Seeking & Sent

A Legacy of Grace

2012-01-25T20:57:00.006-05:00

As it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21

You can't be at Redemption Hill more than 29 minutes or so without meeting Matt and Betty Bristol. Somewhat like the wise and gentle mama and papa of our church, they have radiated Jesus' intentionality with the way they welcomed and served since the day I first visited.

That being said, it is probably true that all of us at Redemption Hill have traveled with Matt and Betty Bristol through these last months of Betty's life as a family. We have hoped for healing, asked for updates, and enjoyed grace together week in and week out. In so doing, we have seen each step of the journey marked by gratitude, authenticity, and confidence-

Gratitude at His grace that covers us and another day given.

Authenticity in attesting to the reality of pain and suffering in our world.

Confidence in God's sovereignty and the power of the Gospel over death.

Matt has generously shared these last few weeks with our church family and made God look so good in the process. What follows are Matt's last two updates on Betty's impending "promotion to glory," far too beautiful not to share.

Monday, January 23

Getting very close to promotion…

Betty is still here, but it will not be long before she is promoted to glory. She is heavily medicated now but at times can hear and understand. She nodded to our son Matt that she wanted breakfast this morning, not just any breakfast but scrambled eggs. So eggs she received.

At this point she looks just like her brother looked a year and a month ago, mainly sleeping (morphine tends to do that), no longer coughing, much more difficulty breathing. She seems able to hear when we speak, and the hospice nurse says we have entered the final hours. Whether that means 8 or 48, only the Lord knows. But we plan to keep praying, even singing to her, loving her as she slowly but inexorably slips into the loving and eternal arms of our Savior.

Thanks for all your prayers. It will not be long now. She is more than ready. I am the one not ready yet. Tears are starting to flow. Hard to stop them for long. I should be happy, but it is a mixture of emotions.

All around the world, each of you is family, thanks for coming along on this journey of faith and hope.

God bless you! Take each new day as a precious gift from a loving God. If you do not really believe in God or know God in a life changing way, take a moment now and stop what you are doing, and just talk to Him. He is always near and never sleeps. Tell Him you want to know Him in a fresh and real way, and thank Him for the gift of life and energy and love and family and work and everything! Ask Him to forgive you for being away and opposed to Him, or ignoring and disobeying Him, and He will hear and respond. Then read His Word in a new way, asking His Holy Spirit to open your eyes and give you a new understanding. That is Betty’s desire for you on this perhaps her last day before she goes off to be with Jesus. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is so simple, yet so profound. One can argue theology all day, but one cannot argue with a changed life. I thank God for giving us all Betty as an example of His grace and love.

Am sorry I let several days go by without posting…it has been somewhat a blur for me. Yesterday the nurse asked me when Betty started on hospice and I could not recall that it has been 2 weeks!

A sweet sister from our church came yesterday and sang for Betty, one of her favorite songs. His eye is on the sparrow. Betty smiled. God smiled.

In His Love,
Matt

Wednesday, January 25

Betty is with Jesus. Thank you, Lord.

Last night she waved off further meds and would not receive further oxygen. She said she was ready to go. Matt IV and I slept next to her bed, and at one point he helped me climb into bed with her, where I was able to hold her and comfort her. My last act was to apply cream to the soles of her feet. I wanted to be standing at her side when she went, but I think she wanted to spare me that.

She is still a bit warm, but hands are cold and there is no question she is gone. Allie says she has read that sometimes the dying consciously wait until loved ones are away before they go. Or perhaps it is God who waits. She suffered so much, and so nobly, so gracefully. Last night she was still receiving guests in her room. Now I am here writing this and she is lying still. I prayed over her with the kids a moment ago. They are strong. Allie will be a great nurse. Matt is a tower of strength. They are a major part of Betty’s legacy. Not all, but special.

I am signing off this blog for now, to help clean and change her clothes and then to call hospice. As near as I can tell, she passed into the arms of Jesus at about 6:30am EST.

Thank you Lord for her life and witness, for her sweet spirit, for her strength, for her amazing strength and her amazing faith in you, her amazing God, our amazing God. She suffered well, just a glimpse into your own suffering. She will live with You forever. Amen!

Writing through tears of joy and sorrow.

Matt

No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me.

Away In A Manager

2011-12-27T14:04:00.005-05:00

Much earlier this month, I got to meet and hold a baby less than 24 hours old. It was terrifying. He seemed so small and fragile. His loudest cry barely turned a head because his lungs weren’t yet big enough to wail. He was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but mostly soft and tiny and helpless.

I was incredibly content to look at him. Who knew what would happen if I held him? Suddenly everything in the room and on my person resembled a potentially harmful weapon that could wound this little life in a split second.

This little boy was the son of my coworker Stacy. His name is Zachary and his arrival was much anticipated. Zachary was their first, and Stacy did everything she could to nurture his growth while he slowly developed within her.

She and her husband made every preparation for his entry into the world- touring the hospital, attending childbirth classes, decorating the nursery, looking up baby food recipes, getting his car seat approved, buying onesies, baby blankets, socks and hats. This little man didn’t know how good he had it when he took his first breath out of the womb.

In the midst of Advent season, God had me meet a little boy to help me meditate on the baby boy of the Christmas story. Marveling at little Zachary (and the Christmas card picture still propped up on my kitchen table), I still can’t believe Jesus donned the flesh of a helpless infant. Moreover, he didn’t have the relatively plush life that Zachary does, but rather endured real poverty, rejection, and homelessness as a newborn while embodying joy, hope, love, and peace in their purest forms.

The story of the child in a manager and his life on earth is the ultimate story of humility, for the God of heaven and earth condescended Himself into the form of an infant. The longer I think of the Christ child, the more clearly I see my own pride and sense of entitlement in contrast. Thus, during this Christmas season, I’ve asked Jesus to teach me His humility and am trusting He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself... Philippians 2:5-8

Book Review: The Gift of Being Yourself

2011-12-15T22:04:00.007-05:00

Acknowledging from the start that it may seem paradoxical to write a “book promoting self-discovery to people who are seeking to follow a self-sacrificing Christ," David Benner insists that knowing self and knowing God are intimately intertwined. By knowing our vulnerabilities, our gifts, our pitfalls, and our own personalities, we can better know the God who made us and meet Him as He actively delivers us.

In The Gift of Being Yourself, Benner doesn’t gloss over the importance of disciplining ourselves to sit at God’s feet so that we might really know Him, not just know about Him. He encourages readers to meditate on the life of Jesus as described in the Gospels as one way to give shape, color, and flesh to the God we long to know. He also spurs the reader on to meet God in the events of daily life by taking time to reflect with God on the happenings and subsequent reactions and emotions of the day.

Knowing oneself is clearly described as knowing ourselves in relation to God and also knowing ourselves as we are and as God intends us to be. Benner affirms that we can’t really know ourselves without knowing simple truths about the way God made us: we are sinners who are deeply loved and we are works in progress with marvelous potential. As such, we must dig deep to discover the self that is really present, that is the self that we would prefer to ignore. To truly know oneself, the false selves so quietly crafted must be unmasked, accepted, and then sacrificed to God for transformation. In this way, Benner hones in on developing an integrity and authenticity to the self that does not naturally exist. Our natural inclination is to hide and pretend, but to truly experience the “gift of being yourself,” one must first come to terms with the real self that we might not even know until we trod deeper into the journey of self-discovery. This is the redemptive restoration process of the Christian life.

Thoroughly describing both the current situation and the journey ahead, Benner continues by offering practical ideas for how to identify the false self and grow into the true self that is uniquely made and distinctively called by God. It is evident throughout the book that both the process and outcome of truly knowing self are grounded in the Lord and intended for His glory and our deep joy.

Benner’s case that the journey of self-discovery and knowing God are co-dependent and inseparable is a believable one. He supports his arguments with compelling biblical texts along with keen observations of the human psyche and development. I found the premise refreshing, especially as our sinful identity is increasingly emphasized while our dual identity as God’s image bearers is (albeit fractured images) is more and more so ignored. We are indeed “God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works” (Ephesians 2:10). Benner captures both identities quite well in this work and inspired me to know my true self in Christ.

Around 100 pages, this is a simple yet centering read; especially relevant as we quickly arrive at the time of year in which we reflect on who we are and who we are becoming. Get it!

The REAL Self-Realization

2011-11-30T22:35:00.005-05:00

"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you..." Matthew 4:19

The psychology field has a lot to say about self-realization. It's our ultimate need, says Maslow, the thing after which we strive.

So do many Christians. It’s a selfish pursuit, say some. Just one more piece of evidence that collectively and individually, we’re slipping into a state of absolute consumption with self.

While self-realization is an obvious result of a blatantly individualistic culture, I don’t think self-realization and faith are diametrically opposed. As with many ambitions, the way self-realization is understood and pursued as god in our society is skewed. The intense focus on finding what makes you happy and discovering who you want to be can be sickening, but the hope of self discovery is not a devilish concept in and of itself.

I contend that today’s pursuit to realize one’s individual identity, strengths and potential is primarily a distortion of the sanctification process. We all agree and sense that we are not yet what we were created to be, and so we long to find that person, our true self, that God designed in His own image. Without a clear understanding of the Gospel, this process is like a pre-teen without a license taking the wheel. We aren’t supposed to be in the driver’s seat and we don’t really know where we are going or why. We just want to move, progress, transform, grow, but we don't know where, how, or why.

Without the salvation story, we miss out on the crux of our story, i.e. we are being developed by a Sovereign God into men and women who reflect His character, creativity and beauty. This is intended to give God His deserved admiration and devotion, not primarily to make us happy.

Although many have ignored the operator and the forgotten goal of these self-realization efforts, it is a valuable process. In the gospels, we see Jesus reeling in His first disciples by promising to make them into something that they would be but were not yet.

Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men.

John Calvin said “without knowledge of self, there is no knowledge of God.” His proposition is somewhat audacious. Shouldn’t God be so set apart from us that knowing ourselves would lead us away from His perfection? By this statement, are we claiming to be like God? No, experience proves it true: Knowing ourselves, the created, leads us to knowledge of the Creator. Indeed, a severe reckoning with our self helps us glean something of God’s character. The sin within repulses us because somehow we have an idea of what perfection is and how we fall short. We are thus drawn to that perfection. The semblances of purity we find in our self then reflects God in us and reminds us of Him.

Scripture shows us that pursuing knowledge of self and knowledge of God are two intertwined adventures meant to be embarked upon within the same journey. Jesus promises to “make” the disciples should they “come, follow.” Following leads to knowing and with every step, we know more of ourselves and more of the King we serve. Jesus is in the business of making, and there is much joy in participating in that process with Him as discover our true selves.

Lessons from Autumn

2011-11-13T09:46:00.001-05:00

Something happens in me every autumn- something beautiful and refreshing. The colors, the relief from heat, and the feeling of a fresh new start all collide to create a sense of awakening. Years of the rhythm of the school year have created an unmistakable association with this season- the old is gone, the new is come!

Ironic though that it's the death of foliage that heralds this awakening. It's not new birth, it's death. Those striking colors all result from the degeneration of trees and bushes as they prepare for winter hibernation. Day after day, leaves change color and drop to the ground to be trampled and slowly disentegrate.

It may sound odd, but God uses trees to teach me. I'm not an animist, but for four years now, I can pinpoint specific lessons God had for me by drawing my attention to nature, and specifically to trees. This season is no different.
The Christian life could not be possible without death. Jesus' sacrificial death and powerful resurrection are the avenue by which we gratefully inherit eternal and abundant life. God does not waste death; He uses it.
Likewise, He calls us to death. We see this most clearly in Matthew 10:38,

"Anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

The life God designed for us is found through death- both Jesus' and our own death to the god of self. Death is not only meaningful and purposeful for the Christian, it is beautiful as God so lovingly reminds us at this time of year.

The Levity Effect

2011-11-02T13:28:00.001-04:00

Life has been getting really serious lately. Jeromy is looking for a job, my employer just went through a round of lay-offs, and a double dip recession is officially upon us. Socially, I've been spending lots of time with acquaintances and friends alike talking about serious subjects: anxiety, depression, insecurity, and loneliness. It's not all necessarily bad serious though. Friends are also having babies, getting married, and landing jobs.

It could be the dark mornings and cold evenings, but whatever the reason, everything and everyone seems so SERIOUS lately.

So I enjoyed spending the first two hours of my Monday morning in the "corporate world" on this project:

Fondly entitled "P-Section Pumpkin," this entry in our office's annual pumpkin carving contest heralded some much-needed laughter (and won!). It also led me to look for more opportunities to employ the Levity Effect, as my coworkers call it, at work and home. In sum, LIGHTEN UP!

So here's to taking ourselves a little less seriously, whether it be by creating borderline graphic pumpkin displays or laughing at the minor freak-out you had yesterday. God has a sense of humor, so why shouldn't we?

A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. Proverbs 17:22

The Family of Believers

2011-10-19T19:30:00.000-04:00

What does it mean to be a member of the family of believers? In Christ, we are blood relatives in a new way, now related to each other by Jesus' blood shed for us rather than the colloquial “blood relative” phrase alone. We live this out as the church today through both the miraculous and the mundane, because that’s what families do.

This family identity is enjoyed in potlucks, praying for each other, celebrating baptisms, holidays, and weddings together, sharing possessions and meeting practical needs. This is “doing life together,” as the trendy Christian catch phrase goes, but I contend there is a depth to this identity rarely explored. Are we acting as family or are we really attending meetings and accomplishing the administrative tasks asked of us? When it comes to living and loving as family, I think we experience moments of delightful sacrificial family life but honestly, overall, probably only scratch the surface of what God intended with that powerful designation.

Caring for seven year-old Shannon last week afforded me a mere peek into the riches of living as a family of believers. Shannon’s parents delivered a precious baby boy and needed someone to take care of Shannon those first few days that leaving the hospital wasn’t an option. On respite in Richmond from their work in China, their local family IS the church. It’s incredibly novel to me, but normal to them. So we played Old Maid, we sat down at the dinner table together, we read Bible stories, we tucked Shannon into bed and got her ready for school. For 48 hours, I learned a little more what it means to live as the family of believers, and I think it made God smile a little bit. It made me smile too :)

Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

Galatians 6:10

Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the king.

1 Peter 2:17

In Celebration of Freedom

2011-10-05T13:16:00.004-04:00

Why is autumn so intensely beautiful and refreshing?

It might be the fresh start feeling of the “back to school” season or the precision of the drum line at football games. It could also be the first glimpses of vibrantly colored leaves or seasonal pumpkin-flavored delicacies. I think those sounds, sights, smells, and tastes are all part of the allure of autumn, but in my opinion, it is the freedom from oppressive summer heat that causes the season to be welcomed with such open arms. That first chilly morning that resulted in wrapping up in cozy fleece and slipping on soft slippers confirms it.

For me, spring’s offer of freedom from winter’s bitter cold lacks in comparison. Autumn does not offer the plagues of itchy, red eyes and hourly sneezing fits that spring does. With the first buds of spring, freedom from cold is traded for bondage to aggressive allergies. It’s no contest, really. Right now, today, is the best time of year. It’s the sights and sounds, smells and tastes, but it’s also the FREEDOM from the suffocating, muggy heat that we Richmonders know well.

Our nation has recently celebrated freedom with a few high-profile human interest stories. Who is not captivated by the scenes of the U.S. hikers falsely imprisoned in Iran running down airplane steps to their families? Was it possible to miss the overturn of Amanda Knox’s murder conviction and the captivating photos of her tearfully leaving the courtroom?

Can you imagine the relief and joy that these individuals and families experienced upon receiving freedom from imprisonment and even in the case of the hikers, abuse?

Here’s to freedom of all kinds-

freedom from false accusations, prison, abuse, and enslavement;

freedom from sickness, hunger, injustice, and poverty;

freedom from the strong bonds of sinful greed, impatience, malice, and retribution;

freedom from hopelessness, despair, self-pity, and keeping up appearances.

Even still, here’s to freedom from heat, humidity, and hurricanes.

For all of these heaps of grace, thanks be to our Father who created both seasons and freedom and gives them abundantly to our weary bodies and thirsty souls. May we partner with Him to share this freedom with who we can in whatever ways we can.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8

This is CHAT Y'all

2011-09-30T18:22:00.000-04:00

Reason 174 to love Church Hill Activities and Tutoring: The CHAT Rap

The Opposite of Cruelty

2011-09-27T22:28:00.000-04:00

"Hospitality is the lens through which we can read and understand much of the gospel, and a practice by which we can welcome Jesus himself," explains Christine Pohl in her book Making Room. Then why has so much of the modern church forsaken it?

Jeromy and I have begun a study on recovering the practice of church-based hospitality with a small group of servants at RH. After the first week, I am convicted of neglecting the practice and renewed with courage to pick it back up.

Within the church, hospitality offers more than fellowship to friends, but compassionate welcome to strangers. Making room for the least of these is not a substitute for the regular meeting together of Christian family, but simply a fulfillment of the other half of the equation. In Matthew 5, Jesus says "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?"

In fact, the distinctive Christian contribution to hospitality in early church history was the emphasis on including the poor and neediest, the ones who could not return the favor. When was the last time I hosted stranger in my home? What was the most recent occasion that I welcomed someone into my life who could not offer me anything in return? The instances that come to mind are not as commonplace as these exemplars of the early church. Could it be because of my fear, aversion to risk, tight hold on my possessions, or packed schedule? I can't snap my fingers and force those obstacles away, so I'm praying that Jesus would free me from hindrances and enable me to practice His discipline of hospitality.

The resurrection of Christian hospitality is not solely purposed for the care of those in need. In the first few centuries A.D., it cannot be overlooked that hospitality played an instrumental role in the spread and credibility of the Gospel. It paid no heed to race, class or gender, but infiltrated lives with Good News and an offer to come and partake. "Deeds speak the language of the great virtues far better than words do... words limp outside the gates of the mystery of compassion for strangers," mused Philip Hallie. Indeed, Jesus came, He spoke, and He acted... perfectly. We are left with His example to do likewise, including meeting the "strangers in our midst" where they are and inviting them in to our social circles, our row at church, our conversation, our plans, our communities, and our homes.

Many have followed the example of the early church in offering hospitality to strangers, including refugees, the homeless, the disabled, the sick, and wanderers. In so doing, Dorathy Day, a Catholic Relief Services worker poetically remembers, "Mistakes there were, mistakes there are, there will be." Serving people in this way never follows a systematic process; it is sacrificial love and love, well, it's messy. A dish may be broken, sheets sullied and carpets muddied, but the gift is worth the sacrifice. It is better to give than to receive. "Show hospitality," God plainly says in Romans 12. In the end, making room and welcoming can be uncomfortable and uneasy, but "the biggest mistake is to play things very safe in this life and end up being moral failures," concludes Day.

I am convinced most of these blog entries are opportunities for me to preach to myself as much as anyone else, so as I respond to conviction and tease out the application of God's call to hospitality, join me.

Pohl suggests that embracing sustained hospitality requires a full girded in prayer, a light hold on possessions, and a commitment to a simplified lifestyle. It can be difficult to know to whom, when, and how much if we are distracted by our complex lifestyle and not listening to the Father. What a brilliant place to start.

"The opposite of cruelty is not simply freedom from the cruel relationship, it is hospitality." Philip Hallie.

World Religions 2.0

2011-09-14T17:24:00.003-04:00

A new world religion has arrived on the scene. Despite a gapping lack of a charismatic founder or body of doctrinal literature, it has gained followers at lightning speed. It's called "Moralistic Therapeutic Deism" and was first specifically identified by a study into the religious thoughts of American teenagers by Christian Smith, a Sociology professor at UNC-Chapel Hill. Alongside Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, Christianity and Judaism, Moralistic Therapeutic Deism is certainly something you would recognize, even if not by name.

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism "is about inculcating a moralistic approach to life. It teaches that central to living a good and happy life is being a good, moral person. That means being nice, kind, pleasant, respectful, responsible, at work on self-improvement, taking care of one's health, and doing one's best to be successful."

