Warrior for Peace

9/16/26

^“ Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place,and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”  Ephesians 6:10-18

The Seeds Were There All Along

Fourteen years ago, it felt as though a volcano erupted in the middle of my life.

On September 9, 2012, my son Joshua was murdered in our home.

There are events that change your life, and then there are events that destroy the landscape upon which your life was built. Joshua’s murder was the latter.

Everything I thought I knew about safety, family, faith, justice and the future was suddenly covered beneath the ash. When the eruption was over, I looked around and hardly recognized my own life. It felt like a desert. And yet, somehow, we kept walking.

Learning to Walk Through the Desert

Matthew and I walked through much of that desert together. We grieved Joshua. We searched for meaning. We continued serving. We dreamed about ways to make things better for other people.

Through AlaQuest, we began developing something called Culture Coach. The premise was simple but powerful: Empower, not enable.

We believed sustainable change doesn’t happen because someone comes in and fixes people. It happens when people discover their own strengths, connect around a common purpose, and develop the capacity to create change together. At the time, we were applying that idea primarily to schools. Looking back, I wonder whether Matthew and I were doing more than developing a program. Maybe we were planting seeds in the desert.

Becoming a Warrior for Peace

After Joshua was murdered, I had every reason to be angry. But I didn’t want the violence that ended Joshua’s life to determine the rest of mine. Along that journey, Erwin Raphael McManus’s The Way of the Warrior helped me think differently about what it meant to be a warrior. I began thinking of myself as a warrior for peace. I learned that peace is not passivity. Sometimes peace requires armor. Sometimes it requires standing in the middle of conflict without becoming the conflict. Sometimes it means refusing to make another human being the enemy. Sometimes it means walking into broken systems and asking a different question: What could happen if we stopped fighting one another and started working together toward what matters?

The biblical image from Ephesians 6 became increasingly meaningful to me. The armor of God: truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and the Word of God. The armor isn’t there so I can attack people. It is there so I can stand. Perhaps the sword is meant to remind me to cut through fear, division, competition, hopelessness, and the belief that there isn’t enough for all of us. Perhaps the feet are fitted with the gospel of internal peace – the peace that passes understanding.

Then the Desert Changed Again

For years, Matthew and I kept walking. And then, on December 13, 2021, Matthew died following a car accident. Once again, the landscape changed. This time, I had to walk without him.

For almost five years, I have continued putting one foot in front of the other. I have worked. Studied. Coached. Taught. Spoken. Served. Written. Grieved. Sometimes I accepted work simply because it was work in front of me. Sometimes I found myself performing small pieces of what I knew I was capable of doing and wondering why I felt unseen or undervalued. I thought perhaps I needed to find something new. But lately I have begun wondering whether I wasn’t supposed to find something new at all. Maybe I needed to remember what had already been planted.

Your Tears Will Water the Seed

Years ago, someone shared a vision they had of me. They saw me walking through a desert wearing armor. I was crying. But something extraordinary was happening. Everywhere my feet had already touched the barren ground, flowers were blooming behind me. Not in front of me. Behind me. And I heard these words: Your tears will water the seed. I have carried that image with me for years.

Seeds can remain dormant beneath desert soil for a very long time. From the surface, the ground can appear lifeless. But lifeless and dormant are not the same thing. The seeds are still there. Waiting. The Flowers Are Behind Me. That may be the most important part of the vision for me today. There were no flowers showing me where to walk next. The ground ahead remained desert. The flowers appeared only after I stepped.

Maybe that is faith.

We often want God to show us the garden so we’ll know where to walk. But perhaps sometimes God simply asks us to put on the armor and take the next step onto barren ground. And only later, when we turn around, do we see what has grown.

When I look behind me now, I can see flowers: Joshua. Matthew. AlaQuest. Culture Coach. Nursing. Healthcare leadership. Whole Health. Integrative Nurse Coaching. The people I have served. The people who have taught and served me. And now, my book and my doctoral journey.

None of those flowers erase the desert. And nothing beautiful that grows from my life will ever make losing my sons acceptable or necessary. But loss does not get to decide that nothing can grow here again.

And Now I Am Approaching Another Threshold

I am writing this as I enter the final semester of my Doctor of Whole Health Leadership program. Just days ago, September 9 marked 14 years since Joshua was murdered. On December 13, it will be five years since Matthew died. And one week later, on December 21, I am scheduled to graduate. I cannot ignore the significance that timing holds for me. Not because graduation somehow closes the story. It doesn’t. But perhaps it marks a place along the journey where I am finally able to turn around and see what has been growing behind me. And something I thought I had lost is beginning to appear again.

Returning to the Seed

My doctoral Capstone focuses on Whole Health at the community level and on something I now realize Matthew and I were already trying to practice years ago: Bringing people together around a common purpose. Discovering what is already working. Connecting existing strengths and resources. Breaking down unnecessary competition. Building capacity within people and organizations. And creating change that can continue without dependence upon the person who initiated it.

Recently, a professional situation forced me to confront questions about competition, ownership and whose program should prevail. My first instinct was to walk away. Then I realized:  This is the work. What if the answer isn’t choosing whose program wins? What if the answer is helping people discover what each person brings and then building something together around what matters?

That’s Whole Health Leadership. That’s Culture Coaching. And that’s AlaQuest.

Empower, Not Enable

I am beginning to see the next chapter of AlaQuest more clearly. I don’t want to build a business around people depending upon me. I want to build a business that helps people, teams, organizations and communities discover their own capacity. To ask: What matters? What is already working? What strengths are already here? What keeps us divided? What could become possible if we worked toward a common goal? And how do we create something sustainable enough to continue after the consultant leaves? That is what Matthew and I meant when we said: Empower, not enable. Perhaps we understood more than we realized.

Still Walking

I don’t know exactly what waits ahead. That’s part of the lesson. The flowers aren’t in front of me. There is still desert there. But I am no longer looking at barren ground and assuming nothing is underneath it. I know there are seeds.

So, I will put on the armor.  I will carry the sword – not as a weapon against people, but as a reminder to cut through fear, division, competition and hopelessness. I will continue trying to be a warrior for peace. I will keep walking. I will keep crying when the tears come. And I will trust that perhaps those tears are not disappearing into dry ground. Perhaps they are watering something I cannot yet see.

Fourteen years ago, the landscape of my life was changed forever. Five years ago, I lost the person who had been walking much of that desert beside me. And now I am approaching another horizon.

I don’t believe I am leaving Joshua or Matthew behind. I am carrying forward what we planted together.

The desert was never empty.

The seeds were there all along.