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

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. 

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

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?

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!

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.

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!

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?"