Contact Us

Use the form on the right to contact us.

You can edit the text in this area, and change where the contact form on the right submits to, by entering edit mode using the modes on the bottom right. 


123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789


You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.

Jen Pollock Michel

( author + writer + speaker )

Filtering by Tag: Joe Dudeck

Breaking the Bread of Belief: Beginning

Beginning In the beginning.

These are the first three words of Scripture, and they burst with promise.

If Moses was indeed the author of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible), perhaps he began here – in the beginning – as if to insist:

The story I’m about to tell you is headed somewhere. It has meaning and purpose. There is congruence to its parts.

In the beginning, at least as I read it, seems to say something inherent about the narrative architecture of God’s story. As a student of literature, I recognize in the beginning as a familiar point of departure: I head into the rising action. I anticipate conflict, then climax, and imagine myself making descent into the dénouement. Falling, falling, falling, I will fall into resolution.

This story is going to make sense to me. Because in the beginning begs to make sense of it. Begs me to consider that if there is architecture to this story, then surely there is an Architect.

That is the leap of faith we make in the first three words of the Scripture: in the beginning.


But let us not forget that faith is, as a New Testament writer later assured, “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

Faith sees and knows what is neither apparent nor intuitive.

In the beginning, God.

Genesis, for all the promise of its beginning, quickly unravels, all the narrative threads tangling and fraying. Not long into Genesis (exactly two chapters), and the good of the beginning is threatened. Faith is threatened. Where is the architect when the story seems to collapse in on itself?

Which is of course the question we all ask ourselves when life, like a willful child, heads toward the street.

Last week, in a single day, divorce and death are in my inbox. One friend’s marriage is imploding. Years and years, they’ve having been plodding together, holding with ever more difficulty to the promises they had long ago. Those promises, those threads of faithfulness, will not hold, it seems. And the solid things prove themselves provisional.

And death. She is there, too, in my inbox, and I remember with cold ache that young women get cancer and make haste to leave, families collapsing in the wake of their departure. The solid things prove themselves provisional.

In the beginning, God.

To believe in a purposeful, coherent architecture to the stories of our brokenness requires faith.

To believe in an Architect – with a will for good in the midst of pain – is and only ever will be apprehended by faith.

But I do believe, however naïve that will seem to make me. Because in the beginning, God is irresistible fruit.

* * * * *

This is first of a series, which I intend to be a meditation on belief. Joe Dudeck has captured the marvelous images to accompany these thoughts. Thank you, Joe.

Makeover: How things look a little different around here

My children have come to euphemistically call my grey hair, “silvers.” They’re fonder of them than I. If you have grey hair like I do (for goodness gracious sakes, try imagining for a moment!), you know how the anxious weeks feel leading up to your salon appointment, the weeks during which your “silvers,” despite your first-degree attempts, are being resuscitated.

(You have roots. And wish no one to notice.)

There have been some roots around here on my website. In fact, I sat in Adrianna Wright’s office several weeks ago (she’s the online publicist for IVP), and we stared at my roots.

“Well, there is such a thing as too much creative white space.”

It wasn’t until days later, as I lay in bed thinking about the pixilated image of my website's roots on her extra-large monitor that I realized: my header had disappeared!

I used to have, at the very least, a header with my name and tagline of my site. But where had it gone? And why hadn’t I noticed? (These and other perplexing questions about my life.)

At any rate, the silvers have been dealt with, and I hope you’re glad to be here. I’m grateful to Ben Goshow for putting up with this Luddite. (If you need a web developer, I’d highly recommend. And check out Fishhook while you’re at it.) I’m also thankful to Joe Dudeck for the beautiful header image, and I’m happy to say I’ve got more of Joe’s amazing work to feature on the blog in upcoming weeks.

Now it’s your turn. Gush in the comments about the makeover.