Being "nice" is a central tenant of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. It follows then that holding strong theological convictions that exclude other truth claims is not nice, rather outright rude. Here, MTD consciously separates from Christianity since standing behind some central truths of the Christian life is a direct violation of MTD doctrine. The word nice is actually never used in the Bible.

Secondly, MTD is also about "about providing therapeutic benefits to its adherents." It is the religious feel-good pill that costs no money. MTD is also the only world religion void of an acknowledgement of suffering or sacrifice. "This is not a religion of repentance from sin, of keeping the Sabbath, of living as a servant of a sovereign divinity, of steadfastly saying one's prayers, of faithfully observing high holy days, of building character through suffering, of basking in God's love and grace, of spending oneself in gratitude and love for the cause of social justice, etc.," explains Smith in his study. "Rather, what appears to be the dominant religion among U.S. teenagers is centrally about feeling good, happy, secure, at peace. It is about attaining subjective well-being, being able to resolve problems, and getting along amiably with other people." Happiness is the end to which we seek.

Third, MTD also alters the concept of God. He is still one who orders the universe and gives humans moral guidelines, but He is not one who is personally involved with human affairs. He's especially not involved in the personal happenings in which we prefer God to stay at a distance. In MTD, God is not God of all things, rather of a select few convenient things (i.e. meeting my needs).

Lastly, the most interesting facet of MTD noted by Smith is that this new world religion dominates our culture without requiring adherents to leave their church affiliations or Christian identification. "We have come with some confidence to believe that a significant part of Christianity in the United States is actually [only] tenuously Christian in any sense that is seriously connected to the actual historical Christian tradition, but is rather substantially morphed into Christianity's misbegotten step-cousin, Christian Moralistic Therapeutic Deism" summarizes Smith in his book Soul Searching. "We now live in a nation that largely considers itself Christian, overwhelmingly believes in some deity, considers itself fervently religious, but has virtually no connection to historic Christianity."

It's flexible dimensions require little, but what does this new religion offer in return for it's teasing appeal of ease and comfort? Perhaps the benefits are just what the seekers seek- the resolution of problems and a good feeling. But is that worth following?

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. Hebrews 11:6

The Hope of Restoration

2011-08-30T17:08:00.018-04:00

No one could have missed yet another example of the earth's ability to demolish and destroy this weekend as Hurricane Irene collided with the East Coast. Irene wreaked damage, but not as much as originally feared by its precarious trajectory across major East Coast cities.

What might have been overlooked about this natural disaster is that, as 2011’s tenth billion-dollar episode, it has tied the 2008 record for most billion-dollar disasters in one calendar year.

Courtesy of Our Amazing Planet, here are the others:

Upper Midwest flooding, summer: Melting of an above-average snowpack across the northern Rocky Mountains, combined with above-average precipitation, caused the Missouri and Souris rivers to swell beyond their banks across the Upper Midwest. An estimated 11,000 people were forced to evacuate Minot, N.D., due to the record high level of the Souris River. Numerous levees were breached along the Missouri River, flooding thousands of acres of farmland. The flooding, which is ongoing, has caused more than $2 billion in damages.

Mississippi River flooding, spring-summer: Persistent rainfall (nearly triple the normal precipitation amounts in the Ohio Valley), combined with melting snowpack, caused historical flooding along the Mississippi River and its tributaries. The region suffered $2 billion to $4 billion in losses. At least two people died.

Southern Plains/Southwest drought, heat wave and wildfires, spring-summer: Drought, heat waves, and wildfires scorched through Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, southern Kansas, western Arkansas and Louisiana this year. In Texas and Oklahoma, respectively, 75 percent and 63 percent of range and pasture conditions were classified as "very poor" as of mid-August. Wildfire fighting costs for the region are about $1 million per day. Well over $5 billion in damage has been done so far, with over 2,000 homes and structures lost.

Midwest/Southeast tornadoes, May 22-27: Central and southern states saw approximately 180 twisters and 177 deaths within a week . A tornado rated EF-5 on the tornado damage scale struck Joplin, Mo., resulting in at least 141 deaths, making it the deadliest single tornado to strike the United States since modern tornado record keeping began in 1950. The total losses were greater than $7 billion.

Southeast/Ohio Valley/Midwest tornadoes, April 25-30: This outbreak of tornadoes over central and southern states led to 327 deaths. Of those fatalities, 240 occurred in Alabama. The deadliest of the estimated 305 tornadoes in the outbreak was an EF-5 that hit northern Alabama, killing 78 people. Several major metropolitan areas were directly affected by strong tornadoes, including Tuscaloosa, Birmingham and Huntsville, Ala., and Chattanooga, Tenn. Total losses exceeded $9 billion.

Midwest/Southeast tornadoes, April 14-16: An outbreak over central and southern states produced an estimated 160 tornadoes. Despite the large overall number of tornadoes, few were classified as intense, with just 14 EF-3 --and no EF-4 or EF-5 -- tornadoes identified. Total losses were greater than $2 billion. Thirty-eight people died, 22 of them in North Carolina.

Southeast/Midwest tornadoes, April 8-11: An outbreak of tornadoes over central and southern states saw an estimated 59 tornadoes. Total losses were greater than $2.2 billion.

Midwest/Southeast tornadoes, April 4-5: An outbreak of tornadoes over central and southern states saw an estimated 46 tornadoes. Total losses were greater than $2.3 billion. Nine people died.

Groundhog Day blizzard, Jan 29-Feb 3: A large winter storm hit many central, eastern and northeastern states. Chicago was brought to a virtual standstill when 1 to 2 feet (0.3 to 0.6 meters) of snow fell across the city. Total losses were greater than $2 billion. The snowstorm killed 36 people.

You are not alone if that list raises an eyebrow. The intensity and sheer quantity of weather disasters in recent past has led more than one person to wonder if end times prophecies are slowly being fulfilled.

Is the world ending? Are we spiraling out of control? Is the earth hinging on the brink of absolute demolition?

No. We are neither left to our own devices, nor precariously hinging between death by earthquake or storm. The promise is not demolition, but restoration for those claiming redemption in Christ.

What we do know is that no one knows the day or hour except for the Father (Matthew 24:36) and the city that we are waiting for is worth the wait… For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come... A city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11&13).

Until then, we shouldn’t be surprised by calamities. It's part of being fallen. Of course this doesn't dismiss the pain of death and loss, but it does remind us that this is not all there is to life. We are expectantly waiting for something more. Thank God! Romans explains that creation is subject to frustration at its present state, but it will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom that we as children of God have already tasted.

In the words of Nicole Unice:

God Made it Good.
Sin Made it Suffer.
Love Walked Among Us.
To live free, Believe–
Our Risen King Cometh!

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. Romans 8:22-25

Funerals and Earthquakes

2011-08-23T22:18:00.002-04:00

Without wanting to, I've been forced to reckon with the idea of death lately. Last week, a beloved coworker tragically and suddenly lost her 21 year-old brother in a late night single car accident. This week, an earthquake erupted for an uncomfortably local visit.

There is nothing that brings you face to face with your powerlessness like the prospect of death. Our culture professes power over virtually everything else. But death, no one escapes. No one in their right mind can pretend to exert power over it. We have the capability to control so many other things- disease, time, pregnancy, careers, location, colors, styles, tastes, textures, smells. The list goes on and on. You name it, we can choose it. If we can't choose it, we can change it. But not death.

The chilling shock of death when we see it, experience it in those we love, and consider it as a probability for ourselves is just as much a shock to our controlling tendencies as it is to our expectations. It's not just that we didn't see it coming, it's that we didn't choose it and we can't change it. Our power is not useful here. Our self reliance is not relevant. The status quo is not reliable.

Because of both a recent tragedy and a narrow escape from it, I am reminded of our powerlessness when faced with the grave. We don't choose, although Lord knows we would like to. Believer and atheist, Jew and Gentile, scientist and philosopher, Muslim and Christian- all confess that we are empty handed and powerless before the grave.

But what is the response? For the skeptic, it may be one bad night's rest and a decisive banishment of the thought to a dusty corner of the mind. For the believer, we are keenly reminded of the singular Hope that appears most certainly in times and places in which we lack. Death is too large for us to control. We are powerless before it. We need someone larger than ourselves.

So grace it is... it's all we've got. God so loved the world that He gave... so that we could hope.

Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. Hebrews 2:14-15.

For the Days I Want to Feel Small

2011-08-10T22:06:00.000-04:00

Sis and I were talking about the strange things we do on our computers when we turn to mush and get sucked into the world wide web. Kelsey looks for cars at carmax.com, peruses every posted picture on hokiesports.com, and reviews weather forecasts for every city she's ever thought she might like to live.

I prefer to visit blogs, especially Google's Blogs of Note. It's like the work of paparazzi, but autobiographical and therefore, consensual. I also can't stay away from National Geographic's website. Their Photo of the Day never disappoints. As I find myself stuck on their website again tonight, marveling at the wonders of the world as captured by camera, I am reminded how BIG the world is and how even BIGGER still God must be to have created this. These many creatures, these unique people, these striking habitats... all different, carefully constructed, and precariously balanced. All beautiful in their design. Our Maker is innovative, yes?

Lesson to self: Breathe deeply and step out of self-centered, tiny world. Breathe deeply again, and the breath is a little less haggard. It's also a little deeper, in fact, because my perspective has returned. My vision has widened and deepened.

I am not the center of the world. I am not the protagonist. I am God's beloved, but me and my flippant preferences are not meant to reign as absolute in this life.

I figured I'd pass a few photos and captions along, courtesy of nationalgeographic.com, of course! If I'm not inspired enough to write something worth reading, I'll settle for passing along something worth viewing.

AUGUST 10, 2011

Kermode Bear in Tree, British Columbia

Photograph by Paul Nicklen, National Geographic

This Month in Photo of the Day: National Geographic Magazine Features

A mother of two cubs climbs a Pacific crab apple tree to grab its tart and tiny fruit. In years when autumn salmon numbers are low, the bears must find other food, such as wild berries, lupine roots, and mussels.

See more pictures from the August 2011 feature story "Spirit Bear."

AUGUST 8, 2011

Nujood Ali, Yemen

Photograph by Stephanie Sinclair, National Geographic

This Month in Photo of the Day: National Geographic Magazine Features

Nujood Ali was ten when she fled her abusive, much older husband and took a taxi to the courthouse in Sanaa, Yemen. The girl's courageous act—and the landmark legal battle that ensued—turned her into an international heroine for women's rights. Now divorced, she is back home with her family and attending school again.

See more pictures from the June 2011 feature story "Too Young to Wed."

AUGUST 3, 2011

Al Kazimiyah Shrine, Baghdad

Photograph by Lynsey Addario, National Geographic

This Month in Photo of the Day: National Geographic Magazine Features

Pilgrims visit Al Kazimiyah Shrine, a Shiite holy site relatively unharmed by the years of violence.

See more pictures from the July 2011 feature story "Baghdad After the Storm."

JULY 31, 2011

Koala, Australia

Photograph by Gary Brown, Your Shot

This Month in Photo of the Day: Animal Pictures

This little miracle was saved from its dead mother. Taken at The Australian Reptile Park in Australia NSW. The amazing staff hand raised this little fella and against all the odds he is surviving and is just immensely cute!!!

JULY 29, 2011

Cheetah, South Africa

Photograph by Frank Trimbos, My Shot

This Month in Photo of the Day: Animal Pictures

Enjoying the attention, the cheetah Juba stretches out in the grass at Wetevreden Leeuplaas (Lion Farm). She needed some peace and quiet because her leg was broken.

JULY 21, 2011

Deer, Japan

Photograph by Angie Sin, Your Shot

This Month in Photo of the Day: Animal Pictures

Deer in Nara, Japan, are revered as holy messengers of God and are allowed to roam freely. They are well known for their bowing gestures for food.

The New York Times on Evangelicals

2011-08-05T07:44:00.002-04:00

Finally, a realistic, comprehensive take on the evangelical Christian, articulated by none other than "liberal" Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times. Whether you consider yourself an evangelical or not, this commentary is a must-read.

In sum, Kristof uses the recent death of "gentle" 90 year-old John Stott, a British Christian writer and pastor, as a launching pad for painting a more holistic view of the evangelical movement. He begins with the overdone stereotypes, i.e. evangelicals are self-righteous, anti-intellectual, and reactionary.

I know I am not alone in cringing when I hear these judgmental, rash assumptions. Each of these words hits a heavy blow, first to my pride, and then to my heart. I know it should never be surprising to walk into verbal persecution, but it leads me to contemplate: Are we really being the people of God that do the work of God if the first words that come to mind in describing the evangelical movement are self-righteous, anti-intellectual, and reactionary? Something is not right. Part of the problem is today's scan the page, grab a to-go cup, talk on your Bluetooth at the grocery store type of culture. Luckily, Kristof doesn't leave it there; he rises above today's common reluctance to peer beneath the surface... of anything... and actually uses observation and facts to put together an informed opinion. Fancy that.

He says, "Yet that casual dismissal is profoundly unfair of the movement as a whole. It reflects a kind of reverse intolerance, sometimes a reverse bigotry, directed at tens of millions of people who have actually become increasingly engaged in issues of global poverty and justice."

Thank you Nicholas. Looking beneath the surface of the evangelical front pagers, so to speak, reveals a group of authentic people that simply believe God is who He says He is and tries, although failing often, to do what He said to do. We're not perfect, and don't claim to be. That's the point of the Gospel. But, I don't think it rash to say there is more good in the world because of the God's working through His followers.

The Sweetness, Substance, and Stickiness of Communion

2011-07-31T17:56:00.001-04:00

Every week, in the midst of Communion, I can't help but notice the way the wet, sweet bread sticks in my teeth. I partake, I remember, I say thanks, I taste the sweetness, and then I chew. I chew some more, usually pause a second, twist my tongue to get the combination out of my molars, chew a little more, and swallow.

Is it blasphemous to be writing about this? Hopefully not. I know it seems the antithesis of what one is supposed to be thinking of while receiving the sacrament, yet week in and week out I can't help but notice the stickiness of Communion... and how it illustrates to me the stickiness of Jesus. Corny and weird, but true.

Jesus, in His holy perfection and love, will not be quickly dismissed or shoved aside. He is dynamic, followable, and charismatic in His leadership. His sacrifice of both body and blood on the cross binds us to Himself in the Trinity. Essentially, He is sticky. Our relationship with Him is one that sticks. His followers are meant to be sticky. So it's not too far off base that taking Communion prove to be a sticky experience.

Lingering after church today, I noticed one of the pastors' daughters dancing around the gym with a styrofoam cup full of leftover communion bread. I then entered a conversation with a friend in which he held a few pieces of bread in hand and casually nibbled as we talked. "It's too good to go to waste" he laughed. Indeed, it might be the most delicious communion bread I've ever tasted. Fresh-baked every Saturday and pleasantly sweet, it just tastes darn right good.

Please don't think RH disrespects the practice of Communion. I like to think of God smiling at our childlike enjoyment. In Communion, the elements become sacred symbols of blood poured out and a body broken. They are earthly food and drink meant to aid us in remembering that Chris emptied Himself, made Himself nothing, FOR US. Upon consumption, you also can't help but notice that the bread and juice are both sweet and substantive. The combination tastes pleasant on my tongue and fills me.

So I am reminded not just of Jesus' kenotic sacrifice and nature, but also of His sustenance and the sweetness of communion with Him. Yet again, God uses the simple things to draw me in.

Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. Matthew 26:26-28.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 24:8.

Debt Doomsday Approaches

2011-07-28T08:17:00.000-04:00

What the heck, people?! Please make a decision: http://www.worldmag.com/webextra/18402

For as much bipartisan talk as our airwaves relay to us commoners, it sure doesn't seem like our representatives comprehend the practice of bipartisanship. This country's cavernous party divides run so deep that they have transformed the other side into real-life enemies. The subject of the battles vary, yet always rage front and center in the public eye, slowly chipping away at our confidence in our leaders and heightening our cynical response towards them.

An NPR interviewee stated recently that a decade ago, fierce debates could be fought across the aisle, but handshaking and casual catching up always surfaced when the debate was over. Today, that "post-game" civility has disappeared from Congress' floor. Let's return to the soccer field and make sure our kids are high-fiving and congratulating each other with a "good game" so they don't follow in the footsteps of today's leaders.

You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven... If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Matthew 5:43-47

Muted

2011-07-24T22:25:00.002-04:00

To be honest, I can't keep track of Paul's imprisonments recorded in the New Testament. They seem countless. Their individual significances and differences are completely lost on me. All I know is that Paul was a man on a mission who persevered with the determination of a fierce athlete.

So today when my pastor pointed out the gravity of Paul's two-year incarceration without any recorded letters written during that time, I took note. "When two years had passed, [Emperor] Felix... left Paul in prison," Acts 24 reads. Over two years in his prime spent in a cell. We read Paul's experience and personality into this story and presume fruit was grown and reaped during his tenure in prison, but there is essentially no evidence to assure us.

What if Paul simply sat and prayed? What if he despaired? What if he sang? What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation with a skeptic? What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation? What if?

God has afforded me comfort lately in pointing out that patriarchs, popular New Testament figures, and modern day saints alike have all lived "muted" years. These years spent void of memorable color and spice passed void of noteworthy productivity or miracles. Noah was 500 before he is even mentioned in the Bible. Moses and the Israelites wandered the Arabian desert for 40 years between the miraculous parting of the Red Sea and the long-awaited arrival to the land promised. This morning I learned of Paul's muted years.

Lesson to self: These years are not unique to me. I gather that they are not necessarily BAD, perhaps they are simply part of the package, an ebb in the flow of life. At the risk of creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, I tentatively think I'm in such a season now, and thank the Lord that I'm not alone! Other folks, even Bible folks, gusty folks, and wise folks describe having lived through a few muted years along their way.

Henri Nouwen confirmed and articulated this for me tonight with his September 2, 1985 journal entry written during his first days at a L'Arche community, a haven where mentally handicapped people live together in the spirit of the beatitudes. After voluntarily leaving Harvard Divinity School and all of its prestige, Nouwen entered a simple and communal life at a L'Arche community located in the tiny French village of Trosly.

Here he entered a season outwardly muted, yet spiritually enriching. No brilliant books. No fascinating lectures. No reputable companions. A journal of thoughts, prayers, and questions is all that year produced.

"I know in my heart that now is the time to pray, to read, to meditate, to be quiet, and to wait until God clearly calls me. I am happy with the clarity I have... This is clearly a time for hiddenness and withdrawal from lecturing and giving retreats, courses, seminars, and workshops. It is a time for being alone with God. I feel a tension within me. I have only a limited number of years left for active ministry. Why not use them well? Yet one work spoken with a pure heart is worth thousands spoken in a state of spiritual turmoil. Time given to inner renewal is never wasted. God is not in a hurry."
Henri Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey

Meeting With a Missionary

2011-07-21T16:39:00.003-04:00

Andrea was already at the coffee shop last night when when I arrived. 6:59. It's a new environment and foreign neighborhood to her, but she looks like she spends every morning there by the way she casually chats with the barista.

There is something consistently familiar about missionaries. A distinct air of confident humility precedes them that, combined with a charming openness to people, especially diverse people, is unmistakable. To a missionary, people of different heritages, nationalities, and worldviews aren't something to be investigated, critiqued or avoided, but encountered with a steady hope that they could know God. An expectant eagerness lingers that peers in to one's soul, engages, and observes how God is already moving and how they might join in.

There is something else. Since missionaries typically witness in foreign cultures and environments, they seem to have learned to be at home anywhere, and you can tell. They fixate on the person and conversation at hand, seemingly unimpressed and completely undistracted by their environment. It's tertiary. People and what the Spirit is doing in them is primary.

Andrea, her husband, and daughter are taking respite in the States for the final months of her second pregnancy. For the last four years, they have been ministering to their students, co-professors, and neighbors in China. They plan to continue to do so until God says to leave. This pregnant sabbatical will not be spent void of Christian community for Ann and her family. They know how precious fellowship is and don't plan to squander a second of it in their time in the States. So they have jumped right in at Redemption Hill.

