the message

I needed to hear this, so I thought you might, too.

Read it slowly.

Marinate in it.

Each line, line by line.

This is what He's saying to you.

But now, God's message,

the God who made you in the first place,

the One who got you started:

Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.

I've called your name.

You're mine.

When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you.

When you're in rough waters, you will not go down.

When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end--

Because I am God,

your personal God,

the Holy One of Israel,

your Savior.

I paid a huge price for you. 

That's how much you mean to me.

That's how much I love you.

I'd sell off the whole world to get you back,

trade the creation just for you.

So don't be afraid: I'm with you.

(Isaiah 43:1-5)

hope is alive

Hello.

How was your Christmas?

Mine looked like this:

December 23rd: Oh What Fun!, a Christmas service for the whole family @VCC. I was an elf, and I found baby Jesus at the end. (He was under the tinsel, garland, and Christmas ornaments.) I went to Wal-Mart afterward, still dressed as an elf, and even amidst all the people walking through the parking lot, the guy selling garland picked me out of the crowd to pester me. I may have pointy shoes, but I'm a person, too. And I don't want your garland.

December 24th: Two Christmas Eve services, six Lindor white chocolate truffles, a nap, and another Christmas Eve service. I loved the darkness of the auditorium and hearing 170 voices sing out, "For He alone is worthy." It was beautiful and intimate, and I fell asleep that night thinking about how blessed I am to be in this church, with these people, and a child of this amazing God.

December 25th: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned (Isa 9:2). I watched White Christmas and ate Raisin Bran in bed before heading out to spend the day with some of my favorite people on this earth. So much to make me laugh, so much to make me full, so many bourbon balls. I will not say I did not miss my family & the traditions I missed having for the first time in 24 years. But I am one blessed cookie to have the people in my life who are in my life.

December 26th: Happy day after merry Christmas day! (To quote Mom.) I went to work for a couple of hours, thought about how practical gas cards are & how I wouldn't be sad to get one, and was surprised by a Speedway card at my desk! And when I pulled into the gas station, my empty light was glowing. It's little things like a full tank of gas that make my entire day glowier. And the fact that I've scrubbed my bathroom and kitchen floors and watched a few episodes of The King of Queens and wrote a poem.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas of experiencing God with us, wherever you were and with whomever you were. I for one hope to continue to experience His nearness in new and dependable ways in the days after Christmas. For He alone is worthy.

The Ultimate If/Then

One time two and a half years ago, when I was feeling lonely & tired & stretched pretty thin, my friend (let's call him Mufasa) encouraged me in an email with, "Rest in Jesus."

I read his words and replied, "I don't know how to rest in Jesus."

It's been two and a half years, and I think I finally understand.

At least, maybe a little.

I've always liked the verse that says, "Abide in me, and I will abide in you" (John 15:4). Well, that's what I want, to abide in Jesus. And if abiding in Jesus means He then abides in me, that sounds like the best option out there.

But how the heck do you abide in Jesus?

I've always wanted it to be some sort of feeling, some sort of achievement. Like, hello, I'm abiding in Jesus, can't you see me floating around instead of walking? When someone tells me, "Rest in Jesus," or when Jesus tells me, "Abide in Me," I want to be able to take a deep breath, and, by the time I breathe out, to feel safe & secure & at peace.

It's like when you're about to take a trip and someone tells you, "Be safe." Or when you're really upset and someone tells you, "Calm down." Well, yes. Those are the results I would like to achieve: safety and calmness. But simply saying those words over me isn't going to magically make me safe or make me calm. This isn't Harry Potter, and you can't make me feel okay by pointing a stick at me and saying "feelicus okaytio."

So this morning is when I realized that Jesus' "abide in Me/abide in you" statement is an if/then, and here's what it means, when you break it down (& use visuals). Simply replace the underlined with any mix of words below it:

If I abide in Jesus, then I will have Jesus abiding in me.

memorize                                                         peace

pray                                                             joy

meditate                                                    a defense

remember                                                      confidence

sing                                                              refuge

praise                                                        understanding

etc.                                                                & more!

You know when you're lying in bed, and you have the thought, "Ugh, I will never get married," you counter it by thinking, "The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me (Ps. 138:8)," and that's abiding in Jesus. Or when you tape a Bible verse to your dashboard so that whenever you get into your car, you see, "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer (2 Sam. 22:2)," you're abiding in Jesus. Or when you are getting [justifiably!] annoyed or angry, & instead of commiserating with yourself or someone else, you choose to pray, "Holy Spirit, breathe into my attitude and change me to think more like you," you are SO TOTALLY abiding in Jesus! And when you don't feel at all like singing the same worship song about running into Jesus' arms, because you don't feel at all like the riches of His love will always be enough, but you sing it anyway, that is most especially abiding in Jesus.

