see?

Again, at this point it would be so small feat to put our phone in our pocket and trust that the world will keep turning.

But what if it did? What if we looked up?

We may see someone else looking up and smile at them.

We may strike up a conversation while waiting in line.

We might see facial expressions and body language that communicate more than words.

We may let ourselves see a sunset, a rainbow or some other beauty in nature without putting a screen between us to capture it for Instagram.

We may go to a concert and hear an amazing artist sing one of our favorite songs without feeling the pressure to record it.

We may see other lonely people. And maybe, just maybe, we’d able to connect.

This post is a little more life-coachy than devotional. But I believe ‘the life that is truly life’ that Paul talks about in 1 Timothy HAS to be more than looking down all day.

Let’s challenge ourselves. To be totally present. We don’t have to be prisoners living in a virtual reality world.

We can look up.

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Theme: Redeemed

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Well. That didn’t take long.

Caroline’s in her second week of middle school and got completely overwhelmed by homework last night. There was the usual daily stuff, of course. But the main culprit was two book reports that had to be written about two books she read over the summer.

I helped a little but mainly served as her personal thesaurus (“Mom, what’s a word that means, like,…”) and moral support. I refuse to do my child’s homework for her. Even when I looked at the finished product on the computer, I (barely) refrained from editing.

So a late night and an early morning for both of us. She’s downstairs finishing up the second one even as we speak.

But the one thing that she had the most trouble with was the theme.

“Mom, what’s the THEME???”
“Baby, I have no idea. I didn’t read the book!”

I mean, she was really stuck. She would put it off, work on another part, then go back to it until it was literally the last missing piece.

Late at night, frustrated kid, exhausted parent. Not exactly the greatest recipe for clarity.

But she got through that one and is (hopefully) finishing up the second one as we speak.

And I can relate to her struggle. Last week, as a life coach, I was able to see a formerly invisible obstacle that’s been keeping me stuck for years. (Seriously, if I could coach MYSELF as well as I coach others, my life would be even MORE amazing.)

It was the theme.

I had unknowingly been building a theme in my life. And not a good one. Once a theme is established and owned, many other unrelated incidents bend into that category. Based on several relationships and jobs, I had decided this:

People throw me away.

I had plenty of evidence to support this and had unknowingly been living under it for I don’t know how long. I definitely felt expendable in several (not all) jobs in the past decade or so. I was never let go, but resigned under painful circumstances. And a number of close relationships have ended for completely unrelated reasons, but that I could easily sum up as me being thrown away, if I wanted to.

But why would I want to? Can you say ‘victim complex’? Ew.

It hit me one night before I fell asleep. I was horrified and embarrassed. I made a dramatic proclamation to my sleepy husband that I was renouncing that self-made theme of my life. Unfortunate things happen. Some may look similar to each other. But that is not the theme I want to claim for my life. It is unbiblical and completely void of a couple of Jesus’ themes of redemption and making all things new.

When Caroline was wrestling with her project, I had her read the definition of ‘theme’ over and over so she knew what she was looking for. And her paper said, “What message is the author trying to convey to the reader through this story?”

I can say with 100% certainty that the Author of MY story would never choose me being thrown away as the theme of my life, nor would He want that to be communicated to the ‘readers’ of my story (those who are watching to see how I represent Christ in everyday situations).

Which begs the question: If getting thrown away is not the theme of my life (and it’s not), then WHAT IS?

That question didn’t linger too long in my mind before the words of an old hymn came to mind. The title of the song alone is shockingly perfect: “Redeemed, How I Love to Proclaim It.”

Verse 3:
I think of my blessed Redeemer,
I think of Him all the day long:
I sing, for I cannot be silent;
His love is the theme of my song.

Refrain:
Redeemed, redeemed,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb;
Redeemed, redeemed,
His child and forever I am.

I think we have a winner. I know that hymns are not the same as scripture, but I don’t see anything here that’s unbiblical or extra-biblical.

Broken heart: REDEEMED
Hurt feelings: REDEEMED
Sense of failure: REDEEMED
Perception of expendability: REDEEMED

Redemption may occur in our lifetime. We may see painful experienced used to minister to others, sanctify ourselves and/or otherwise further His purposes.

