She's classical. I'm rock 'n' roll. 

She's patient. I'm impulsive.

She's soft-spoken while I can't stop talking.

She's practical—loves the details. I'm visionary—love the big picture.

She loves filling our evenings by cuddling up with a cup of coffee and reading together—just the two of us. I love that too but also crave adventure.

She loves going deep with a few close friends, while I want to be friends with everyone I meet. 

She is an introvert, and I am . . . well . . . I am not.

She is strong in all the areas I am weak. We are different in so many ways, and yet we complement each other so well.

We haven't always celebrated these differences. Earlier in our marriage, this was a point of frustration. We struggled to understand each other or value one another's personalities, viewpoints, and preferences. 

We are both driven dreamers who desperately want God to use us and accomplish great things for his kingdom in this world. But we were going about things in exhaustingly different ways. The driver in me would just go and go and go as she frantically held her foot on the brakes with all the strength she could muster while still seeking to honor and support me. 

For the longest time, I thought she would eventually adapt to my way of doing things, and we would be able to find joy and fulfillment in running hard together. And in many ways, we have.

But in attempting to force her "to come over to the dark side" and join the ranks of extroverts, I was utterly failing to value her personality and see it for what it is—not as weakness, but as her greatest strength, a much-needed contribution to our marriage.

Suitable Helper

God calls my wife my helper (Genesis 2:18). He uses the same word to describe his Holy Spirit (John 14:26), the Helper who comes, not to let me stay "just as I am," but to change me and sanctify me to be just as Jesus is. In addition to all the other eternally important things the Holy Spirit does in me, he sees all the areas I'm a bonehead and shows me a better way.

My goal is not to force or convince the Holy Spirit to be like me or do ministry like I do. It's to submit to his holy, sanctifying genius to change the way I do everything—for the better—for the glory of God.

Obviously my wife is not the perfect Holy Spirit. Flawed, she needs the Holy Spirit just like I do. But God, in his mercy, gave me an equal who is not like me, to complement, help, and sanctify me. My goal should not be to force her or convince her to always do things my way. It should be to lead her by cherishing her and recognizing that our differences are our strengths.

How It Plays Out

This plays out in many and various practical ways throughout each week.

Like how I am terrible at resting. I stink at taking naps because my mind has a hard time shutting down from all the ideas and dreams running through it. I really love my work in ministry, and I get a lot of joy out of it. As a result, it's hard for me to slow down sometimes, and Sabbath can be difficult for me. Meanwhile, my wife thrives on her Sabbath, and her passion for it has graciously helped to smooth off my rough edges over the years so that I quite enjoy it now. I know that I need it. The Bible commands it. But it took a wife who is great at it to help me learn to rest well. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do is take a nap, and she has given me permission to stop trying to achieve all the time, and just recharge.

Like how I tend to say anything and everything that comes to mind, often unaware of how it affects others. I say things as if I know what I'm talking about, even if I might not, and this can sometimes get me into trouble. I know the Bible commands me to be quick to listen and slow to speak, but I do not naturally excel in this area. Meanwhile, my wife is a great listener and generally doesn't speak unless she has something of substance to say—something important to contribute to the conversation. Usually when she does open her mouth, it's like, "Wow! That's wisdom!" It took a wife who is great at this to teach me how to think before I speak and weigh the effect of my words. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do is shut up, and she has given me the freedom to not always have something witty to say, but to just listen and stay silent.

Like how I have never known a stranger, but it's not my natural inclination to focus more on lasting, deep friendships. Left to my own devices, I would probably fill our evenings by hanging with new acquaintances and call that living in community. But having a wife who thrives on a few deep friendships has helped me see the value of really going deep with a few people who know all my junk and love me regardless. Who call me out on my idolatry and spur me on toward holiness. Who push me to love Jesus more. It took a wife who is great at this to teach me about true community. Sometimes the godliest thing you can do is say no to yet another dinner with people you don't really know, and she has challenged me to walk closely with a few true friends, as opposed to swimming in a sea of acquaintances.