Over coffee last night, I was reminded of Janee saying once that God seems to use international missionaries to encourage and commission domestic Christians just as much as we domestic folks encourage and commission international missionaries. Most of us here in the States will admit to at least one instance of climbing up on our high horses and thinking Aren't I a nice, good person? as we mail our checks and pray when it comes to mind. Yet, the reality is that the missionaries we send and support are also helping us, inspiring us, challenging us, sending us and enlightening us.

In a similar vein, researchers predict that within this decade, if not already, the number of Christians in Africa, Asia, and South America will surpass the number in North America and Europe. Soon after, it's not far fetched to speculate that missionaries will be sent to us rather than primarily us to them. Times, they are a changin'!

Meeting with Andrea left me refreshed and awake, joyful and inspired, and... thankful. I'm grateful that though the workers are few and the labor is difficult, God uses us to reciprocally enrich each other as we go.

He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. Luke 10:2

The Pursuit of Happiness

2011-07-16T13:56:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I've posted, and much of the reason is that life is SO FUN right now. You might laugh at that statement, but I've been spending many nights with friends, other nights reclined on the couch, and weekends trotting around with friends and family. The last month has included celebrating our nation's independence, family birthdays, engagements and upcoming nuptials, CT Scans with no cancer in them, successfully teaching my dog to run with me, and the intoxicating combination of warm sun and fresh water. In many ways, the last year as a whole has been marked by ease, fun and happiness.

Sound good? Agreed. But a quiet, yet constant sense of dissatisfaction persists. Were we meant to live happily? Thomas Jefferson, for one, thought we were at least meant to pursue it. But, is that the ultimate means and end God has in mind for us?

The nagging discontent tells me no. I've been timidly asking God for challenge recently- something more than the status quo I see around me. I don't expect that challenge must set up shop in lieu of happiness. They are not mutually exclusive. I simply ask that challenge would come my way, and that God would provide me the courage to pursue the fertile soil for growth rather than cast it aside because I'm too busy pursuing happiness. I want to be stretched, grown and broken. Happiness usually doesn't offer that effect.

And of course, I also enjoy happiness. It's easy. It's fun. It requires little and appears to offer much. But it doesn't usually produce growth and sanctification the way adversity does.

I suspect that the elusive nature of the pursuit of happiness is something everyone sees, but most ignore. Observation reveals that some folks acknowledge it, yet fewer still consciously refuse to search the well of happiness for their satisfaction. It's not a secret then that God didn't design us with the ultimate goal of happiness. The Bible certainly doesn't articulate so and general revelation (what humans can learn about God from the general world) doesn't buy it either, as evidenced by Toni Morrison's recent speech to Rutgers University graduates:

"I have often wished that Jefferson had not used that phrase, 'the pursuit of happiness,' as the third right - although I understand in the first draft it was 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of property.' Of course, I would have been one of those properties one had a right to pursue, so I suppose happiness is an ethical improvement over a life devoted to the acquisition of land, acquisition of resources, acquisition of slaves. Still, I would rather he had written life, liberty, and the pursuit of meaningfulness or integrity or truth.

I know that happiness has been the real, if covert, goal of your labors here. I know that it informs your choice of companions, the profession you will enter, but I urge you, please don't settle for happiness. It's not good enough. Of course, you deserve it. But if that is all you have in mind - happiness - I want to suggest to you that personal success devoid of meaningfulness, free of a steady commitment to social justice, that's more than a barren life, it is a trivial one. It's looking good instead of doing good."

Thank you Toni, for educating at least one class of graduates with this universal truth: don't settle for happiness.

Thank you, God, for redeeming our trivial life and giving us joy and fulfillment in place of bareness.

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. I Corinthians 6:19-20

Glad and Thankful

2011-06-22T15:08:00.001-04:00

The last week of May marked the end of Kelsey’s three-round chemotherapy prescription. With much joy, we continued to eagerly wait for her body to heal from the aggressive treatments so she could be tested for any remaining cancer cells. Monday marked her final test to determine if any cancer remained. Then, we only had to wait for results.

“PET Scan was all clear!” was the message we received yesterday as Kelsey got off the phone with the doctor. “So glad to hear good news” was the text message I read from my mom yesterday afternoon.

So glad indeed. Glad for the hope that God will one day permanently deliver us from physical, spiritual, and emotional suffering into the new city and new bodies He designed for us. Glad for this hope that carries us through the here and now. Glad that He often chooses to give us a taste of that deliverance in our fallen earthly circumstances.

And thankful. I can’t remember the last time I was so full of thanks. Thank you Father for answering with a “yes” to us banging on your door for healing. Friends and Family, thank you for praying, for making bracelets, for offering to clean my parents house, for calling, for hosting, for visiting, for talking, for listening, for buying my sister a pedicure because you just wanted to do something. Thank you.

We are glad and we are thankful. Please pray for more good news in the coming months of check-ups and check-ins.

But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you. (Psalm 5:11)

I will give you thanks, for you answered me; you have become my salvation. (Psalm 118:21)

Spring Moments

2011-06-17T14:57:00.000-04:00

I did a terrible job of documenting my college experience with photos, mostly because someone else was always doing it for me, and with a better camera. I'm trying to do better in this season. Time flies when you have fun, and one must have pictures to show for it!

"I heart U"on top of slow cooker lasagna made by my husband. One of the many perks of marriage.

Cute.

Father with first year son-in-law. Funny.

Massive photo ops at Boston's Public Garden.

Visiting friends in faraway places.

Pig roast to benefit Goochland Younglife. Literal pig roast.

First day of summer associate position, complete with first day outfit and briefcase (bye bye backpack).

This Rocky Journey

2011-06-16T11:24:00.003-04:00

Traversing this rocky ground of learning to love God for God’s sake and not for my sake is just that- ROCKY. I still love God most for what He does for me, for giving me purpose, deliverance, hope, fulfillment. And so, fulfillment has malignantly grown into an idol. Hunting and chasing, I'm leading myself astray. Sanctification has been confused with self-actualization.

There is more. The destination is not self-fulfillment, but a stance committed to loving God for who He is, even when this does not always produce the adventurous living I want. Do I want pulse-pounding discovery of new heights or quiet and deep satisfaction? Are these mutually exclusive?

Stalling, disillusionment and confusion have all marked this journey. This is new: loving God more than loving the refined me.

We are not meant to be illuminated versions, but the common stuff of ordinary life exhibiting the marvel of the grace of God. Drudgery is the touchstone of character. The great hindrance in spiritual life is that we will look for big things to do. "Jesus took a towel . . . and began to wash the disciples' feet."

There are times when there is no illumination and no thrill, but just the daily round, the common task. Routine is God's way of saving us between our times of inspiration. Do not expect God always to give you His thrilling minutes, but learn to live in the domain of drudgery by the power of God.

Oswald Chambers

June 15

My Utmost for His Highest

The City

2011-06-14T17:21:00.002-04:00

I often struggle to articulate why I live in what many Richmonders consider a “bad part of town.” The real answer is that it was the area that provided the most bang for my buck when Jeromy and I originally began apartment searching. More space, less money. The apartments in that particular neighborhood afforded space to sit and eat dinner at a table, enough space to invite others to sit at our table too! Enough said. Beyond that, I briefly cite my desire to live in a different part of the city than where I grew up. Nothing fancy, nothing noble.

The reason I decided to stay another year doesn’t discount the reasons above, but certainly has a little more meat to it. My block is not “rough” by any stroke of the imagination. It’s friendly, often loud and occasionally dirty, but I’ve discovered the value in living within the confines of the city for a few reasons.

First, lack of personal space ironically creates space for residents to know neighbors in a raw way. I can’t put on much of a face when it’s 6:30 in the morning and I’m standing outside in my pajamas, waiting for my dog to pee. Nor can I hide my poor parallel parking skills when the neighbors are standing four feet away from the ever elusive curb. My neighbors have seen me unguarded and real. My anonymity has been laid at the altar. Communication theory teaches that space equals power. Think of who has the largest office in a typical corporate environment; it’s the ones who possess the most power. Since Jesus suggests we relinquish power by giving ourselves away, it’s not a large leap to surmise that sacrificing space, and therefore power, is a step towards the life for which we were designed (a way contrary to the current of society). Of course, moving from acquaintances to friends takes time, but opportunities to know your neighbor and love your neighbor abound in the city. You could have very little in common with them, but you share common space and consequently share life, albeit unintentionally.

Secondly, Tim Keller of Redeemer Pres (NYC) notes that changes in law, art, science, policy, style, thought and ultimately culture always flow from cities into the rest of the world. It’s true. Our lawmakers, artists and stoics are primarily found working and/or living in between bustling city streets. Coined “center city ministry,” Keller sees reaching the world’s culture shapers as a first step in influencing culture and welcoming others into Christian community. It follows that Christians who desire to partake in this missional effort are better equipped to do so by physically moving to the epicenter of cultural tremors. This approach positions Christian witness to the creative class as an innovative yet essential priority. If you’re not familiar, see a few center city ministry examples below:

http://www.namb.net/send-cities/

http://thewellbrussels.wordpress.com/

http://www.redeemer.com/

Lastly, in direct obedience to Scripture’s call and Jesus’ example of serving the poor, cities provide a plethora of opportunities to minister in this way. In reality, most of the United States’ poor reside in rural environments, but many impoverished find asylum in the city as well. The below World Magazine article praises a Kentucky ministry called Challenge House, Inc. which draws local missionaries to reside in poor neighborhoods. A growing trend in inner city ministry, Church Hill Activities and Tutoring of Richmond follows a similar model. Four tutoring sites offer a space for kids to come, rest, and learn almost every day of the week. These sites aren’t instructional buildings, they are homes of CHAT staff, homes where kids celebrate at birthday parties and adults host friends for Saturday cookouts. These are normal people living in normal homes, but not in what we would consider a normal neighborhood. These folks don’t just run programs, but love their neighbors, the poor, as they live beside them day in and day out. One of the Challenge House, Inc. participants explains the heart of this ministry method by citing Dr. John Perkins, author of multiple books on inner city ministry. He says “Jesus came to earth, a rough neighborhood, to be with those who needed Him. His message to some affluent people: Relocate to poor areas.” Challenging, for sure. Read more here:

http://www.worldmag.com/articles/18138

http://www.chatrichmond.org/

These realities and movements speak more fully to why I am staying in the city and why I love the city. Goal for year two will be to grow from simply loving the idea to living the idea with authenticity. In the end, no matter what the land looks like around your house, that’s what matters.

Natural Order

2011-06-07T07:49:00.001-04:00

I've been MIA for a bit, mostly due to long nightly walks I've been taking with the Lewis family's newest member! That didn't take long, did it? Jeromy and I adopted a 15 month-old pitbull mix from Animal Care and Control last week named Beanie. She is mild-mannered, affectionate, gentle, and happy. I love her.

It follows that I've been reading up on training and disciplining dogs. Go big or go home, right? A few tactics Jeromy and I have adopted are:

-the tight, short leash since whoever is leading the walk is considered the leader in the relationship

-consistent one-word commands

-refusing to cave (except for her first night with us in which she whined to be let out of her crate... I just couldn't take it!)

Aside from the techniques, I've been learning the fundamentals of dog-dog and dog-human relationships by reading Cesar's Way. Written by Cesar Millan, who was made famous by his Dog Whisperer television program, it's an incredibly thorough survey of dog psychology that insists on describing the foundational ways dogs think and act before offering specific, practical solutions for training. In sum, it's primarily a "why" book, then a "how" book. As silly as it seems to be this invested in the behavior of our dog, I'm intrigued by the governing principal of human dominance and dog submission. In everything, you are to show yourself the "pack leader," loving, but strong. According to Cesar and his plethora of success stories, the dog is happiest and most comfortable with you in this position.

Jada Pinkett Smith explains in the Preface, "You see, we humans are the ones who have lost the concept of the natural order in which our dogs function... Cesar helps us understand the natural ways our dogs live, so they become more balanced and happier. Our dogs, in this state, enable us to develop a healthier companionship with them."

Cesar implores that we actually do our dogs a disservice by letting them prance around in control and succumbing to their demands. A dog is most comfortable (and best behaved) when it knows who the leader is and what the leader wants, when "natural order" is maintained.

Martin Deeley, President of the International Association of Canine Professionals, further explains, "We have the means to help us achieve well-behaved dogs, yet we lack sufficient understanding of our dogs' natures. While most of us are well-intentioned and loving dog owners, this lack of understanding can create many common dog problems. Put simply, dogs are not small humans. They do not think like humans, act like humans, or see the world in the same way as humans. Dogs are dogs, and we need to respect them as dogs. We do them a huge disservice by treating them like humans and thus create many of the bad behaviors we see today... In this book, Cesar reminds us that the most important part of training a dog is building a healthy relationship between human and dog, one in which the boundaries between the two are clearly drawn."

I stopped when I read Deeley's commentary and re-read, extrapolating the concept to another dominant-submissive relationship, that of God and us. Put simply, humans are not small gods. They do not think like God, act like God, or see the world in the same way as God. Humans are humans. We do ourselves a huge disservice by treating ourselves and each other like gods and thus create many of the bad behaviors we see today...

We live most abundantly and securely when we find ourselves in the natural order designed for us.

We get messed up when we demand treatment as God OR when we put others in God's place. I'm learning that dogs need boundaries, discipline, and a firm hand. They need to live within the natural order created for them. Incredibly, they not only need these boundaries, but enjoy the structure those securities provide. Are we really so different? I'm not saying humans are dogs in God's eyes. We know we were created with the very Imago Deo of God in us. Amazing. But we do need discipline, training, and direction from our pack leader in the same way a dog does. Not just because it will help us lead a fuller life, but because it is a reminder of the Father's love for us.

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Hebrews 12:5-11.

Disciplining Beanie (who we have actually renamed Bailey) is a sign of love. It is meant to produce a comfortable, secure life for her in which she knows her boundaries and the behaviors expected of her. In a similar and more magnificent way, God disciplines us to produce the fruit of peace and a harvest of righteousness in us. It is for our good. Why are we so stubbornly resistant to God's leadership of us? Why are we so unwilling to submit? Our culture implores us to believe that freedom comes through independence, yet the natural order created for us cries out "Follow!"

God is teaching me a great deal about the beauty of submission to Him as a result of adopting Bailey. "When dogs and human live together," says Cesar, "A calm-submissive state of mind is the best state of mind for the dog to have." In recounting his childhood experience with dogs on his family's Mexican farm, he says, "The dogs always seemed happy, relaxed, serene, and content. They didn't exhibit stress or anxious behavior. They were healthy, balanced dogs, as nature intended them to be." What's so wrong with striving to posture myself in a calm-submissive state before my Father?

Pet Ownership: Frivolous or Fruitful?

2011-05-24T20:52:00.015-04:00

Saturday morning graciously afforded me time to sleep in, and oh was it marvelous. I hopped out of bed feeling well rested and spry, thankful for the weekend and all the promising possibilities ahead. Light was already trickling in through the windows and the 80-something number and sun icon I saw on the weather forecast scrolled across my mind. I made my way to the kitchen, surveying the many delicious breakfast options and the time on the oven clock that seemed overly generous. It was one of those moments you feel as though you are the protagonist in a movie. Not just any movie, but one with a spunky, upbeat soundtrack. It was just that good.

While cleaning up from breakfast, I caught movement on our back porch from the corner of my eye. A deliberate look in that direction revealed an unfamiliar, yet friendly looking dog at the door. A step toward the door revealed another young, yellow mid-sized dog wagging his tail and finally, nose to the glass, I noticed our neighbors' sweet basset hound Miles in the middle of all the action. The trio begged for attention, so Jeromy and I stepped outside to treat them to some lunch meat. We were smitten. Good natured and well groomed, the dogs didn't offer much to dislike. They were sweet, innocent, and playful. Thus began Jeromy and I's obsession over the idea of adopting one of our own.

It must have been this movie-like moment combined with my parents' recent dog purchase that has catapulted the discussion. Should we adopt a dog? If so, what kind? How much would it cost? Could it handle apartment life? Who will take care of it when we're out of town? How do the pros and cons stack up? At some point yesterday I asked Jeromy, "Do you think Jesus would adopt a dog?"

Great question. If the Son of Man didn't have anywhere to lay His head, how would He have carried a canine around with Him from dusty city to dusty city? I can't picture it. But, would Jesus have owned a dog today if He were breathing, walking, talking, and residing in my neighborhood?

On one hand, pets tie you down and assert weight in decisions in which they have no place. The answer to questions like "Should I go visit my friend two hours away to celebrate her engagement or stop by my grandpa's house on my way home from work?" should never ever be answered based on the preference of the four-legged household member. I shudder at the thought of being absent to a person that needs a visit, place to stay, or lunch date in order to be present to an animal. Call me cold hearted; it just doesn't seem right. The issue of finances presents the same predicament. I can't imagine saying no to a missionary in order to ensure a yes to purchasing dog food, and at this stage in life, most financial decisions offer either/or, not both/and options. I want to make the right one.

Just a few minutes ago I heard yet another friendly exchange of two neighbors outside, both out granting their pooches a morning walk and happy to stop and catch up as their respective dogs sniffed each others' butts. On the other hand, as I was reminded by my neighbors this morning, pets also draw people together by offering an easy (and cute) common denominator. I might be too busy, rushed, or lazy to stop and make small talk, but if my dog wants to say hello, then so be it. How funny that God would use a nonverbal creature to cultivate communication and even relationship, but it happens everyday. I recently visited a friend in Boston and accompanied her on a "day in the life" in her occupation as a nanny. Part of her responsibilities required daily trips to the dog park, so off to the dog park we went, with our "Chuck It" ball throwing device. Even in this reputably harsh "fend for yourself and don't smile at me" kind of city, we were approached by another doggie parent out for a midday romp. An easy and comfortable conversation ensued. I won't flatter myself: It wasn't me, it was the dog.

So, would Jesus own a dog? Should I? I'm weighing the pros and cons, but the friendly exchanges I hear outside my window many mornings paint an alluring picture. In the end, I know God will use either decision for my good and His glory, but I desire to follow wisely on the front end. Is pet ownership a wide open door to loving our neighbor or a black hole for valuable energy, money, and time?

From top to bottom, Ms. Iowa, Sammy, and Edgar, just a few of the Richmond Animal League adoptees ready and waiting to be adopted.

God's Response Courtesy of Oswald Chambers

2011-05-18T07:34:00.000-04:00

May 18-

Behold the fowls of the air...
Consider the lilies of the field.
Matthew 6: 26, 28

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they simply are! Think of the sea, the air, the sun, the stars and the moon-- all these are, and what a ministration they exert. So often we may God's designed influence through us by our self-conscious effort to be consistent and useful. Jesus says that there is only one way to develop spiritually, and that is by concentration on God. "Do not bother about being of use to others; believe on Me" --pay attention to the Source, and out of you will flow rivers of living water. We cannot get at the springs of our natural life by common sense, and Jesus is teaching that growth in spiritual life does not depend on our watching it, but on concentration on our Father in heaven. Our heavenly Father knows the circumstances we are in, and if we keep concentrated on Him we will grow spiritually as the lilies.

The people who influence us most are not those who buttonhole us and talk to us, but those who live their lives like the stars in heaven and the lilies in the field, perfectly simply and unaffectedly. Those are the lives that mold us.

If you want to be of use to God, get rightly related to Jesus Christ and He will make you of use unconsciously every minute you live.

-Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Who v. What

2011-05-17T22:49:00.001-04:00

Aimlessness has snuck in as of late, and frankly I think it spawns from God patiently teaching me to follow HIM, not just His mission, challenging me to love Him more than His mission.

I don't know how to do that, so my steps recently have become shaky. His mission is a lot more tangible to me than He is, if separating the two is even a thing that can be done. I'm convinced that focusing on who God is more than what He does will grow my intimacy with Him, so I'm trying to learn. It's easy for me to get swept up in fairy tale-esqe action, but more difficult to stare into the eyes of a God who made me and know that He is God without focusing on the trail of beautiful footprints He leaves.

