Love, at War.

Love knows well the art of war. (1)
It is the battle cry of armies, the weapon of warriors and the prize claimed in victory.

Love brings the sword of Truth, (2) and with it peace.(3) Slicing through the lies that have intricately woven themselves into the fabric of existence, it severs bone from marrow.(4) Truth, where it is realized, separates father from son.(5) He who stands in Truth cannot be at peace with he who will not stand in it. What do light and darkness have in common?(7) Truth divides because it must.

Love, you see, can find no delight in what is evil; but it clings to what is True.(6) Love necessarily shuns everything that is not Love, for they cannot co-exist. Where there is pure black, can there be pure white? Can two things share the exact same space? Can the positive and negative poles of a magnet not repel each other? Where there is evil, there is not Love. That which is not Love can have no part in Love.

Like a Samurai with the patience to train, to endure the tedious and difficult, to reject that which will not perfect in pursuit of what will attain victory, Love discriminates because it must. It cannot embrace all that it is not and still remain all that it is, for Love is Truth. It is the very essence of that which really is.(8)

And yet, in an ironic twist, Love longs to embrace all. It fights to remove evil so that purity might reign, because in purity there is unity and in unity there is peace.(9) Love longs for unity, it desires peace.(10) Unwilling that any should perish,(11) Love fights so that all might live.(12)

But those who would marshal themselves against Love, those who refuse to surrender will find themselves vanquished, for Justice is the demand of Love. What would Love be if it were not Just? And as we have seen, that which is not part of Love is against it and it is this we call evil. Who would argue that evil must not be punished? Who would say that those who have committed the atrocities of murder, of genocide, of child slavery and countless other evils ought not be punished, ought not receive Justice? Do we not all hope for Justice in some form?

By what standard can evil be judged and Justice administered? By Truth. We hold it as self evident that there is Truth, do we not?(13) We claim rights based on Truth, and violations of these rights fall under the domain of Justice.(14) Only fully resting in Truth can there be genuine Justice, and only where there is Justice can there be peace.

So, Love, in pursuit of Justice and under the banner of Truth, is waging a Just War of epic proportions. It spans the centuries of time. It is the war to end all wars. It is the war that will finally result in overarching, eternal peace. Until all humankind are enveloped in this peace that passes all understanding, the peace that emanates from Love, Love is at war.

(1) Certainly all we might term "war" is not born of genuine love. And yet the principle remains constant. We are speaking metaphorically here.
(2) For Christ did not come to bring immediate peace as man would understand peace. Matthew 10:34.
(3) But He came to provide the way to peace through Himself. John 16:33.
(4) And this sword of truth is the very Word of God. Hebrews 4:27.
(5) Matthew 10:35-38.
(6) I Corinthians 13:6.
(7) I John 1:6, 2 Corinthians 6:14-18.
(8) 1 John 4:8. Exodus 34:6. 2 Samuel 7:28. 2 John 1:3. John 14:6. Exodus 3:14.
(9) Colossians 3.
(10) Zechariah 8:19-23.
(11) 2 Peter 3:9.
(12) 2 Corinthians 5:14-21.
(13) "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Eights and that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness." - The Declaration of Independence.
(14) Isaiah 59.

Jesus and Gravity

You know when people make that cliche' comment about muscles they didn't know they had being sore? I tried to find a better way to say that this weekend, but nada. Seriously, I think if you'd asked me yesterday I could have pointed specifically to every single one of the 640 muscles I have and said, "it hurts there." Although pointing might have been difficult considering half of those muscles had relegated themselves to a self-imposed time-out.

Why I initially thought it would be a good idea to bike with my dad's youth group (the lovely Fairfield Baptist of Centerville, TN. HOLLA!) across the state of Tennessee I'm not really sure. These things always sound awesome when they are not immediately imminent. I started out on track with my training. Found some new trails and bike paths in the Burg. All was well. Then I succeeded in busting up two bikes in rapid succession and finding myself in and out of sickness for three weeks. So much for training.

Honestly, I went this weekend thinking I might do one rotation and then just hang out, Tweet, and take a few pics. Unbeknownst to me, I got scheduled for three 15 mile rotations. I am SO out of shape, but when they call your name as "on deck," wimping out loses all appeal. I am not going to be the one who quits. And I'm wearing my padded bike shorts, so, game on.