Something Different, Something Better

She is like a mirror ever before me, and through her strengths, I see my weaknesses amplified. She represents the beauty and character of God in many ways I can't. She challenges me and stretches me, quite painfully sometimes. Dying to self always is. God never promised our sanctification would be easy.

I can choose to bulldoze over her and crush her natural, God-given personality, or I can embrace how it complements my own and glorify God as I give myself up for her. It seems to me that the latter is what God had in mind when he paired me up with her and formed this unbreakable covenant.

This doesn't mean I passively stand by and let her grab apples she shouldn't be eating. It means I defend her and hold onto her with a kung-fu death grip when the serpent comes in and tries to exploit where her introversion lends itself to different sins I may not typically struggle with.

It means we are striving to out-serve one another; to make the other more important than ourselves. To cherish our differences and be changed by one another. It means just like I am learning her strengths, she is learning mine. It means letting her have her way in the small stuff, and then leading strong in the big decisions that will alter our lives.

It means that I won't stay "just as I am" . . . and neither will she. Together, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we will be something different. Something better.

I used to think, "Help! I married an introvert!" Now I'm singing, "Hallelujah! I married an introvert!"

The Storyframes Collective is a collaborative effort between The Gospel Coalition and the Austin Stone Church for the purpose of celebrating the extraordinary work of God in the lives of ordinary people. Through excellence in the art of storytelling (film, photojournalism, spoken word, and writing), this project aims to recount God's redemptive, transforming work in the lives of our brothers and sisters. In form, this website collects encouraging stories about God's grace. In function, we want these stories to inspire you to praise God.

As a collective, we hope that people from around the world will join us in collecting and telling the amazing stories of God's grace and the power of the gospel. We hope this project will increase your faith, encourage your spirit, and open your eyes to the extraordinary work of God every day in your life and in the lives of others around you.

While these stories differ in characters, formats, and locations, they share the same hero: God. Whether highlighting addiction recovery, healing, renewal, transformation, or any other form of good news, they testify to God's power and grace, made available to us through the person and work of Jesus Christ.

We hope you not only enjoy reading, hearing, and seeing these stories, but also take time to observe the stories of those around you. Tell others the story of what God has done for the world in Jesus Christ, and tell us your story—what God has done in you.

Treasure the Promise

In this powerful video, part of The Journey's Stories of Change project, Matthew and Sarah Harms recount their experience of learning to trust God's goodness through a deeply painful loss. Raising a daughter with disabilities and losing another have led them to treasure the promise that God is working all things together for their good and his glory (Rom. 8:28).

In the spring of 2008 I first prayed for a baby, and in the spring of 2011 God answered that prayer with the birth of our beautiful daughter. My joy was full but so were the fears I wrestled. In some ways I felt like a baby Christian again, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, learning and applying what I have known and trusted into a completely new life—I know I'm definitely not the first to feel that way!

Friends of ours had given us a card when their first son was born; it was full of prayer requests for his little life, a prayer for every day of the month. My prayers were not quite so coherent, especially at first, but the urgency of the moment drove me to my knees. "Help her, help me" baby prayers at 3 a.m.; prayers as I heard the baby monitor light up in the morning; prayers when I thought of her safety, her soul, her future; prayers with my husband; prayers while Eliza listened in.

When people found out that I was pregnant, I often heard how my creativity would discover a whole new vista of inspiration as I became a mother. So when Eliza came I was anticipating a fresh flow of profound poetic thought, but instead I was swept up in the constant flow of changes and feedings and "Old MacDonald had a farm." I was expecting full sentences, but I was blubbering looking at my beautiful girl. I actually wondered if I'd ever be able to write again. I just about tucked some thoughts away to ponder later when my brain would start to fit itself back together again (still nowhere near a completed process).

As I continued to learn the wonderful balancing act and privilege of mothering, homemaking, writing, traveling, and singing, Keith and I began to write a song for Eliza. We chose this theme of praying for her, and the end result was "A Mother's Prayer."