More on that later, but this lingering question has led me to evaluate who I follow, and how that fanaticism or discipleship arose in me. Specifically, do I follow people apart from their actions? Do I follow people simply because of who they are? I am aware of the movements, ideas, and fashions of thinking that have caught my attention, but I am far less cognizant of the people, if any, who have made me follow solely with the bait of their identity and not their works. Could someone be so captivating? If anyone could garner following by identity alone, certainly it is Abba.

Babies and Mamas

2011-05-08T18:10:00.001-04:00

Baby Fever: It's a real thing.

Honestly, I didn't think I would catch it... ever. I thought one day, in the far far future, Jeromy and I would logically decide it was time, pray for confirmation, take some cute pregnant wife and husband pictures, and out a baby would come. I was expecting the baby phase to come rationally and timely, like clockwork, but not like a fever.

I especially didn't expect to catch baby fever so soon after getting married, but I did. A perfect storm of sorts swirled together to make me particularly susceptible to the virus. There was the healthy component of loving Jeromy so much that I wanted to share that experience with him. Then there was the unhealthy desire for the next step, essentially a perpetual "what's next?" mentality.

Of course it didn't help that someone in every sphere of life and almost every circle of friends was pregnant or a new parent. I've sat next to three coworkers who, one at a time, got pregnant, were pregnant, and had or are having beautiful babies. Two couples in my small group subsequently traveled through the same cycle while one of my peer volunteers at CHAT is pregnant now. Weekly baby bump checks are commonplace. We brought dinner to a couple of our neighborhood friends that are new parents just this Wednesday. Every time I turn around at church there is a pregnant belly or a wide-eyed newborn rocking in the back with his mom.

It seems absolutely ridiculous, but, I want a baby. I want to be a mom. Unless God throws a curve ball at us, I know now is not the best time. I also know that being a mom takes a LOT of selflessness and lately I've been convicted of a LOT of selfishness. I like choosing when to serve. I like my space. I like rest. I like freedom. I like my routine. I like weekend adventures. I like sleeping in. For that matter, I like sleeping. I like alone time with my husband. I like alone time with God. I like visiting friends in fun places.

All that to say, realizing the many areas that need growth in order for me to be a good mom calms the baby fever. It also reminds me of the awesome moms Jeromy and I have and the pattern of selfless sacrifice they have made to rear and raise us. Happy Mother's Day Mom, and to all the others that chose the selfless way.

Limits and Possibilities

2011-05-04T17:26:00.004-04:00

I have arrived at a noteworthy point of life- the one in which I admittedly have traded in the hope of doing certain things that I read about in exchange for the reality of reading about certain things I know I will never do.

Outside magazine details many of these experiences for me. If you have ever perused the contents of this magazine, you know what I'm talking about. Outrageous, adventurous, and innovative, it's feature stories and cover studs initially inspire, then, as the storyline grows more captivating, inevitably remind me of the feats officially beyond the reach of my human hands.

So, here's to acceptance- both acceptance of limits as well as possibilities. I'm noting some growth areas in myself as I journey forward past the idealism of university life. Two years out, I can acknowledge that college lent it's ears mostly to possibility while turning a blind eye to limits. Conversely, life gives ear to limits as well as possibilities. I am only in my mid-20s, but I accept that limits exist for me, even now and as immaterial as they may be.

It's officially the first time I've carefully considered and accepted the inescapable limits that accompany aging, so this post is meant to celebrate that milestone.

Courtesy of outsideonline.com, here's a list of adventurous and skillful endeavors I will read about, but never do:

-chase down an antelope on the plains of New Mexico
-receive an Olympic gold medal
-travel the world on an international surfing tour
-run a marathon under four hours, let alone under two
-climb anything other than a carefully monitored climbing wall
-swim the English Channel
-earn the occupation of a SeaWorld trainer
-complete a full U.S. distance triathlon

The world may not be my oyster in the same way it seemed growing up, but hopeful alternatives to those I read of are within reach. I will denote these "diet adventures," and have included at least the first few on my list of realistic possibilities below:

-sprint a 400 in less than 70 seconds again
-rent a surfboard, maybe purchase a lesson, and give it a try on timid VA Beach waves
-run a full marathon
-embark on the occasional camping adventure with my kids one day
-learn a new outdoor hobby and enjoy it with others
-run 1,000 miles in one year
-venture out in an African safari
-cycle from Richmond to Williamsburg on the Virginia Capital Trail

Adventurous? Mildly. Realistic? Certainly.

It's time to come to terms with my limits and embrace possibilities.

“Only Boring People Get Bored"

2011-04-27T16:10:00.002-04:00

Or so said my driver’s education teacher sophomore year of high school. Somehow, along with the progressive “10 and 2” steering wheel handling methodology, this idea has stuck with me for a decade now. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Generally speaking, boredom can be circumvented, but willingness and creativity on the part of the individual are the required ingredients.

We all can plow right through boredom by creating or unearthing interesting events, circumstances, thoughts, conversations, etc. when none are conveniently at hand. You choose to either passively accept boredom or actively change it. My choice reflects something about me. It reflects my own self concept, feelings of self efficacy, as well as the way I interact with the world. Do I expect entertainment, change, novelty, growth, and other “newness” to simply arrive on my lap? Or, conversely, am I a force to be reckoned with that seeks and discovers those things among the seemingly commonplace? As members of the Information Age, replacing boredom with learning and discovery can be as easy as a few clicks of a mouse and as time consuming as saying your ABCs.

So recently when the word “boring” came out of my mouth as a descriptor of my spiritual life in this season, red flags of self efficacy waved across my mind. The problem is not found extrinsically with our very adventurous and creative God, as I like to selfishly assume, but with me. Only boring people get bored. Only boring people get bored living as children of a beautiful and mysterious Father.

I’ve developed some theories on when this boredom snuck in and via what means, but the point is that only a boring person would stop there. “Behold, I make all things new,” God says. There are ebbs and flows of activity and quiet contentment, but walking with God was never meant to be boring. Heeding the advice of my husband, I’ve resolved to battle the boredom by adding some risk and diversity to my spiritual rhythms.

The most immediate ideas revolved around prayer:

1) Embarking on prayer walks to keep my mind alert and my heart turned toward others

2) Convening with neighbors at Richmond Hill to pray for this city

Some other ideas include:

1) Continuing the discipline of sacrifice I observed during Lent by giving up an activity, food, or object I enjoy in order to constantly remember that “God so loved the world that he gave…”

2) Inviting my neighbors over in an effort to better know them

3) Reserving a precious free spring Saturday to serve people I don’t know- building a home, serving food, delivering a care package

That’s plenty of boredom-busting ideas for now, unless you are willing to comment with some other suggestions. Only boring people get bored, so allez-viens!

Easter Weekend

2011-04-24T22:51:00.002-04:00

Blinded by fog as intense as the Caribbean sun, I crept up Afton Mountain Friday just as the gray rainy day surrendered to a dark rainy night. On the way to visit my sis at the end of a big day for her, I afforded my mind the chance to roam freely- no agenda, no to-do list, no conversation to analytically pick apart. Instead, I thought and I watched. I watched as road signs jumped out of seeming nothingness to my right and brake lights pleaded the existence of their invisible owners through the dense fog ahead.

How apropos for Good Friday. That three hour expanse of road proved dreary, difficult, hazy, and somewhat hazardous. So too, I couldn't help but think, was Jesus' last day in flesh. How dreary the painstaking walk to Golgatha. How difficult the spikes fiercely hammered through muscles, tendons, and bone. How hazy the understanding of the followers in helpless attendance. How hazardous the title "Christ follower" as they scattered.

But for the drive back home, any trace of fog was replaced with a beaming ray of sunshine. Road signs proudly announced their information from yards away and nuances of the mountains on either side boldly displayed their subtle beauty. Instead of being swallowed by Friday's dense cloud, I looked to my right to find miles upon miles of exuisite crystal clear valley.

What a perfect scene for travel in anticipation of Resurrection Sunday. The drive home was clear, invigorating, beautiful, and peaceful, just as I imagine the day Jesus rose from the grave. How clear was God's victory once the weighty fog of confusion and chaos dissipated. How invigorating was the evidence of freedom from death. How beautiful was the sight of the empty tomb and hours later, the resurrected Friend Himself. How peaceful to know that the all-powerful Father is who He says He is and does what He says He will do.

I think the Easter Weekend lesson is that those same truths prevail both in blinding fog and clear blue skies. The difference is not what is actually present, but our sight. And so, we develop faith as we persevere to believe in what we cannot see. For as the veil was torn and the fog was lifted, God graciously gave clarity and a fuller picture of the beauty that was and is and is yet to come.

A Confession and Meditation for Passion Week

2011-04-20T10:04:00.000-04:00

The week leading up to Easter is often referred to as the Passion Week. I love this title for all the instruction and emotion packed into it. The word passion literally means to suffer. As I read through Luke’s account of Jesus’ Passion this morning, I found Jesus’ suffering that last week undeniable, beautiful, and overwhelming.

Undeniable also was my intense conviction that I have made little of Jesus’ suffering- in my head, in my conversation, in my heart. I’m part of a church that speaks the Gospel daily to each other in small and large community gatherings. While I love the commitment to the most central aspect of our faith and life, I’ve let the repetition dull my response. As with familiar news stories, I tune out when the information is not new. “Got it,” I lazily think, thus avoiding the work of listening and processing. Jesus suffered much so we could have abundant life. I don't know about you, but I for one need to meditate on this a bit. This Passion Week, I refuse to let “Yeah, I know” or “Got it” be my response. Passion prompts a passionate response.

Jesus suffered…

Betrayal

Trickery

Mocking

Alienation

Abandonment

Loneliness

Incarceration

Injustice

Beatings

Asphyxiation

Death

So that we could be…

Redeemed

Secure

Reconciled

Free

Restored

Forgiven

Instruments

New

Ambassadors

Generous

Purposed

God, help us to remember who you are, what you've done, and who you've made us this Passion Week.

A Superhero Jesus?

2011-04-15T09:52:00.000-04:00

Seriously? I came across this a few months ago in a game store in Carytown. There was even a similar Moses action figure beside Jesus that I wasn't able to snag in a photo. (The sales clerk was lurking too close for comfort).

I can't quite make up my mind about it. Funny or insulting? Teaching toy or trash? Not sure.

If we follow the line of thinking in Hebrews, Jesus is a superior version of every symbol of strength, power, beauty, and grace the Bible and the world has depicted for us. This certainly includes man-made action heros. Yet, when we read the Gospel of John, we are reminded that Jesus is absolutely holy, set apart, other- not to be considered in the same realm as plastic action toys. God became like us in Jesus, yet never ceased to be God as he lived among people.

Months later, I'm still perplexed. There are not many things that leave me speechless, but this sight did it. Any thoughts on Jesus as an action figure? Would you let your kids play with him?

Picasso: Masterpieces from the Musée National Picasso, Paris

2011-04-13T10:42:00.001-04:00

It wasn't until probably the fifth or sixth time I heard someone raving about the rare Picasso exhibit at the VMFA that I was finally moved to plan a visit. Not much of a disciple of art, I had Picasso pinned as much older than a twentieth century phenomenon and could have articulately described his style as “crazy.”

Obviously, I know very little about art and even less about Picasso. Nevertheless, I enjoy venturing out to exhibits occasionally, probably because there is no particular objective or goal required of the experience other than enjoyment, and enjoyment defined as you like it. You can leave fascinated, confused, enlightened- it really doesn’t matter. But did you enjoy? Did you laugh or learn?

I didn’t know how to rightly appreciate Picasso’s lines, shapes, and colors, but I did enjoy learning about the man’s approach. The nonconformist stance Picasso took to his art communicated a bold fearlessness that was free to explore and reinvent. He was nonconformist not just in the way he painted and sculpted in comparison to others, but more so in the way he painted and sculpted in comparison to himself. Surely it was a safer career move to gain momentum in one style or market, but Picasso’s absolute refusal to conform is what earned him recognition and distinctive praise.

The commentators agree, explaining, "Picasso's long and productive career is marked by an unflagging spirit of exploration and discovery. Informed by his native Spain and France-where he spent most of his life-Picasso devoured influences and spat out innovations one after another."

So I left the exhibit invigorated and inspired by this adventure of dynamic innovation Picasso embraced in his work. He recognized the status quo’s tendency to suffocate creativity, and like a skilled physician, refused to let his patient die due to conventionalism. I’m at a loss for the specific application that my type-A mind yearns to draft from this. But then I remember the goal: enjoyment.

Here exemplifies just a small sample of the variety of styles Picasso explored, including Cubism and the Blue Period.

A Word on Technological Mishaps

2011-04-06T14:55:00.003-04:00

First, my apologies for the unfulfilled promise in my previous entry of videos capturing entertaining and laughable moments from the weekend retreat. Any depiction of the combination of a moon bounce and middle schoolers really must be shared with others, and I’m disappointed my posting and reposting on Monday proved inevitably fruitless.

Some of you saw a large blank expanse under the first few pictures while others might have noticed pixilated and warped versions of the original videos. My sister claims they uploaded on her computer and of course, they appear as such when I review the post from the back end. Frustrating! I laugh at myself as I utter that word, because I am well aware this is THE DEFINITION of Not a Big Deal. Still, it reminds me of a card trick that keeps me stumped while the “magician” smugly smiles, knowing the simple secret in full. I can almost visualize the arrogant smile on the face of the little gremlin inside of my blogger account.

I cannot understand the problem, nor can I see the issue, and so it frustrates me because I can’t do anything about it. I am reminded of a battle I thought myself to have conquered in 2009 during my Brussels tenure, the battle to find contentment in being rather than only in doing. It appears a little more discovery and work remains for this busybody in that area.

The mysteriously warped and disappearing videos visible to some and not to others also translate to the communication God initiates with us. Certainly user error is not responsible in this case, but doesn’t the same thing essentially happen? The message is sent out, but our unfamiliarity with the sender, our crazed and busy days, or our personal hurts and prejudices cause the message to be warped upon receipt or disappear from our radar all together.

What obstacles keep us from hearing God? Is it our environment? More often, it’s the environment in our hearts. The shallow path of our discipleship, the rocky heart absent of emotion, the thorns of our bitterness. All these inflict more costly ramifications than the little gremlin that stole my videos. So once you identify and understand the barriers blocking or warping God’s message(s), how do you climb over them and listen to God?

No, it’s not a rhetorical question. I love hearing from others on this subject: How do you listen to God?

Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose, it was scorched, and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold. Mark 4:3-8.

The Weekend Via Media

2011-04-04T17:23:00.001-04:00

Did I mention I was headed to Providence Baptist Church in Northern Virginia this past weekend to lead a small group of girls for their annual Discipleship Now Retreat?

No, you're right, I didn't mention it. That was probably because Friday afternoon as I entered a busy 95 North instead of heading home it was drizzly and cold and I was tired, had a headache, and wanted my couch, a blanket, and the 6:30 news more than anything else at the moment.

Somewhere between the Stonewall Jackson Shrine just south of Fredericksburg and busy Tyson's Corner, I was reminded of what was in store for the weekend and thankfully God prompted an an attitude switch. The weekend turned out to be a blast and the group of girls I led were sweet, talkative, receptive, and thoughtful (see two of them below). Not much of a sacrifice there. I also got some good belly laughs in with my best friend, Natalie. Priceless. Since I couldn't capture pictures of my group's conversations about calling, sacrificing control, and following Jesus, I've included some pics and movies of the fun we had including, but not limited to: an up-and-coming game called 9-Square, a gigantic moon bounce, youtube sensation sing-a-longs, and adorable children. Enjoy!

Cancer Support Gear

2011-03-30T14:36:00.007-04:00

Well, I’ve finally received all my cancer support gear.

The constant teal peeking out from my winter sleeve reminds me to pray, but it also reminds me of:

fear,

uncertainty,

the unwelcome foreign norm in my family’s life,

that is cancer.

I like the gear, but I kinda hate it at the same time. The plastic bracelets sometimes seem condescending to the voracious upheaval that is cancer... in my little sister. Such a scary combination of words. The gear seems to minimize this new reality. How can I explain the messy mix of shock, relief, anger, hope, and fear that momentarily fades everything else when I look at that teal poking out of my sleeve? The gear doesn’t do it justice. The bracelets are well-intentioned, I know, but are also cheap and flimsy. This disease is formidable. But then again, so is my sister. So is my God.

Like a schizophrenic, I go back and forth between the fearsome cry that chokes my throat when I look at these bracelets and the steely confidence that God is bigger, more powerful and mightier than cancer.

My teal bracelet reads “Kick Cancer for KB 23” while the other bracelet boasts the word “Believe” on a petite silver pendant. Despite my ever-changing associations, I am thankful for those who crafted these out of love and for what I know they are meant to represent.

Community.

Support.

Strength.

Faith.

I can’t help but notice that past all the bracelets sits my favorite James Avery sterling silver ring, depicting a simple cut-out cross. It is superior to the gear in its composition, tenure, and symbolism. It has rested on my finger for many years before cancer, and will likely outlive the teal plastic bracelet on my wrist. The ultimate restoration of our bodies and our souls was finished on the cross that this ring depicts. Likewise, this "gear" reminds me that our ultimate hope and power lie in more than human support and strength, but in a God who graciously redeems every experience for good.

Cliché perhaps, but true.

Juxtaposition

2011-03-28T22:09:00.001-04:00

Recently, I've been secretly wishing I had picked up a second major in college. If I could have crammed anything else in to my undergraduate experience, I think I would have thoroughly enjoyed studying English. My religion minor provided heavy doses of reading, analyzing, and writing, but now I wish I could have spent time digging into works that are more commonly read than The Contemporary Quest for Jesus and The Great Divorce. Valuable, of course, but not frequent dinner conversation, to say the least.

What a useful thing to be familiar with the beautiful and redemptive themes authors have employed for centuries, knowingly and unknowingly reflecting to the world various facets of God's character and design for creation. Since one way that God chooses to reveal Himself is through the written word, I can't imagine how illuminating it would be to understand every rich linguistic nuance included in the Bible. And of course, my pride would love to catch every intelligent literature reference that crosses my ears and to throw creative literary devices in to everyday communication just for kicks.

But, I didn't study English in college, so I'll comment on one simple but meaningful literary device I do know that I had a chance to relish in Scripture recently: juxtaposition. Well, perhaps we should call it Holy Spirit-inspired juxtaposition.

I've been studying Isaiah recently, and a few days ago I did a shallow survey of the book to remember what I had read and find out where I was going. The entire book could be summarized by the distinct juxtaposition of Isaiah's harsh prophecies demanding repentance followed by his aggressive insistence on God's redemptive love for His people. It's easy to get lost in these chapters, because it seems to continuously and dramatically shift from one extreme to the other. No lukewarm here in these pages!

I came across two verses so incredibly striking in their difference that each lent richer, fuller meaning to the other when read consecutively.

9:13, 20 The people have not sought the LORD Almighty…On the right they will devour, but still be hungry, on the left they will eat, but not be satisfied.

Ravenous, insatiable, destructive, wasteful, dissatisfied, greedy.

Even though the context is much weightier, I’m reminded of a time or two I've spent sitting on the coach, watching something terrible on television while mindlessly moving my right hand from a bag of processed something to my empty mouth and back again. I ate without satisfaction, carelessly devoured without curing my hunger.

When was the last time you experienced this sense of incessant dissatisfaction? Keep that association with all the feelings that go with it fresh in your mind as you switch gears and read the next verse.

40:31 But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Victorious, energetic, refreshed, fearless, persevering, strong.

In contrast, this verse reminds me of the first half marathon I ever ran. With much surprise, I felt fabulous the entire race. Steady, strong, and consistent, I finished faster than I guessed I would, and was laughing and enjoying myself with friends minutes after sprinting through the finish line of the 13.1 mile course. (Don't worry, it's only been downhill for my racing since then).

Likewise, remember the last time you felt a similar mix of steady strength, power, and endurance.

