I want to live with a bleeding heart. I know those words sound strange, but I think as my life unfolds I see more and more the richness of a life lived wide open. I don't want to live in the shadows of what could have been, the ghosts of what were. I want to live daily in the love, pain, and anticipation of what is to come. I want to live in the mess. I want to live in the heartache, because a bleeding heart is an alive heart. Love is alive and that is exactly where I want to be, right in the middle of love.
As I sit here, waiting in the Austin airport to get on a plane that will take me to Africa, I wonder how crazy I sound. I don't even know the people I am going to meet, and yet I am praying for the pain of loving them. That's why I'm going. And I don't think it's an unhealthy kind of desire. It's a desire to love more wholly than a closed up heart ever could. A wide open heart is a broken heart and in this broken world, I think to love you must be broken...
Because in the brokenness we are made whole in Christ. Broken love still hopes, but broken love still hurts. The day is not yet come when we will look, perfected, into the face of Christ and hear those coveted words- Well done. In the meantime, though, we must not give up. Live, love, and look forward to that day. Live with a bleeding heart, alive in Christ, hoping for the glory that is to come.
A motto of mine recently lately has been, "Open your spiritual eyes." it makes me think of the lyric from Hillsong that says, "Open our eyes to see the things that make Your heart cry..." that is what I mean to say here. I think too often I live blind, oblivious to the pain of others, apathetic to the eternal perspectives of this world, or even dully turning rote the relationship of heart binding fullness God invites me to plunge into. I trust too fully in my own goodness, my own law, my own self-control. I think a better prayer for my numb heart would be a loss of all abandon. I think a better connection would be made if I unplugged my computer and plugged my blind eyes into the bleeding heart of Christ. What a catastrophe that would be!
A catastrophe of soul. What does it take to live alive? When parents kill the dreams of hoping children? When children break the hearts of loving parents? When divorce splits love into a fractured mask of God's ordained masterpiece? When lies, deceit, mockery, bitterness, pain, and doubt fill the minds of people beaten down by the state of sin in which we live? When countries are at war, when families are torn, when friends betray, and people walk away? What then? What then?
Tell me... WHAT THEN?
What bridges this gap, this chasm that is far too wide? Scars run deep and blood is shed for what? Why bleed more?
Because I want to be like Him, because He bridged the gap. Not only the chasm that he crossed, but carried my lifeless body away from the grave. He did what I could not do; He covered the canyon I could not breach. And when He held out his hand to offer me the answer, I spat in His face. I nailed Him to a cross and I sentenced Him to death. I find it hard, therefore, in light of His persistence, to say no to the sole thing He asks for in return: my heart.
How could I not split open that which he sacrificed so freely for me, to show a broken world the road to redemption He carried me down.
Wide open eyes and a bleeding heart: that's all I ask. And the humility and courage to believe when the rest of the world turns its back.
Go. Be. Love.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Castles in the Sand
I was reading over some of my journal entries from this summer and found one that I really want to share with all of you. It really spoke to my heart right now, as I hope it does yours. It's funny how easily we forget the lessons that we learn, how easily we throw aside the pearls that God gives us, the trials that He puts us through, and cling instead to the ugly shells of who we once were.
God, clean me out, tear me down, and pour into me instead the fullness of who you are.
June 24, 2011:
"I've had the song by Addison Road stuck in my head lately, What Do I Know Of Holy? The line in the song that says, 'Where have I even stood, but the shore along your ocean?' always gets in my head when I look out over the vast expanse of ocean here at Ocean City. It's so huge- and scary and unknown. I can never see, feel, or understand the whole ocean and that's how big God is- but even more so.
I will never comprehend His love, His power, His glory. I will spend my whole life trying, but I will never measure up. I will never be an ocean. I won't even be a puddle or a drop in the sea. I will only ever be one tiny grain of sand. A speck of dust that falls between the fingers of a vast eternity. I am nothing except what God makes me. It's humbling. It makes me want to fall on my knees and weep.
How easy it is for us to magnify our sand castles, to think we are making something great out of ourselves, something worth God's mighty attention. We forget, until one of His waves comes crashing down around us and the tide erases whatever brief forged royalty we claimed to have, humbling us before the one True King. I built my house on sand and God washed it away.
What would my faith look like, how much more glory would I direct to the King of Kings if I lived with a remembrance of this daily? What if I daily, physically bowed myself before the Lord? What if I tore down my cheap sandy altars and threw away my pride and reputation to the tide of His waves of mercy? What is faith that I could call myself an heir to the King? I am wretched. I am unworthy. I am a spec of dust. I can only pray daily that His love washes over me and kills my castles in the sand. I want to be a part of something greater than me, greater than my mind, greater than anything I could comprehend or imagine. I want to dive into His very self. I love the ocean."
Psalm 139:17-18
"How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand..."
Micah 7:19
"He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea."
God, clean me out, tear me down, and pour into me instead the fullness of who you are.
June 24, 2011:
"I've had the song by Addison Road stuck in my head lately, What Do I Know Of Holy? The line in the song that says, 'Where have I even stood, but the shore along your ocean?' always gets in my head when I look out over the vast expanse of ocean here at Ocean City. It's so huge- and scary and unknown. I can never see, feel, or understand the whole ocean and that's how big God is- but even more so.
I will never comprehend His love, His power, His glory. I will spend my whole life trying, but I will never measure up. I will never be an ocean. I won't even be a puddle or a drop in the sea. I will only ever be one tiny grain of sand. A speck of dust that falls between the fingers of a vast eternity. I am nothing except what God makes me. It's humbling. It makes me want to fall on my knees and weep.
How easy it is for us to magnify our sand castles, to think we are making something great out of ourselves, something worth God's mighty attention. We forget, until one of His waves comes crashing down around us and the tide erases whatever brief forged royalty we claimed to have, humbling us before the one True King. I built my house on sand and God washed it away.
What would my faith look like, how much more glory would I direct to the King of Kings if I lived with a remembrance of this daily? What if I daily, physically bowed myself before the Lord? What if I tore down my cheap sandy altars and threw away my pride and reputation to the tide of His waves of mercy? What is faith that I could call myself an heir to the King? I am wretched. I am unworthy. I am a spec of dust. I can only pray daily that His love washes over me and kills my castles in the sand. I want to be a part of something greater than me, greater than my mind, greater than anything I could comprehend or imagine. I want to dive into His very self. I love the ocean."
Psalm 139:17-18
"How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand..."
Micah 7:19
"He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea."
Monday, November 14, 2011
Children of the Light
Once upon a time there was a girl who had everything her heart desired. She had lots of wonderful friends, parents who loved and supported her, and most of all a God who cherished and provided for her more than she even deserved. The little girl grew up with her heart on her sleeve. She loved people with every fiber of her being and was terribly sad when people didn't love her back.
However, she soon learned that although she was so filled up with love, the world wasn't always a nice place. Sometimes it was dark in the world, and many times the girl got scared of the dark. She didn't realize it at first but, her heart was a light that shone in the darkness and she didn't have to be afraid. But sometimes she was very afraid. She didn't know it, but when she was afraid, the light in her heart would grow dim. It would never go completely out, but her fear made it so much less bright that sometimes people didn't even see it.