My parents have faithfully prayed for me my whole life, and I remember when I was younger my mum met with other mums to pray for all their children—a "Moms in Touch" group in Belfast. Just the knowledge of that support helped me, and I want Eliza to know we are praying for her and trying to guide her to the call and purpose of her whole life and an understanding of the Lord's grace and faithfulness. We're now in the toddler stage, and some of the prayer needs are shifting. We wanted the song to reflect the different seasons—ones we had discovered and those still to come. We also wrote it to remind us of our promise to pray for her through all the years we're given. We hope this song for her—and even more our praying for her—might catch her ear and help guide her heart as she grows up.

Lots of wonderful women's voices are joining the The Gospel Coalition conversation these days: Bible teachers, mothers, women who work in all kinds of contexts . . . but we need a grandmother's voice now and then! I could definitely do that.

We should celebrate grandparenting! We all know grandparents these days who are substantially involved in the lives of their grandchildren, often for the sake of both joy and help. There's actually no joy quite like it, as you no longer sit in the driver's seat but in the back. The back is a delightful place, where you're not maneuvering through traffic; you're taking in the faces around you, in light of the landscape you notice as it passes by.

It's a pretty magnificent vantage point—getting to see close-up our God at work generation after generation, just like he promised. It's a huge opportunity—having a chance to speak words of grace and truth into little lives opening in front of you like some time-lapse YouTube clip of flowers blooming. It's the most consuming kind of fun—as you stop and read a story, and everything else in the world just disappears for a few minutes. Not too many things in this world can make that happen.

It's not an exclusive activity, of course. We all know, as well, many women and men who take on the role of grandparenting (or aunt-ing or uncle-ing!) for children around them who don't have such family in their lives. Ideally, in the church, there's a constant flow of grandparent-like help and encouragement from older to younger generations: this is our final family, and we're all responsible for its growth. Riding right along in the car (in all kinds of ways) with parents and their children offers immeasurable aid to parents, who feel the weight of raising their children to know and love and serve Jesus, in a world that's pulling in all sorts of other directions. The world around us would justify the death of children; the body of Christ is called to celebrate and nurture new life, ultimately new life in Christ who died for us and who lives in us.

So . . . just a hurrah today from a grandmother who loves grandmothering. May God enable all of us to be a blessing to the next generations! I wish I could knit or sew like many amazing people I know, but I can't; my gifts to my grandchildren come more in the form of food or walks or stories or poems. Here's a blessing "knitted" for my second granddaughter:

Several of my friends have recently suffered miscarriages. They endure the anguish of feeling their bodies begin to change to make room for a growing baby only to lose the child. I, too, have experienced it—four times. At first we thought perhaps I had a problem with fertility. It took us a year to get pregnant and then seven weeks to lose the baby. I got pregnant quickly again and miscarried at ten weeks. Eventually I had a sweet baby boy. After him I miscarried two more times and then had my girl.

This Mother's Day may come as yet another reminder to women everywhere that they don't have something they desire. Another year of miscarriages, infertility, or even waiting for a child through the adoption process. Whatever the unfulfilled desire, it tugs at your heart and plagues your mind.

When I thought about writing this article, I recalled a new friend who recently asked me for advice. So instead of an article, I wrote a note to my friends and anyone else God may want to read in on the conversation. So I pray you would be blessed by this note as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dear Friend,

I am so sorry for your wait. It is hard. I'm not going to pretend it isn't. I'm not going to tell you that everything will be better if you take these five steps. The only thing I know for sure is that Christ loves you. He really does sympathize with you. You can read God's words to you in Hebrews: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:15-16).

I know you've probably seen this verse many times, but I think God has a lot to say to you in these verses. He is reminding you that he isn't far-off. He has entered into the ugly and hard places that you see your heart going as you struggle with worry or anxiety or fear or anger. He knows it. He knows your temptation. Jesus reminds you that he walked this earth perfectly for you. And in your weakness he invites you to draw near to him. He wants to comfort you and uphold you with his righteous right hand. Come to him, weary friend, and receive grace and peace and rest. This is your time of need. Mother's Day is your time of need, and he does not turn away from you during your time of need; he wants you to find grace to help.

