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Jen Hale Christy

Coach and Writer

jenhalechristy

✨ You Are Who You Are Becoming

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“You are who you are becoming.”

It’s a phrase I first spoke aloud over fifteen years ago. I’ve returned to it again and again, as a mantra, a lifeline, and a challenge.

We don’t become someone new overnight. Change happens slowly—through tiny, ordinary decisions. One day you wake up and realize you’ve become someone you barely recognize.

And yet, no matter where you are on your journey, you are never too far gone. The question isn’t whether you’re becoming someone. It’s who.

Losing Myself
As a child, I had a clear picture of who I wanted to be—kind, faithful, honest. But by the time I was 18, I was sitting at a funeral high from the night before, wearing a skirt that didn’t quite fit the moment, surrounded by familiar church faces and feeling like a total stranger to myself.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was a slow drift, a thousand tiny decisions, shaped by a false belief: that who I was deep down wouldn’t be affected by what I did on the outside.

But that belief was wrong. My choices were shaping me.

The Box
Eventually, after too many heartbreaks, too much numbing, and a late-night call that broke me, I fell apart. My best friend helped me take the first small step back toward myself.

We burned a literal box—photos, memories, pieces of a life I didn’t want anymore. That symbolic act didn’t fix everything, but it lightened the load. I began to remember the girl I had once been—and the life I wanted.

Damaged Goods?
For years, I believed I was too far gone. That no “good Christian guy” would ever want me because of my past. I tried to rewrite the story by finding someone “better” who could help me feel better about myself—but it didn’t work.

Then I met Dave.

When I finally shared everything, bracing for rejection, he looked at me and said:

“Everything in your past has led you to the person you are right now. And it doesn’t change how I see you.”

Those words changed my life. They echoed the truth I had been trying to believe. And sometimes we need to hear the truth in someone else’s voice before we can receive it for ourselves.

So let me say it to you:

🧡 You are not broken.
🧡 You are not damaged goods.
🧡 You are worthy. You are wanted. You belong.

What I’ve Learned
As I look back on my story, these are the truths I carry with me:

1. Your actions matter.
Who you are becoming is shaped by your daily decisions—your habits, relationships, and how you show up today.

2. You’re never too far gone.
You can always begin again. You are not beyond redemption.

3. You are worthy.
No matter how messy your story is, you belong. You are not alone.

We are all becoming someone. Whether we realize it or not. Whether we like it or not.

So take a moment today and ask yourself:
Who are you becoming?
And is that someone you actually want to be?

💬 I’d love to hear from you.
Does this resonate with your story? Are you in a season of becoming or rediscovering? Let’s talk in the comments or offline—or feel free to share this with someone who needs to hear it.

How Did I Keep My Faith?

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In response to last week’s post, a friend posed this question: “My biggest question is how did you keep your faith when answered the way you were. Our daughter was given a similar response when she asked how was there light before the sun was created. But she lost her faith.”

First, I want to acknowledge the harm that was done to your daughter. Regardless of intention, rejecting someone’s doubts, curiosities, and questions can have a super negative impact on them. I’m sorry that your daughter’s questions were not met with the kindness, openness, and humility they deserved.

To answer your question, the truth is I distanced myself from church after the early college experience and because of other things happening in my family. I still had a vision of my future self that included faith in God, but I tried to put that in a box to keep it safe while I looked elsewhere for answers.

I actually listened to a lot of nonsense from a boy I met (yes, many of my formative stories feature some guy or another). He explained things using science, and convinced me that many of the “rules” in the Bible didn’t apply anymore because of modern advancements. With that floodgate opened, I indulged other curiosities (mainly, the things that “church” said to stay away from—alcohol, drugs, sex outside marriage, etc.).

I can point to a few things that nudged me back towards church and faith.

I had a few mentors from my home church who suspected I was engaging in risky behavior but who loved and accepted me unconditionally—and regularly told me so. In a way, they carried my faith for me while I was out wandering. They became the embodiment of God’s love for me even when I felt I couldn’t bring my whole self to church.

When I transferred to Pepperdine as a junior, I took two required religion courses and was amazed at the questions that were allowed, explored, and even raised by my professors. It affirmed for me that Christianity did allow for doubts, and taught me the value of questions for exploring and strengthening my faith.

A few years later when I found myself at ACU’s Graduate School of Theology, there were no questions too big or scary or threatening or off-limits. It was incredibly supportive and freeing.

I also experienced intense, confusing, and painful deconstruction of so many things I had been taught or believed. In the midst of that, I took comfort in looking to my professors who were wrestling with the same questions, who still searched for answers, but who nevertheless remained faithful. If they could hold all these doubts and faith together, then so could I.