So then, you know that moment when nothing has changed - the situation's still shaky, the relationship is still broken, the forecast is still cloudy - yet you have this unexplainable just knowing that everything's going to be okay (even when all fingers point at you & say, "You should be worrying")? That's Jesus abiding in you. Or when you feel compassion toward someone whose suffering you never noticed before, or feel interest in a people group you used to disdain, or feel love for someone you know absolutely nothing about, well, my friend, that's Jesus abiding in you. And when, in the middle of singing that worship song that you don't feel like singing, you suddenly feel very much like running into the arms of Jesus and that His love is so rich that you're not even tasting the amount of a teacup, JESUS is ABIDING in YOU.

True story.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things [abide in Jesus]. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice [abide in Jesus]. And the God of peace will be with you [Jesus will abide in you!!]. (Philippians 4:8-9 [over-excited exclamation points mine])

So...rest in Jesus. Thanks, Mufasa. I think I will.

(For more motivation in this, I recommend reading Secrets of the Secret Place by Bob Sorge, &/or listening to this 10/31/11 sermon from the Vineyard called "Strong Training.")

with them we praise & curse

Remember that part in Hamlet where Hamlet is reading a book, and some dude (I don't remember who it was) asks him what he's reading? Hamlet replies, "Words, words, words." He's such a smarty pants. Or, I guess, back then it would've been smarty tights. Smarty leggings?

When I was in youth group, my youth pastor, Josh, told us all to stop being so sarcastic and negative to one another, and instead to tell each other what we appreciated about one another. Of course, obviously, we then made fun of him. I distinctly remember turning to my friend Erin and saying with an overly-genuine lilt in my voice, "You're a bright young woman, Erin. I appreciate you."

Once on a retreat, Josh had us all sit in a circle. Then he gave one of us a ball, and told us to, without saying a name, describe what we appreciated about another person in the room. When we were done, we threw the ball to that person, often surprising them that the kind words that were just spoken were directed at them.

I've been pondering the power of words. A young lady I worked with in the food pantry in Salt Lake City a couple of summers ago was volunteering there to fulfill court-appointed hours. She had a daughter and lived with her mom. Sometimes she just made poor decisions.

One day I told her how much I enjoyed her company; how genuine and thoughtful she was; how much I liked her. A few weeks later I'd forgotten I'd even said anything to her. To me, I was just speaking my opinion. (I do this a lot.) But she came in to work and told me she'd been having a horrible day the day before, but she remembered my words to her, and they changed her entire day.

WORDS have POWER.

And not just the words we speak to others. I've also been thinking about the words I think about others.

During my spring break trip to Atlanta last spring, our group of twelve college students sat in a circle in a small attic room that we couldn't even stand upright in. One group member sat in the middle, and sporadically people spoke words of encouragement to that person. Good things we saw in that person. What impact that person has had on our week/team/lives. We were supposed to be in there for an hour and a half; we finally emerged three hours later. And after sitting in a room where nothing but encouragement, good, and positive was spoken, my entire thought processes were changed as to what I thought about my teammates. We were all different, and some of us had more in common than others. But either way, when we focused on the good, we saw more good.

WORDS can be LIFE.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. - Ephesians 4:29

This is a challenge to me. Let it be a challenge to you, too!

oh, to grace how great a debtor

Recently my friend Irene and I tried to open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew. First we tried to dig out the cork with a screwdriver, but the cork broke in half. Then we screwed a screw into the remainder of cork, and tried to pull the cork out with pliers.

Get it, Irene.

But the cork kept deteriorating. Those little boogers are really packed in there.

So then we wrapped the spout of the bottle in a towel, put it in the sink, and hit it with a hammer. (And by "we," I mean Irene did so, and I stood on the other side of the counter with my hands protecting my head like they teach you on an airplane in case of a crash. I was one floatation device short of the Southwest safety catalog.)

But the bottle didn't break. So finally we had to suck it up and go to Kroger and buy a corkscrew, for seven dollars. Come on, Kroger. I'm probably never even going to use this thing again. Anybody want a corkscrew? I will sell it to you for $6.99. It's quality.

This morning I was reading in John 8, and in verse 31, Jesus says, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples."

I think this would be a pretty easy verse to just breeze over. Right, obviously, in order to be a disciple of Jesus, we have to hold to His teaching. Duh. Moving right along.

But this verse really stuck out to me. (About this time you're probably wondering, What the hairy does a bottle of wine have to do with Jesus? Patience, grasshopper.) I thought, What exactly is Jesus' teaching? What is He referring to that we must hold to in order to be His disciple? Do I hold to His teaching in the way I live my life?

I prayed, "Lord, penetrate my heart with your teaching and convict me of the things I need to change."

Then I thought, "Whoa, that is a heavy prayer." You don't pray words like "penetrate" and "convict" unless you're really serious. Am I willong to go through what that prayer may bring about?