Friend, I pray that you would receive his good grace today. As you look to Mother's Day know that he has you in mind and intercedes even now on your behalf.  "The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).

"Dad, are we going tonight?" asked the young girl in the row in front of me, her voice full of anticipation. "No, once we land we are going to find our hotel and eat dinner, then we'll go to Disney first thing tomorrow morning," the father replied. The little girl then turned to her brother, and the two talked with excitement and childlike wonder about finally getting to visit Disney World.

Abby

I couldn't help but smile hearing them talk to one another. And then I thought about Abby and wondered how much longer before she can take her Make-A-Wish trip. Abby is a 16-year-old girl in our church currently battling cancer. She went to the doctor a year and a half ago with flu-like symptoms, and tests revealed that she had leukemia and would need to begin chemotherapy treatments immediately.

My plans in Orlando didn't include Disney. I was traveling to attend The Gospel Coalition National Conference at Rosen Shingle Creek. Apart from my time in the airport, I didn't see an advertisement for any of the parks or usual tourist attractions that bring people like me from Ohio to Orlando. But as I listened to the speakers throughout the conference, the simple joy of the two kids in front of me on the plane and the hopeful anticipation of Abby's trip regularly came to mind and challenged me to ask: what is unique about the gospel that can bring deeper joy and hope into the lives of everyday people than "the greatest place on earth"?

Suffering and Consolation

Disney has partnered with Make-A-Wish almost from the beginning, and Disney-themed wishes continue to be the most popular requests by children to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. One result from this demand is Give Kids the World Resort, an entire 70-acre nonprofit resort where children with life-threatening illnesses and their families are treated to week-long, cost-free, fantasy vacations. 

Abby has heard firsthand about what's included in a Make-A-Wish trip from Holly, another young lady in our church who battled cancer and had her wish to Disney granted eight years ago. Holly and her family know the suffering that cancer and its treatment brings. And they know the need for hope, like a dream vacation, to give you something to look forward to in the midst of treatment.

Learning about the work of Make-A-Wish is simultaneously exciting and heart-breaking. If you are eligible for one these dream vacations, it is because you have lived a nightmare—it's a consolation for the pain and suffering. Some children never recover enough to be able to travel, and others await additional funds before their wish can be granted (if you are able, you can donate here). So what does the gospel offer that is better than consolation?

Resurrection and Restoration

In the final plenary session of TGC's National Conference, Tim Keller expounded on Luke 24 and the uniqueness of the resurrection of Jesus. He commented on verses Luke 24:40-43, where we read: 

and when he [Jesus] said this, he showed them his hands and feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, "Have you anything to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them.

Keller argued that these seemingly minor details about food make a major point. Jesus—body and spirit—was raised from the dead. He did not merely appear to his followers in a dream, nor did he simply "live on" in the memory of those who loved him. He is risen from the dead! The fact that Jesus could show the disciples his hands and feet, and that he could eat broiled fish, demonstrates that the hope of the resurrection includes renewed physical bodies in a renewed physical world. "The resurrection promises us more than consolation for the suffering and death we experience in this world; it promises us restoration," he said. "The resurrection means nothing is truly lost."

Then Keller applied this truth to single people and those in difficult marriages, but I immediately thought of those two kids on the plane and the young people awaiting their Make-A-Wish trips. I thought of every parent who weeps over a sick child and thinks, My son will never be able to play outside or, My daughter shouldn't be confined to this hospital and miss out on high school. There is real hope of a renewed creation because of the resurrected Jesus.

As Christians we don't believe that all good things must come to an end. We believe that all that is genuinely good and of God will never end. The good news is better than the bad news is bad.