There have been many times that I've pushed myself to a physical limit, that's not really anything impressive. But this time, there was something remarkably different about the experience. This wasn't about me or anyone else on the team. We were all riding for something bigger than us. There are people in Hickman County Tennessee who desperately need the love of Jesus, and this little group of teenagers had found a way to create a place where they could help create those conversations. Passion is contagious. And when you can sense the power of God through prayer fueling you, it's like being unstoppable. The road was rising up to meet us, and we were eating it up.

By the time I reached my final 15 mile rotation I was working on about 2 hours of sleep after 36 hours on the road and had 30 miles under my pedals (not really that awesome when you consider those guys who went up the Cumberland Plateau or logged over 100 miles). Thank the Lord He made West Tennessee more flat than the East. Every little hill was like torture. A couple times I literally thought that if I went any slower I'd probably fall right over.

10 miles through that third ride (shortly after I decided to liven things up with my wreck), when every muscle was screaming that there was nothing left to give, I had an epiphany. This is what it's like to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and STRENGTH. You can do things in life out of selfish motives, or because of the everlasting love of God that has captivated and consumed you.

Paul says "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." (2 Cor. 9)

Loving God with all our strength doesn't necessarily mean something extreme. It does mean that we lay whatever we can accomplish physically at His feet. We are unafraid to sacrifice our mortal bodies, even unto death, because we know there's something bigger than this life. And let me tell you, it's amazing how when you love God with your strength, your heart, soul and mind start to align (and that works in any order!).

That became totally sealed in my my mind when at the end of the 15 miles I spotted the rest of the team cheering us to the finish from the top of a massive hill. My knee was bleeding and throbbing from my wreck and my body said I didn't have that last hill in me, but my heart said, "Almost home. None of that matters. Now I can see the end. Just finish. It's worth it." And it was.

I leave you with this...
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Cor. 4)

Something to tweet "home" about?

Some species of birds come back to the same nest year after year. They build their little birdy lives with mud and straw salvaged from the parking lot medians that vainly tried to protect new grass seed from hungry beaks. One day you go to remove the nest and realize that it's full of tiny grey, brown-speckled eggs. A few weeks later a chorus of chirps wakes you up on Saturday morning at sunrise. Finally, they learn to fly, it's almost winter and they all head further South to keep from being snowed in at the holidays. The next year Mom and Pop bird are back–sans baby tweets–and sticking new mud and straw on the nest to begin the whole lovely process over again.

I know this because a few days ago maintenance finally removed one such aviary couple out of the beams above our porch. I felt kind of bad just on principle for uprooting their lives. I mean, it will probably feel like a life crisis when they come back to Virginia in the Spring and find out they've been added to the list of displaced families. But then I realized that I have a really difficult time identifying with that somewhat obnoxious bird couple, not just because I don't generally eat worms or sit on eggs, but because the idea of keeping a nest in one place hasn't really been on my radar screen.

It's looking like I'm probably slated for a few more engagements with UHaul before I kick the proverbial bucket and find a more permanent place to plant myself (at Polk Memorial Garden's via Williams Funeral Home in Columbia, TN...Lauren, you can give me my kickback later :). Like it or not, every two years I start to get restless.

What I'm realizing lately is that the more I try to settle down into one idea of home, one identity, one life-goal to navigate the oceans of life by, the more I think the only constant might be the wanderlust. There are so many places to go, so many people to love and so many things to be accomplished, how can I possibly stay still?

But it's more than that. I don't seem to need to go out and chase down adventure. I don't have to run for the sake of running. As I keep my eye to the sky in daily life, always asking of each situation presented to me, "How does this factor in? How can I, right now, contribute to making something great happen here?" I find that my knowledge, skills, relationships and possibilities are expanding. I'm going places I've been seeing on the news and meeting people I used to read about in books. Why would I even WANT to tame that jungle of experience down into a manageable botanical garden?

I may wake up tomorrow to find my nest of mud and straw has been disassembled and I'm forced to move on. Guess I'd probably cry a little at first, but hey, the view from the new rafters will probably be even better.

crazy little thing called love/life.