Of course, these associations do not do justice to the exegetic meaning of these verses, but engaging our sensory memory highlights the difference that seeking and hoping in God makes in a life.

The context of the first verse is Isaiah’s confrontation of the Israelite’s wickedness and stubborn refusal to move towards God.

The second verse follows God’s proclamation to Israel that her sin has been paid for, promising to tenderly care for his people as a shepherd cares for his flock.

In general, it's good to be cautious before extrapolating any kind of cause and effect prescriptions from Scripture. Relationships are more complex than a mere cause and effect equation, and it follows that our relationship with God is as well. Still, it's difficult to deny the strong associations we see within those two verses and in their juxtaposition:

Refusing (or forgetting) to seek God reaps a harvest of destructive dissatisfaction.

Consciously moving our hope to the Lord, or putting all our eggs in "God's basket," so to speak, reaps a bounty of graceful strength.

God mercifully extends grace somewhere between chapters nine and forty, probably many times between chapters nine and forty, and therefore at least one lane of reconciliation’s two-way street is complete. For the road to actually connect God and His people in full restoration though, the Israelites had to respond. In verse 31, we see the imperative on hoping in the Lord and accepting God's offer of redemption as our step towards full reconciliation.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

Indeed, hope in Christ is what constitutes the world of difference between those two verses and consequently the difference in us and the harvest we reap.

Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Galatians 6:7-8

Final Thoughts on Reading Lolita In Tehran and Author Azar Nafisi

2011-03-27T22:15:00.001-04:00

If you could invite any character or personality to Thanksgiving dinner at your house, who would you invite?

I am certain you have heard this question before and until recently, I frankly thought it was dumb. How could you pick only one person? And wouldn't it depend on your mood? Who else would be sitting around the table? Should your answer be considerate of your other tablemates? What is the criteria for choosing? Someone who is funny, interesting, smart? Someone who you have a lot of questions for or someone who would have a lot of questions for you? How could you choose only one person?

After reading Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof in the fall, I decided he was my guy. You may have heard of his New York Times column focused on a vast spectrum of globalization and humanitarian concerns. Regardless of political leanings, you cannot deny he is daring, insightful, whimsome, and brilliant if you have ever read him. A few days into the revolutions erupting across the Middle East, I just happened to catch mention of him on the ground in Tahrir Square in the middle of the action as I walked by the television. "Of course he is," I audibly vocalized to myself. Whose desire for knowledge, story, and inspiration would not be satisfied by hosting him at your table?

Having finally finished Reading Lolita in Tehran, I've discovered another must-have guest in the book's author, Azar Nafisi. The Thanksgiving question must allow for at least two personalities to be invited to the table, right? I know I've written about this book in one of my earlier entries, but in sum, it's fabulous. Read it. Read it if you like history, literature, culture, freedom, dreams, psychology, or courage. You'll reap a harvest from what has been sown into these pages. Instead of my words on the book and the subject matter, I've transcribed some incredibly articulate and enlightening snippets straight from a Q&A with Nafisi included at the back of the "deluxe edition" of the book.

On her book...
"In terms of my own perspective on the book and whether things in Iran have changed, I have two things to say. One is that my purpose in writing this book was not to talk about just politics. What I really wanted to investigate was how people cope when they live under an oppressive reality. How do they create for themselves open spaces through their imaginations? That is really the main theme of the book - imagination's role in opening spaces, in resisting tyrannies of both politics and time."

On defining fiction...
"Every great work of fiction not only reflects the themes and the events that it explains but it also, at the same time, resists and questions them. Fiction explores not just how reality is but how it could or should be. The whole structure of the novel is democratic. I think that fiction is based on what has been called "Democratic Imagination," because it is multi-vocal."

On writing and reading in general...
"Now, I believe the whole point of writing and reading is to learn about things and people that you don't know... for me, writing a book always becomes a journey of discovery... and for readers, when they open a book, there are two faculties, two miraculous faculties that the act of reading and writing depend on, which form the basis of the imagination. The first one is curiosity. We read because we want to know what we don't know. Both science and literature have that magic about them, that idea of discovery. And the other great thing is that as soon as you enter this world that is both familiar and unfamiliar and you set out on this journey of discovery, then you discover empathy. Empathy is as much an integral part of writing as curiosity is, because this is the only way we communicate as human beings... Stories put us inside the experience of others and make us feel and see what we have not felt or seen before."

On the veil...
"The question of the veil in a country like Iran is not whether the veil is good or bad. The issue of the veil is that the veil should be a symbol of faith. And as such, every woman should have the right to choose whether she wants to wear it or not. For [my grandmother] the veil was a symbol of faith, but if every woman was forced to wear it, whether she believed in it or not, then it would become a symbol of force and a political symbol of the state. "

On home...
"I understood that the only way I could keep my home with me was by preserving it through memory- because no one has the power to take away your memories- and through maintaining a connection to its language and literature."

Dr. Nafisi, if you're reading this, please know you are cordially invited to my family's 2011 Thanksgiving celebration.

A Swinging Pendulum on Multiculturalism?

2011-03-23T09:15:00.000-04:00

Legal freedoms and constraints in response to multiculturalism have been hot button topics in Europe for some time now. As with most cultural trends, it is beginning to stump us Americans as well as people of drastically different cultural backgrounds live life together in the diverse larger metropolitan areas of our country.

"We have been too concerned about the identity of the person who was arriving and not enough about the identity of the country that was receiving him," French President Nicolas Sarkozy stated publicly last month.

Woah. This is quite a different tune from the laissez-faire focus on absolute tolerance we've seen over the last few years.

In this same vein, the following article reveals a surprising shift in liberal European popular and political thought when it comes to issues of the veil and other religious expression: Multiple division: Is the sun setting on multiculturalism?

Check it out to keep your finger on the pulse of this issue. It won't take long to feel the ripples here from a pendulum swing across the Atlantic.

Just for Fun

2011-03-22T12:48:00.001-04:00

I often second guess myself for blogging. No clear vision guides me, so my cynical side worries this is nothing more than a time-consuming production to get attention or garner praise. Perhaps it's worse. Maybe I'm just blabbering away without any aim or objective. "Just talking to hear your brain rattle," I can hear my mom saying. In the end, I simply enjoy writing and believe my motives are cloudy, but not sinful.

The truth I keep coming back to is that writing helps me. Others' writing helps me and my writing helps me. I rarely remember sermons or lectures, but I remember books, blog posts, and pages from my journal. I really have no idea what Jeromy said before he proposed or the first time he said the L-word, but I remember well-timed and insightful cards, letters, and emails that remain tucked inside books and stowed away in secret places. I like the permanent feel to writing that ensures you the ability to circle back and review, inspect, and ponder a little more, as if slowly moving it over, around, and upside down in order to take one more small step towards fully grasping the idea, emotion, or call. Writing allows you to see, read, and hear all at the same time, and I like that.

A little more scientific in nature, Covey in The 7 Habits describes writing as a "kind of psycho-neural muscular activity which helps bridge and integrate the conscious and subconscious minds." Indeed, the uniquely combined use of the mind, nerves, and muscles is what "distills, crystallizes, and clarifies thought and helps break the whole into parts."

All that said, this entry will now confound that affinity as pictures replace words and my purpose for blogging becomes even foggier. Instead of more writing, find instead a depiction of the delayed honeymoon Jeromy and I took earlier this month... just for fun :)

Our beautiful island destination, waiting patiently for our arrival.

Two flat Delta tires left Jeromy and I with an unexpected overnight pitstop in Atlanta. NOT the Caribbean, but we made the most of an extra day in the States.

We finally arrived a day later than anticipated and raced to the beach to soak in the last few minutes of sunlight.

The pool outside our room complete with a swim-up bar reminded me of a movie.

While lounging at the beach reminded me of a travel magazine spread.

So naturally, we decided to pose as if we were in a magazine.

Well, mostly it was just Jeromy posing.

The sunlight proved a significant obstacle to his delicate eyes.

But we kept trying.

Good enough!

Beachside markets reminded me of a treasure hunt.

Tobacco leaves anyone?

Your treasure of choice, waiting to be bartered upon.

The resort itself was FULL of its own treasures.

Like a casino- conveniently placed only two buildings down from the church.

And peacocks roaming around the buffet.

Of course you need access to the football court!

And the all-inclusive bar, for an occasional cold treasure.

Last but not least, we had the treasure of immediate and free entertainment at our fingertips to help coach us through our new marital dynamics.

Yes, I listen to audio books...

2011-03-20T15:10:00.006-04:00

Not surprisingly, it's taken five years for me to get around to reading this book. Years after the hype has died down, I snagged it on CD to complement some long car rides and I've been surprised by it. (I like listening to audiobooks on the road, so I checked out reviews on NextAdvisor.com first). Amidst the piles of nit picky criticism I've heard about it, I've been surprised at how well it represents a relevant God as the Lord over both the present and future state of creation.

Things I love about this book:

-It can be found in more places than just the Christian section of the bookstore

-It responds to the question of suffering with a thorough and truthful answer: God uses suffering to draw us and others to Himself for our eternal good and His glory

-Over and over again, Jesus is rightly featured as the center of it all, described both as our promise and our fulfillment

-Much of the protagonist's face-to-face interaction with God is spent around a kitchen table, which reminds me of Jesus gathering at the table often in the gospels (and of my best friend's insightful blog)!

-Young depicts our souls as messy gardens in which the Holy Spirit loves toiling from which the Holy Spirit delights in reaping- love the imagery!

-Controversial or not, I love that God the Father and the Holy Spirit are represented as women! While God prefers to reveal Himself as masculine in Scripture, we know that women were made in His image too, so he boasts feminine characteristics as well. We also are privy to feminine metaphors describing God in Scripture:

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem. Isaiah 66:13

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! Isaiah 49:15

-This quote: "Faith does not grow in the house of certainty." My how this has struck a chord with me over the past two weeks!

-The climatic offer of abundant life and call to response that Young presents: "Reconciliation is a two way road, and I have done my part- totally, completely, finally," says God. "It is not the nature of love to force relationship, but it is the nature of love to open a way."

Providence Defined

2011-03-16T17:05:00.002-04:00

prov·i·dence /ˈprɒvɪdəns/
[prov-i-duhns]

–noun

1. ( often initial capital letter ) the foreseeing care and guidance of god over the creatures of the earth.

2. ( initial capital letter ) God, especially when conceived as omnisciently directing the universe and the affairs of humankind with wise benevolence.

3. a manifestation of divine care or direction.

That's what the dictionary says. God defined providence in a much more personal way for me last week. Last Saturday, a CAT scan done on my sister revealed a suspicious mass in her body. Surgery on Wednesday identified the mass as malignant, and everything that has taken place since that discovery has seemed anything but real.

As a collegiate athlete, my 21-year-old sister is the epitome of human health and strength. Hence, this entire situation has been a shocking reminder that we can't control everything, no matter how hard we try. We cannot predict or expect what tomorrow holds, and letting ourselves think that we can is dangerous territory to attempt to tread.

The amazing piece of this story is that Kelsey really didn't have any symptoms other than feeling a smidge full. The sole catalyst for the discovery of her tumor was the stubbornly slow healing of the ACL she tore in September. At the peak of her senior soccer season, this was a devestating turn of events for Kelsey along with everyone who knew her and how much she loved the sport.

Let me brag on my sister for a bit to further communicate the depth of disappointment we felt when we heard news of her torn ACL.

Click here for a pretty dramatic but stellar video summing up the girls' 2010 season. Don't miss the clip of Kelsey's last collegiate game in which she hammered one into the net to win the game in double overtime. She tore her ACL in practice the following Monday.

So this disappointment, this let down, this hope squashed- God providentially redeemed it into something good. It looks like the tumor was caught early and treatment is available.

In Kelsey's own words, "EVERYTHING happens for a reason, tearing my acl saved my life. He knows what he's doing!"

And we are grateful!

Full of Care

2011-03-03T23:04:00.001-05:00

While volunteering at CHAT tutoring Tuesday night, I held little Rakim's hand as we crossed the street.

"Watch the pud-"

One foot smashed into the puddle followed by the other. The splashes were followed by a chorus of cackling laughter from Rakim and the girls behind us.

Drenched. Neon light-up shoes have now become water moccasins.

Why is it that most kids seem immune to rain, puddles, and all forms of liquid mess? Have they just not yet been brutally introduced to the world of laundry?  How do they not care?

For better or worse, I think the youngest of children haven't learned to be careful.  They haven't needed that skill yet and that works, mostly because someone else is usually being careful on their behalf.  For the most part, they have not yet been taught to be literally full of care.

I wish I wasn't so doggone full of care all the time. During a warm evening run last summer, a torrential downpour rained down just as I neared the halfway point and was as far away from home as possible. These were not raindrops, these were sheets of rain so dense that it was impossible to pinpoint where one drop stopped and another started.  One might picture that as beautiful, but I couldn't comprehend it as anything but frustrating. Feebly guarding my ipod as best I could, I raced home, annoyed at my misfortune and fretting the death of my beloved running companion. As I neared my neighborhood, I recognized that I was supersaturated with water; I could not possibly become any wetter. So I finally freed myself of care and decided that I might as well enjoy the squishy, drenched mess for what it was.

In the Bible, God speaks about being careful with surprising frequency- at least 120 times. The only catch is that instead of advising us to take care of our possessions, our comfort, our convenience, and our happiness, He always stresses being careful in regard to eternally meaningful and life-giving, fruitful kinds of things.

Listen to God's advice on being careful as directed to all of humanity, from the patriarchs to Jesus' friends, from the New Testament church to us.

Be careful not to forget the covenant of the LORD your God that he made with you.

But be very careful to keep the commandment and the law that Moses the servant of the LORD gave you: to love the LORD your God, to walk in obedience to him, to keep his commands, to hold fast to him and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul.”

Be careful that no one entices you by riches; do not let a large bribe turn you aside.

Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways.

And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.

“Be careful,” Jesus said to them. “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone.

So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!

Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity.

Rakim's soaked shoes reminded me of the multitude of circumstances, people, and situations about which we can fill ourselves with care.  Thankfully, Rakim hasn't yet fallen for this sham in regards to his light-up shoes. Conversely, God's word reminds me of the endless possibilities wrapped up in upside down Kingdom living that I can be full of care about. They are different from one another, to say the least.

Some things warrant our care and some things simply dupe us into caring too much. We can be full of care when it comes to our light-up shoes, ipods, and dress, or we can choose to be careful in things like devotion, grace, obedience, and compassion. When I step back to think about it, I can clearly see the shallow concerns that divert my mind and heart from overflowing with care in regards to the life-giving things God asks me to exercise care about.

I want to see with God's eyes and think God's thoughts after Him on this one, being careful only about the things that matter and freeing myself from caring about the things God says simply don't. That means some fixed and comfortable habits will need to take a hit. Anyone with me?

People Watching on a Saturday Afternoon

2011-02-26T16:02:00.000-05:00

I love people watching... way too much. In one of my entry-level communication classes in college, we were instructed to observe at least three people for an extended period of time in a public place and then actually walk up to them, introduce ourselves, and ask them to confirm or deny inferences made based upon our observations. On one level, this was understandably uncomfortable and yet, on another level, thoroughly enjoyable. It was as if my mere people watching tendencies had been validated and even mandated.

But really, who doesn't love people watching? I have yet to meet someone who doesn't occasionally satisfy their curiosity with watching the affairs of others, whether it be via facebook, a mall food court, twitter, or a public park.

That is just one of many reasons I love where I live. Jeromy and I live on the second story of a house recently renovated into two apartments. As you can imagine, opportunities for people watching grow exponentially when you have a ten foot advantage. We also live at the corner of a three-street intersection. Very confusing for visitors trying to find our house, but all six corners offer ample opportunity for folks stopping on the corner to chat. Further, we live right across the street from a popular hole-in-the-wall barbecue place which offers its patrons outdoor seating and curbside pick-up only. If cars aren't rolling by, you can even pick up words, phrases, even sentences from people's conversations. You can see the heated tent set up for winter customers on the very left of the picture below. Lastly, we're a stone's throw away from one of the city's "parks," or small grass plots, that invites residents to linger on beautiful and dreary days alike and enjoy a magnificent view of the city.

People watching heaven, some might call it. Others probably just call it creepy, but I know they too would secretly enjoy it if they were on the watching side.

Multiple mornings when the weather was warmer, I watched my very disciplined neighbor lift weights in his backyard at 6:45 am, marveling at his commitment and good form. Simultaneously I was wondering, will I ever care that much about working out to painstakingly do calf raises up 18 stairs at that dim hour? Doubtful. It may or not be morally ok that I just published a picture of my neighbors' backyards, but check out his weightbench in the closest backyard below.

Currently, my neighbor in the far brick house is perusing her fenced-in backyard accompanied by what looks to be a landscaper or designer of sorts. Tape measurer and small notebook in hand, she paces with determined steps, and I can't wait to see the creative transformation of the hard dirt and clover-filled expanse. There are tools and cameras being pulled out that give the impression something quite sectacular is in the works.

Across the street, what looks to be a large extended family is waiting for their beef brisket and pork barbecue sandwiches while laughing and playing with the two youngest kids. The little boy, barely able to walk, has bit it on the concrete quite a few times, but won't give up. I admire his perseverance.

Another man pulls up in a shiny, fast-looking black car and gets out wearing sportcoat and khakis. His shiny watch catches the sun as he locks his car with the beeper thing a few times too many. He glances back at it three or four times while sauntering with his lunch partner to the counter to order. Looks like he's in unfamiliar territory, but I'm glad he is choosing to explore something new and a little different in this quaint little city block.

The barbecue place must be making a killing today. A man and his six-year old son also just parked and ordered some lunch. Walking hand in hand from the establishment towards the park, the little boy starts running down the sidewalk and after waiting a required few seconds, his dad sets off for the desired chase. In a neighborhood where dads seem hard to come by, this exchange makes me smile goofily to myself.

Earlier this morning I sat on my porch reading while Jeromy hid in the kitchen, making faces at me through the screen door. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, and then noticed an eight or nine year-old girl huddled in my neighbor's doorway, staring skeptically at me as I sat laughing loudly, apparently at myself.

"What are you laughing at?" she yelled boldly.

"My husband is inside being silly," I tried to explain, but quickly changed the subject to avoid further embarassment. The little girl, named India, just laughed and continued chatting with me. After a few minutes of introductions and conversation with India and her grandma, India began pleading with her grandma to come and play on my porch before going to her aunt's house for the day. I advised her to continue with her day's plan, but to visit any other time she liked. Such an effortless and enjoyable acquaintance made thanks to the complete lack of self-consciousness that is so often refreshingly encountered in kids.

There's been some not so sunshiney things too. I've watched a man in his Jazzee electric wheelchair ride up and down the street, stopping to investigate anything appearing interesting or potentially lucrative off the ground. There's another man that rolls a shopping cart down the alleys behind all of our houses and rummages through the top few trashbags in each trashcan after 10:00 pm or so, hoping to find something worth taking. I've caught one neighbor stupidly taking a few sips from a liquor bottle before getting in his car to go out on a Saturday night. I guess there was also the time a red Jeep veered out of control on an icy spot of the road and smashed into my neighbor's parked car before regaining control and quickly leaving the scene.

I am simultaneously critical of my people watching and defensive of it. I know it's a little creepy, but no matter what or who I am watching, I am visually reminded that the world is bigger than the things that I have allowed to construct my reality. There are more people to engage and learn from than simply those in my social circle and my workplace. I can't control or expect who I might see while sitting on my porch. Indeed, unique spontaneity and opportunity exists in being a neighbor, which is probably why Jesus explicitly told us to love neighbors like ourselves. We don't choose our neighbors, but we live and breathe mere feet from them day in and day out. Why not get to know them as we live and breathe Spirit-filled lives alongside them?