And that's when the image of the wine bottle came to my mind. I realized as I prayed, that my prayer was basically asking God to take a hammer to me and crush me, in order to make me into what He wanted. ("But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him" [Jeremiah 18:4]).

Scary.

But I saw God's grace like that towel that Irene wrapped around that bottle. Breaking, yes. But gently. Wrapped in God's grace. Sweetly broken. Maybe Jeremy Riddle wasn't exactly picturing smashing a wine bottle wrapped in a kitchen towel with a hammer when he wrote that song, but I am.

And if that's what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus, that's what I want. A disciple, not just a Christian. And I think it's great that Justin's going to be preaching about being a disciple this weekend. (Saturday at 5:30pm, and Sunday at 9am, 10:30am, and noon. Shameless plug for the Vineyard? Yes.) I'm looking forward to hearing what he says.

trampling over death by death

To put it succinctly, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a pastor and a theologian in Germany who was involved in a conspiracy to kill Hitler. He was arrested by the Nazis and, over a year later, executed 3 weeks before the war ended, and 2 weeks before his prison camp was liberated by the Allies. As he walked out of his prison cell to be hanged, he turned to his prison mate and said, "This is the end--for me, the beginning of life."

As I read the account of Bonhoeffer's last days, I saw him living - and dying - with complete and unquestioning faith in the incredible gift Jesus has given us:

He has given us life.

He has conquered death

We have nothing to fear.

We will be with Him, the Creator of the universe, forever.

Death shows that the world is not what it should be, but that it needs redemption. Christ alone overcomes death. - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

"When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: 'Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades." - Revelation 1:17-18

HE IS RISEN! 

And because He's alive, I live.

the eating habits of dragons

I like to listen to sermons when I jog. And now that I have access to a treadmill where I nanny 3 days a week, I am packing in the sermons. Podcasts are da bomb.

Sometimes, though, I get scared that someone is going to break into the house while I'm jogging in the basement, perfectly content with my ear buds in and the sweat dripping down my back. (I am not a delicate exerciser. It is an unpleasant thing to behold. In the weight room in college, I was running on the treadmill and a guy walked past, looked at me, then looked again, his eyebrows coming together in a very concerned wrinkle. Yes, I'm fine. It's natural that my face looks this way. This is why I'm thankful the treadmill I now use is in a basement, where there are no windows.)

But then, after I think, "What if someone breaks in?" I assuage myself with the image of the intruder stopping at the top of the basement stairs and listening for signs of life. He would hear:

thump

thump

thump

thump

BAHAHAHA

thump

thump

thump

thump

Then he would assume that, like Rochester, these people were keeping an insane person locked away in their house, and he would flee in fear. But not before RAJAH THE NINJA CAT takes him out with one swift swipe of his devil claws! Because there's nothing so fulfilling as combining Charlotte Bronte with 21st century spy drama.

Meanwhile I am in the basement, thudding away on the treadmill, listening to a sermon from the Vineyard. If you haven't listened to a sermon from VCC, I highly encourage you to extract your carving knife from whatever drawer you keep it in and carve out some time to listen. They've just finished a series on generosity, and the last sermon had me in stitches as I ran my 4.8 miles per hour.

It also had me contemplating, as all VCC sermons do, my own heart. If Mr. Burglar stood long enough at the top of the stairs, he also would have heard me exclaim, "Amen," and possibly, "Yeah, Heather," because sometimes the wiser part of me feels like the stupider part of me really needs to grasp certain concepts. Oh, Wiser Me, you're so wise. Love, Stupider Me.

So, inspired by Kevin's sermon, I was thinking about generosity, gratefulness, contentedness, etc. I remember my VCC small group leader a couple of years ago making the comment, "When was the last time you saw a commercial that said, 'Everything you have is okay; just keep what you have'?" It is very true that, no matter how much stuff I have, I am always looking for what else could be mine.

Mmm, I want those seasons of Chuck.

Oooh, I want a First Aid Kit CD.

Ahhh, I want a new skirt for spring.

MORE AHAVA.

I read an article in the Wall Street Journal the other day (it's not that impressive - I only read the Personal Journal section, and even then I usually choose the articles with the biggest pictures) about happiness vs. purpose. Research shows that those who pursue happiness are actually less likely to be happy than those who pursue purpose. Ironic! Those with purpose in life live longer, are less prone to diseases like Alzheimer’s, and report more of an over-all sense of well-being. The article talked about people desiring the feeling of watching a great movie or eating a great meal, versus people who work with the homeless or are family-oriented. 

That's the part that really got me. 

College-aged kids experience more emotional and psychological problems today than they did 100 years ago, because the focus of life has shifted from relationships, family, and community, to material things, possessions, and achievement.