It's like being exquisitely, painfully, passionately, exhiliratingly in love. The kind of love that makes your cheeks glow like they've been out in the crisp air of early winter and your eyes sparkle like moonlight on the ocean waves. Laughter bubbles up because it can't be contained, songs burst forth because there is so much to sing about and tears fall freely because they are unafraid. That is how I feel about my life.

Many genuinely difficult things are present in my life, so many challenges for which I am certain to be inadequate, and so many things that could make me want to quit. But there has never been such a wealth of life before me either. On one hand life is like being deep in the trenches of battle, but on the other I fight with the absolute knowledge that the outcome of the war swings in my favor. Difficulty becomes easy.

There is nothing about my life that I would change, and yet nothing that I am afraid to let go of. Do not mistake this for flippancy, or a false sense of detachment. I know well the measure of sacrifice already asked. I cannot pretend to know the breadth to which this will extend. But this depth of joy flows from learning to surrender. Though I may resist at first, by His grace the letting go will continue.

I have never been so at rest in who I am. Certainly it has taken me a while to see carved out before me an identity which I can begin to understand as my own. And I have no doubt that this will continue to be forged and refined. But I know myself in ways I could not have without taking the journey so far. More importantly, I know more deeply the God who created me. All that I am is at His mercy. For me there is no surviving apart from Him.

An abundance of amazing people overflow in my life. People who know how to embrace life and invite others to do the same. People who love others deeply and selflessly not because they are perfect, but because they too are being transformed by the unconquerable love of God. And people who are unafraid of raw, honest failure, vulnerability or transparency because they know that life is sometimes leaping, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling and a whole, whole lot of falling.

The possibilities of what can be are breathtaking. It's driving down a road you've never explored before. It's holding a new baby for the first time. I have no time to cling to what has been, no energy to waste on regrets, only the power to look what is right now in the eye and embrace it for all that it is. I love every second, and yet I still can't wait for this Earth part to be over so the real fun can begin on the other side!

In Honor of Ancestor Appreciation Day

Thank you St. Gervasius the Martyr of Milan for the incredible last name.

Thank you Gervasi family for imparting your tendency toward Sicilian blood vendettas (I'm still hoping to find those Mafia ties).

Thank you Crawfords for William Wallace and passing on the Scottish spirit that knows how to fight for a cause worth dying for.

Thanks to the Cherokee for ensuring that I would always be in love with the mountains, and thank you for putting Tennessee in my blood early on.

Thank you Jesse James for imparting a little of your outlaw spirit.

Thank you to my Irish kin who graciously passed on your Irish temper, fair skin and red hair.

Thanks Bishop family for being smart enough to lighten things up with a little Puerto Rican.

Thank you family members for your sacrifice at Gettysburg (Can I hear a Rebel Yell?), in the American Revolution and at Pearl Harbor.


Basically, I think I can sum this all up by saying, I'm seeing a definite trend....So thanks all of you for passing along the Rebel Blood. I'll try to serve it well.

Autumn: a million beautiful deaths.

This is the first time I've sat in real solitude and silence in several days. I have not wanted to be alone with my own soul. Nor have I been ready to. Sometimes I like to pretend that I am hard, that things don't get to me, that I am not terribly frightened by the idea of weathering certain storms on my own. I get angry, and the anger insulates me. But anger doesn't just insulate from pain, it insulates from joy as well.

From the soil of sorrow grows the poet's soul. We must drink deeply of the cup of sorrow. Sorrow sharpens our senses. It makes us aware of the brokenness around us. It helps us understand joy. Sinking into the realization of how broken we are produces an inevitable sense of grace. Oh how we need to live with our fingertips lightly on the pulse of sorrow! How easily I grow hardened to the heartbreak of others when I am wrapped up in my self-sufficiency and the pressure to mark things off my to-do list. Nothing quite accomplishes the rekindling of sensitivity like an Autumn of the Soul.

We cannot always live in summer. The temptation is to wish we could. Summer is easy and fun. It delights us with its warmth and adventure, with its freedom and possibilities. Summer reels with pleasure, but eventually our capacity to enjoy the benefits of summer wanes. Summer feels like perfection. Like the way we instinctively know things are supposed to be. That's why we love it, why we long for it. But nothing in this present world is perfect. Life cannot be wonderfully alive and green all of the time. If it were we'd dull to the radiance of the green and lose out on the glory of every other color.