Or the redemption may come later, when Jesus comes back. But we have the guarantee of heaven that redemption is coming for all who believe.

So what’s the theme of the story God is writing with my life?

His love is the theme of my song because His child and forever I am.

And instead of proclaiming my feelings of rejection, I will start proclaiming redemption.

Redeemed.
How I love to proclaim it.
…the blood of the Lamb.
…His infinite mercy.
His child and forever I am.

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A natural woman

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Aretha Franklin has left the building.

I know I have a strangely strong reaction to the death of certain celebrities. You guys know I’m a marshmallow, easily affected by, well, everything. Including beauty. So even if I don’t know these people personally, their art has contributed something beautiful to my life. So I grieve.

I feel like I’ve known “A Natural Woman” my whole life. The first time I heard it was at a dance recital. I am one of the proud alums of the Mary Ellen School of Dance in Ocala, Florida. (When Caroline started dance, we went to school after school and none of them measured up to my standards. I was trying to find Miss Mary Ellen.)

I took ballet, tap and jazz from age 3 to around 13. I was always enchanted by “the big girls,” the high schools and teachers who performed beautifully in the yearly dance recitals. We always bought the tape so we could watch it later on the VCR (since we were backstage for the whole thing).

One year, a huge group of “big girls” performed a stunning ballet to “A Natural Woman.” I didn’t really understand the song, but the melody was beautiful and the movement was mind blowing for a little eight year old, still trying to perfect her turnout.

I watched it so many times, I almost memorized the choreography. I can still picture those out-of-focus images in my head. Flawless form, en pointe, beautiful costumes. Wonderful introduction to that song.

Then, of course, I was introduced to The Big Chill soundtrack, which I listened to over and over and over on my boom box and Walkman.

I remember going for a while without hearing it. Then it came on the radio one day when I was in my twenties, driving to work in Ocala. And I got it. I got it in a way that neither Aretha nor the songwriters (one being Carole King!) ever intended.

Jesus showed up, hijacked the song and made it a permanent fixture in the soundtrack of my life.

See, Jesus and I have songs. Like ‘they’re playing our song’ kind of thing. And they’re not always hymns or worship songs. And when I heard “A Natural Woman” as an adult, all I could think of was Him. It became my love song to Him.

Looking out on the morning rain
I used to feel so uninspired
And when I knew I had to face another day
Lord, it made me feel so tired
Before the day I met You, life was so unkind
But You’re the key to my peace of mind

‘Cause You make me feel, You make me feel,
You make me feel like a natural woman

When my soul was in the lost and found
You came along to claim it
I didn’t know just what was wrong with me
Till Your kiss helped me name it
Now I’m no longer doubtful, of what I’m living for
And if I make You happy I don’t need to do more

‘Cause You make me feel, You make me feel,
You make me feel like a natural woman

Oh, baby, what You’ve done to me
You make me feel so good inside
And I just want to be, close to You
You make me feel so alive

You make me feel, You make me feel,
You make me feel like a natural woman

What DOES it mean to be a woman these days? Good grief. I don’t know ANYONE who wants to pick at that scab, except maybe the ones with absolute answers.

The wise philosopher Chris Rock said in one of his performances, “Women, women, women,” he looked into the audience, “do y’all know whatcha want yet? I know whatcha want: EVERYTHING.”

We’re all getting lots of messages about what it means to be a woman these days. And even if we don’t exactly know who we are and how we’re going to do it, we have no shortage of options on how we’re SUPPOSED to do it.

Apparently to some, I’m supposed to be angry. Very, very angry. I should be protesting everything, mad at everybody while wearing an inappropriate hat. And if I’m not angry, I’m not really a woman. I’m a sellout to the Old Boys Club.

To others, I’m not supposed to wear jeans to church, dye my hair blue, get a tattoo or ever teach men from a place of biblical authority. My role in the church is to keep my always-smiling mouth shut, makeup on and serve myself into exhaustion. If I’m not happy with that, I’m not really a woman. I’m a disrespectful feminazi who doesn’t know her place.