I've been there. I know what it's like to search for happiness, and that search is always going to come up fruitless. Happiness doesn't last; it will always run out, end, or slip through our fingers. And then we're left with that empty feeling that shoots us on another quest to fill it. But I've been thinking about ending the search for "more" and instead living in gratitude for what I have. I think it's there that we find purpose. And underlying purpose is that steady joy and confidence that God gives, because He never runs out, ends, or slips through our fingers.

So, instead of making a list of "I want," what's my list of "I'm grateful for"?

When you live in gratitude, it is really, really hard to live in sin. - Jon Weece

P.S. This post had nothing to do with dragons or what they eat...but I was afraid if I titled it something like "What I'm Learning About God," nobody would read it. People are much more likely to read about what I'm learning about dragons.

they don't mine

The dictionary describes the word "know" this way:

to be or feel certain of the truth or accuracy of
to be acquainted or familiar with
to understand, be aware of, or perceive
to experience, especially deeply

Jesus says, "This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent" (John 17:3).

Do all those definitions of "know" describe what your relationship of knowing God looks like?

They don't mine.

But I desperately want them to.

Do you?

Something to think about.

***EDIT***

A quote from Dana Candler's twitter on February 11:

Missing Him is part of loving Him. Loving Him is fruit of knowing Him. Knowing Him is eternal life (Jn 17:3).

Perfect.

hail to thee, Mayberry

I remember being a little girl and walking into the living room while my brothers were watching football. I asked them, "Who are the bad guys?" Translation: Which team are we wanting to win? My brothers less-than-patiently (supposedly I asked this question more than once) told me that "there are no bad guys." That's just how my little mind, fed on Disney movies, interpreted things. Good guys, bad guys. Aladdin, Jafar. We want the good guys to win, to ride away on a magic carpet with a woman wearing a very fluttery pant-suit made of sheer Arabian fabric. Just tell me who the good guys are so I can appropriately pray for them to succeed. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it! Amen and amen.

Since then I've learned a tad bit more about football (though there are still bad guys...at least, that's how my mind, still fed on Disney movies, interprets things). I also pretend to know more than I do. I'll teach you a good strategy: The less you say, the more it appears you know. Maybe even keep a notepad near you during the game, so when you have comments to make, you can jot them down and read them over later to yourself, and either agree or disagree with them. That way it seems like you're having a conversation with somebody, but it's really just yourself. And that way nobody else really has to know that you still don't really understand the differences in neutral zone infraction, encroachment, and off-sides, but you like the first one the best because it sounds more technical and complicated.

"Ohhhh neutral zone infraction! That's because his neutral zone has been infracted. Don't infract his neutral zone, buddy!" (These are the kinds of things you will write in your notepad.)

I still love football, for all I do understand. And for the first time, I got to be in the state whose team went to the Super Bowl.

the G stands for Greatness

My Monday morning breakfast prayer (featuring Dad):
"Dear God, thank you for Mom for making these pancakes--"
"Mm-hmm."
"--thanks that I got to be home for a little while--"
"Mm-hmm."
"--please provide me with a job--"
"Mm-hmm."
"--andthankyouthatthePackerswontheSuperBowlamen."
"MMMMMMMMMMM."

And it just so happens I had scraps of fabric in green and yellow lying around:

this G stands for Gosh this took me a long time

This pillow says, "I watched Sports Center in between A Little Princess and The Secret Garden." Which I did.

Congrats, Super Bowl XLV champs.

Oh Sunday afternoons, how will I spend thee now?

they'll know we are Christians by our love

This week I’ve been nannying for twin 6-month-olds. On my route, I pass a junk yard with a big yellow and red sign that says,

WARNING
JESUS IS COMING SOON
GET READY

Do people in junk yards have some correspondence with God that we folk living on the other side of the rusty fence don’t?

Scene: Junk yard.

Man in overalls sits on a chipped blue pickup, eating Vienna sausages.

Voice of God: "Bert, I'm coming on June 3rd. No one else knows. Send a vague message about it to the world. Use red and yellow paint, if possible."

Little known fact: When Jesus came the first time, the angels appeared to the shepherds with signs that said,

WARNING

GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY

GET READY

warn
–verb (used with object)
to give notice, advice, or intimation to (a person, group, etc.) of danger, impending evil, possible harm, or anything else unfavorable

Ah ha, precisely the method I'd use to describe this man's coming who died for us his first time around because he loved us so much. And this collaborates well with the billboard on I-65 that says,

HELL IS REAL

So we know it’s a fact. And that's a comforting thought.

Let's just skim over all the 365 times in the Bible that God tells us not to fear.

Because the parking is limited on the street where I work, I’ve had to park in the closest parking I could find: A Presbyterian church’s parking lot. I’m thankful for church’s generosity and charity and general open-arm-ed-ness. I’ve never felt unwelcome at a church I’ve visited.

Except for today. I found this on my windshield:

#1, there were 2 inches of snow on the ground and ZERO cars in the parking lot. ZERO.