The light she had came from a much bigger light that she loved so very much. He was the Ultimate Light. And the girl knew in the very bottom of her heart that he loved her, and that's why he put his light in her. But sometimes, when the darkness terrified her and it seemed like the world would overwhelm her, she would forget about his love. And she would stumble in the darkness and fall. And her heart on her sleeve would get cut up and bleed. And she would cry because she didn't understand why the world was so very mean to her. Her perfect friends would hurt her feelings, her parents wouldn't understand, and all the time the girl would cry and blind herself with sad, sad tears that made her feel all alone.
But she was never alone. The Ultimate Light was always there, even in the darkness. But the little girl thought it was her responsibility to keep her light shining bright, and she would get mad at herself when she fell and her heart on her sleeve began to bleed. She thought she was doing something wrong because big girls aren't supposed to cry. She'd gather all the ugly sticks in her life and try to burn them on her own so that maybe she could make her light shine a little brighter. And it would work sometimes, but a lot of times it would only make her cry harder. Because the sticks would scratch her, and the fire would burn her. She couldn't try hard enough to make her light glow.
And then she would look around and see all the dark faces around her, the ones who needed her light so badly, the ones who expected to see her shine. And she was afraid they wouldn't love her as much if she didn't shine for them. Her heart on her sleeve would get harder when she thought about them not loving her; it would turn cold and start to wither. And then she would put on a plastic mask around her friends, because she thought that maybe they would like her better if they didn't know the real her. And all the while her heart would grow colder and her tears would freeze and cut her eyes so that she didn't even see the Truth at all anymore.
And then one day the Ultimate Light came to her and wrapped her in his light and melted away the ice around her heart and put his kisses on her scratches and ignited her little light again. He wiped away her tears and picked her up out of her little black pile of ashes, brushed her off and told her, "You are my little girl. I love you and I want you just the way you are. You don't have to be afraid of the dark. You just have to love me most." And he took the bleeding heart on her sleeve, slipped it off of her wrist and put his heart there instead. Then he patted her on the back and told her to keep going- that he'd be right behind her.
And the little girl beamed. And she wasn't afraid anymore. She danced on pretty feet back into the mean world and didn't even care when other people made fun of her. Her heart glowed again and her friends snmiled and saw the light in her eyes. And she remembered the whole time that the Ultimate Light was right behind her.
Until she forgot. Somewhere down the road between Trust Lane and Memories Avenue, she looked around and forget exactly where she was going. And that ugly monster called Fear snuck out of the darkness and began to frighten her again. And she looked behind her and she didn't see the Ultimate light anymore. Panic overwhelmed her and her eyes started to water as a lump came to her throat. Her lip quivered as she braced herself for the fall.
Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew Who it was, but she was too scared to look. She thought the Ultimate Light would be mad that she had led herself back into scary places. So she didn't look. She bit her lip and told herself not to cry. She bit it so hard that it started to bleed, though, and she remembered how she'd bled before. Except this time she knew what bleeding felt like and she was comfortable with it. As long as she didn't have to face the Ultimate Light and tell him about it again, she thought she'd be okay. So she started to tiptoe away from the woods, but she stepped in a thorn bush and fell again, and cut her feet. She wanted to cry.
But she bit her lip even harder and tried not to cry and tried to do it on her own. She fought with the bush and tried to get back up, but the more she tried to do it on her own, the more it cut her up again and again. And so she stopped fighting, and her heart started breaking because the thorns hurt. They didn't feel at all like the kisses from the Ultimate Light. Her feet couldn't take her where she wanted to go because they were caught in the bush, but she didn't want to be stuck in the bush forever. She wanted to dance for the King. But, she told herself that surely the King didn't want broken, tangled up dancers. She wasn't good enough. One tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her sleeve. And when she looked she realized that it had fallen onto her heart.
The heart on her wrist that wasn't her heart. It was His heart. And it wasn't bleeding. It was glowing brighter than it ever had before. And it was beating, keeping her light from growing dim. And that's when she realized, she wasn't herself anymore. She was bought with a price. She was not her own. She was not just a girl, she already was a Dancer for the King. She could dance on broken feet. She could love with a broken heart. She could shine in a dark world.
Why?
She was a Child of the Light. She was made new.
"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, 'Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.' Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is." Ephesians 5:6-17
However, she soon learned that although she was so filled up with love, the world wasn't always a nice place. Sometimes it was dark in the world, and many times the girl got scared of the dark. She didn't realize it at first but, her heart was a light that shone in the darkness and she didn't have to be afraid. But sometimes she was very afraid. She didn't know it, but when she was afraid, the light in her heart would grow dim. It would never go completely out, but her fear made it so much less bright that sometimes people didn't even see it.
The light she had came from a much bigger light that she loved so very much. He was the Ultimate Light. And the girl knew in the very bottom of her heart that he loved her, and that's why he put his light in her. But sometimes, when the darkness terrified her and it seemed like the world would overwhelm her, she would forget about his love. And she would stumble in the darkness and fall. And her heart on her sleeve would get cut up and bleed. And she would cry because she didn't understand why the world was so very mean to her. Her perfect friends would hurt her feelings, her parents wouldn't understand, and all the time the girl would cry and blind herself with sad, sad tears that made her feel all alone.
But she was never alone. The Ultimate Light was always there, even in the darkness. But the little girl thought it was her responsibility to keep her light shining bright, and she would get mad at herself when she fell and her heart on her sleeve began to bleed. She thought she was doing something wrong because big girls aren't supposed to cry. She'd gather all the ugly sticks in her life and try to burn them on her own so that maybe she could make her light shine a little brighter. And it would work sometimes, but a lot of times it would only make her cry harder. Because the sticks would scratch her, and the fire would burn her. She couldn't try hard enough to make her light glow.
And then she would look around and see all the dark faces around her, the ones who needed her light so badly, the ones who expected to see her shine. And she was afraid they wouldn't love her as much if she didn't shine for them. Her heart on her sleeve would get harder when she thought about them not loving her; it would turn cold and start to wither. And then she would put on a plastic mask around her friends, because she thought that maybe they would like her better if they didn't know the real her. And all the while her heart would grow colder and her tears would freeze and cut her eyes so that she didn't even see the Truth at all anymore.
And then one day the Ultimate Light came to her and wrapped her in his light and melted away the ice around her heart and put his kisses on her scratches and ignited her little light again. He wiped away her tears and picked her up out of her little black pile of ashes, brushed her off and told her, "You are my little girl. I love you and I want you just the way you are. You don't have to be afraid of the dark. You just have to love me most." And he took the bleeding heart on her sleeve, slipped it off of her wrist and put his heart there instead. Then he patted her on the back and told her to keep going- that he'd be right behind her.
And the little girl beamed. And she wasn't afraid anymore. She danced on pretty feet back into the mean world and didn't even care when other people made fun of her. Her heart glowed again and her friends snmiled and saw the light in her eyes. And she remembered the whole time that the Ultimate Light was right behind her.
Until she forgot. Somewhere down the road between Trust Lane and Memories Avenue, she looked around and forget exactly where she was going. And that ugly monster called Fear snuck out of the darkness and began to frighten her again. And she looked behind her and she didn't see the Ultimate light anymore. Panic overwhelmed her and her eyes started to water as a lump came to her throat. Her lip quivered as she braced herself for the fall.
Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew Who it was, but she was too scared to look. She thought the Ultimate Light would be mad that she had led herself back into scary places. So she didn't look. She bit her lip and told herself not to cry. She bit it so hard that it started to bleed, though, and she remembered how she'd bled before. Except this time she knew what bleeding felt like and she was comfortable with it. As long as she didn't have to face the Ultimate Light and tell him about it again, she thought she'd be okay. So she started to tiptoe away from the woods, but she stepped in a thorn bush and fell again, and cut her feet. She wanted to cry.
But she bit her lip even harder and tried not to cry and tried to do it on her own. She fought with the bush and tried to get back up, but the more she tried to do it on her own, the more it cut her up again and again. And so she stopped fighting, and her heart started breaking because the thorns hurt. They didn't feel at all like the kisses from the Ultimate Light. Her feet couldn't take her where she wanted to go because they were caught in the bush, but she didn't want to be stuck in the bush forever. She wanted to dance for the King. But, she told herself that surely the King didn't want broken, tangled up dancers. She wasn't good enough. One tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her sleeve. And when she looked she realized that it had fallen onto her heart.
The heart on her wrist that wasn't her heart. It was His heart. And it wasn't bleeding. It was glowing brighter than it ever had before. And it was beating, keeping her light from growing dim. And that's when she realized, she wasn't herself anymore. She was bought with a price. She was not her own. She was not just a girl, she already was a Dancer for the King. She could dance on broken feet. She could love with a broken heart. She could shine in a dark world.
Why?
She was a Child of the Light. She was made new.
"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, 'Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.' Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is." Ephesians 5:6-17
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Sing His Praise
The sun beats down cheerfully, the sound of hammering in the distance. Green grass is beneath my feet, leafy trees, swaying in the breeze, and the sound of life murmurs in my ears. This place is alive.
I imagine, though, standing in the heart of an F5 tornado's path in Joplin, Missouri- that four months previous, I would not have felt the same life I did on that warm, sunny day in October. I try to imagine the church on whose foundation I stand- a mere slab, stripped clean. A little over four months ago, it probably had really nice stained-glass windows. It probably had nice upholstered pews and a communion table that was engraved with the words "In Remembrance Of Me." It probably had a baptismal with a nice mural painted behind it. It was probably a really nice church, at least that's the way I imagined it.
I look down at the plain white slab beneath my feet.
"For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Christ Jesus. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver precious stones, wood, hay, straw- each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done." 1 Corinthians 3:11-13
Looking around I realize how fragile this world really is, how futile our works are in comparison to God's power, and how fleeting the wealths of this world can be. Standing in the rubble of Joplin, Missouri, God tapped me on the shoulder an asked, "Whose foundation are you standing on?"
"Yours, Lord!" is often my hasty response, but standing in the midst of so much devastation, I had to ask myself again. And looking around, I questioned if I really knew.
What if I was one of the people in the church that day when it hit? What if I was one of the four that was killed in the refuge of the Lord's house, this very church? Would I still trust that His foundation would stand, when the wood, hay, and stubble was shredded around me? Would I know that even in allowing me to parish, God's rock was firm beneath my feet?
"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." Psalm 18:2
I believe those words are true. God is my rock. He was the rock in Joplin the day that the tornado hit. And He continues to be the rock in Joplin upon which so many people are rebuilding their lives. He is their rock as well as mine. And His is an eternal Kingdom.
If you were to go to Joplin now, you would see much of the same landscape I saw two weeks ago. To many, it is a sad, sad sight. Empty slabs, demolished houses, and debris litters the grass. Few trees are left standing. It's a desolate sight for a first-time beholder.
But this is my second time, and I think I am beginning to see a theme in Joplin that reveals a tiny piece of God's heart to me. Debris litters the GREEN grass. A few LEAFY trees are left standing. Empty slabs are CLEARED and NEW homes are being built. There is life in Joplin, there is hope in Joplin, and there is a Rock in Joplin proclaiming His redemptive plan.
Chris Newby told us a story the first day that we arrived in Joplin and stepped onto the slab of the church where we would be setting up the food kitchen. For the next four days we had the privilege of serving volunteers and victims hot meals, handing out necessities, and prepping salvaged building material for making sheds to give away to people who had lost their homes. His story was the perfect preface to our trip and an awesome picture of the way God was and is working in Joplin through this tornado.
The tornado hit May 22, 2011 on a Sunday night. High school graduation was over, most people were not at work, but many churches were gathered for fellowship and prayer when the sirens went off. There were 4 minutes between the sound of the first siren and the time that the three tornados merged into one enormous twister. The church to which I have been referring was directly across the street from the collision point. The church was full for a Sunday night Bible study.
All were afraid. Many were injured. Four died in the church that day.
Chris told us this as we stood there, silently taking in the tragedy, and then pointed to a chair sitting in the middle of the slab. It was an old green lounge chair, moldy from the rain, beat up, and tied to a flagpole where a Christian flag was waving in the breeze. "They haven't moved that chair since the tornado hit," he said. "Some kids were at church that night, playing around in the sanctuary with one of the hymnals. When the tornado was over and people were taking stock of what little remained of the church, they found the hymnal open to 'Amazing Grace.'"
Walking over to the hymnal, water-stained and warping from being exposed so long, I ran my finger across the pages and picked it up. I though it was a cool story, but I didn't really think much of it until I flipped it over and looked at the cover.
Sing His Praise
Though everything around you may perish, though you may stand alone, through wind and rain, through trials and temptations, through hardships and death, though battered and broken-
In Joplin Missouri, sing his praise.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to SING GOD'S PRAISE
Than when we've first begun.
"He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet on the rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord." Psalm 40:2-3
I imagine, though, standing in the heart of an F5 tornado's path in Joplin, Missouri- that four months previous, I would not have felt the same life I did on that warm, sunny day in October. I try to imagine the church on whose foundation I stand- a mere slab, stripped clean. A little over four months ago, it probably had really nice stained-glass windows. It probably had nice upholstered pews and a communion table that was engraved with the words "In Remembrance Of Me." It probably had a baptismal with a nice mural painted behind it. It was probably a really nice church, at least that's the way I imagined it.
I look down at the plain white slab beneath my feet.
"For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Christ Jesus. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver precious stones, wood, hay, straw- each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done." 1 Corinthians 3:11-13
Looking around I realize how fragile this world really is, how futile our works are in comparison to God's power, and how fleeting the wealths of this world can be. Standing in the rubble of Joplin, Missouri, God tapped me on the shoulder an asked, "Whose foundation are you standing on?"
"Yours, Lord!" is often my hasty response, but standing in the midst of so much devastation, I had to ask myself again. And looking around, I questioned if I really knew.
What if I was one of the people in the church that day when it hit? What if I was one of the four that was killed in the refuge of the Lord's house, this very church? Would I still trust that His foundation would stand, when the wood, hay, and stubble was shredded around me? Would I know that even in allowing me to parish, God's rock was firm beneath my feet?
"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." Psalm 18:2
I believe those words are true. God is my rock. He was the rock in Joplin the day that the tornado hit. And He continues to be the rock in Joplin upon which so many people are rebuilding their lives. He is their rock as well as mine. And His is an eternal Kingdom.