So what does Jesus say? What does it mean to be a natural woman? I mean, He created us. So if anybody knows what it means to live like a natural woman, it’s Him.

I’m not gonna get into Proverbs 31 here. That’s not a to-do list or a Mother’s Day sermon. It’s a Jewish blessing that husbands were to speak over their wives. I want to look at Jesus’ interaction with women while He was here.

In John 2, His mother approached Jesus with a request to save a party host from certain embarrassment. He spoke to her kindly and respectfully, reminding her to wait on His perfect timing, then fulfilled her wishes, performing His first public miracle.

In John 4, Jesus once again breaks society’s standards: 1) He went through Samaria. 2) He acknowledged the existence of a Samaritan. 3) Oh, not only was it a Samaritan. It was a woman! 4) THEN He led her to BELIEF IN HIM.

John 8 tells of a woman ‘caught’ (read: set up) in the act of adultery. Jesus spared her from being stoned, taught all her accusers to examine their OWN hearts, spoke to her gently and encouraged her to leave her life of sin.

In Mark 5 and Luke 8, an unclean woman had the audacity to reach through the crowd and touch His prayer shawl for healing, which she immediately received. Jesus addressed her in front of everyone, praising her faith.

In Matthew 15 and Mark 7, Jesus praised a Canaanite (not Jewish, traditionally the other team) woman for her great faith and healed her daughter.

In John 11, the sisters Mary and Martha were grieving the loss of their brother Lazarus, resenting Jesus for not coming and healing him when they sent for Him. He ministered to them based on their individual personalities, then raised their brother from the dead.

In Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 7 and John 12, Jesus stood up for the woman who worshipped Him by anointing Him with expensive perfume and said she would always be remembered for it.

In Luke 10, Jesus allows Mary to sit at His feet while He taught a room full of men (unheard of) and He told Martha to get out of the kitchen and be with Him.

In Luke 13, He publicly healed a woman on the Sabbath and shamed His critics for their lack of compassion.

In Luke 18, Jesus tells a parable of an annoyingly persistent widow demanding justice from a judge and says everyone should pray like THAT.

In Mark 12 and Luke 21, He honored the poor widow for giving everything she had as an offering.

Matthew 27, Mark 15 and Luke 23 mention that many women were at His execution, women who had followed Him and cared for His needs.

In John 19, while Jesus is literally being tortured and dying on the cross, He makes arrangements for His mother to be cared for.

In Matthew 28, Mark 16 and John 20, He meets the women who have come to care for His body even after His death, reveals Himself at the climax of history to lowly females, tells them to tell the disciples, effectively making them the first evangelists of the resurrection.

So here’s what we can surmise about what it means to be a natural woman:

Natural women fearlessly ask for (don’t demand) what they want, they persist in prayer and trust Jesus with the results.

Natural women have rockstar faith.

Natural women know that Jesus just gets them, knows their quirks, personalities, emotions and fears. And they feel safe in that.

Natural women are brave. They always show up, never hiding their faces or shrink away from the hard stuff. They show up, even in the darkest hours, and love.

Natural women are passionate in their worship. They are expressive and sacrificial.

Natural women are sinners who trust the redemption of Jesus’ death.

Natural women don’t quit. They persist, they love hard and free. When tripped up by sin, they are quick to return to Jesus for His restoration.

Natural women are honest about their struggles. If something tragic, unfair or unexplainable happens in their lives, they go to Jesus with their complaints before turning to others. Because He would never shame them for their feelings.

Natural women know their value in Christ, regardless of society’s gender bias, race, age or appearance. They don’t have to fight to prove their worth.

Any woman who has experienced Jesus could easily look at their lives and sing Aretha’s love song to their Savior. I would venture to say, she probably threw open those beautiful lungs soon after seeing Him and unleashed the most passionate version of that song ever performed.

And when I get there, I’ll join the massive women’s choir who regularly gather to sing of our love for Him. And we’ll be singing our song.

Thank you, Aretha, for giving us another vehicle to praise Our Great Love. Thank you for being a role model of a natural woman for the rest of us.

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