All of my observations have made me eager now for warmer weather and consequential opportunities to linger in happenstance run-ins and unexpected conversations with my neighbors. Tim Keller noted that while humans draw pictures of scenic views and coastlines, God draws pictures of crammed and sweaty New York subway cars, full of people, His crown of creation and image bearers. I bet there's quite a bit going on with the people just beyond your walls and mine, regardless of whether your observations of them inspire joy or make you sad. Perhaps all of us should move from purely passive people watching tendencies to people engaging as God affords us opportunities.

A Real Life Example

2011-02-18T14:12:00.000-05:00

Speaking of suffering hardship for the sake of the Gospel, you must read Libby Ryder's blog for a real life, beautiful example: http://www.libbyryder.blogspot.com/

Suffering

2011-02-16T17:55:00.003-05:00

Sunday’s sermon at RH was TOUGH to listen to, so much so that it’s now Wednesday and still on my mind.

Topic?

Suffering.

It was tough to listen to because it is true that God has a hand in and rationale for our suffering. As Robert explicated from Philippians, the purpose of our suffering is the advancement of the Gospel in us and through us.

When I turn the reasonable, theological switch on in my mind, it makes complete sense. In my heart however, with my senses at full alert, it hurts to think about, so I usually just stop. Paralyzed from running to the bathroom for fear people might see the tears streaming down my cheeks, resorting to “not thinking about it” was not a valid option Sunday morning.

So I thought about it and continue to think about it. A lot.

If you somehow want to listen to the sermon after reading that, visit redemptionhill.com.

Listening turned me into a sobby mess awash with self pity and confusion. Sitting between a friend and my husband, I was quietly wiping my eyes while vividly remembering my last experience with suffering. The recollections ran in my mind like a movie. It made for a weepy afternoon, to say the least.

I have thought of myself as very open to suffering, discomfort, and hardship for the sake of the Gospel. When I left for Brussels in 2009, nothing seemed more right and desirable. Bring it on.

But my experience and reactions were different from what I had pictured and what my supporters had pictured for me. Given the language barriers and difficulty establishing meaningful relationships with people, I could not see how the Gospel was advancing in anyone I knew there. Further, the small ways I could imagine it might be frankly didn’t seem worth the loneliness, confinement, and stagnancy I felt.

I spent some sweet alone time clinging to God, but when it came to the Gospel advancing in those around me, I turned it into a formula. If the amount of suffering I experienced was not providing adequate results, something bitter and hard hearted rose up in me, taking the form of clenched fists and a large knot in my throat.

Robert’s sermon brought back these memories like a torrential downpour on Sunday. The formula still seemed so right and the remaining unanswered questions seemed so unjust. Why did I experience so much suffering with such puny results? Why did the circumstances seem so insurmountable? Why couldn’t I have been privy to a glimpse of the Gospel advancing in someone else’s heart and mind? Why?

Isn't this the question we all land on at some point or another?

We have been taught that suffering occurs so that God would be made much of and the Gospel advanced, but when we can’t see that happening through our blurry, tear-filled eyes, we are stuck with only one remaining option.

When we get to the end of the rope, we are left with faith: a choice to believe in what we cannot see.

We choose either to believe in a Sovereign God we cannot see or to negate His existence. It follows then, that we choose either to believe in the results of His work not always visible to human eye or to distrust His power to create, move, and change.
When we’re swimming in the dark waters of suffering, the buoy we can grab hold of is faith.

I, for one, am grabbing on tightly and believing that God produces fruit in the most barren of wastelands and boggiest of swamps.

Valentine’s Day: To what do we owe the pleasure?

2011-02-14T17:03:00.001-05:00

If someone hasn’t told you yet today, Happy Valentine’s Day!

I am neither giddy about Valentine’s Day or perturbed by it. In my mind, it’s just another one of those funny traditions our culture embraces and assigns a dominant color scheme and marketing ploy to. With such ambiguous origins, I’m amazed that Valentine’s Day can produce emotional responses running the gamut between ecstatic joy and despairing tears. If you are tempted by the latter emotion today or merely confused about the holiday itself, check out some of the history here.

Various reports attribute the origins of Valentine’s Day to St. Valentine’s daring advocacy for marriage, his personal story of love won and lost, and even a Roman fertility festival taken over by the church. Since even the History Channel can't seem to nail down the exact catalyst for the holiday, I'll trust God's word on the subject:

We love because God first loved us. 1 John 4:19

We don't love because commercials remind us to or our emotions want to. We don't love because we want something in exchange for it.

We love sacrificially with words and actions, compassion and grace, because we've been loved first by the King. That's the way He does it.

The Grass is Always Greener

2011-02-11T07:45:00.020-05:00

The routine was thrown off earlier this week when I made it home a little early and noticed the sun still brightly shining overhead. I was giddy with excitement as I made the drive across town. What a joy it was to see the city on either side of the road all lit up, not masked by darkness, but clear, crisp, and alive looking today instead. The possibilities of what could happen with a free hour full of sunshine seemed endless. It felt like a small yet priceless gift that God had prepared specially for me. I wasn't expecting that free time and didn't feel the need to milk it dry with productivity, but was simply free to enjoy an unplanned hour of daylight on a Tuesday afternoon.

As I heaved my bookbag and lunchbox onto the couch, the bright blue sky outside my window beckoned me for a brisk walk. Perfect. I'll bring my ipod, spend some time worshiping while I walked, exchange friendly waves and "hello's" with my Church Hill neighbors, and then be back in time to make a big, hot, savory pot of soup for dinner. Sound idyllic? I certainly thought so.

The plan was set and seemed all the more delightful because of a lingering sense of dissatisfaction with my rigid daily schedule that has swum up in me lately. Recently, I've been weary of how much time I spend throughout the day inside and immobile at my desk. I'm assuming I'm not alone in that sentiment. Needless to say, I've been a bit restless, occasionally slowing down to stare wistfully out the windows of our office building, like somehow I am being jipped from some fundamental, simple pleasure that everyone else is experiencing. I've even shaken my head at my self-employed or student friends who are free from this same travesty. "They just don't know how lucky they are," I've caught myself grumbling.

That, indeed, was the paradigm that had slowly crept into my mind- that everyone else was enjoying something the small remainder of us 8:00-6:00 folks don't- daylight, sunshine, and the flexibility to enjoy both throughout the day.

Embarrassingly excited, I set out on my walk to worship, refresh, and explore, carrying this "woe is me" mentality along for the ride. It was 4:41 pm.

Immediately I am slammed with a strong, I mean strong, gust of wind that makes my bones cold. I am quickly reminded of the morning radio news predicting winds up to 40 mph in Richmond. Hmm, the crisp beautiful day definitely didn't depict such powerful winds from my view inside. Feigning resilience and indifference towards the harsh conditions, I continue moving away from my house, mindful of each step. The wind cuts easily through my thin cotton pants and I'm pretty sure my leg hairs are standing so much on end that they could prick your finger. It is now 4:44.

I cross paths with the only person I’ve seen so far on my journey. A young mom donning a windbreaker is trying to walk both her German Shepherd and her small toddler in a stroller. She is not feigning resilience and indifference like I am. She just looks miserable. Her windbreaker appears as though it's about to be pulled off her body by the wind andher dog is digging his heels in, refusing to move. Even he wants the torture to stop.

It's now 4:46 and I am a whopping four blocks from my house. I have semi-listened to one song on my ipod. I can't stop thinking about how it hurts to uncurl my clenched fists that are now turning red from the wind and how my front teeth are starting to get cold. At this point, I don't even care that my journey is incredibly unsuccessful, I just want to see how quickly I can make it back to my little warm apartment.

As I powerwalk home, I am struck by the realization that perhaps I'm not missing out on that much after all. If I had ample spare time during the day, would I even want to use it this way? No. It is now 4:50 pm and my nine-minute adventure has landed me right back where I started, and glad to be there.

At that moment, I was overwhelmingly content with my productive days spent inside the office and thankful for the very healthy balance of work and rest that God has ordained in this season of life. As long as we're on this side of heaven, we will all be tempted to idealize the green grass that we can barely see on the other side. I will be tempted to wrestle with God over the dissatisfaction that I permit to sneak in. But, in the end, I am thankful for God's willingness to be our Help. He helps us find contentment and rest in Him and the circumstances He has laid out for us, even if He uses 40 mph winds to do so.

Revolution in the Middle East

2011-02-05T17:52:00.002-05:00

A few months ago, I picked up the New York Times bestseller Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi. The novel is so popular that it has spent over one hundred weeks on the bestseller list and has already been translated into 32 different languages since its publication in 2003. Indeed, it’s smartly written with a captivating storyline told through a unique point of view, but for some reason, my nose has been in it, but not necessarily stuck in this book. I can’t read more than a few chapters before I have to set it down.

Unlike anything I’ve read recently, I am not setting it down because I am tired or bored, but because of the eery, concerned feeling that creeps in when I read it. I know the ending of the story, but I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t see the Jenga blocks slowly being stacked for the inevitable fall. The Iranian Revolution of 1978-1981 ends up accomplishing its goals, and a free, proud and intelligent people is brought to its knees under the guise of religious revival.

I am gripped by Nafisi’s personal narration from the front lines opposing the revolution, but the more she recounts the revolution and its proponents, the more unsettled I become. Nafisi's story depicts her very typical Persian life shredded in front of her as the revolution forced one change upon the next. It was an uncomfortable adjustment to begin associating the term “revolution” with something oppressive in my reading thus far. The term has always suggested hope and improvement in my very American mind, but hearing the word revolution associated with the stripping away of human freedom refuses to settle well in me.

Nafisi’s story of teaching Western literature to a small group of dedicated female students conjures up images and memories of some of my young female Muslim students in Brussels. I see their faces, framed indelibly by a black veil on all sides, with every strand of hair and both ears carefully hidden. Did they remember a time in which the veil was not? I always assumed they didn’t, that the veil was as lasting as clothing itself. For some of my younger students, this was undoubtedly true. But for some of my older students, Nafisi’s account suggests that there was a life before the veil, and that life existed in the not-so-distant past.

In the United States, my parents graduated college during the Iranian Revolution. I was not even a thought yet. Having really only heard about the Middle East in the post 9/11 years, I know nothing of life in Iran or any Arab nation before Islamic rule. Not until recently did I consider that the older generation in many Middle Eastern and North African nations might be living in a completely unrecognizable country compared to the one they knew as youth. Not until this week did I correlate the veil's prevalence today as a product of revolution. Never before have I understood revolution as a potentially negative concept, something that would restrict freedome. How foreign it is to do so.

It is safe to say that Reading Lolita in Tehran and the recent uprising across the Middle East have redefined revolution for me. I understand now that revolution is not always progressive and understandably can not be sorted into categories of good and evil. It is better defined simply as change, and the opportunity to produce either beneficial and detrimental results exists for every people group that demands it. This understanding is likely commonplace for most, but embarassingly radical for me.

So as I watch the news coverage of Egypt and hear the angry shouts for revolution, I feel the same eery concern as I do reading Nafisi's description of the revolution in Iran. When I read warnings of a 'perfect storm of powerful trends' across the Middle East, I can't help but wonder what the results will be. I'm tempted to liken it to what I've been reading about Iran, worried that rocky, haphazard revolution will permit the formation of an unstable and oppressive government, but others discourage doing so. Will democratic freedom or religious rule replace the current iniquities of these governments?

For those of us watching the dominoes stack from a safe distance, all I can think to do is pray. I'm the first to say that I'm terrible at praying for issues and people that aren't right in front of my face, but as children given the privilege and responsibility to pray, we must. Let's do something about the eery feeling you might also get from the news reports and pray that the opportunity for change in the revolts rocking the Middle East produce something beneficial and beautiful in its place.

Interview of the Month

2011-01-24T22:24:00.002-05:00

Saturday somehow afforded Jeromy and I some leisure time to explore one of Richmond City's large, historic public libraries. While Jeromy dug into a 600-page philosophy of law book with a furrowed brow, I happily reclined with January's issue of Christianity Today.

One particular article entitled The Meaning of Business caught my attention. The article was actually an interview with Jeff Van Duzer, a Christian businessman with a recent IVP book out entitled Why Business Matters to God: (And What Still Needs to Be Fixed).

Having unexpectantly found myself in the corporate world after settling back in to Richmond, the article caught my attention for the same reason it might have caught yours if you work in business:

I want someone to tell me that work in this environment matters. I want someone to explain why it matters not just so that I can support missionaries with my income or testify in the marketplace to God's truth, but because work, any type of work, matters to God. As stated in the article, God fashioned man in His image, and even in this act we see an aspect of God's character fundamental to the point: He's a worker.

To be fair, the church has made leaps and bounds as a whole in articulating a theology of work for its congregants, but the challenge lies in actually living out this celebration of vocation, both personally and corporately. We hear teaching about the intrinsic worth of every profession as it contributes to God's restorative work in the world, but this concept hasn't seemed to have pried its way into the daily lexicon of the church yet. Truth be told, employment in a field other than ministry or public service seems second rate, and as is hip to say in the corporate world, our greatest opportunity (or area of current floundering) lies in actually believing employment in the business world to be gainful in God's eyes.

What do JFK, a former youth pastor, and Jesus have in common?

2011-01-21T18:36:00.004-05:00

Google so helpfully informed me yesterday of the 50th anniversary of President Kennedy’s inaugural address back in 1961. After a few squinty-eyed minutes trying to decipher the words artistically comprising Google’s ever-changing homepage design, I caught the familiar concluding lines:

And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Strong, wise, and firm, his words reminded me of a familiar, albeit less eloquent admonishment I heard frequently throughout high school from my youth pastor, Lance:

If you’re not getting something out of it, put something into it.

Do you default to this rule when found in less than engaging situations or commitments? I don’t. Of course there are specific situations that warrant a graceful “bowing out,” especially if you struggle with over-commitment or if that particular obligation poses legitimate harm. Conversely, I think both Lance and JFK were trying to prompt a paradigm shift away from the identity we have inadvertently chosen for ourselves, that of the individual as consumer.

This consumerist mentality is so ingrained in many of us that we find it difficult to escape it’s dead tight grip on our current thought and behavior patterns. It doesn’t just pertain to material possessions. We consume objects as well as ideas and experiences. Whether in formal commitments at work, church, and in the community or more generally in our relationships at home, in public, and with God, we struggle to “put something into it” when whatever “it” is hasn’t earned our attention and devotion yet or in quite some time.

We offer every excuse in the book for it. We’re tired, drained, not feeling well, busy. These excuses continue because they are accepted and understood. The person hearing it most likely feels that way too! The pariah of disengaged consumption has quietly established itself as status quo in my heart and in my world.

Jesus spoke to the antithesis of this lifestyle in Mark 10 and illustrated it throughout his life:

For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

Jesus didn't enter into conversations with women at wells and men stuck in trees expecting to be served and entertained. He came offering abundant life, a twist on the ordinary, and the powerful image of God made flesh. He was a passionate giver, not a passive consumer.

If you’re like me, you engage and give yourself fully to what is placed in front of you only when your excited emotions lead you to, real or false guilt forces you to, or clear incentive is immediately available. Instead of growing in this regard as life has calmed down for me recently, I’ve found myself going through the motions in many arenas without zest or vision. I consume the feelings and experiences I want and discard the rest. If the presentation isn’t compelling, I zone out instead of asking a tough question. If the conversation isn’t interesting, I recline into a passive observer role instead of proactively listening or contributing. If my work is monotonous, I adjust to a more lenient pace instead of seeking developmental opportunities.

Why? Because I’m lazy. I’m sinful. But I’m not hopeless. I’m a woman of repentance with a God on my side who bends down to help me.

With some prayer and resolve, I want to reclaim the abundant life God designed for me marked by vibrant engagement, substantial contribution, and devoted service in every relationship, conversation, and environment of which I am a part. I’m not saying I am a necessarily fascinating individual with brilliant contributions to be made, but I know the God that lives and breathes in me is exactly that. I also know that He can utilize my gifts and engaged presence in the world for His glory.

So, my prayer is something like this: God, make me zesty.

Food for Thought

2011-01-17T12:02:00.000-05:00

Curled up on the couch this morning, I came across this verse:

Some trust in chariots and some trust in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. Psalm 20:7

Simple. Pointed. Relevant.

This discovery couldn't have been more perfect timing after yesterday's blog entry. I've found it helpful today to rhythmically repeat and meditate on this verse, substituting modern-day symbols of power and strength for chariots and horses.

Some trust in money and some trust in popular opinion, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

Some trust in appearance and some trust in tangible pleasures, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

What would those symbols that offer false security be for you? What would it take for you and I to confidentally trust in the Lord, who calls Himself our God?

Security, security, where for art thou?

2011-01-16T18:29:00.004-05:00

Security. What comes to your mind with the sound of this word?

Financial security, job security, and the security provided by the lock on my inner-city apartment are my immediate associations. Why the abundant security found in our all-powerful Creator and Sustainer is not the first thing to come to my mind, I'm not sure. God has provided for me in every way imaginable through the years, from near-miraculous to seemingly commonplace ways (go to some of my 2009 blog entries to be encouraged by just a few). There is comfort in already receiving forgiveness for my misplaced search for security, as well as knowing I am not alone in this struggle.

Where do you search for security? What objects, ideas, or institutions do you trust in for protection against danger, damage, or loss?

I've been wrestling with God big time lately as each of these idols reveals itself as completely inadequate to providing deep, peace-producing security. Like a child throwing an inappropriate temper tantrum, I routinely find myself in a pit of sulky frustration that things have not gone as I have so painstakingly planned.

Living on a strict budget for the first time in my life has brought me close to obsession over every cent spent, assuming that this kind of micromanagement is what will make ends meet at the end of the day. So this week when a significant medical bill arrived in the mail and the motherboard of Jeromy's computer died, I was less than calm, cool, and collected. Not only had I not anticipated these expenses, but my trust in my financial finesse had failed me.

Similarly, I expect that exceeding expectations and winning favorable opinion in the workplace will guarantee a steady future income. So when the boss that hired me and invested in me left our company in August, I found myself anxiously wondering if my new boss would see the same potential in me and want to keep me around. When it comes to environmental security, I even rest better at night as I unswervingly trust in the flimsy lock and porch light at the rear of our apartment to protect against any possibility of intrusion.

My misstep here is not necessarily out-rightly worshiping these things, but a quiet belief in the protection I assume they bring that only the Father actually provides. I trust in these things for my security more than I trust God who asked me rather to be a wise steward of them.

So I'm praying, striving, and hoping to turn my stubborn mind away from this trap and instead aiming to spend some time meditating on God as my rock this week. Indeed, God has made Himself known both in Scripture and through experience as strong, unbreakable, sturdy, and secure. A quick word search reveals that David addressed this specific identity of God at least 27 times in the Psalms, acknowledging Him as "the Rock that is higher than I." How has He shown Himself as such in your life experience? Have you let Him, or are you with me, clinging to your paycheck or people's opinion for your security?

I think I've found at least one question I want to keep asking in 2011. Where is my security? My mind knows that God provides absolute security in our complacency, our need, our joy, and our questions, and I'm asking Him to "help my unbelief" to make my thoughts and actions speak to that same knowledge.

Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. Psalm 62:2

Got Boredom? Try This.

2011-01-11T12:33:00.001-05:00

Does anyone else ever suffer from boredom with the hum drum components of life? Some days, I passively accept the predictability and status quo, even finding comfort in it. Occasionally, however, I am on the prowl for something, anything to break up the monotony and surprise me, shock me, or otherwise entertain me.

Thanks to reputable new sources such as AOL News’ “Weird News” feature, entertainment is only a click away. Please enjoy the following doses of unbelievable, disgusting, and bewildering news brought to my attention by my husband:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-12160874

http://www.aolnews.com/2011/01/10/chinas-huang-yuanfan-sprouts-3-inch-horn-from-head/?test=latestnews

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/01/11/birds-fall-from-sky-california_n_807330.html

Questions for 2011

2011-01-10T22:58:00.002-05:00

At some point in college, I rediscovered the four types of sentences that we all learned in elementary school. Don't you love it when you remember something like that? The "Aha!" moment is like catching a fly midair with lightning-fast reflexes. Victory. Immediately, you realize that the "Aha!" feeling is innappropriate as most of the population is well aware of whatever revelation you just identified.