#2, it wasn’t a Sunday, or a Wednesday night, and did I mention there were ZERO cars in the parking lot?

#3, orange is such an abrasive color, as if I could hear them shouting at me and being angry.

Scene: Church secretary’s office.

Enter: Pastor in tweed suit with leather elbow patches, feeling bored and territorial.

“Hey Barb.”

Secretary with horn-rimmed glasses looks up from her typewriter and snorts.

“Have you seen that car that parks itself out in our parking lot?”

“You mean the only one out there, where otherwise there would be absolutely no vehicles except for that one?”
“Yes. Put a note under the windshield wiper that this lot is for church parking only.”

The secretary’s acrylic nails start typing.

“Oh and Barb?”

Snort.

“Make it orange.”

So far this week, the Christians I've come in contact with from afar have made me feel a.) very afraid of Jesus, and b.) very afraid of churches. Little known fact: After Jesus told His disciples to go into the world and make disciples of all nations, He actually ended by saying, "And if at all possible, make them never, ever want to have anything to do with Me."

the land of if only

Now that she's not here anymore, I miss cooking and baking with my mom. I miss being in her kitchen and feeling like it was my kitchen, too, that it was ours together, with the difference that she had decades of experience and knowledge to pass down to me. I miss learning from her and creating with her.

Now that he's not here anymore, I miss playing my guitar with my dad. I miss hearing him say, "Can I show you something?" and then taking my guitar from me to show me what 45 years of playing can do to my fingers. I miss hearing our guitars play together on Sunday mornings, and feeling proud that he taught me.

I think I can hear my neighbor snoring at night. I'm not sure, but there's a grinding sound that comes through the wall at regular intervals, and I know it's an older couple who lives next door, so I think it's a very likely possibility.

Which adds a nice bass line to the soprano schizophrenic cat that sits exactly below my window and meows, just meows, meows, until I open my window and it scampers off. The other night it growled for about 10 minutes. Just because. I don't know what the voices inside its head are telling it. And I don't know why it has to sit beneath my window while it has these conversations with itself.

I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
but in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself
                   - The Weepies

I think that last part is baloney, because I don't think I would be able to take many steps by myself. But it's true that wherever I am I seem to want to be somewhere else, only to look over my shoulder and wish I was back where I came from.

I don't want to do this anymore.

New Year's resolution (2 weeks late): I want to have eyes that look for the good things I have in my life, wherever I am. I want to recognize the blessings I have and give thanks for them. I want to not want so much.

"Only he who gives thanks for the little things receives the big things. How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?" - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

more than auld lang syne

I think I only wrote my grandmother two letters while I was in college, but she loved them. She told people who came to visit her that they were beautiful letters. At my grandfather's funeral, one woman I'd never met told me that my grandma was so proud of me.

I wish I had written her more letters.

I realized in her last couple of years that I had wasted so much time I could've spent with her. And I tried to make up for it in the few visits I had with her, sitting at the feet of her recliner and asking her questions about growing up, meeting Grandpa, and the Great Depression.

I wish I had started a lot sooner.

When my grandmother died in 2009, the part of history that was her life was buried next to my grandfather in a cemetery in Ohio. Nobody felt with her heart or saw with her eyes. Nobody experienced the joy, pain, fear, and triumph she experienced, because nobody lived her life but her.

I wish I had gotten to know her better.

I don't know what good writing about history will do. I don't know how it'll help further the kingdom of God, or how it will bring people to Jesus. I struggle with the intense desire I have to write the stories of those in the past - in an attempt to hear a heartbeat that ended before we had the chance to know its rhythm - and the intense desire I have to follow Jesus into the present world of hurting people who need His light and truth.

What do you do with two so completely different desires?

How do you tell people that, while you got your degree in Creative Writing & History, you'd rather go to seminary than write a novel?

And how do you tell yourself the same thing, when suddenly you realize you want both?

So I begin my 23rd new year just as confused as ever about what I'm supposed to do with my life. Though these things I cling to for stability, that the Lord will fulfill His purpose for me (Psalm138:8), and that tomorrow there will be football.

reason to rejoice

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. - 1 Peter 1:3-9

a man in a santa beard playing christmas carols on his saxophone.

snowflakes softly and coldly landing on my cheek.

the smell of cinnamon from german pretzel vendors.

i'm not capitalizing any of my words because that's what artsy creative people do.

and because my hair is short now i feel i should be more artsily creative.

therefore i'm going to start making up words.

like artsily.

my favorite picture of my family, because why is mom looking off into the distance?

Merry Christmas Eve to all.

breathe on me, breath of God

This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. I've never even seen Blood Diamond, because the one time I sat down to watch it, I fell asleep. But today as I baked a banana cake with the TV on in the background, this scene made me still myself in the middle of my kitchen.