These and many more fragments like them have kept me tethered to the faith that raised me – even as I continue to explore my doubts and let go of beliefs I no longer hold.

Got Questions?

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What questions do you have about the Bible, God, or faith?

I grew up with lots of questions about what I was taught at church.

No one could explain why the moon was called a “light” in the Bible, when we know that it merely reflects light.

In youth group, I argued with the teacher saying I didn’t agree that discipline and punishment were the same thing. He got so angry, he threw down his Bible and stormed out of the room.

In college, while our Bible class was working through the story of the ancient Israelites, I questioned why God seemed to condone and even command genocide. Flustered by his inability to produce a satisfactory answer, the elder teaching our class pounded his fist on the table and shouted “you don’t question the Bible!”

I was seeking understanding, but my questioning was clearly felt as a challenge.

As I grew and matured, I could no longer subscribe to the bumper sticker adage “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” As much as I loved the church – it wasn’t a safe place for my questions.

When I made my way to seminary, I had no specific career ambitions but I was desperate to better understand the Bible. At the top of my list was what God thought about me as a woman. Did God indeed create me as a lesser being than my male counterparts? Were there ways in which the Bible prohibited me from serving in the church? Were gifts distributed according to gender?

Having buried and denied and not fully acknowledged the whispers of calling I had as a young child, I had zero plans to pursue ministry. I just wanted to learn the ancient languages so I could get as close to the “original message” as possible and see for myself what God said about women (among other things).

What I discovered is that while the history, transmission, and interpretation of the Bible is far more complicated (and endlessly fascinating!) than I imagined, I had been fed a big ole pile of lies about women. I could go on and on about this (I focused my doctoral work on the full inclusion of women in the life and leadership of the church. But I want to know—what questions do YOU have?

6+1=6

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Hi friends. It’s been too long.

The pandemic brought some things to a screeching halt. Other things took a slow-burn approach.

My cozy WFH lifestyle of writing and teaching online came to a screeching halt when the kids were suddenly all home from school last March on the spring break that wouldn’t end.

As the weeks stretched on, here’s what life looked like: four kids at home distance-learning and summer breaking, Dave working full-time mostly from home (in my home office for months), me teaching the equivalent of a full professor load between two universities, trying to keep new podcast episodes coming, monthly letters and videos going – it was just too much. Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be my mental health or family.

I took a much-needed break from the podcast, and it turned out I needed a break from talking and writing in that way. I needed to tend to what was happening in my heart and mind. I needed to give my soul some rest. That was the end of summer/fall 2020.

**

I journaled and read. This was a season for listening and learning, giving myself the freedom to write for no one but me. I leaned more fully into parenting and cooking and baking. And to be honest, I struggled a lot with self-doubt. Who was I to think I had words to share that anyone else would want to hear?

And in the middle of that season of stepping back, resting, and wrestling, I got a pretty big surprise. My sense of smell was heightened. I was fatigued. I started having food and drink aversions. I couldn’t believe it was happening, but the symptoms were so clear: I was pregnant.

Forty-one years old, with four children in first through eighth grade.

We stressed over the unknowns and anticipated impacts. I had some pretty epic anxiety spirals. We lamented over what we were losing. Resetting the parenting clock by seven years… I had just been offered a full-time job but did I want to do that with another baby? I had serious doubts about this whole thing.

At the same time, we wondered and treasured this secret in our hearts, starting to let ourselves get excited for a new child in our family. I revisited memories of having a newborn, a toddler, a preschooler. We started making plans for how we would fit this new child into our home and family.

Once again, my heart expanded to accommodate the space required to love this new member of our family.

Eventually, we told the kids and then the grandparents. Everyone was surprised but excited. The kids couldn’t stop making lists of baby names and talking about all the things they were going to do with their new sibling.

**

We went to the 11-week ultrasound appointment, eager to hear the sweet fluttering of a little heartbeat, excited to see the shape of the new life we had created.

The shape was unmistakably human, but the image was still. I thought the baby was sleeping.

I was waiting for the doctor to confirm there was only one in there. The doctor was quiet, just kept moving the device around. The room was quiet and everything was still. On the screen, there was no pulsing movement in the chest, and deafening silence.

“There’s… no… heartbeat…” she slowly and quietly said.

Life was exchanged for death.

Our worries, laments, and excitement were exchanged for profound grief.

I tried to hold still so the doctor could finish her exam but the sobbing was uncontrollable. This is a club I never wanted to join.

**

I wrote a lot in those first few weeks. The grief and loss were all I could write about. My fear told me not to share publicly about this–it’s too personal. But my heart says this story and these words might not be only for me.