Abby has cancer, but cancer doesn't have Abby—Jesus does. And so she regularly lifts her hands as shown in the picture above and worships him, just like the disciples in Luke 24:52. The promise of restoration in the resurrection of Jesus is unique, and its joy is deeper than any temporary consolation.

The Storyframes Collective is a collaborative effort between The Gospel Coalition and the Austin Stone Church for the purpose of celebrating the extraordinary work of God in the lives of ordinary people. Through excellence in the art of storytelling (film, photojournalism, spoken word, and writing), this project aims to recount God's redemptive, transforming work in the lives of our brothers and sisters. In form, this website collects encouraging stories about God's grace. In function, we want these stories to inspire you to praise God.

As a collective, we hope that people from around the world will join us in collecting and telling the amazing stories of God's grace and the power of the gospel. We hope this project will increase your faith, encourage your spirit, and open your eyes to the extraordinary work of God every day in your life and in the lives of others around you.

While these stories differ in characters, formats, and locations, they share the same hero: God. Whether highlighting addiction recovery, healing, renewal, transformation, or any other form of good news, they testify to God's power and grace, made available to us through the person and work of Jesus Christ.

We hope you not only enjoy reading, hearing, and seeing these stories, but also take time to observe the stories of those around you. Tell others the story of what God has done for the world in Jesus Christ, and tell us your story—what God has done in you.

Real Life

Ever since Jen McManus was first diagnosed with a malignant tumor, she's been fighting—fighting against cancer, and fighting for hope. However, far from being rooted in the vagueness of wishful thinking, Jen's hope is anchored in the certainty of Christ's love.

"Cancer has made death more real—and the gospel more real," she says in this narrated gallery. "I'm joyful because of the gospel and because of the story God is telling through my life."

As most evangelicals know, pastor John Piper recently retired after more than 30 years of service at Bethlehem Baptist Church. Our family has been there for less than nine of them. But in that time much good has been done  in our family because of how he preaches and interacts with those under his shepherding.

But Pastor John is not unique in any of these traits. Or to put it as he might, they are not his distinctives. Many pastors would fit this full description. Nevertheless, these traits are all important tools by which Pastor John worked toward his ultimate goal—spreading a passion for the supremacy of God in all things for the joy of all peoples through Jesus Christ.

So here are six reasons I'm glad John Piper has been my family's pastor. All quotes come from his sermons.

1. He is funny.

Pastor John once said that he'd never told a joke in 30 years of giving sermons. I'll admit that I've never heard him tell one. But this is not to say that he never tries to get people to laugh. He does, often and successfully. This makes me glad, because humor is part of life.

I've heard that Pastor John has a reputation as being very serious, and some believe him to be too sober. To these people I suggest that they listen to a sermon or two. Anyone who reads the Gospels can imagine Jesus smiling after speaking some of his declarations and a child giggling with him. It's a good thing to see a son or daughter laugh in the middle of a sermon.

"I've told that story a hundred times and people always laugh. You almost didn't laugh."

"Pride never falls out of a chair in laughter," he would say.

2. He is an actor.

Just to be clear, when I say Pastor John acts, I don't mean that he is in any way fake or false. I mean he doesn't read his sermons straight. He puts much emotion into what he is saying. In a single sermon he might emote anger, sadness, exasperation, confusion, dread, and joy. And much has been said about Pastor John's sermon gestures. It all makes for an interesting experience.

"God can't be boring. The world is boring! Avatar is boring! . . . That's not in the manuscript. It must be of God. You decide."

"I don't want to live in this body for the rest of eternity. I can't see. My wife thinks I can't hear. I can hear, but my wife thinks I can't. It's the fan! It's the fan!"

"I'm scared out of my wits at being a millionaire. That's a weakness. Some people can handle it. I don't have that gift. Like I chew a whole pack of gum immediately. . . Why wouldn't you?"

3. He uses an outline.

When Pastor John preached on the first chapter of John, he said, "It's not wrong to write a story with suspense. This one just doesn't have it." This can be said of Pastor John's sermons as well.