I don't know what Blood Diamond is about, other than that it takes place in Africa. I do know that the African man traveling with Leonardo DiCaprio had his son kidnapped, who was then made to believe that his father was the enemy. So at this point in the movie, his son pulls a gun on the two of them, and his father just looks at him. "Look at me," he says to his son. And, when he has his attention - this is the part that captivated me - he tells him with complete authority and conviction, looking straight into his eyes, exactly who he is.

"You are Dia Vandy," he says, "of the proud Mende tribe. You are a good boy, who loves soccer and school. Your mother loves you so much. She waits by the fire making plantanes and red palm oil stew with your sister N'Yanda and the new baby. The cows wait for you. And Babu, the wild dog who minds no one but you. I know they made you do bad things, but you are not a bad boy. I am your father who loves you. And you will come home with me and be my son again."

I love this. I feel like this is what God wants with each one of us. He wants to look us in the eye and tell us exactly who we are. Can you imagine what that moment would be like? To have the God who created you stand in front of you and say, "This is who you are." How different would it be from our image of ourselves and others's images of us? To live only hearing the voice of God speaking the truth of your identity into you like breath into lungs. I want to live like that.

"The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger's voice." - John 10:3-5

what's in an adventure? pt. 2

Yesterday one of my friends asked me, "What adventures are you engaged in these days?" At the time I had answered that I was in the middle of two fantasy football drafts (Peyton Manning's my QB for both of them - Double Stuf Oreos, anyone?), which is pretty darn adventurous. But if he was asking if I was in the middle of standing atop a mountain in Utah or crashing a jet ski on Lake Erie or spending a homeless day in Atlanta, I wasn't. And I'm not. I think my adventures these days are going to look a lot different than they have for my life in the past.

Adventurous challenge #1: Change.

Then I went down to the potter's house, and there he was, making something on the wheel. But the vessel that he was making of clay was spoiled in the hand of the potter; so he remade it into another vessel, as it pleased the potter to make. Then the word of the LORD came to me saying, "Can I not, O house of Israel, deal with you as this potter does?" declares the LORD. "Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel."- Jeremiah 18:3-6

I've only been home for a week, but God is already shining His light into the dark places of my life and character. This is humbling and difficult. Hebrews 12:2 tells us to "fix our eyes on Jesus," and in one of my Bibles I have written next to that verse, "Every morning, wake up and pray, 'Lord, make me more like Jesus. Have mercy on me, because I'm not like Jesus.'" I think I wrote that in one of my theology classes with Dr. Anderson, or maybe at a Vineyard church service. I realize, though, that there is a lot in me that needs to change. And change is an adventure, whether it's happening to you or in you.

And so the first thing I want to challenge you with is to practice. A few months ago I was praying for a relationship to be restored, when it occurred to me that no amount of restoration with an earthly relationship was going to make me feel fulfilled if my Heavenly relationship was off-kilter. The same occurred to me this morning when I read 1 Peter 1:14, which says, "As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance." This came at an interesting moment, since just last night before I fell asleep, another friend of mine asked what was challenging about being home, and I replied, "It's humbling to be obedient to my parents again." But I realized that, as I pray for the Lord to lead me and change me, I can practice obedience to Him with my parents. I can practice selflessness to Him and laying down my pride before Him with those I am least likely to feel selfless and most likely to feel prideful around. How can I be expected to love Jesus if I don't even love those who live in the same rooms as I do? Practice your relationship with Jesus in your relationships with others.

Not easy. But adventures are not easy, right? Not all pony rides in May sunshine. But they're worth it, aren't they?

what's in an adventure?

A trip by any other name might sound as sweet....but won't be.

I was thinking about adventures this morning as I sat with God at my college roommates' kitchen table. (I can say things like this now, because we have graduated from college, and they're no longer my roommates. Don't I sound adult?) I had just eaten a peanut butter granola bar for breakfast (thanks, former college roomies) and was waiting for God to say something. He sat there, verbally silent, but looking at me with that look on His face like, "You already know what I'm going to say, so I'm just going to raise one eyebrow at you and wait until you sigh resignedly and write it in your journal." You can tell God and I have this "conversation" a lot.

I've been on a few adventures. Enough, anyway, that I've begun to realize what classifies an experience as an adventure. Is it the circumstances? The destination? The people?

I think the only thing that determines what is an adventure and what isn't, is the attitude of the adventurer. Some qualities of an adventurous attitude:

willingness
flexibility
determination
whatever characteristic ducks have when water rolls of their backs
laid-backedness
joy
optimism
chocolate covered raisins

An experience without those things is just something to trudge through, withstand, or tolerate. Experiences with those things are pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. You come out of adventures with nuggets - and scars - that you'll take with you for the rest of your life, changing you and shaping you.