Apparently, miscarriages are fairly common, but those stories are shared only sparingly, in whispers, and when triggered by someone else experiencing it.
Why don’t more people talk about this? Perhaps because it’s horrifying and devastating. Perhaps because the grief feels unbearable. Perhaps because we can’t talk about it without sobbing.

I was three weeks along when I discovered the pregnancy. I spent eight weeks actively nurturing this new life growing inside of me. I changed the way I ate and drank. I changed the supplements I took. Eventually, I had to change the clothes I wore, the way I slept, the way I exercised. It felt like I changed nearly everything about my daily life to accommodate my new guest.

And yes I was stressed and worried. But I did everything I was supposed to do to support and grow a tiny human. And then the heart just stops beating? Without apparent reason, and without notifying me – the host, thank you very much – the heart just stops? For nearly a week, I went about my days and nights, trying to nurture a fetus that had already died in my womb. And I had no idea.

**

Fetal Parts Present
A positive test, a rush of joy and surprise,
A rising tide of worry.
A life on the verge of turning upside down,
Secrets shared and hope ignited.
The tide comes in and goes out and comes in,
The wait is over.
First glimpse of new life
Becomes first glimpse of recent death.
No heartbeat.
Arrive by seven. Sign here.
Ten hours and the death is gone.
Three incisions and the possibility is removed.
Status report: two tubes and fetal parts present.
A new death emerges,
This one cannot be undone.

**

In the doctor’s office that day, full of shock and broken by grief, I agreed to a D&C to remove the pregnancy, which was already now labeled a miscarriage. Within hours I decided I should also have my tubes “tied” (I thought that’s what they still did, but apparently now they remove them instead). It seemed like the right thing to do, since we had initially felt so unsure about the prospect of having another baby. I was already going to be sedated, so why not get it all done at once?

I was miles away from being in a proper mental and emotional state to make such a decision. And yet. No one questioned it or stopped me. I forced Dave to stay up super late with me that night, binge-watching Netflix because I couldn’t let my mind think about what had already happened inside my body and what would take place tomorrow.

I went in for both procedures the next day and my life was forever changed.
I never wanted to be medically sterilized. I always thought if it needed to be done, Dave should be the one to do it–after all, I *had* already carried and delivered four children. He could take this one for the team, right?

For years we questioned when the time would be right to make that call. But neither of us wanted to take such a permanent step. We couldn’t quite close that door.

On that day, though, all I could think was that I never, ever wanted to go through this again. I couldn’t risk another experience like that day in the OB’s office. The pain was so searing, and unlike most situations in life, here was a lever I could pull that would prevent me from ever experiencing that pain again. I could take away that possibility.

And I did.

And I have regretted it every day since.

**

Yesterday was my due date. Two days after my birthday. I often struggle with mixed emotions on my birthday. This was maybe the hardest one yet.

Over the last few months, there have been so many reminders of what could have been. Seeing a woman with her newborn at the zoo. Photos of my own children as infants. Pregnant women everywhere I look. And as the due date approached, the grief kept pushing me down deeper.

**

I wrote almost all of this back in February, two weeks after it happened. But I couldn’t share it. It felt way too personal, and also – who was I to complain about this? I already had four healthy kids! But the longer I stay quiet, the more it eats away at me. This is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever gone through. And the fact that most of my friends and colleagues didn’t know made the feeling of isolation worse.

I know I’m not the only woman who has done this – stayed silent in her grief because this is a thing we just don’t really talk about. A few days ago Sarah Bessey wrote about the traumatic story of her third child’s birth and the significant impact of keeping that story secret for so long. And just like that, I knew I had to share my story too.

Because maybe you, too, have lost a child. And you don’t ever talk about it. And you look around at people who’ve suffered “bigger” losses and you think your loss isn’t as big and you stuff your feelings down. And you say to yourself all those terrible things that people say to those who are grieving – “hey, at least…” “it could have been worse…” “just be grateful that…” And you think you’re mostly okay but you still sob uncontrollably once or twice a month.

It’s okay. At the risk of sounding like a hashtag, it’s okay to not be okay. To acknowledge your grief and how heavy it still is, regardless of how much time has passed.

Also, I think we as women should start talking about this. Because you are not alone, and neither am I.

The death began on January 27, but my heart pronounced it final yesterday when the due date came and went without the baby I thought I would be holding. It is finished.

I have four children. I lost a child. I did not know if I wanted more. I cannot have more. All of these things are true at the same time. The grief still brings forth big heaving sobs.

Share your truth. Share your grief. Maybe we can all hold it for each other when it feels too heavy to hold it alone.