Pastor John not only has an outline when he preaches, he often makes those elements clear from the first paragraphs. And he makes it clear which point he's on, sometimes repeating the previous points. As a dad, I'm grateful for this; it gives my kids an easier way to get a sense of bearing.

"Now, these are going to be a little bit longer. This is going to go up on the Web on Monday afternoon, so you can just relax, you don't need to write this stuff down. If it sounds like it's going to be helpful, just go get it . . . Don't panic."

4. His heart is visible.

We'd been attending Bethlehem about a six months when my nearly 2-year-old son lost part of his pinky in a construction accident. This was a difficult time for our family, and we brought Erik to see Pastor John, who prayed for our son and kissed his bandaged hand. And he told us about a time when his son had been injured.

He can be seen after each sermon ministering, one by one, family by family, to a line of people, some heartbroken, some praising God, some angry, some confused, some questioning. He is unfailingly helpful, gracious, and pleasant.

And when he speaks at our campus there are two young elementary school girls who run to give him a hug right after he gives the benediction. He always greets them joyfully, even when they almost knock him over.

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," he would say. "I don't have any promises about ease, except that it gets worse. I do have huge promises about joy."

"We want to fly away and be like angels. But we live here, and we change diapers."

"I don't know about you, but I was really helped by my sermon last week."

"Don't think that Jesus is into crowds. Jesus is into individuals. Big time. Like you."

5. He is Bible-centered.

If you listen to a Piper sermon, you can expect to hear the biblical text read right before he begins and at least once more (in parts) during the sermon. He takes apart the Scripture phrase by phrase and word by word and makes it clear that he has wrestled with its meaning. He tries to find texts from the Bible to corroborate what he's saying (starting with the book from which the sermon text is found and going outward), and he makes it clear that we shouldn't trust him if what he's saying can't be found in the Bible.

"In fact, so much is here in verse 31 that I never got to verse 32, from which I took the title to the message."

"When I read things like this in the Bible they jar me. I really love to be jarred by the Bible."

"I don't know what kind of sentimental ideas you have about Jesus. Just read your Bibles and they'll go away."

"Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obediah, Jonah, Micah . . . just struggle around until you find it. The minor prophets are the hardest books to find in the bible. Even for me after 64 years."

"This is what preachers do at 5:30 on Friday afternoon—we pound our heads on the desk and say, 'What does this say?'"

6. He is gospel-centered.

The gospel can be broken down into many parts: Jesus is sinless; you can't make it to God on your own; hell is very, very bad; coming to faith is coming to life; you want to be on God's side; every human is deeply sinful; you must accept the gift; heaven is very, very good (because God is there); God has made a way; salvation is a result of grace; the fact that Christ died for you and me is a good that transcends all other goods.

I defy you to listen to any Piper sermon and not find at least two or three of these ideas highlighted. In this respect he is relentless, he is repetitive, he is predictable.

"I came to Christ when I was 6; I'm 64. I'm not optimistic about getting out of sin."

"The problem is, it doesn't do any good to nudge a corpse. If you do that, you can get a corpse to church, but you can't make it alive."

"We're fondling our little roaches, our little scorpions, our little tarantulas. 'They're so fuzzy and warm' . . . and then the light goes on!"

"That's what it's going to be like in heaven. Skin and bouncing balls and lions and lambs lying down together. Dogs. No cats! Well, I guess the lion's a cat."

Pastor Jason Meyer, the man called to replace Pastor John, recently said that a boring mind is the birthplace of a boring sermon. It's clear that John Piper doesn't have a boring mind. It's also clear that he has an intentional mind. And he intends to glorify God.

My family, along with so many others, are eternally grateful. May God bless Pastor John and his family in retirement. All the way to heaven.

Several years ago I was in a work situation where men often said sexual, inappropriate things to me and about me. One coworker even went as far as to grab me and then made it a big deal when I asked him not to and pushed him away. It was jolting, and there was no amount of education or discipleship that prepared me to deal with sexual harassment.