I can't say, like Johnny Cash, that I've been everywhere, man. But where I go doesn't determine my adventure. My cousin Christine, married and with two kids, told me yesterday that she envied my situation. I can go wherever and do whatever, for however long, with whomever. It makes me want to pack all my stuff and move to Wyoming or Maine or Canada, since they have free health care.

But this is where God's knowing expression comes in. And I sigh and write in my journal, because I realize why I'm depressed as I think about the un-stability of my life instead of being excited about its adventure. I answer people's questions with, "I have no idea what I'm doing with my life." And therein lies the splinter in my finger, the gaping gorge I'm balancing precariously on the side of and ready to plunge into at the slightest tremor:

It isn't my life.

I realized that for the past 6 months I've been trying to find a vocation that I'd enjoy but would still be serving God. I'm good at that, AND God's involved! I can go there, AND be with my friends AND serve God! But I have it backwards. If my hands are too full of my life, I can't hold onto His robe. If my ears are too full of my own plans, I can't hear His voice calling to me. I need to surrender my plans, my desires, my will, and then the REAL adventure can begin.

He called Andrew to leave his nets.

He called Peter to walk on water.

Talk about adventure!

Bilbo said it best when he said in The Hobbit that adventures are not all pony-rides in May sunshine. And, as my 12-year-old camper from Africa sang in the sweetest voice I've ever heard, it's not going to be easy to leave. But I feel like Moses in Exodus 33, when he tells the Lord, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us from here." I'm banking on the Lord's answer here being His same promise to me:

"My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest."

love

Maybe you’ve seen it in the aisle at the grocery store, or in the hallway at church: An angry parent grabbing a disobedient child by his arm and yanking him to the side, getting really close to his face as she disciplines in a low growl. The child is either looking over to the side (which warrants a minute shake from the parent to get his attention) or his face is beginning to contort into an upset, pre-sound cry. I’ve seen it. In fact, this past week I wanted to be that parent. I had so many disobedient 4-year-olds that I want to grab them by the arms, yank them to the side, shake them up, and growl at them to listen to me. Stop disobeying me. You little annoying child.

I realized recently that that’s how I’ve been viewing God. I incessantly choose other things over Him. People. Movies. Books. The outdoors. The internet. And I unknowingly have avoided His Word because I was pretty sure the moment I sat down to it He would grab me by the arms, pull me to the side, and, facing me at eye-level, discipline me. I avoided His Word because I was just not ready to go through the rigmarole yet. As soon as I was prepared to look off to the side as God gave me the lecture of my disobedience, I would come back to Him. I wanted our relationship to be like it once had, but I didn’t want to go through the lecture in order to get the relationship back. And so I have avoided Him entirely.

But this summer I realized that God doesn’t want me back through discipline. The way He wants to restore our relationship is not through telling me how I’ve disobeyed Him. He wants to restore our relationship through wooing me, pursuing me, and alluring me.

This is a foreign concept to me. Most of the past few years I have spent trying to prove to others I am worthy to be loved. Most of my relationships I spend pursuing. Hey. Hey you over there. I’m funny. I’m pretty. I’m talented. See? I’m worth it.

And that’s probably why it’s so hard for me to accept that God wants to do the pursuing. He wants me. He says, “Hey. Hey you over there. See me? I love you. You’re beautiful. I want you. You’re worth it.” In sunsets, in mountains, in rivers, in raindrops, and in His love letters to us, He says,

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. (Jeremiah 31:3) Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give men in exchange for you, and people in exchange for your life. (Isaiah 43:4) I demonstrate my own love for you in this: Long before you were beautiful, I sent Jesus to die for you. (Romans 5:8) Because I want you back.”

Our response:

O my God, because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You. (Psalm 63:3)

darkness is as light to You

I went to a tattoo place last night. It was the first time I'd ever been to a tattoo place, and not just judgmentally passed outside of one in my car. There was a guy sitting outside who looked like a newspaper, he had so much black ink on him. It looked like he hadn't combed his hair in a long time, but his pony tail was very fashionable.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.
"I called earlier about getting my nose pierced," I replied.
He nodded. Silence.
Okey-dokey. "Is that possible tonight?"
"Yep." Pause.
All-righty-roo. "Like, right now?"
He laughed. "Right now!" Pause.
OMG, just tell me what I'm supposed to do! I just looked at him.
"There's some paperwork on the counter inside you can fill out. Just let me finish smoking this and I'll be right in."

I walked into the parlour, and there was a guy sitting in one of the tattoo chairs, watching House. He had piercings all over his face and tattoos all over himself. I wanted to ask him if he ever watched Miami Ink, but I thought maybe that would give it away that I'm a sheltered Christian girl. I wonder if I actually would've been there had I actually thought about what I was doing. The pictures and bumper stickers stuck all over the walls was so vastly different from the sign outside of Wilmore that says "Jesus Loves You!" as you drive into town.

