2025

 In January Darla came and made our week by impacting Middle Schoolers. In February I delighted in my small group girls. In March I hiked around. In April, we celebrated Ellen's 40 years. In May I saw elephants up close as we launched Tanzania. In June I wept with good-byes. In July the Alps called me higher for a couple of days. In August my PSI team doubled in size. In September all the Custer siblings gathered at my kitchen table for cookies. In October I sat by the fire. In November I fell in love with all my new kids. And in December Elli and I completed reading through the Bible in a year by celebrating our Savior's birth together. Am I rich or what!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why do we Sing?

A few weeks ago on a Saturday, I received some hard news. Naturally I was still processing it as I walked into church Sunday morning, wondering how in the world I was going to be able to sing. I contemplated escaping by checking to see if the nursery needed any last-minute help, but in the end, I took my seat and made sure I had the tissues ready. And something strange happened. As we sang song after song, I had this feeling of being almost two separate people: one who was preaching the truth of the song I was singing and the other a person who was receiving the truth of the song being sung to her. I was struck by the thought that I was engaged in a struggle of belief. Was God still sovereign and good and worthy of worship in the midst of sadness and grief?

An image floated into my mind of literary character Leeli Wingfeather (Monster in the Hollows, Book 3 of The Wingfeather Saga) standing on top of a building, playing her musical instrument, and successfully fighting the enemy that way. She makes music until her lips are bleeding, and then she keeps on playing. In this story, the music she creates is an actual weapon that vanquishes the evil trying to get her.

A quick AI search notes 185 distinct songs recorded in Scripture, most of them in the Psalms of course. Last week in MS Chapel, I shared the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel, whose arch takes her from sorrow of soul to mountains of delight. We had to stop shy of her battle hymn in chapter 2, which contains lyrics such as “My mouth boasts over my enemies, for I delight in your deliverance” and “The foundations of the earth the LORD’s; upon them he has set the world.”

Why do we sing? According to the Hadestown album - which has been on repeat in my apartment this month - the answer is “to fix what’s wrong, to take what’s broken and make it whole.” We sing to “bring the world back into tune,” in line with the Creator’s intentions. We are, in fact, in a constant, daily struggle of belief. We hearken back to Aslan’s song when he created Narnia, to the original melody unleashed in the world and that we know is still there, even though it’s been twisted and altered to suit our sinful fancies. Worship through song restores the tune; it is a weapon we’ve been given to fight the enemy, a gift for the children as they face the sadness and grief of the world but hope for the final day of victory to come. When we finally become His bride.

At Hadestown!

Middle Schoolers in the battle

A Prayer for the Nations

This week held both the MS and HS International Chapels. I love these days, not just because I get to pull out my colorful outfits from around the world, but because they have become beautiful pillars to remind me of who we are and what God is doing. These chapels are an invitation every year to actively participate in his global work, through worship and prayer. Last year, as Chaplain, I wrote this prayer for the nations that we got to pull out again this year. Join in participating as well!

A Prayer for the Nations

Psalm 2:8 says, “Ask of me, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for your possession.

Most High God, King of the Universe, we pray on behalf of the nations today. In accordance with 1 Timothy 2:1-2, we lift up and give thanks for the rulers, presidents, kings, and authorities of this world. We ask that you would give them a hunger for you, that they would allow the truth of Jesus Christ to have free reign in their countries, and that you would deliver your people from unreasonable men and all evil. Father, in your word you say that the hearts of all created people are in your hands and you can turn them according to your will. We ask that you would direct the hearts and minds of leaders in every single nation of this world, that they might come to believe in you and act in your ways and according to your word. Thank you for your sovereignty over all politics, powers, and influences.

We also pray on behalf of those who dwell in these nations, whose lives stretch the exact number of days you have ordained, and whose single greatest need is the truth of your gospel. Father, make yourself known to them! Open up ears to hear, eyes to see, and hands to praise. When people hear the name of Jesus, may their hearts year for more of you. To that end, we ask that you send laborers out to all corners of the earth - those whom you fill with your wisdom, favor, power, and insight. We pray for protection for them and their families as well as confidence in you to be their provider. Give them boldness to speak and serve so that you are remembered and exalted. Build your kingdom in and through them.

As we move toward the day when you return, we ask for the spirit of faith to unify us as believers under the power of Jesus Christ through His death and His resurrection, who brings about redemption and restoration with you. Reveal your glory in all the earth. Be magnified and praised in every nation we pray. Amen.

MS students at Chapel

On my Knees

It’s that time of year again when I’m living on my knees. No, I wish this were a blog about my need for and faithfulness in prayer. Alas, I’m talking about play season.

My first backstage experience was in college, and of course as a 19-year-old student, it felt completely normal to be kneeling on the stage while using a hot-glue gun to create a chandelier out of plastic cutlery. Up in the rafters of that show, we knelt all the time to pass papers up and down to each other. Even in my early years at BFA behind the curtain, I found myself on my knees more often than I could’ve anticipated -- fixing a prop that had just come apart in the last scene with duct tape, helping Anne of Green Gables slip out of her shoe and quickly into the cast for her “broken foot,” hunting with my hands on the dark floor for the microphone that had fallen through the actress’ costume before anyone stepped on it. I’ve knelt on the edge of the stage waving my arms, trying desperately (yet quietly) to get the detective’s attention because he’s supposed to go on in 10 seconds. I’ve been on my knees hemming up a skirt with safety pins that had come undone or helping the 5th grader crawl under the Beast’s table to pull down the final rose petal without knocking over the glass. A core memory was the time I knelt inside one the castle set pieces, seeking to stabilize the fake wall while Robin Hood and his Merry Men clamored over me in such a way to make it look as if they had just crawled up to a high tower window.