If you were to go to Joplin now, you would see much of the same landscape I saw two weeks ago. To many, it is a sad, sad sight. Empty slabs, demolished houses, and debris litters the grass. Few trees are left standing. It's a desolate sight for a first-time beholder.
But this is my second time, and I think I am beginning to see a theme in Joplin that reveals a tiny piece of God's heart to me. Debris litters the GREEN grass. A few LEAFY trees are left standing. Empty slabs are CLEARED and NEW homes are being built. There is life in Joplin, there is hope in Joplin, and there is a Rock in Joplin proclaiming His redemptive plan.
Chris Newby told us a story the first day that we arrived in Joplin and stepped onto the slab of the church where we would be setting up the food kitchen. For the next four days we had the privilege of serving volunteers and victims hot meals, handing out necessities, and prepping salvaged building material for making sheds to give away to people who had lost their homes. His story was the perfect preface to our trip and an awesome picture of the way God was and is working in Joplin through this tornado.
The tornado hit May 22, 2011 on a Sunday night. High school graduation was over, most people were not at work, but many churches were gathered for fellowship and prayer when the sirens went off. There were 4 minutes between the sound of the first siren and the time that the three tornados merged into one enormous twister. The church to which I have been referring was directly across the street from the collision point. The church was full for a Sunday night Bible study.
All were afraid. Many were injured. Four died in the church that day.
Chris told us this as we stood there, silently taking in the tragedy, and then pointed to a chair sitting in the middle of the slab. It was an old green lounge chair, moldy from the rain, beat up, and tied to a flagpole where a Christian flag was waving in the breeze. "They haven't moved that chair since the tornado hit," he said. "Some kids were at church that night, playing around in the sanctuary with one of the hymnals. When the tornado was over and people were taking stock of what little remained of the church, they found the hymnal open to 'Amazing Grace.'"
Walking over to the hymnal, water-stained and warping from being exposed so long, I ran my finger across the pages and picked it up. I though it was a cool story, but I didn't really think much of it until I flipped it over and looked at the cover.
Sing His Praise
Though everything around you may perish, though you may stand alone, through wind and rain, through trials and temptations, through hardships and death, though battered and broken-
In Joplin Missouri, sing his praise.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to SING GOD'S PRAISE
Than when we've first begun.
"He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet on the rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord." Psalm 40:2-3
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Falling in Love
Love.
It's such a simple word, yet it carries so many implications. Four letters with a thousand different meanings. I've been thinking about love a lot recently.
"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on it's own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a
This verse comes to mind. Love is so many things that I often times am not. Impatient with the customers at work when I'm at the end of an 8 hour shift? Unkind to the people who cut me off in traffic? Envious of girls whose bodies are 4 sizes smaller than mine? Boastful of my own skills and talents? Persistent with friends who don't want to do things my way? Irritable when I'm stressed by schoolwork? Resentful of friends who are lucky enough to be in relationships? The list, unfortunately, goes on...
If there is one thing I am not- it is love.
Which leads me to wonder how can I use that word so flippantly on a day to day basis? How can I go from saying I love frozen yogurt to saying I love my mom to saying I love the all-powerful God of the universe in the span of one day? The word, in my opinion, is highly abused.
I am not here to make yet another point on society's abuse of language, though. I'm here to argue what I believe to be a more legitimate claim. It is nicely summed up by a quote from one of the speakers at the mission conference I attended this past weekend.
"When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him!" God, that is.
I'd like to ask you to stop for a minute and think about this with me. I know that people often make this analogy, about treating God like your boyfriend, your husband, or someone else in life that you especially adore. That's not what I want you to imagine here. Those kinds of love are human; they let you down. Even the highest love on earth that you can imagine is still soured by sin. That person wont always love you back. They might forget to call on your birthday; they might even decided at some point that they don't want to be your friend anymore.
No. I don't want you to imagine a human love. I don't want you to compare this statement to anything you've ever experienced in this world before, even if it bliss. Lets go back to 1 Corinthians 13.
"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on it's own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."
This is not the love of warm tingly feelings. It's not the love of fiery passion. It's not the love of irrational lovers, overly-protective parents, or fairytales for children. This is rock hard, unwavering, solid, foundational, unchanging, unconditional, unselfish, un-anything-you've-ever-imagined love.
Hold on; so if it's unlike anything you've ever imagined- why am I asking you to imagine it?
Because, I think, like me, if you try, you might just get an idea of the mind-boggling, life-changing collision course that I've been driving around in the last week. I think, just maybe, if you try to wrap you finite brain with me, around the infinite glory of a holy and just God, you might come to the same conclusion I have been racing toward in the past few months.
Worship. Awe. Praise. Gratitude. Passion. Mission.
And no, that last one isn't a typo. Mission, the mission. God's mission. I feel like I am getting ahead of myself. (Yet again- words are so inadequate!)
Over the past five months God has been leading me through a process that some would label as leading to a "radical" conclusion. I would argue that it isn't that radical at all- but that is beside the point. Mission is a scary word. Even scarier is the idea of vocational missions. Even more scary than that is international vocational missions. I guess any scarier than that is martyrdom.
Another quote from the mission conference last weekend- "If a tribal chief chop's my head off- he's doing me a favor!"
Not too bad, I guess. I mean considering that the very last thing on my bucket list (no joke) is to die for the sake of His name.
Callie Andra Tatum is radically sold out for the almighty God and wants to be martyred for His eternal kingdom. There you go, in case any of you were wondering what the ultimate goal of my life is- it's now copyrighted. Please don't misquote me for anything less.
So, over the process of going to Belize, Summer Project, Joplin, and jumping on board the leadership team here on campus, God has slowly been cultivating my heart for His people. Up until last weekend, I probably couldn't have told you as eloquently why, but that's what this blog post is for I suppose!
First and foremost, God has been cultivating my heart and my affections to Him. He's been pulling me closer through quiet times (which are on the incline!), prayer, leadership, and hundreds of other witnesses daily. Sometimes I fight back, sometimes I get angry, a lot of times I don't understand, but one thing I cannot deny is that He is working in my life in ways I would never have imagined. He's taken away idols, He's stripped away hopes and dreams, and all that's left is His masterpiece. It looks a lot less like me than I pictured, but then again: I'm not the artist. And I'm glad for that.
Secondly, with that heart makeover- He's shown me more and more that (big surprise) I'm not the center of His universe. He is. I know, profound, right? But seriously, that is such an easy concept to say, but yet again, not such an easy concept to swallow. God is the center of the universe, my universe- not me. AKA: One of my biggest desires in life is to be married and have children. What if God wants me to fall in love with Him alone and remain single on the mission field? I've been a theatre kid nearly all my life. What if God asks me to change my major to something completely unrelated to serve His kingdom? I'm a people pleaser- I love making other people proud of me, especially my parents. What if God told me to walk away from my family's approval into something scary, unsupported, and unknown?
What if?
"God is most glorified in me, when I am most satisfied in Him." -John Piper
What if?
"Praise doesn't start with us." -Louie Giglio
What if?
What if: Those are the word I utter. Not the words God utters:
Who will go?