So these four types of sentences used to describe our speech are nothing new, nothing groundbreaking. But, in considering these strict categories for all verbal human communication, I discovered the magic of the interrogative sentence. It's both the key to true communication and the catalyst to learning. It spurs conversation and inquiry and can be used to forge authentic relationships or ravenous rifts in them. It's the sharpest kind of sentence, like that unique student in a teacher's classroom bursting with undeveloped potential.

In lieu of resolutions for 2011, I'm hanging on the coattails of this interrogative sentence idea. I've given up on what I will do, because when doing is the focus, I will inevitably fail.

Instead, I will ask, seek, poke, prod, and question this year in hopes of putting myself before an omnipotent God with all the answers, but more importantly, who meets me in my questions. Resolving to do depicts my haughty independence one minute and my devotion the next. Committing to ask, however, keeps me child-like and directed toward the one who answers.

So, ten days late already, I'm going to start pondering the questions I need to start asking this year.

Ask, and it will be given you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and it will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives. He who seeks finds. To him who knocks it will be opened. Matthew 7

Hello Again

2010-11-30T16:12:00.002-05:00

Recently, I’ve been toying around with the idea of picking this blog back up again. I love writing, I miss writing, and I enjoy the way God solidifies what He is teaching me through writing.

It’s like making jello. At first, what’s going on in my head is nothing short of a liquidy mess waiting to happen. But, when it is written down, when a little time is provided for things to settle, it actually becomes something. It becomes something edible, tasty, identifiable, substantial. I don’t presume that it becomes something as rich and impressive as crème brûlée (catch the My Best Friend’s Wedding reference?). Let’s be clear. This blog is just jello, the stuff of ordinary, everyday, hum drum life, but something tasty and hearty when God is infinitely in it and through it.

I’ve always had a dubious eye towards the thoughts and feelings that swirl up in me. I know myself, and I know they cannot always be trusted. They are like “chaff before the wind,” influenced by the news article I just read, the coworker I just chatted with, the way lunch is settling (or not settling). It’s almost as if they are not real, legitimate, or believable until I have sent them through the sifter of my mind and fingers. Writing refines them for me, and my hope with this blog would be that it refines them in some sort of meaningful, applicable way for one or two others as well.

Almost a year has passed since my last blog entry. So much has changed this year, I seriously doubt if God will ever again deliver so much change in such a short span of time (famous last words). Within the last twelve months, I’ve returned home to the States from a short stint teaching English and living the Great Commission in a predominantly Muslim immigrant community in inner-city Brussels, Belgium. [See below]. I am now not the only woman in sight without a scarf covering my head when I leave my house. Quite the shift from the previous adventure, I began my first “real” job in Human Resources with a bowling company. In so doing, my little humanitarian-minded, nonprofit-invested self has learned to appreciate the world of business (not love necessarily, but definitely appreciate). A month later, Jeromy and I found a church to call home. God led us to join Redemption Hill and has built a strong community there that we eagerly jumped into. On a more personal note, Jeromy and I got engaged, planned a wedding, sought God’s preparation for marriage, and got hitched in October! Now, I wake up next to my best friend every morning, have changed my name, and have added a new feature to my identity, that of a wife. Lastly, as part of the marital change, I also moved east of the city to a little neighborhood called Church Hill. I pay rent, buy groceries, decide at what temperature the thermostat will hover, send Christmas cards, and partake in other such “grown-up” activities that come with this new territory of life.

Despite all these changes, the title of this blog will remain unchanged. I’m not in Brussels any more, but the mission, the weaving thread connecting every step and breath, the overarching narrative- it’s all the same. I am still seeking and sent. God has first sought me and saved me from the full consequence of every past, current, and future intentional and unintentional mess-up, screw-up, and mistake. In grateful response, I am seeking Him, sometimes with fervor and at other points with a perplexed countenance. I am seeking Him in my marriage, in my work, over the phone catching up with a friend, at church on a Sunday morning, as I’m watching prime time TV, and in friendly banter with my neighbors. I am relentlessly seeking because I believe the promise that when I seek God with everything I’ve got, I will find him (Jeremiah 29:13). Consequently, I am sent. I’m sent bearing the peace, grace, and very image of our King to my neighbors, to my husband, to my coworkers, to myself. I am still seeking and sent, so the name of this blog will not change, because the narrative is the same.

HOME

2009-12-22T13:11:00.002-05:00

After many hours spent waiting in Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport, my third try out of Europe was a success when I finally caught a flight home on Sunday. I met a lot of interesting characters and made a few new friends along the way, but am so thankful to finally be back. Although my journey home took a few days longer than expected, God sent so many helpful people my way that I was compelled to start making a list of all the kind things done for me. One family traveling to Italy helped me drag my two suitcases through a snowy overpass outside the airport while another man let me use his international phone to call the airline after I missed my first flight. I'm convinced a few airline personnel waived the overweight baggage fees I should have incurred and another waved me through although my carry-on bags were too heavy and too large. Not sure if I would even make it home before Christmas, my time spent in limbo Friday through Sunday was stressful and frustrating, but also worshipful as I received God's provision over and over again through many friendly and patient people.

The extra days spent in Paris allowed me to process my time in Brussels some before returning home, but I know there will be more processing necessary in the coming weeks. The experience was so different from what I expected, and my ability to adapt to those differences was certainly challenged along the way. Yet the people I met and whose stories I heard are what made that adaptation worthwhile. I'm thankful for the relationships made, for the experiences shared, and for the peek at a bigger picture of how God is at work in our world. I'm eager to share this processing time with some of you all in the coming weeks. Look for more posts to come!

An Arab Au Revoir

2009-12-14T04:42:00.006-05:00

The past week has been marked with a lot of "lasts." Monday and Tuesday held my last days of English classes as I proctored exams. Our "end of the year points party" on Wednesday was the last time for me to see many of my students. Saturday morning was my last time visiting a friend who lives a few towns away and that afternoon allowed for one last time serving with a local ministry to feed hundreds of Brussels' homeless under Garde-Midi train station. Yesterday marked my last Sunday attending Arab Church, and therefore my last time seeing many of the familiar faces who have slowly become friends. We hosted the youth and their families at our house after the service to retell, through pictures, videos, and stories, what the youth have learned and done this semester. It was a wonderful time for me to recognize the ways God has worked in this group and give thanks for being able to participate in that.

What was especially gratifying was identifying what God is doing with such humble offerings. I couldn't help thinking "a little sure goes a long way." Regular youth group meetings occur every other Friday night for 3 hours. We've enjoyed two weekend retreats together, a birthday weekend, and a couple outings with smaller groups of the kids. This is not the youth group of the West End that includes a research-led structure, printed t-shirts, a clever and concise mission statement, involved leadership council, and frequently updated blog site. But they love it.

It wasn't until June that this group had consistent youth group gatherings with good biblical teaching. At least two of these kids are living with unaddressed mental, emotional, and learning disabilities. Half come from divorced families. One has a Muslim father who competes with his Christian ex-wife for their daughter's faith. Another saw her biological father one day on the metro and walked in the other direction, knowing he wouldn't want to talk to her. One brother-sister pair are missing their older sister who ran away from home a year ago and a few more have changed schools and countries so much that friends and consistent standards of learning are both hard to come by. One can't study well at home with five people in a cramped two bedroom apartment and has failed her grade level multiple times. When I step back and reflect on where these kids are coming from, I realize why they love youth group so much. Little competition exists for it to be the best part of their week.

As I watched them crowd around my computer to laugh at our slideshow of pictures and eagerly grab their parents to tell corresponding stories, I couldn't help but smile. For them, it really doesn't take much. To have something fun to look forward to every other Friday; to walk into a place where they are accepted, loved, and safe; to have teaching and games planned just for them; to be reminded that they aren't alone in trying to follow Christ as a teenager in Brussels; to be told their gifts are useful, valued, and needed in the church... these are avenues by which God is growing these young people into men and women whose identity, treasure, and joy is in Him. I can't wait to see what God does in and through them in the coming years and am so thankful to have traveled with them on a part of their journey.

Adventus

2009-12-05T17:18:00.005-05:00

In Advent we celebrate, day by day, the eager anticipation and preparation for the arrival of Jesus on earth. Advent season is full of preparations. We prepare delicious dishes for holiday get-togethers with family, friends, and coworkers. Holiday decor is pulled down from the attic, up from the basement, and strewn about the house, workplace, and church to prepare for visitors. We may bake sweet treats for our friends "just because," and we raid the local malls to find just the right gifts for everyone. At church, we light candles and sing familiar hymns as we prepare for the culminating day that celebrates the coming of the Light of the World. The growing list of preparations can become a spiritless to-do list and rob us of the Advent joy God intended for us. But when we pause from preparations and acknowledge the broken places we need Jesus to enter into, who can resist reaching out for all the life and hope God intends for us in this season?

This year, my heart has resonated strongly with the Advent cry for Jesus to come. Like those living in the 400 empty years between the last Old Testament prophet and the arrival of the Christchild, I am hopefully waiting for a word, a sign from God, anything to hear from Him and know His presence. Like Abraham and Sarah waited for a child, David waited to become king, and Jacob waited for Rachel, I too am waiting and looking for the daily fulfillment of the promises made me: His peace, strength, wisdom, justice, counsel, power, and rest, to name a few.

This Advent season, I am desperate for Jesus' coming. I am desperate for Him to come into my heart and transform the disbelief I have found there. I long for him to come and direct my mind's thinking as I contemplate next steps after Brussels. I yearn for him to come and captivate my entire being to such an extent that every step I make here is one of submissive, worshipful obedience. I want Him to come into the Arab church and create committed disciples out of our congregation. I can't wait for Him to become the center of the families represented at church. I eagerly look for Him to come and reveal Himself as loving Father and irresistible Savior to my Muslim friends here. I've never yearned for Jesus to come like I have here.

We need Jesus to come. We need Him to come and dwell in our hearts and relationships just as He came and physically dwelt among people in the dusty Middle East years ago. Our families, communities, and churches desperately need the full and abundant life His coming offers.

Jesus wants to. He longs to teach and transform us as we ask for and await His coming. For me and for you, the question is whether we are ready for Him to come. Are we ready for Him to come into the hidden, disgraceful parts of us and set up camp there? Do we expect Him to come and take control of our relationships so they more fully display His love?

Have you been anticipating His arrival? Have we prepared a place to welcome Him in?

When God Says Yes

2009-11-28T04:23:00.004-05:00

Breathe deep. This will be one long (and overdue) blog entry...

The last few weeks have continued and even heightened my persistent struggle against feeling ineffectual and aimless here. To be honest, this experience has proven very different from my expectations when I excitedly stared out my plane window on September 3rd. For many known and unknown reasons, class sizes for English were smaller this year and remarkably inconsistent. The ages, language abilities, and genders of students in all my classes except for my one Moroccan friend in conversation class didn't allow for building relationships outside of class. I have wrestled with God a lot, questioning the process of making the decision to come here, and demanding an answer to why He led me here. Hours of thought have been devoted to conjuring up various possibilities.

Maybe I came to understand people's needs here and pray for them. Perhaps I was led here to spend lots of uninterrupted time alone with God every morning up in my room. Maybe God brought me here to help me discern if the life of an international missionary is a life I could ever live in the future. Maybe I needed to learn how to "do" Arab/Muslim/inner city/international ministry. Perhaps I came to learn how to survive in a foreign country, or maybe it was important for me to refine my cooking skills.

Whatever the reason(s), I've come to some confident conclusions in the midst of these ponderings. First, God has taught me that childlike trust in Him and His leadership is more fulfilling than answering the persistent question why. Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever (Psalm 125:1). My confidence and strength are born in obeying and trusting in our steadfast Lord more than understanding all the answers.

Second, God has painfully crushed my tendency of finding my identity in work. I am separate from what I do. I am separate from what I produce. I am God's. Work is necessary and important. However, my identity is first in the idea of belonging to Him, of whose I am, instead of my attachment to people, titles, programs, and results. But now, this is what the LORD says— he who created you..."Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine" (Isaiah 43:1).

Third, I've learned what it means to survive not by bread alone, but by every word of God. A favorite verse of many and for good reason, Philippians 4:6 has been ever present on my mind for the last few months. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Although some days it has been a forceful act of the will to do so, I have thanked God every morning for this place and this experience. My time here has not been bad, but certainly challenging and faith-producing. After giving thanks, I have presented many requests to God for the people in the Arab Church, for Janee and Hary, for myself, and for my students. God answered some of these prayers and responded to my cry to verbally share about Him with a yes this week.

Tuesday before my Level 2 English class, I spent some time talking to an older Muslim male student about Eid al-Adha, the "Festival of Sacrifice" that was to begin Friday. This holiday commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac as an act of obedience to God. Muslims celebrate by sacrificing a lamb and sharing the food with family, friends, and the poor, feasting for the following three days. My student, "B," was happy to share about the feast, and I was happy to learn. Our conversation led to me introducing him to the idea of Jesus as our sacrificial lamb who took away the sins of the world. Because many Muslims love to talk about religion, English class was gladly postponed, and the next hour and a half, Hary, myself, "B," and another Turkish Muslim student preceded to talk about Christianity and Islam. Having experienced multitudes of these types of conversations, Hary posed many good questions to these students about truths they claim in Islam but have not yet critically evaluated.

Class ended with these three men still talking and debating downstairs, while I began conversation class upstairs with my female Moroccan Muslim friend, "Y," and a new student, a female Christian Iraqi refugee who is an old friend of Hary's. Our conversation in this class proved just as interesting as we jumped from the political situation in Iraq to the situation of Muslim women around the world, from this Iraqi woman's experience hiding under tables while bomb sirens rang out into the night in war-torn Baghdad, to Christianity's call to treat others with grace because of God's grace towards us. I ended the night elated, so thankful that God had provided opportunities to speak candidly about who He is and what He has done with these students that I have genuinely come to know and love.

I have been praying that my conversations with "Y" about Christianity would become more personal rather than informational, and in a quick and obvious answer to my prayer, Thursday's conversation class was filled with such conversation. I was able to ask more about this woman's family, what would happen if she became a Christian, and the idea that in contrast to inheriting religion in Islam through your family, in Christianity, faith begins when we choose to believe what Jesus has done for us and commit to a life of following Him. Please pray for that conversation with "Y" to be continued, and even more personally next class or when we spend time together on Sunday. "Y" is very interested in diversity, tolerance, and understanding other religions. Because of this and a desire to meet Arab Christians, she wants to come to the Arab Church with me next Sunday. Pray that she would come, and that her general curiosity would develop into a personal one that leads her to investigate Jesus for herself.

God has met and answered me in remarkably obvious ways this week, and I am so thankful! The hours of studying Islam, Arabic culture, and French seem well worth it. Please continue to pray for courage, hope, joy, and peace for me in these last three weeks in Brussels. Please also pray for these students as they begin to wrestle with Jesus, and that this wrestling would lead to one day knowing them as Christian brothers and sisters.

When I called, you answered me; you made me bold and stouthearted. Psalm 138:3

A Ministry Manifesto

2009-11-15T14:53:00.011-05:00

I've been reading a lot of Paul lately. Have you heard of him? Authored half of the New Testament, missionary to many, and even served time for it. Ah yes, Paul.

Sometimes I forget he was a real person, and sometimes I catch myself adding my own little details to his life story. I picture him thoughtfully staring off into the distance, his head inquisitively turned slightly to the right, as he sails onward towards his next missionary destination. He smiles to himself as he remembers his friends throughout the empire that are thriving in new, flourishing home churches with too many members to count. He envisions the multitudes that have fallen on their faces before the Lord as a result of his ministry and confidently asks God for more, because naturally, he never ceases to pray.

For a few months now, I've been the missionary, and it's caused me to take some second looks at Paul. Who could better supply some helpful hints about this kind of life that I'm desperately trying to figure out?

Helpful Hint #1: Acknowledge the real deal. The valiant, calm pastor image I created in my head is probably not the reality of Paul's persona. Just because today we are privy to knowing the fruit of his ministry doesn't mean he could necessarily see it then, nor was he immune to disappointment along the way. Surely he felt despair when people and communities just didn't get it. With a fiery and fierce demeanor, he likely boiled with anger as he watched sin injure people and dishonor the name of God. For every individual who repented in order to follow The Way, there was likely another who rejected Paul's teaching as foolishness. He suffered disappointments in his ministry. And yet, God produced a growing first century church using Paul's efforts.

The more I experience church and ministry here, the more sentiments I think I share with Paul. I want to give the benefit of the doubt, but I also want to discover the truthful realities in people's lives here. Seeing brokenness is difficult, especially understanding the effects it wreaks on lives and successive generations. However, in order to tend to the brokenness, I've learned that we must first acknowledge the real deal of the situation. Often, the real deal is messy, ugly, and bleak. And we must question. What keeps individuals in the church from seeking growth? How can they complacently accept the emptiness of their current life? What kind of faith are men practicing if their wives can't tell the difference between their husbands as Muslims and now as Christians? How can women think faith is for men alone? Why bother with church and faith if it doesn't change your life? But we can't stop with questions and we can't accept the bleakness as the final word. We seek understanding only in order to herald the healing that comes through prayer, teaching, and the ministry of presence.

Helpful Hint #2: Build bridges. On a trip to Athens recorded in Acts 17, Paul exemplifies a concept Janee taught me my first week here as essential to Muslim ministry, and I think ministry in general. Although he was "greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols," Paul finds common ground with these polytheists in order to then share the love of Christ with them. In fact, he openly spoke the truth in the synagogue and the marketplace, discussing and reasoning with whoever happened to be listening. He spoke the truth boldly enough to cause people to curiously ask for more. "May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? You are bringing some strange new ideas to our ears, and we want to know what they mean." Paul stands up before a meeting of thinkers, and begins hammering nails into a bridge of common understanding between their worldviews. "I see that in every way you are very religious," he says. "For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you." Paul continues to build a case for the one true God, but using their terminology. He emphasizes what they agree on and then moves onto the person of Christ and His resurrection. (Check out the end of the story in Acts 17:24-34).

Likewise, I'm learning and implementing this proclamation model for sharing the Gospel. Whether with my Muslim friend or with a youth at church, painstakingly constructing a bridge of shared belief is powerful. It builds a foundation of trust and respect, and creates a context into which the story of Jesus can most clearly enter.

And even then, Paul likely suffered some disappointment in the midst of what we would deem a ministry success. The result of his brilliant and relevant presentation was that "some of them sneered, but others said, 'We want to hear you again on this subject'... A few men became followers of Paul and believed." That's the real deal.

Helpful Hint #3: Adapt. As the beloved mentor of so many diverse congregations and as a dearly loved discipler and friend of many, it seems like Paul mastered this concept. "Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible... I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. I do this for the sake of the gospel." Whether it was becoming like Jews, Gentiles, or simply the weak, Paul understood the benefit of adapting the adaptable parts of his identity. Certainly there are fundamental features of our faith and uniqueness as our Father's children that we will refuse to touch, and rightly so, but for the rest, we must grip loosely.

I have and will continue to try adapt to the people and the world around me, if it means that somehow Christ looks better. I'm not a fan of organized group games. But, if it could lead to a richer community in our youth group that fosters honest discussion, I can enjoy a thumb war tournament or some fishbowl charades. Shopping wears me out and usually bores me to tears, but if that's my Muslim friend's suggestion for hanging out, shopping on Friday it is. I find dates and figs revolting, but if passing the bowl could impair a friendship or incur judgment that blocks one's sensitivity to God, then one or two never hurt anybody. In the end, becoming all things to all people becomes a lesson in freedom. Freedom can be found in such a self-emptying ideology. Jesus said so.