The older I get, the more often I end play rehearsal with a look to Heather, the director, and the same phrase, “I’m going to need a massage after the show wraps.” She usually laughs and asks how the knees are doing. But what a privilege. It's no secret that I love theater, and there’s no place else I’d rather be than on my knees putting down spike tape or reaching for yet another cough drop or looking for a lost prop that’s supposed to go on in 30 seconds. Because I get to be with my kids. And maybe, when I’m down there on the ground with my slowly aging joints, just maybe I’ll remember to pray for them as well.

Lauren putting down spike tape as we prepare for Sherlock Holmes.

20-year Anniversary with my Rug

Someone commented on my living room carpet recently. Rugs are so easily one of those items that you can stop seeing, beneath your notice with its familiar patterns and constant presence. But of course, once pointed out, I had to look down again and notice again the peach-colored swirls and blossoms on top of an azure base. To the best of my memory, my parents bought it when we moved to Spittal in 1995, which means it’s been in a Custer home for 30 years. That also means I’ve lived with it for exactly 20 of those years. 

I think of all the times vacuuming it, sweating on it with my dumbbells, playing Stool Pigeon with my small group girls, and watching Pride and Prejudice with 20 other women.

Then I think, “I’m writing a sentimental blog about a carpet. Get back to work!”

Writing break over now...

God's Good Kingdom

I listen to a lot of music. Generally when I’m walking to and from school or when I’m cooking, it’s either a podcast or music. And lately it’s been a lot of random recommended albums from Spotify. Sometimes I skip right through them, sometimes it’s just background noise, and sometimes the lyrics hit me right between the eyes.

Such was the song “Kingdom” from Isabelle Thom. It squeezes my heart every time it comes on. I sent it to my friend, Missy, who said she got 10 seconds in before realizing “Nope, this one is going to require all of me,” and she had to postpone the moment to later. Honestly, I have no idea how some songs have the ability to do that with the tune and lyrics, but this one simply feels holy. Somehow the Spirit in Isabelle when she wrote it many months ago is resonating with the Spirit inside of me today.

In Chrysalis last week I spoke about the goodness of God, and how it’s a core character trait from which his kindness and compassion and slowness to anger all stem. Because he is the author of everything good, then every gift is actually his goodness toward us. Every time I experience something beautiful or joy-inducing, it’s a gift he’s giving to me personally. It’s a goodness not distorted in the mirror. It’s a lasting joy where suffering is redeemed into pure comfort. It’s a reminder that the things (and people) he loves will last in the kingdom. This song is a present for me.

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where there isn’t any fear

Where the goodness of the story’s not distorted in the mirror

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where my joy won’t come and go

Cuz my brokenness will make its peace with the fringes of your robe

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where nobody cares for gold

Cuz the radiance of your mercy crowns the heads of your beloved

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where the things you love will last

And the jaws of death won’t clench around the ones who went too fast

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where lies won’t sound like truth

Cuz hell will wake and find itself dethroned and destitute

I’m waiting for a kingdom

Where faith will become sight

When you redeem our suffering

Before our very eyes

Sunset this weekend

Remember

This year at BFA, “remember” is our theme. To remember is biblical, of course. Depending on translations and exactly whom you ask, the word or concept appears roughly 250 times in Scripture. We are told to remember our Creator (Ecclesiastes 12), to remember God’s commands (Numbers 15), to remember his provisions (Matthew 16), to remember his wondrous works (1 Chronicles 16), to remember how far we have fallen (Revelation 2), to remember the greatness of salvation (Isaiah 46), and to remember others in our prayers (Hebrews 13). Sadly, it seems no matter how often I read the call to remember - a concept that sounds so easy on the surface - I fall short all the time. It requires intentionality, and sometimes I’m disheartened by the fact that it’s a struggle because I fully believe that the myriad of ways in which God has shown himself faithful to me personally are worthy of being remembered.

One thing I’ve found that helps is a symbol. Often in Scripture, active remembering is accompanied by an active marking. The Israelites crossed the Jordan under Joshua’s leadership and were told to grab 12 stones to set up as a memorial, a marking to remind future generations of the miracle. God himself set the symbol of a rainbow in the sky after he “remembered Noah” and so that we forever remember his promise to never flood the earth again. Perhaps my favorite symbolic marking is the taking of communion. “As often as you eat and drink it, do it in remembrance of me” (1 Cor 11:24-25). The Lord knows how fallible our minds are, how easily we forget or ignore, so he gives us symbols to help. It’s why remembering so often appears in imperative form.

To remember well is an honorable choice and can lead to deeper intimacy with the Lord. That’s our prayer for our students and our whole community this year. In Isaiah 63, the prophet sets about to actively recall God’s faithfulness to Israel (v. 7-14), and it overflows into a heartfelt prayer on their behalf (v. 15-19). I'm still hunting for the right symbol as I seek to convey this theme to our Middle School students, but for now, I'll tell them that remembering is for our good. It rights our perspective on the past because it spots God in the picture, allowing him to show us how he was present all along. "I will remember the things the LORD has done!" (Psalm 77:11).

Opening HS chapel!

pc: BFA Communications Team