I knew it was wrong the whole time it was happening. As a Christian, I felt the tension of how to respond to the sexual harassment: do I pursue justice or extend grace?

Once I finally admitted to myself what was happening, I talked to a few friends. They said I should take the verbal harassment as a compliment and not overreact. "What woman doesn't want to be seen as attractive?" In a culture driven by sex, if it isn't sexy, it doesn't sell. So, according to my friends, I should take what those men were saying as a compliment. But I didn't, and I couldn't.

The words of those men were debilitating, because I knew that my fundamental identity had nothing to do with my physical appearance. I knew that the type of beauty I wanted to be recognized for wasn't fundamentally for my looks or body shape, but with the God who dwells in me. "Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a women who fears the Lord shall be praised" (Prv 31:30).

Sadly, my friends and those men didn't get that.

Comments Continue

After my first experience of sharing with someone, I waited a few months to talk to someone else about it. I had just reported one incident to human resources, but the comments only continued to come from those men. I decided to talk to an older Christian woman in the workplace to get her advice on how to handle it.

She said that I, as a woman, must be doing something to encourage it, because she had never experienced sexual harassment. I left thinking that now I was somehow to blame. I dreaded going to work and would cry almost every night while begging the Lord to remove me from the situation.

By God's grace, I finally admitted my feelings of shame in enduring sexual harassment. As I shared with my roommate the truth, she graciously stepped into all of the mess with me. She assured me that what was happening was not right. She reminded me that I was not responsible for the men's comments.

On the really hard days, she listened, cried with me, and reminded me that God is faithful and that he is fighting for me (Ex 14:14). I began to open up more about it with people to let them in and walk through the struggle with me. I continued to seek the Lord on what would be the most honoring way for me to respond to the company, the men, and others. I wanted to stop any other person going through what I did.

"Do I pursue justice or extend grace?" The truth is, I needed to do both. I reported the incidents and the men to the company. Then as I continued to talk openly with my faithful and godly community, by God's grace I was able to extend grace. I was able to offer forgiveness to them and hold no bitterness against them.

This didn't happen instantly. It took several months for me to truly forgive them—months of prayer, months of support and counsel from God's people.

Faulty Definitions

At first I thought if I forgave them, it would be akin to admitting that everything thy did was okay. My definitions of forgiveness and grace were faulty. The ability to even begin to forgive would never happen so long as I was responding to these men in light of their actions or words toward me.

Any possibility that I could forgive came from events that happened long before any of this trouble. Forgiveness for them—and me—began on a cross. It's there that I am reminded of a great God who offered forgiveness by sacrificing his own Son for me when I didn't deserve it.

My pride and selfishness are no different before a holy and just God than their harassment. I was only able to forgive because I know and believe that God is a grace-giving God who is in control. In that assurance, I find the freedom to forgive. Extending forgiveness didn't take away the pain or the reality of what happened, but it was and still is a reminder of my own need and desperation for Christ. I learned more about our God who is not only my protector, but who is also good . . . even in a situation so ugly and wrong as sexual harassment.

Rod Dreher's younger sister, Ruthie Leming, was diagnosed with terminal cancer when she was only 40 years old. A beloved middle school teacher, mother to three young girls, and the happy wife of her high school sweetheart, she faced cancer with the conviction that whatever happened to her, God would bring good out of her illness. Her small town of St. Francisville, Louisiana, (population 1,700) rallied to her side during the struggle. But she died in her husband's arms, in a harrowing scene vividly recounted by Rod Dreher in his new book, The Little Way of Ruthie Leming: A Southern Girl, a Small Town, and the Secret of a Good Life.

The whole ordeal led Rod, a journalist who had worked in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, New York, and Dallas, to re-evaluate his life and move home for the first time in 20 years. He joined me to discuss faith, tragedy, family, love, and the secret of a good life. You can download or stream the audio below.

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Rod Dreher on the Little Way of Ruthie Leming