God MUST be worshipped because He is God. He is a jealous God, deserving of an entire world's praise. The universe declares (not metaphorically, but literally DECLARES) His name. The sun, the moon, the stars, the creatures of the earth, the valleys and hills, the brooks and streams, the mountains and oceans PRAISE His name. God doesn't NEED my help. He spoke and the earth WAS. He is GOD. He is righteous. He is the only perfect thing worthy of anything and the only thing He asks of me is to worship Him. And make His name known in all the nations.
Who will go?
When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him. You'll follow Him to the ends of the earth. Why? Because He is God. Because He is LOVE.
Who will go?
Here I am, Lord, send me. I am yours.
Amen.
I am not here to make yet another point on society's abuse of language, though. I'm here to argue what I believe to be a more legitimate claim. It is nicely summed up by a quote from one of the speakers at the mission conference I attended this past weekend.
"When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him!" God, that is.
I'd like to ask you to stop for a minute and think about this with me. I know that people often make this analogy, about treating God like your boyfriend, your husband, or someone else in life that you especially adore. That's not what I want you to imagine here. Those kinds of love are human; they let you down. Even the highest love on earth that you can imagine is still soured by sin. That person wont always love you back. They might forget to call on your birthday; they might even decided at some point that they don't want to be your friend anymore.
No. I don't want you to imagine a human love. I don't want you to compare this statement to anything you've ever experienced in this world before, even if it bliss. Lets go back to 1 Corinthians 13.
"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on it's own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."
This is not the love of warm tingly feelings. It's not the love of fiery passion. It's not the love of irrational lovers, overly-protective parents, or fairytales for children. This is rock hard, unwavering, solid, foundational, unchanging, unconditional, unselfish, un-anything-you've-ever-imagined love.
Hold on; so if it's unlike anything you've ever imagined- why am I asking you to imagine it?
Because, I think, like me, if you try, you might just get an idea of the mind-boggling, life-changing collision course that I've been driving around in the last week. I think, just maybe, if you try to wrap you finite brain with me, around the infinite glory of a holy and just God, you might come to the same conclusion I have been racing toward in the past few months.
Worship. Awe. Praise. Gratitude. Passion. Mission.
And no, that last one isn't a typo. Mission, the mission. God's mission. I feel like I am getting ahead of myself. (Yet again- words are so inadequate!)
Over the past five months God has been leading me through a process that some would label as leading to a "radical" conclusion. I would argue that it isn't that radical at all- but that is beside the point. Mission is a scary word. Even scarier is the idea of vocational missions. Even more scary than that is international vocational missions. I guess any scarier than that is martyrdom.
Another quote from the mission conference last weekend- "If a tribal chief chop's my head off- he's doing me a favor!"
Not too bad, I guess. I mean considering that the very last thing on my bucket list (no joke) is to die for the sake of His name.
Callie Andra Tatum is radically sold out for the almighty God and wants to be martyred for His eternal kingdom. There you go, in case any of you were wondering what the ultimate goal of my life is- it's now copyrighted. Please don't misquote me for anything less.
So, over the process of going to Belize, Summer Project, Joplin, and jumping on board the leadership team here on campus, God has slowly been cultivating my heart for His people. Up until last weekend, I probably couldn't have told you as eloquently why, but that's what this blog post is for I suppose!
First and foremost, God has been cultivating my heart and my affections to Him. He's been pulling me closer through quiet times (which are on the incline!), prayer, leadership, and hundreds of other witnesses daily. Sometimes I fight back, sometimes I get angry, a lot of times I don't understand, but one thing I cannot deny is that He is working in my life in ways I would never have imagined. He's taken away idols, He's stripped away hopes and dreams, and all that's left is His masterpiece. It looks a lot less like me than I pictured, but then again: I'm not the artist. And I'm glad for that.
Secondly, with that heart makeover- He's shown me more and more that (big surprise) I'm not the center of His universe. He is. I know, profound, right? But seriously, that is such an easy concept to say, but yet again, not such an easy concept to swallow. God is the center of the universe, my universe- not me. AKA: One of my biggest desires in life is to be married and have children. What if God wants me to fall in love with Him alone and remain single on the mission field? I've been a theatre kid nearly all my life. What if God asks me to change my major to something completely unrelated to serve His kingdom? I'm a people pleaser- I love making other people proud of me, especially my parents. What if God told me to walk away from my family's approval into something scary, unsupported, and unknown?
What if?
"God is most glorified in me, when I am most satisfied in Him." -John Piper
What if?
"Praise doesn't start with us." -Louie Giglio
What if?
What if: Those are the word I utter. Not the words God utters:
Who will go?
God MUST be worshipped because He is God. He is a jealous God, deserving of an entire world's praise. The universe declares (not metaphorically, but literally DECLARES) His name. The sun, the moon, the stars, the creatures of the earth, the valleys and hills, the brooks and streams, the mountains and oceans PRAISE His name. God doesn't NEED my help. He spoke and the earth WAS. He is GOD. He is righteous. He is the only perfect thing worthy of anything and the only thing He asks of me is to worship Him. And make His name known in all the nations.
Who will go?
When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him. You'll follow Him to the ends of the earth. Why? Because He is God. Because He is LOVE.
Who will go?
Here I am, Lord, send me. I am yours.
Amen.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Get Real- No Really
I could blame this feeling on post-project blues. I could blame this heartache on Satan, stress, school, or a million other things. I could go on and on about how hard it is coming back to campus and missing so desperately the community and family I came so much to love this summer. I could make a list of all the expectations I had for myself, goals for God, dreams of revolution, determination to change my campus for the glory of God.
And then I could show you the parallel list of how many ways I have failed at that vision. I could show you all the times I walked past a lonely freshman sitting in the cafeteria by herself, because I already had a table of friends waiting. I could tell you about how, even though I've been physically in person at all the CRU and church events these past 2 weeks, I've somehow felt empty. Empty. What a strange word to describe my life right now...
Oh, and here's the kicker, I could take you through my journals and my Bible reading plan and show you how many quiet times I've skipped in the last 2 weeks.
Probably about 13.
Coming back to my dorm after 5 hours straight of classes today, feeling flustered and defeated, I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, "What the heck is wrong with me?"
It wasn't classes, though 5 hours will do it for the best of us, it wasn't my sore legs from running daily for the past to weeks, it wasn't how dirty my room was, it wasn't the errands I still had to run. If anything on project, I learned to live in motion. So what? Why the bruised heart?
And I realized it. The sparkle was gone. The confident sparkle- the overflowing joy. I've cut off my source of power for the past two weeks, other than bucket stops along the way, and it's no wonder I'm fading. I might as well be a prune for heaven's sake! I hate prunes!
But seriously.
I'm sitting here thinking right now, "How does a person come off of a 10 week Jesus high, and go to nothing? Zero? Zilch? Nada?"
You're asking me.
All I have is silence. Guilty silence. Ringing in my ears. Asking why I could drag myself out of bed for the last two weeks to run every morning, but couldn't get up half an hour earlier to charge up with my Creator first? Asking how I could speak so enthusiastically to all my friends, mentors, strangers even, about the best summer of my life so far, knowing I hadn't even thrown my widow's mite in here at home? Asking how I could pose as a leader in my community here on campus, encouraging people to pray about their lives and seek God first and foremost, all the while allowing myself to slowly shrivel into a paper mask? A pretender?
Is that what I am? One giant ugly pretender?