Weeks in Review

2009-11-07T16:23:00.008-05:00

Now that I've experienced some "normal" weeks here in Brussels, I thought I'd fill you in on what I've been up to here instead of just my musings for the day. In an ironic twist from my last blog post about learning to be rather than filling my schedule with things to do, here are some brief snippets of what I've done over the last few weeks:

-embarked on a dumpster diving adventure to IKEA for giant boxes to be used to create scenery for the youth's Christmas play (that were then transported across the city via metro)
-visited an Italian widow from our church in her home, studied the Bible with her, and prayed with her
-helped a mother in the church host the youth for a weekend at her house to celebrate her son's 15th birthday
-studied English Church History with Janee in preparation for our trip to LONDON on Tuesday!!
-fed multitudes of homeless men, women, and children under a bridge in the center of the city
-spent the day with an Arab family, visited a farm, and learned how to make cheese from freshly pumped cow's milk
-learned how to correctly use the words "some" and "any" thanks to teaching Level 2 English
-concluded a study on a book called Honor And Shame by Roland Muller
-visited my Moroccan friend from my conversation "class," for her lunch break from work at the European Union
-traveled to Iran for the day by dressing as an Iranian woman, listening to Iranian radio, making Iranian food with Janee and Hary, and then praying together for the people of Iran
-prepped my English classes for their midterm exams last week
-hosted the youth for a "lock-in" type weekend at our apartment, which involved games, fall-inspired fun, teaching and singing French worship songs, and kicking off our semester purity study
-prayed with a Syrian woman from church and let her teach me how to spell my name in Arabic
-learned to make tortillas, Navajo flatbread, and a delicious feast all from scratch for a dinner party with 4 Arab couples
-continued the second installment of our purity study with the youth group at our usual every-other Friday night gathering

Below are some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

To Be

2009-10-31T04:43:00.000-04:00

On one of the first days of English class, I taught my Level 1 students how to conjugate the verb "to be." I emphatically stressed that this was the most important word in the English language. You really can't say much without understanding this word. Imagine any conversation in English. Simple or complicated, this verb is essential. Hi, my name is Claire. I am from America. How are you?

Four weeks after the start of English classes, I'm starting to understand the importance of this "being" idea. I'm learning what it means to exist and the value in simply bearing God's likeness as I do so. The verb "do" has never given me any trouble. I get that. I've always been an exceptional "do-er." I happily worked all day most Saturdays during high school, and scheduled my days at college from morning until long past the sun had set. I can write Bible studies, lead meetings, and plan programs, no problem. I like doing. Being busy with a long to-do list in hand gives me an adrenaline rush. But when it comes time to stop doing and start being, I feel lost. I feel aimless. It makes me uncomfortable.

Not so for many other cultures on this earth. Europeans sit for hours at cafes. Perhaps they are involved in a fascinating conversation with a friend, or maybe they are watching people pass on the street. The content of this time usually isn't the point. Arab culture certainly understands the idea of being as well. It seems difficult to meet someone for coffee or tea for less than a couple hours. Church members arrive starting an hour before the service on Sunday, and stay at least an hour after. When things need to get done, they are accomplished, but only the essentials: cooking, eating, cleaning, constructing. The American mentality of back-to-back scheduled events doesn't apply here.

This week God let me have a small revelation into what He wants from me here. I think He wants to break me, and eight weeks in, I'm finally yielding to that breaking process.

God is breaking me of my preference for doing, and teaching me the more foundational idea of being. I'm learning to be with Him, really be with Him, as I sit and talk to Him in the mornings, imagining Him sitting beside me. I'm learning to be with Him as I seek His strength instead of finding satisfaction in the tangible results of my labor. I'm learning to be with the youth rather than merely accomplishing tasks and objective goals with them. Instead of just scheduling visits with women from the church into my daily calendar, I'm learning to be present with them as we drink coffee and pray together.

I have this mental image of God as a lumberjack, chopping away at my workaholic mindset. I'm not sure what the ideal balance is between doing and being as we walk through life, but God has set me down on a painstaking path of discovery to find out.

A New Normal

2009-10-21T15:58:00.017-04:00

Seven weeks. I'm almost seven weeks into this little adventure called Brussels. How much has changed in those seven weeks! No longer am I quite so wide eyed as I walk down the street and see women dressed like this:

or cars like this: (or the former driving the latter for that matter).

I don't think twice now about the cars loudly honking outside my room or the thumping and scraping of chairs and tables moving in the neighbor's apartment. The sounds of Arabic don't strike me as strange as they did at first. I've even started to forget that I am the white American in the Arab Church.





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The smell of the popular Lebanese 7 spices wafting from a dish are still tantalizing, but no longer alert my appetite as they did at first.

The tastes of certain Middle Eastern dishes and delicacies have become easily recognizable now as I walk into more and more homes.

And so goes life, doesn't it? New becomes old.

New tastes become commonplace. New sights stop turning your head. New sounds become unnoticeable. New smells become unrecognizable. New relationships become comfortable and familiar. New ideas become givens. New ways of doing things become habits.

As much as they may try to resist, things new will become things old.

What do we do when the new becomes normal?

Some people actively search for more new, while others quietly wait for the small buds of change. Some grow complacent with life as they know it, while others manage to simultaneously remember and move forward.

My answer to this question is not a deep or inspiring one. With losing the newness of living here, I've also lost the desperate dependency on God I wrote about before. Multitudes of things still bombard me that I don't completely understand, but even that occurrence, in itself, seems normal. My little bit of knowledge of the neighborhood's layout, Arab culture, English classes, and the dynamics of the church have given me a false sense of control, as if a little more understanding could somehow replace God's sovereignty.

It's been a while since I've gone to sleep in awe of His power. And I can't seem to reconjure that notion of Him being the one familiar thing. I want those things back. Certainly these understandings endure beyond the times we find ourselves like a fish out of water, frantically flopping around in our foreign environment.

--

It was a beautiful, crisp fall day here, which begged for a run in a nearby park. In the middle of my run, the old hymn, God Our Help in Ages Past, began playing on my ipod. With the help of this song, my brain stopped it's scattered thinking and reframed this transition I'm experiencing away from newness.

God is not new. Yes, He does new things, He leads us into new life, His compassions are new every morning, but He is not new. And whether I feel it or not, I am still a child in need of my Father.

I began this blog in August thrilled about the new thing that God was doing by sending me to Brussels. Seven weeks in, I'm reminded of more than the new place I was sent, but of the God I came seeking, the God who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

--


O God, our help in ages past, 
our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast,
and our eternal home.

Under the shadow of thy throne,
thy saints have dwelt secure;
sufficient is thine arm alone,
and our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
or earth received her frame,
from everlasting, thou art God,
to endless years the same.

A thousand ages, in thy sight,
are like an evening gone;
short as the watch that ends the night,
before the rising sun.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
bears all who breathe away;
they fly forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.

O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come;
be thou our guide while life shall last,
and our eternal home.

Arab Church Camp

2009-10-15T02:42:00.006-04:00

Church Camp proved to be an enlightening and fun experience last weekend. I discovered that it was officially named Church Camp rather than Church Retreat for a reason. While I laughed a lot and delighted in feeling used by the Lord, little actual rest was involved in the weekend.

I did come home encouraged by the ways God has used this church to bring people to Himself, especially after hearing testimonies from a few Muslim background believers. I also returned on Sunday with more appreciation for Arab culture, especially the relational and communal nature of it, after being immersed in it for 48 hours with no escape. It was nothing for six guys ranging from six- to 18-years-old to wrestle and play for hours Saturday night. No one was really in a rush to leave Sunday afternoon, so some of the women sat and drank tea and talked together for a while after lunch. For Arabs, life is shared with those around you, and nothing seems more important.

Leading the youth was challenging, but fun. My patience, creativity, and ability to teach were all tried and developed as a result. The youth had many questions for us in response to our times of study and discussion together regarding what a relationship with God looks like, in what ways life is better when you are a Christian, how to share their faith with their family, and how to discern between right and wrong in regards to media exposure, substance use, and relationships.

The highlight of the weekend for me was equipping the youth to perform a drama for the church's variety show. We hurriedly practiced on Saturday, and when they performed on Saturday night, they moved the church to cheers and tears. I was so proud of them. The church has never expected them to contribute, nor really pays them much notice. In turn, the youth don't recognize their responsibility to the body of Christ and don't understand the ways in which they are gifted. However, this weekend offered a different story. You can watch the drama here.

I'll tell you the rest in pictures:

Please pray for these youth to question, wrestle, and seek God individually, and with their family and this youth group. Pray that God would reveal Himself to each of these youth in an undeniable way. Also, please pray for discipleship to take place in the lives of church members.

You can call me Miss Claire

2009-10-08T18:34:00.004-04:00

Hi friends! I just finished my first week teaching English classes and thought I'd give you a short synopsis.
I love our students already. We have students from the Syria, Congo, Poland, Portugal, Belgium, Morocco, Albania, Senegal, and Iran, ranging from age 13 to 60-something. They are (for the most part) very eager to learn and fun to get to know. As you can imagine, you learn to laugh at yourself a good bit when you're learning a foreign language, so we've been able to laugh together a good bit already. We have 4 levels of classes, with the highest being a conversation class. This year, only one student enrolled in conversation class, a 27 year-old woman who works for the European Union and also happens to be very friendly and easy to talk to. Essentially, we have a coffee date twice a week for the next 10 weeks to talk about whatever she wants. Finally, I enjoy teaching much more than I expected to, which makes class fun. I originally thought of English class only as a means to build deeper relationships with these individuals, but the process of helping someone grasp a word or concept has been satisfying as well.
Please pray for all these relationships being formed with our students: I want each individual we're teaching to think favorably of Christ by the end of the semester because of knowing Janee, Hary and I, and I want each student to see and hear the Gospel as clearly as possible by the end of the semester.
I leave tomorrow for a church-wide weekend retreat in Waterloo. The adults of the church will be led by a guest pastor from Germany and worship leader from Syria, while Janee and I will lead separate sessions for the youth during the same time. We've planned about 9 hours worth of Bible study and discussion focused on our identity in Christ: who we are as Christ-followers, what our message is as such, and the practical daily application of that in our lives. This is the first time for most of the youth to participate in something like this, and likely the first time they have personally engaged these ideas. Please pray for them to wrestle with God this weekend and respond to the Gospel with sincere understanding and joy!

What is Better

2009-10-04T15:36:00.004-04:00

Another week has passed here in Brussels, and with it, winter has arrived! I begrudgingly donned my winter coat for the first time tonight, but am thankful that the cold rain that characterizes Brussels has kept its distance so far. The beginning of this week has been more of a struggle for me than others. With neither a good grasp of French nor a strong competency in Arab culture, I've wrestled a lot with a strong feeling of uselessness. Have you ever felt this way?

If you have, you know it is an effort to convince yourself that you are NOT purposeless, NOT aimless, NOT disposable, and NOT just a "bump on a log," as my mom would say. You know Jesus' hint that those who are trusted with very little can be trusted with much seems easier said than done (Lk 16:10). This feeling isn't completely unfamiliar to me, but being in a place far from friends and family and living here solely by the gifts of others seems to magnify it. I was not commissioned to be useless. God knew what I needed, and gave me a reprieve from the drag of this feeling on Saturday in the form of slapping together hundreds of cheese sandwiches and ladling bowls of hot soup. The Arab church serves with a local organization called Tabitha Ministries once every five weeks to make and serve dinner to hundreds of homeless women, men, and children in Brussels. Nothing will make you feel useful like being part of a concerted effort to feed over 200 people on a cold night. I watched the piles of sandwiches grow as we worked in the kitchen, and later that night I watched them enter the mouths of the city's hungry and poor. It was the definition of seeing a tangible result of your work, and selfishly, it felt great.

There are many moments from Saturday night that I wish I could elaborate on: seeing the hoards of people already waiting for food when we arrived downtown, numerous Muslims debating about whether the food we gave was halal (acceptable by God to be consumed), and silently snacking on spicy Cheetos with a homeless man and woman who couldn't understand my French. But there was one moment that was seared into my mind. While serving soup at the end of the line, I witnessed an uncomfortable encounter between a ministry volunteer and a homeless man. The man's hands were dripping with hot coffee as he attempted to also balance a bag of non-perishables, three sandwiches wrapped in a paper towel, and a cup of soup. The volunteer noticed his struggle and reached for his sandwiches to try to help him adjust his handful. The man angrily jerked away, spilling more of his coffee and now his soup on his arm. Persistently, the volunteer tried again, only to be met with an audible, angry snarl. At this point, the cup of coffee was mostly empty and the soup cup was close to the same. Patiently, the volunteer moved again to help the man, and this time he relented. Quickly, the sandwiches were tucked into the bag and placed on his shoulder, leaving a free hand for his coffee and a free hand for his cup of soup. The volunteer led the man back to the table to replenish both, and after the man hurriedly scuffled away.

I couldn't stop thinking, "That's me." Like the man, I rigidly cling to what I have and what I know, and become frenzied and annoyed when the familiar is disrupted; when the tangible is threatened. Is that you? This man didn't understand that there was a better way to get his food home, and likewise, I too have refused to consider any better ways to be useful here than the ways I know and prefer. As the volunteer gently tried to help the man fit more, take more, eat more, the man refused the outstretched hand. Why? Was it fear, pride, or impatience? Whatever the reason, he refused to let go and receive what was better. When God tries to rearrange things; when he asks us to let go, He is usually offering us something more and better. What are you clinging to?

For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. Mark 8:35.

Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matthew 7:9-11.

Ready

2009-09-26T14:10:00.002-04:00

Most mornings I wake up here and have little idea what the day will hold. Arab culture is more relaxed than the pace of life at home, which leads to many unexpected knocks at the door for a visit or conversations over tea that can last so long your legs go numb. Usually only one visit or event is scheduled for the day and catching up on emails, French study, and lesson plans can only take so long. English classes begin in one week, which will lend more structure and shape to my days, but until then, I wake up in the morning both ignorant and curious of what's to come.

Imagining yourself in my shoes might seem relieving and freeing or rather aimless and disappointing. I can assure you I've felt all of those emotions in the last three weeks. My personality loves planners, schedules, and fixed plans, but the hectic days of college have left me incredulous and somewhat guilty-feeling at the possibility of an open day on the calendar.

This lack of scheduling has forced me to become available to God in a new way. I can't categorize my life here among different commitments and then check tasks off as they are accomplished. There is no time set aside that is most certainly "my time." It all belongs to God. So, I'm learning to wait on God, I'm learning to pray in a desperate kind of way, and I'm learning to live, moment by moment, as God directs me. If it's time to study, I study, if it's time to prepare, I prepare, if it's time for a visitor, I visit, if it's time to rest, I rest. And, as I learned on Friday, if it's time to explain who Jesus is to the Iranian man at the copy store, I go with it. I don't believe God will waste my unplanned time here. So far, my availability to Him and to people has provided providential encounters and purposeful conversations remarkably different from my previous "scheduled to a T" life.

I can't plan on much here, but I can act out of a deep confidence in God's Sovereignty. Part of each morning is spent praying for what I can guess will occur in the next 24 hours. But now, mornings include a profession to my Father that He knows what the day will hold, in fact He is the very one who has crafted it for me, and an expectant plea to be made ready.

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24.

Food for Thought

2009-09-20T04:15:00.003-04:00

Today marks the last day of Ramadan, the month of prayer and fasting for Muslims. Most Muslims observe Ramadan, and are more careful to pray five times per day toward Mecca during this month, as Islam dictates. Muslims observing Ramadan fast from sun up until sun down every day in order to understand the sufferings of the poor and appreciate Allah's blessings. Ramadan is one of the five pillars of Islam, and fosters a sense of community among Muslims around the world. Please pray for Muslims around the world today at the end of Ramadan, specifically that those who have been sincerely seeking God will be led to Jesus. You can learn more about Ramadan at www.30-days.net.

Here are some additional facts about Islam, courtesy of Janee's August prayer letter and the web site mentioned above:

1 out of every 5 people in the world is a Muslim
9 out of 10 Muslims have never met a Christian
Islam is the most practiced religion here in Belgium
There are 53.7 million Muslims living in Europe; there are 2.4 million in the United States
More than half of the world's poor and needy are Muslims
75% of the world's refugees come from Muslim nations

Fried chicken and buttered corn

2009-09-17T14:54:00.005-04:00

Marhabah! That's the English pronunciation for hello in Arabic. You've read that I desperately need to grasp the French language to survive here, but little did I know that I would also be learning some basic Arabic. While there is a Belgian flag displayed in the link to this blog on Gayton's web site, the two weeks I've spent in Brussels have felt more like two weeks in Morocco. The neighborhood in which I live is actually known as "Morocco II" by the residents here. Meandering into any store, I can find an abundance of seasonings, fruits, and packaged goods from Morocco or Turkey, but the only recognizable items I can find from home are Coca-Cola, Fanta, and some generic produce. Moroccans, the most prominent nationality in this neighborhood, have commented how ridiculous the idea of inviting a family member here from home would be, as it seems so much like home to them. To say that I'm a minority is an understatement.

Adjusting to life here has necessitated a fair amount of culture shock, much more than first anticipated. I was headed for Europe, which I assumed would hold striking similarities to life as I knew it, maybe even with an extra dose of sophistication. I've only encountered the Europe I imagined a few times, however, for a quick trip downtown or for the afternoon I strolled the cobblestone streets of Bruge. No elegant cafes, canals, or high fashion can be found in my neighborhood. Instead, women donning foulards (headscarves) stand in line at bakeries and butcheries, what could be casual cafes are actually bars filled with Arab men at night, and the "park" in front of our apartment consists of concrete slabs instead of grass and a few pieces of play equipment.

Besides the blaring cultural differences, simple, everyday tasks are now learning moments for me. At church on Sunday, I had to leave the restroom to ask one youth how to flush the toilet. In an attempt to blowdry my hair yesterday, I filled the entire third floor with putrid smoke from overheating the electrical adaptor. Reading the clock requires extra time to convert the numbers I see to meaningful information. Even the simplest tasks require special concentration and a request to God for patience. I've found myself longing for the familiar much more than expected. On Tuesday, that yearning led Janee and I to deep fry pieces of chicken, butter some corn, and cut up potatoes to make french fries. As much as I love the Lebanese, Syrian, and Tunisian dishes I've tried, there is comfort to be found in good 'ol American cooking. All of you at home, don't take it for granted!

The truth that God is the same in Brussels, Morocco, and the States has provided great encouragement and rest to me in a very powerful way. He is the familiar, and certainly fills and nourishes me in a way that fried chicken and buttered corn simply cannot. In many afternoons of language study and conversations over tea lately, I have asked God where He is, what He's doing, and what I am to learn in that moment. So far, it's been difficult to hear God's response in the midst of this empty, spiritually deficient place, but I've seen a few glimpses of Him. And He is big. When everything feels foreign, when expectations fail us, when I don't know how to flush a toilet, He is the familiar.

2009-09-14T06:45:00.005-04:00

Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay in posting. I've been without internet on my computer until a nice man named Ihmad, who happens to be a computer genius, fixed it yesterday.

It hasn't been until the last few days that I've really started to feel comfortable here. The culture shock has been a lot more than anticipated, and the language barrier has been a steep one to traverse. The pictures above highlight some events from the week. Friday night we hosted youth group at Janee and Hary's home. It was a fun night, with lots of games and pizza. The youth are so fun, and really committed to each other. Earlier last week, Janee and I met with a woman with a Muslim background who is new to the church, and asked to study Scripture with her. She made us tea and we read through John 1 together, asking each other questions and discussing whatever topics came up from the text. It was a very meaningful time together. Janee and I spent one day in Bruge, with the canals and cobblestone streets. It is a very nice and touristy area, very different from where I live!
Because English classes haven't begun yet, most of what I've been doing is joining Janee and Hary to meet with women and families in their homes, or hosting whoever decides to stop by the house one day. Yesterday, we had a big Lebanese lunch with 9 Arab men from the church, which I greatly enjoyed. Three of them are getting baptized next week. Many of the single men in the church have a close community and brotherhood, and I desire to see that for the women, although it remains more difficult to create.
Janee and I are taking a day of rest today, and going to find some American food on the other side of the city. I will update you all again soon thanks to this lovely invention I now enjoy on my computer called the internet.

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