Lay It Down

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How do we fix the massive problems in our world? Spoiler alert: wars, wealth, and power are not the solution. But there is hope, and it’s simpler than we might think. Today we’re focusing on the second half of Psalm 46, with the war-God who destroys weapons and ends all wars. Following is a transcript of S5E3: “Lay It Down” with yours truly.

Welcome to Season 5, Episode 3. Today we are picking up where we left off last week. We’ve been dwelling in the Psalm that’s numbered 46. We’ve been wrestling with what faith looks like in the midst of chaos and loss. And last week we considered what it might look like to be still and know that God is God, and we are not.

Here’s that Psalm again:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in our distresses.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, and the mountains tremble with its tumult.

There is a river whose streams make joyful the city of God—the holy tabernacle of the Most High. God is in her midst, she will not be shaken. God will help her before morning breaks.

Nations rage, kingdoms shake; He utters his voice, the earth melts.

YHWH of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Come, behold the works of YHWH, what horrors he has set on the earth.

He causes wars to cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and cuts off the spear. He burns the chariots with fire.

Be still and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted among the earth. YHWH of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.

The word of the Lord.

**

There’s this weird part where the Psalmist urges us to “Come! Behold the works of the Lord—see what horrors or devastations or desolations God has brought on the earth.” Kinda weird, right? Maybe shocking and confusing? For those of us who don’t believe that God causes bad things to happen, we have to dig a little deeper and trust God’s Spirit to reveal what this is about. In what ways is God bringing horrors on the earth?

The psalmist depicts YHWH as the ultimate ‘war-God.’ You might know this, but for those that don’t, the word ‘hosts’ means ‘armies.’ I think in American culture, when we hear the word “host,” we picture someone ‘hosting’ a dinner party or a ‘host’ at a restaurant (back when we used to go to those)—so the term ‘Lord of Hosts’ doesn’t make much sense. But if we use the word ‘armies’ instead, we get a clearer picture of what image this name for God is trying to convey. 

When Israel called on God as ‘Lord of Hosts’ or ‘YHWH of hosts,’ it was using battle language—Israel was calling upon their ‘war-God.’ It’s sort of like calling God the divine general. And when you call on YHWH of Hosts, the Lord of Armies, you can expect for the ground to be shaking and seas to be raging. What you might not expect is that it will be the very ground beneath your feet that shakes, or the waters under your boat that rage and threaten to consume. Because YHWH of Hosts destroys the weapons – and that can be horrifying.

We give lip service to the Lord of Hosts being with us and being our refuge, but we’re taking up arms and fighting for power. We’re not all in the military, and we don’t all own guns. Most of us don’t have the bows and spears mentioned in this Psalm. But we’ve geared up with some unique weapons to secure the safety and comfort of life as we know it, and to wield power over others.

We’ve learned that to navigate this world there are two things that we must have, and they are intimately connected: money and power. Neither money nor power is inherently bad or evil, but they have certainly been used in destructive ways. And we have weaponized money and power against others. We keep a white-knuckled grip on them to survive in this world. We pursue them, at times ruthlessly and by stepping on others.

For hundreds of years in America, our leaders have devised and refined and perfected an intricate web of systems to ensure that the vast majority of money and power remain in the hands of white people. From voter registration rules to redlining, to separate-but-equal to inadequate access to services and education, to denial of loans and housing, to lynching and bombing and violently responding to nonviolent demonstrations. 

The whole thing is rigged in favor of the white. And I have benefited from it my entire life. And I have believed that I got to where I am today through hard work and divine guidance and maybe a little luck. But the truth is, I’ve had disproportionate access to money and power. I’ve had access to money and power that not everyone in this country has. And sometimes, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

**

YHWH of Hosts destroys the weapons of power and domination. God is not coming in to wipe out all of our enemies. The psalmist says God is coming in to destroy weapons. God destroys those things that we all use to wield power over others.

Could it be, I mean, just imagine with me for a moment… Could it be that YHWH of Hosts has shown up to destroy the weapons of white supremacy? Could it be that God has heard the cries of the oppressed and helped to elevate their voices that they might usher in the dismantling of these evil, oppressive systems? Could it be that God has seen enough, heard enough, and is now moving? Is now moving in quite mysterious, but quite direct and observable ways to release those in our country who have been suffering under the burden of white supremacy for more than 400 years? Could that be possible? We have a pile of weapons of mass destruction built right into every corner of our economy that target nonwhite people. Could it be that God is breaking our bows and shattering our spears?