I hope and pray not. God, with all my heart, I beg you to rescue me from myself! Like some stupid sheep, I don't even know sometimes that I go astray, but Father, I know you lead my beside still waters and restore my soul. For you, oh Lord, do I thirst. For you I plead, lead me down your path of righteousness. Help me never to forget where you have brought me from, that Your praises may increase more and more. Help me follow You, God, Abba, Daddy. I want be with You.
I don't know who will read this. Honestly now that the summer is over, I don't even know that anyone will even keep up with this blog. But the journey didn't end on project... It's still His journey, not my own.
So if you happened to stumble upon this, or if you've been keeping up with me for awhile (wondering why I haven't posted in so long)- can I ask just one thing?
I don't have the answers this time. I like to think I do sometimes. I like my blog posts to end nicely on notes like "here's what I've learned" or "think about this." I don't have that tonight. This is unfinished business. This is raw material. Let's get real- no really.
Here's my question: Pray for me?
Pray for an unquenchable passion in my desire to seek God. Pray for my prayer life- to be in intimate conversations with my Creator constantly. Pray for the people I come in contact with and my own boldness, that I would listen when the Spirit whispers in my soul. Pray for all of this not to be about me checking things off my Jesus list. Pray for me to be humbled daily.
"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33
And then I could show you the parallel list of how many ways I have failed at that vision. I could show you all the times I walked past a lonely freshman sitting in the cafeteria by herself, because I already had a table of friends waiting. I could tell you about how, even though I've been physically in person at all the CRU and church events these past 2 weeks, I've somehow felt empty. Empty. What a strange word to describe my life right now...
Oh, and here's the kicker, I could take you through my journals and my Bible reading plan and show you how many quiet times I've skipped in the last 2 weeks.
Probably about 13.
Coming back to my dorm after 5 hours straight of classes today, feeling flustered and defeated, I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, "What the heck is wrong with me?"
It wasn't classes, though 5 hours will do it for the best of us, it wasn't my sore legs from running daily for the past to weeks, it wasn't how dirty my room was, it wasn't the errands I still had to run. If anything on project, I learned to live in motion. So what? Why the bruised heart?
And I realized it. The sparkle was gone. The confident sparkle- the overflowing joy. I've cut off my source of power for the past two weeks, other than bucket stops along the way, and it's no wonder I'm fading. I might as well be a prune for heaven's sake! I hate prunes!
But seriously.
I'm sitting here thinking right now, "How does a person come off of a 10 week Jesus high, and go to nothing? Zero? Zilch? Nada?"
You're asking me.
All I have is silence. Guilty silence. Ringing in my ears. Asking why I could drag myself out of bed for the last two weeks to run every morning, but couldn't get up half an hour earlier to charge up with my Creator first? Asking how I could speak so enthusiastically to all my friends, mentors, strangers even, about the best summer of my life so far, knowing I hadn't even thrown my widow's mite in here at home? Asking how I could pose as a leader in my community here on campus, encouraging people to pray about their lives and seek God first and foremost, all the while allowing myself to slowly shrivel into a paper mask? A pretender?
Is that what I am? One giant ugly pretender?
I hope and pray not. God, with all my heart, I beg you to rescue me from myself! Like some stupid sheep, I don't even know sometimes that I go astray, but Father, I know you lead my beside still waters and restore my soul. For you, oh Lord, do I thirst. For you I plead, lead me down your path of righteousness. Help me never to forget where you have brought me from, that Your praises may increase more and more. Help me follow You, God, Abba, Daddy. I want be with You.
I don't know who will read this. Honestly now that the summer is over, I don't even know that anyone will even keep up with this blog. But the journey didn't end on project... It's still His journey, not my own.
So if you happened to stumble upon this, or if you've been keeping up with me for awhile (wondering why I haven't posted in so long)- can I ask just one thing?
I don't have the answers this time. I like to think I do sometimes. I like my blog posts to end nicely on notes like "here's what I've learned" or "think about this." I don't have that tonight. This is unfinished business. This is raw material. Let's get real- no really.
Here's my question: Pray for me?
Pray for an unquenchable passion in my desire to seek God. Pray for my prayer life- to be in intimate conversations with my Creator constantly. Pray for the people I come in contact with and my own boldness, that I would listen when the Spirit whispers in my soul. Pray for all of this not to be about me checking things off my Jesus list. Pray for me to be humbled daily.
"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Less Than a Sparrow?
"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more value than they?" Matthew 6:25-26
I never thought I'd have to take this verse so literally.
I live in America. I mean c'mon. Growing up my parents gave me everything. They still give me everything. And I, like every other spoiled brat born to an American dream family, take that for granted. I think you know what I mean. They give me everything. Food, transportation, education, clothing, you name it- they gave it to me.
And I love them because of that. I am grateful for not only the material things they have poured into my life, but the spiritual and eternal things as well. I am so grateful for the love my parents have shown me, the grace they have offered with open palms, and the reflection of God's provision they have poured into my life. They gave me the most important nourishment that fosters the soul and shows us what our God really looks like, at least a glimpse of Him. They led me to my Father.
And it's before that Father I stood today, asking, "Feed me?"
I don't mean this as a metaphor. This isn't some sort of allegory to how I'm hungry for His love, wisdom, and grace. No, this is real. This is me looking at my bank account after being on Project for five and a half weeks, realizing that I am in the red. Straight up, broke. Not a word my little pampered life is used to hearing by any means.
Oh sure, I've been working for at least three weeks now. But, I don't get a paycheck for another week. And the one I did get last week (for one day's worth of work) has to be mailed home to be deposited in my account. You know what that means? Zero dollars until at least Monday. And even then- only thirty-five dollars of grace until my next paycheck...
No public transportation. No going out to dinner with the life group. No random coffee runs when I'm tired. No brunch after church on Sunday. No thrifting with my girls. No new toiletries. No new clothes. No bus. No laundry. No food.
Am I less than a sparrow here?
I spent a good portion of my day today worrying about how I was going to make it for the next week with absolutely no money and almost an empty pantry. And you know what I discovered? Worry is only good for spoiling your mood, and consequently the mood of others. And you know what? That's not very reflective of God's mercy and Almighty provision in my life.
Trust? Who needs that?
Trust? Who needs that?
Me. With a capital M.
Food? Well, I just have to say that while I might not be able to have my yummy yogurt, fresh fruit, and protein bars for awhile, the churches here on project are more than generous in donating canned goods, boxes of macaroni, bread, and other food items to our group. Hey, I can live off Ramen Noodles for the next week and a half right? Even in my poverty, I'm still a thousand times more abundantly rich than half the hungry people on this globe who God calls us to feed. I am, by no definition, starving.
And I think that's what God is trying to teach my obese little American brain.
"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:33-34
Am I less than a sparrow? Heavens no! I am a child of the King and I will feast someday at His table in glory. What more do I need on this earth?
And as for those Ramen Noodles- maybe I'll discover a new favorite food and stop buying my expensive yogurt and fresh raspberries and start supporting a starving child in a third world country.
