I see tiny dirty fingers grabbing at my skirt. Little voices raised angrily as the children around me push and shove their way to the front of the line. "Me, me!" they shout and reach for the flimsy little toothbrushes I am handing out. Toothbrushes. There is toothpaste further down the line, which I later see the kids squirting into their mouths like candy. Something in my heart doesn't feel right as I give them these things after so little time getting to know them. They want what I can give them so badly, and overlook the simplest and best thing I have to offer: love.
On the bus ride home, my heart is torn between anger and frustration as I think about their little grabby hands. I wonder how they could be so greedy that they cared more about the gifts than the giver. We came in planning to do crafts with them, love them, tell them about Jesus, and hold them in our arms. We wanted to show them the reason we love, because He first loved us.
Instead we ended up watching them perform for us for over an hour before being asked by the pastor to hand out the goodies we had come bearing. Chaos ensued and I wondered just how effective our materialism gospel really was. The kids got their toothbrushes, which would last them a couple of months at best. They got their toothpaste, which was lucky to even make it home for its proper use. But what else did they go home with? A better picture of the philanthropic mindset that white people with nice clothes have lots of money and like to give things away?
Maybe. I hope and pray they saw a small glimpse of the love and light we tried so desperately to reflect, but with only a few hours of organized chaos, I couldn't help but wonder on the bus ride home: is this stop and drop gospel really even the gospel at all?
Don't get me wrong- this trip has been one of the best experiences of my life so far. I can give you twice as many awesome stories about how God is using this trip exponentially to grow my spiritual worldview and do amazing works in these orphans lives as well, but I think every now and then a little team analysis is healthy and necessary.
Sitting on the bus, trying not to be sour about how unsuccessful I had labeled the day in my brain, God tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to look at the situation from His eyes.
"I see tiny dirty fingers grabbing at my throne. Little voices raised angrily in prayer, pushing and shoving and complaining as they scream, "Me, me, me!" They grab and reach for the temporal blessings I can give. They ask for prosperity and good health and then turn around and squander their blessings on idols. Something in my heart doesn't feel right giving them these things, knowing that they barely even know me. They want what I can give them so badly, and overlook the simplest and best thing I have to offer: my love."
Looking in the mirror of my Savior's broken heart, I can't help but become convicted. I am just like those children. I want the gifts and not the love of the giver. I am so consumed with what I think God's best for me should be, that I forget that He is standing right in front of me waiting for me to crawl into his lap and let Him love me. I forget to let Him show me what His best really is. I break His heart swallowing the toothpaste He gives me and grab with grubby fingers at the temporal blessings in this life that pass away.
God, thank you for convicting me of the ways I fall short of your glorious plan. Help me always to seek You and your love above all else. Thank You for showing me my own weakness. Help me to desire You more and more and help me to find my joy in your love only. Amen.
"Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright." Proverbs 20:11
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Blessings from Kenya
What a blessing it is to be sitting in Nairobi, Kenya typing my first blog entry of 2012. Who would have imagined a year ago as I welcomed in the new year that this opportunity would even be a possibility, much less a reality. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good and that's His nature. Wow. (as the kids from Fiwagoh orphanage have taught me to say.
A week into the trip, I can't even begin to tell you how humbled I am daily by the humility and love I have experienced while here. Every orphanage we have visited has left me wondering what exactly God brought me here to do. The kids love us so deeply and so wholly, I can't imagine my meager contributions here have any significance compared to how much they loved me. I couldn't help but cry as I thanked my little Kenyan friends for their hospitality this week as out team packed our bags to move to Uganda tonight. It was a bittersweet goodbye. I can't say it didn't leave my heart a little broken. I think I left a piece of it in the red African soil; we shall see what God can grow from it.
In my reading this week I came across a verse that really spoke to my heart right now.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" Psalm 8:1-4
This Psalm reminds me of the beautiful sound of children's voices we heard raised in praise to our Lord when we attended worship at Fiwagoh. "Een theh sweeeht bye end bye,bye end bye, we shall meet en thaht beeyouteeful shore..." It brings a smile to my face, even sitting here remembering the sound of their precious voices, and I know God smiles in heaven every morning that He hears them begin their day praising Him.
The Psalm also talks about the heavens praising God. Let me tell you that the sunsets and sunrises here everyday praise God with glorious splendor. Waking early in the morning to shower before our long, tiresome days, I was tempted to complain about our cold, tiny shower, or the little amount of sleep I got, but all I had to do was look out the window of our tiny bunk house and I knew that these days were ordained by the Lord.
The trip is only halfway over and already I am so excited for the things God is teaching me. He truly is an awesome God, and I am so blessed to be experiencing the power of His love here in Africa. I pray daily that He will continue to open my eyes and my heart to the people He brings into my life here. Thank you all so much for your prayers an support. Keep me in your prayers still for the final week I am here and continue to ask God to show me more of Him.
Much love, and greetings from Kenya!
"If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." Psalm 139:9-10
A week into the trip, I can't even begin to tell you how humbled I am daily by the humility and love I have experienced while here. Every orphanage we have visited has left me wondering what exactly God brought me here to do. The kids love us so deeply and so wholly, I can't imagine my meager contributions here have any significance compared to how much they loved me. I couldn't help but cry as I thanked my little Kenyan friends for their hospitality this week as out team packed our bags to move to Uganda tonight. It was a bittersweet goodbye. I can't say it didn't leave my heart a little broken. I think I left a piece of it in the red African soil; we shall see what God can grow from it.
In my reading this week I came across a verse that really spoke to my heart right now.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" Psalm 8:1-4
This Psalm reminds me of the beautiful sound of children's voices we heard raised in praise to our Lord when we attended worship at Fiwagoh. "Een theh sweeeht bye end bye,bye end bye, we shall meet en thaht beeyouteeful shore..." It brings a smile to my face, even sitting here remembering the sound of their precious voices, and I know God smiles in heaven every morning that He hears them begin their day praising Him.
The Psalm also talks about the heavens praising God. Let me tell you that the sunsets and sunrises here everyday praise God with glorious splendor. Waking early in the morning to shower before our long, tiresome days, I was tempted to complain about our cold, tiny shower, or the little amount of sleep I got, but all I had to do was look out the window of our tiny bunk house and I knew that these days were ordained by the Lord.
The trip is only halfway over and already I am so excited for the things God is teaching me. He truly is an awesome God, and I am so blessed to be experiencing the power of His love here in Africa. I pray daily that He will continue to open my eyes and my heart to the people He brings into my life here. Thank you all so much for your prayers an support. Keep me in your prayers still for the final week I am here and continue to ask God to show me more of Him.
Much love, and greetings from Kenya!
"If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." Psalm 139:9-10
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Bleeding Heart
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.
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, 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.
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