**

The great war-God ends all wars, but it’s not pretty. It’s not quite what we expected. When we think about God destroying weapons and ending wars, our imaginations might conjure images from Isaiah 11, where the lion lies down with the lamb, and the carnivores stop devouring each other. We might envision peaceful coexistence, the kind of true shalom that only God provides…We might imagine a world where nations do not rise up against nations, and where one person does not seek to dominate another. We might envision a world in which the striving for power has ceased. 

And here’s how we get to participate in this. When we deny ourselves and give up privilege for the sake of others, we’re partnering with God to end wars and destroy weapons. And there are a lot of privileges we could talk about, but the one that’s front and center on a lot of our minds is white privilege. For those of us who are white, we need to recognize the ways in which our whiteness has privileged us, the ways in which we’ve benefited from white supremacy. And then we need to figure out how and when and where we might start to give up that privilege. Because that’s such a Gospel call, isn’t it? 

In the Christ Hymn recorded in Philippians chapter 2, verses 6 through 11 we hear about Jesus denying himself and giving up his privilege. As a Jewish male, Jesus could have had a comfy life of privilege. He was the very embodiment of God on Earth, and in a sense he had more inborn “privilege” than anyone ever has. But he didn’t use it selfishly or exploit it. He gave it away and gave it up. He used his male privilege to elevate women and children. He used his religious privilege to challenge unjust systems. 

For those of us who are white, as we think about the ways in which our whiteness privileges us, how might we give it away in service of others like Jesus did? Are there others who need to be elevated? Are there unjust systems that we are uniquely positioned to challenge?

**

How might the world around us look different if we really try to see our fellow humans through the eyes of Jesus? Through eyes that do not see the myth of “race.” Eyes that celebrate the purposeful diversity of humanity. Eyes that delight in the beautiful spectrum of gender and skin color and sexuality and body shape and size. The eyes of Christ see us ALL as beloved children of God who are valuable and gifted and created on purpose. 

It’s pretty clear from the stories in the Gospels that Jesus wasn’t a big fan of the rich, the powerful, or the prominent. Although he was actually the physical manifestation of God on earth, and therefore a pretty important guy, he didn’t just hang out with the beautiful, smart people. He actually preferred to spend his time with the ones society had already dismissed. The ones who weren’t “worthy” or “pure” or “good enough” in the eyes of the religious elite. Jesus spent time with people in all of those different circles, and he preached a consistent message about God’s love and the abundant life that’s available to us in the here and now. He didn’t even talk that much about a future post-death heaven. He talked more about what life could look like in the here and now, and how we could partner with him to usher in the New Jerusalem. He came to give us hope for what our world *could* be.

Jesus was offered numerous opportunities to seize power, but he turned them all down. Because life in the New Jerusalem, life in God’s community is about giving up power, control, and privilege. If there’s anyone who ever walked the earth who ‘deserves’ power, it’s Jesus…But he showed us by his example that we should not concern ourselves with trying to get power. In fact, whatever power we have should be used for good or given to others. And the message Jesus had for the rich was essentially the same – use your wealth for good, or give it away.

So, money, power, privilege – all things we should use for good or give away. Because these things have become weapons for us. And we get to participate in the coming of the New Jerusalem, God’s beautiful community, by laying down our weapons. By saying yes, God, we want you to put an end to our wars and destroy our weapons. We don’t need them anymore because we have you. 

And this is especially hard when the earth is trembling. When everything feels so uncertain, or we’re not sure how the bills are going to get paid. When our country is polarized and we need to deal with the root of the problem but God help us we are just exhausted and don’t even know where to start. When the diagnosis is bleak and we don’t know when, or if we’ll get to hug our friends and loved ones again.

But this is exactly the moment when we need to lay it all down. When we need to recognize that we can’t fix the problems of the world through weapons and wars, or even by having enough privilege, money, or power. Only the God of peace can bring true peace.

**

If we are going to live lives that proclaim that God is God and is the only one who is exalted, we’re going to have to put down our weapons – the ways in which we are abusing our power and oppressing God’s creation. The ways in which our privilege benefits us and harms others. The ways in which we fight for what we want instead of having faith in God. Not faith that God will grant our every wish. But faith that God is love. Faith that God created us and loves us and promises to always be with us. Faith that God sees what we cannot. Faith that God is working to restore all of creation, and that we too can be part of that. 

Be still and know that God is God. And may we actively seek ways to give up our power, wealth, and privilege for the sake of others. May it be so.

Show Notes

S5E3: “Lay It Down” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, July 15, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: How do we fix the massive problems in our world? Spoiler alert: wars, wealth, and power are not the solution. But there is hope, and it’s simpler than we might think. Today we’re focusing on the second half of Psalm 46, with the war-God who destroys weapons and ends all wars.

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