"What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ' Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead." James 2:14-17
* Note: I am not asking for money, nor am I bemoaning my state here on project. I'm simply seeking to reveal, even in an extreme light, the ways God is revealing His grace and provision for me. I covet your prayers and ask that if you feel convicted (as I do) about feeding the REAL poor- you would consider supporting a child through International Servants (http://www.internationalservants.com/www) where I served in Belize this summer, or Compassion International (http://www.compassion.com/) which helps provide food and education to underprivileged children worldwide. I'll be "adopting" my first child when my first paycheck comes in a week!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Bent Low
The words of Katie, a sister in Christ who lives and loves in Uganda, ring in my ears. "Around here, we live bent low." Pause and dwell on those words a moment. They speak in simple terms. They reveal a not so simple truth:
Around here, I do not live bent low.
But I want to! Oh, how God is revealing in my heart such a longing for a life lived in sacrifice to Him. Even as I write, convicted that I don't even have the slightest glimpse of what I'm asking for, don't even know the extent of the trials I am begging God to carry me through, I see my brothers and sisters who serve, who selflessly give up their hopes and dreams, their friends and family, their educations and their livelihoods, to live bent low. And I am jealous. I am zealous. I am set on fire with a passion that I don't know how to follow. "Lord, lead me!" my heart cries.
And I hear His voice in answer. "Listen."
And that's all.
That's it? You have got to be kidding me! God, I'm asking to go! Jesus said, sell all you have and give it to the poor; I'll do it. Christ said to let my dead take care of themselves, to walk away from worldly things; I will! He said to leave behind my father and mother, to not look back and only look to Him; I can do that! So why do I have to wait?
"Listen."
This isn't about me. This isn't about my time. It isn't about being the next best seller on the "Radical" or "Crazy Love" reading list. Sure, someday I want my story to be like the martyrs before me, but hopefully, as Christ said, even my right hand wont know what my left hand is doing. I want God to be the Author of my story and the sole reader of my script. I want an audience of one.
Which means it's time to listen. And to wait. And to learn- to rely on Him. To fall in love with the God I claim to know. To revel in the love letters He has sent to me, which I so diligently neglect. To refine my heart and pick out all the broken ugly pieces that don't look very much like Him. I have to defog the mirror, scrape off the crusty mildew, and look intently into the heart of Jesus.
I hope someday I see His face reflected back to me.
I hope I see a head bent low.
Two hands disfigured.
And a heart split open in love.
Around here, I do not live bent low.
But I want to! Oh, how God is revealing in my heart such a longing for a life lived in sacrifice to Him. Even as I write, convicted that I don't even have the slightest glimpse of what I'm asking for, don't even know the extent of the trials I am begging God to carry me through, I see my brothers and sisters who serve, who selflessly give up their hopes and dreams, their friends and family, their educations and their livelihoods, to live bent low. And I am jealous. I am zealous. I am set on fire with a passion that I don't know how to follow. "Lord, lead me!" my heart cries.
And I hear His voice in answer. "Listen."
And that's all.
That's it? You have got to be kidding me! God, I'm asking to go! Jesus said, sell all you have and give it to the poor; I'll do it. Christ said to let my dead take care of themselves, to walk away from worldly things; I will! He said to leave behind my father and mother, to not look back and only look to Him; I can do that! So why do I have to wait?
"Listen."
This isn't about me. This isn't about my time. It isn't about being the next best seller on the "Radical" or "Crazy Love" reading list. Sure, someday I want my story to be like the martyrs before me, but hopefully, as Christ said, even my right hand wont know what my left hand is doing. I want God to be the Author of my story and the sole reader of my script. I want an audience of one.
Which means it's time to listen. And to wait. And to learn- to rely on Him. To fall in love with the God I claim to know. To revel in the love letters He has sent to me, which I so diligently neglect. To refine my heart and pick out all the broken ugly pieces that don't look very much like Him. I have to defog the mirror, scrape off the crusty mildew, and look intently into the heart of Jesus.
I hope someday I see His face reflected back to me.
I hope I see a head bent low.
Two hands disfigured.
And a heart split open in love.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Captive to Christ
Alright, so I definitely fail at consistent blogging. So much has happened I don't even know where to begin. I got a job at Aeropostale, but I can hardly call it a job. I've worked once since they hired me and am not on the schedule to work again until next Tuesday. So basically my job, still, is to get a job.
As for outreach, let me just say that I think that I have grown so much more than ever before in the way I view and execute evangelism. God has taught me so much and planted in me a desire to sow His seeds more than ever before. There have been so many instances out on the boardwalk sharing with people that we meet, that I just feel the Spirit speaking through me. It truly is amazing how little it has to do with me- it all comes from God!
One thing last week that really floored me was just the power of prayer and the love that God showers on us if we simply ask Him to overflow in our hearts. For our community event last Saturday the group went over to Assateague for worship and s'mores on the beach. Sitting there surrounded by all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, I was just overwhelmed at the love and mercy God has shown me through these people. We're all humans, and living together you definitely get to see the good, the bad, and the ugly, but living in a Christ-centered manner, with a Christ-centered focus, on a Christ-centered trip really puts things in perspective. It makes living with 30 other people tolerable. More than that, it teaches you how to love like Christ, with joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Sitting around the fire that night, I was overcome with a sense of unworthiness. I didn't deserve to be here. I didn't deserve these people's love and respect. I just felt unworthy and lost.
Let me rewind a little. Before coming on project, I felt very much that I was slipping into a "going through the motions" mindset. Don't get me wrong- I wanted to pursue Christ, and was trying to the best of my ability to do so in most ways. But it was stale, stagnant, self-centered pursuit. I didn't "feel" it, so to speak. The best way that I could phrase it when talking to my disciple leader, Jenna, was that I'd lost my passion. God, in my mind had become some demanding judge, an impartial joy-stealing cosmic ruler. Don't get me wrong, in many ways that kind of view of our heavenly King is humbling and necessary. We need a healthy fear of the Lord. The thing is: He is also a loving, personal, Father, and Groom. He cares about my heart and isn't here to steal my joy or my dreams. He's here to make them come true- namely through the pursuit of Himself.
Here's where the story picks back up. That night at Assateague I prayed that God would heal my aching heart, give me back the passion I had lost, and fill me with His joy. I prayed that He would fill my cup to overflowing. I prayed that He would drown me in His overwhelming joy. I didn't need my circumstance to change, and I didn't want a new life- just a new heart, a new joy, a new love for Him.
And that's what I got.
The next two days were legitimately the most joy-filled, spirit-filled, wonderful days I've had in a very long time. And the funny thing is: I got exactly what I prayed for: I still didn't have a job, people around me didn't change. The only thing that changed was me, my outlook, and my heart. God made me into a dreamer again- and that's something I haven't been in a very long time.
Praise be to God, who, when we allow our every thought to be taken captive by His love, fills us up more than we could ever withstand and pours us out into the thirsty hearts of a broken world so that He and He alone gets all the glory!
As for outreach, let me just say that I think that I have grown so much more than ever before in the way I view and execute evangelism. God has taught me so much and planted in me a desire to sow His seeds more than ever before. There have been so many instances out on the boardwalk sharing with people that we meet, that I just feel the Spirit speaking through me. It truly is amazing how little it has to do with me- it all comes from God!