As I sat in the chair, I squeezed Bali's hand and tried not to read the sayings on the walls. The smoker from out front sat next to me and dropped an f-bomb and maybe some s-words here and there. The things running through my mind were not about how, in a few seconds, this strange guy in tattoos whom I'd never met would be sticking a very sharp needle into my nose, oddly enough. Instead, I was thinking about how I'd been home schooled for most of my life; how, as a pastor's daughter, I ran through more church hallways than school hallways, and how, if a bumper sticker was stuck on any walls near me, it said something about Jesus walking on water or something about His footprints in the sand or something.

I took the few seconds as Tattoo Smoker Man of Few Words (that's his Native American name) bent the metal he was about stick through my nose with a pair of needle-nose pliers, and asked myself, "How am I feeling right now?"

Jesus doesn't call us to live in the Asbury bubble forever. Though I would love to live in that community playing Settlers of Catan whenever possible and eating Bruster's on Banana Thursdays, that's not the real world. And we don't have to be afraid of the real world, because "I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day" (2 Timothy 1:12). Not that Jesus calls us to be tattoo artists or get freaky horns implanted on our heads (Bali: "Do you do those here?" Tattoo Smoker Man of Few Words: "No, man. I don't cheat with death"), but if He called you into the darker places of the world, would you go?

2 Corinthians 3:17

Tonight as I was jogging (I swallowed two bugs - scratch that: two bugs flew to the back of my mouth and army crawled down my throat fluttering their wings and singing "Just You Wait 'enry 'iggins" from My Fair Lady) fireworks went off all around me. I could see them across Lake Erie lighting up the sky above Cedar Point. I could see them down the street where they are illegal. (My 8-year-old first cousin once removed: "Grandpa Jim's coming tomorrow with fireworks." My 8-year-old first cousin once removed's mom: "Grandpa Jim's going to prison.") I could hear them above and to the side and in every direction...much like the soldiers at Bastogne must've felt in 1944, only with a lot more pressing on their minds than the cramp I was getting in my side, shinsplints, and those two bugs hanging draperies in my stomach.

I distinctly remember my Fourth of July last year as if it were not an entire year ago. I was dog-sitting some pretty wealthy people's Siberian husky (named Tucker, but he was a girl) in a canyon of the Wasatch Mountains in Salt Lake City. I spent the day in my pajamas, watching the History Channel's all-day documentary on the Revolutionary War, eating cream cheese icing right out of the container, and journaling. When it got dark I could see fireworks going off in four different parts of the city from my front window. I don't remember Tucker being involved very much.

A certain sadness hung over me as I jogged around a large loop and watched the fireworks reflect in the water tonight. There was a lot ahead of me a year ago that is now behind me, but that looks a lot different now looking back than I thought it would. Like if you're in a boat and you're about to glide into this incredible clear water with lily pads (which are endangered, and you're not allowed to pluck them, because we need to save the lily pads for our unborn children) that have beautiful yellow and purple blossoms, and you just know they're going to smell beautiful...but once you get there the roots of the lily pads get tangled in the blades of your propeller and your boat breaks down, and you discover you're allergic to the scent of lily pad blossoms, and there are mosquitoes. When you finally make it out and on your way you look back, and the sight of the incredible clear water is now tainted by what you experienced, and you wonder if anything you come across in the future will ever be as clear and beautiful as the few moments before the lily pad blossoms turned into mosquitoes.

I don't know where I'll be next July 4th. I don't know what will happen in a year. I realized, though, as I watched fireworks from Ohio that I could've been watching in Utah a year ago, or Wisconsin two years ago, that I can't put my hope in circumstances anymore. I seem to learn this lesson over and over again. Circumstances change, shift, alter, break, or simply turn out different than you thought they would. But Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Who better to fix our eyes on instead of the uncertainty of "clear" water?

"It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them--the Lord, who remains faithful forever" (Psalm 118:8; 146:5-6).

first week of camp

These are a few things I've learned so far:

1.) Asbury cafeteria food is not that bad. ...I'm serious.
2.) When you find a toilet seat without grass, hay, and/or sand on it, give thanks.
3.) Mosquitoes are little satans that need to be destroyed before Jesus' second coming.
4.) I am terribly, terribly out of shape.
5.) 6:15 comes very, very early.
6.) Sometimes 11-year-olds know more about what it looks like to be like Jesus than 21, 51, or 91-year-olds.
7.) When there are huge waves in the lake, do not go tubing if you want to keep your teeth, your nose, and/or your arms.
8.) Going #2 is a luxury that not everyone can afford.
9.) Sonic lemonade slushies with real strawberries and lemons. I have learned these and I am thankful.
10.) When you pray, God hears and answers. Thank you, God.
11.) I'm not kidding about the Asbury cafeteria food.

Week one, almost complete. Chug, chug, chug chug chug....