One thing last week that really floored me was just the power of prayer and the love that God showers on us if we simply ask Him to overflow in our hearts. For our community event last Saturday the group went over to Assateague for worship and s'mores on the beach. Sitting there surrounded by all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, I was just overwhelmed at the love and mercy God has shown me through these people. We're all humans, and living together you definitely get to see the good, the bad, and the ugly, but living in a Christ-centered manner, with a Christ-centered focus, on a Christ-centered trip really puts things in perspective. It makes living with 30 other people tolerable. More than that, it teaches you how to love like Christ, with joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Sitting around the fire that night, I was overcome with a sense of unworthiness. I didn't deserve to be here. I didn't deserve these people's love and respect. I just felt unworthy and lost.
Let me rewind a little. Before coming on project, I felt very much that I was slipping into a "going through the motions" mindset. Don't get me wrong- I wanted to pursue Christ, and was trying to the best of my ability to do so in most ways. But it was stale, stagnant, self-centered pursuit. I didn't "feel" it, so to speak. The best way that I could phrase it when talking to my disciple leader, Jenna, was that I'd lost my passion. God, in my mind had become some demanding judge, an impartial joy-stealing cosmic ruler. Don't get me wrong, in many ways that kind of view of our heavenly King is humbling and necessary. We need a healthy fear of the Lord. The thing is: He is also a loving, personal, Father, and Groom. He cares about my heart and isn't here to steal my joy or my dreams. He's here to make them come true- namely through the pursuit of Himself.
Here's where the story picks back up. That night at Assateague I prayed that God would heal my aching heart, give me back the passion I had lost, and fill me with His joy. I prayed that He would fill my cup to overflowing. I prayed that He would drown me in His overwhelming joy. I didn't need my circumstance to change, and I didn't want a new life- just a new heart, a new joy, a new love for Him.
And that's what I got.
The next two days were legitimately the most joy-filled, spirit-filled, wonderful days I've had in a very long time. And the funny thing is: I got exactly what I prayed for: I still didn't have a job, people around me didn't change. The only thing that changed was me, my outlook, and my heart. God made me into a dreamer again- and that's something I haven't been in a very long time.
Praise be to God, who, when we allow our every thought to be taken captive by His love, fills us up more than we could ever withstand and pours us out into the thirsty hearts of a broken world so that He and He alone gets all the glory!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Daddy, Can I Run?
Safely in Ocean City, I'm sitting here in the living room of our apartment of 3 Jacks (our team's apartment) after a long day of job hunting. With only one application in prospect and way too many rejections to count, it's easy to wonder why in the world I'm even trying. There are hundreds and hundreds of summer vacationers from all over the world here and I am just one face in a thousand trying to figure out where I fit in. I do a lot of questioning, why?
Why am I here? Why isn't God opening any doors?
And then there's the question of how in the world I'm supposed to live with 5 other roommates and 4 more suite mates for 10 weeks this summer in a barely air conditioned house, sleeping on a 3 inch thick mattress. It sounds like a lot of complaining, but I know this is exactly what I signed up for- I'm just praying God will give me the grace to glorify Him in all these circumstances. I'm not going to lie; it's rough. But God has brought together an awesome team of college kids that are already challenging me in my faith.
One girl, Caitlyn, kept telling me, "Don't worry, girl, God just hasn't opened the door because you haven't found the right one to knock on!" She would encourage me, keep me positive, and challenge me not to be afraid to walk up to any store and ask for an application. And let's face it- it's day one. Who in all honesty expects to be hired on the spot? It takes time.
At devotional time this morning the leader, Michael Frey, told us a story about his son. When he was younger, and even now as a 5 year old, he and his son would be walking down the street. Suddenly his son would look up at his dad and ask him, "Daddy, can I run?" Michael would say yes, and off his little son would go, running to the next cross section, not for any apparent reason, but because he wanted to. He'd ask his dad, "What's my time?" His dad would tell him and he'd smile and ask to do it again. Thinking as a runner, and reflecting back on my slow and laborious run this morning (done more out of habit than need for exercise), I was challenged to take on that kind of attitude. I want to run for Christ with that kind of passion, because I love the act of serving him, of following His command, and being more like him. The psalmist said, "I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free." (Psalm 119:32) As I look for a job, and as I seek God's will for my life both here and in Ocean City, I pray that I keep that in mind. I want to be like Michael's son and say to my Father...
"Daddy, can I run?"
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
With This Step, Thee I Trust
"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." Proverbs 16:9
Going into this summer, as with every phase of my life, I thought I had a plan. I thought I had each little section of my life partitioned off the way I supposed it would be best delegated. I would go to Belize and then I would serve at an internship in Georgia until school started up again in the fall. Worst case scenario I would be choosing plan B, which was to work as a camp leader at Centrifuge or one of the other numerous youth camps with which I applied. Little did I realize that little voice in the back of my brain was growing my heart into a much different direction, a direction of trust, of faith, and of blind leaping into a wild unknown.
Ok, so Ocean City, Maryland isn't nearly as drastic a difference as I might have made it sound, but the thing is- it wasn't in my plan. It didn't fit into my nicely molded structure of how I planned to live my life. Don't get me wrong; I'm ecstatic to be able to move halfway across the country and meet other like-minded young believers who are seeking to grow in their relationship with God. To boil it down plain and simple, it's a control thing. I'm an admitted control freak, and when things don't go my way, it makes me uneasy at best. Needless to say, when I found out all my other options for the summer were falling like sand between my fingers, I felt helpless, powerless to my own fate.
And yet, it seems at these moments, when we are at our lowest low, the end of our rope, or the dead end of our own desires, that is when God most miraculously and knowingly steps in, taking charge of our tangled messes, giving order where we created chaos, and revealing, where blinded before we chased after the shifting shadows of this world, His perfect plan. Maybe Georgia would have been great. I'm sure I would have grown substantially in the Lord. With Centrifuge as well, I'm sure I would have been perfectly content witnessing to kids and pouring on them all the love and energy I could muster. The point is- I'll be in Maryland instead, and that, in and of itself, is infinitely better than any other plan I could have formulated.
You see, Maryland, by logic's standards, never should have happened. The deadline was closed and applications were already turned in to be processed. But when all other doors were shut, I found myself asking, "So, what now God?" Forced to rely on Him, I called my CRU director and asked if there was any way I could still sign up for any of the Summer Projects they had been talking about for the past 4 months. (I had been ignoring the announcements, because I thought I already had a plan.) So, Lance, the director, made a few phone call and gave me my options: East Coast or more East Coast. So I chose Maryland, on a whim, turned in my application, and trusted God to take care of the rest.
A week out from packing my bags to move across the continent, I catch myself getting anxious about the outcome of my adventure. I will know no one. I will have no car. I am taking only what airlines allow in luggage space for ten weeks (ten weeks!), living in an apartment with at least 4 other roommates, and basically just jumping in blind on what I will actually be doing when I arrive there. It's intimidating.
But at the same time, I have a kind of peace about it. God's got my back and I know He wouldn't send me anywhere I couldn't make friends, serve Him, and grow in my walk with Him. With great faith comes great faithfulness. And, that, I know God is faithful.
Continue checking out the blog. I'm going to try to post daily, even if some of the entries are short, so that you all can know there will always be something new to read about some new great way God is revealing Himself, providing comfort, showing me areas of growth, or calling me to act. This is the place where the journey begins, the first of a thousand beautiful steps as I tread with beautiful feet to spread the gospel and carry Christ's commission.
"And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, 'How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!'" Romans 10:15
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