When I think of autumn I think of brilliant reds and oranges, and I think of rain. I think of crisp air and pumpkin spice lattes, and I think of funeral scenes in movies with powerful cinematography. The really good funeral scenes, the ones that make your heart ache with the characters, are always on a rainy day in autumn. Really, when I think of autumn I think of a the agony of death and the deep, warm things that bring real comfort. The truth is that we cannot know life without understanding death.

Around me in nature I see the edges of autumn creeping up on the fraying leaves of summer. Soon the Blue Ridge Mountains will be gloriously at the epoch of a million deaths, just as they are every year. The days are growing shorter, and the nights longer. Everything moves in its cycle propelling us back into the heart of winter where summer is a memory and spring a hope.

I feel the million little deaths inside me too. Not just one thing is dying, but many. It will be a long, cold winter. I feel the edges of sorrow about to burst into flaming color. And I fight the urge to run to a place where there are no seasons but summer, where I won't have to watch those tiny corpses fall to the earth of my life. I won't run. I won't. If for no other reason than that I know this: every leaf that falls from the tree enriches the soil. It nourishes the tree so its blooms will be bountiful and fragrant in the spring and its branches will spread wide and welcoming in the summer.

The sorrow may last for the night, joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30). His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3), and those who mourn are blessed because they alone understand what it means to be comforted (Matthew 5).

After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you. Ipsi imperium in saecula saeculorum (To Him belongs the power to command in the present and forever). Amen. ~ 1 Peter 5:10-11

Am I living it right?

This morning I woke up, as usual, thinking of the many things that clamor to find space in my day: the tasks, the people, the decisions. . Mornings are the most difficult time of day for me. The more I do in life, the more I learn, the more responsibility I acquire, the more I begin to sense in my spirit that I, of myself, have nothing to offer. And so I awake with a tremendous sense of responsibility which I know I am unable to measure up to.

How easy it is to turn my gaze inward upon myself, as if to create some sort of motivation or conjure up a measure of strength. But this is not enough.

I love my life. I am growing into a sense of blessing and of expectation. Anxiety that makes me want to hide under the covers is countered by an eagerness to see what will come of the day unfolding before me. It is incredibly rich and full of inspiring people and amazing moments, but that is not enough. As my life expands and my relationships grow I experience an overwhelming pull toward solitude. It is a craving to be in the presence of the divine.

So the question is posed: "Who am I that I should consider myself capable of surviving on so little prayer, so little time dwelling in the presence of God?" Whenever I see the rise of anxiety in my life, the lack of faith, I know I have a shortage of communion with God.

We are vessels of clay, formed by the hand of the Master Creator. Can the vessel fill itself? Can it pour itself out? It can never be. The most the vessel can do is to offer itself to be filled and to be poured out.

We must wake up every day and turn to the Almighty God and say "Today, live through me." Not, "Show me your will that I might do it on my own." Not, "Tell me what to do so I can do it." But "Live through me as though my body were your own, for it is, bought with a price, set free and surrendered back into your service. Fill me. Pour me out."

Unless we recognize our utter dependency on the One who holds all things together we can never hope to be part of accomplishing anything for His kingdom. Indeed, we can never know what it is that ought to be accomplished! How can we know the goal of the kingdom if we do not know the King? Our King is a planner of meticulous detail. He has laid out the most intricate blueprints of His plan and has set Himself in motion to accomplish them. The vision is perfectly formed in Him and only imperfectly understood by us. When we determine to forcefully advance this vision from our own strength the best we can hope for is a muddle of our own making. We must spend time, significant time in His presence. Walking with Him. Learning who He is and allowing our lives to be molded so that they can be filled and poured out.

From the Pearl of Africa: What Comes Next.

"The secret of experiencing the power of Christ is to let go of yourself and let Christ live instead of you . . . God never asks for our ability; he asks only for our inability. He does not require power from us, but looks to our weakness. His demand of us is not to be full, but empty. Furthermore, He does not accept our resistance, but instead waits for our submission."
- Watchman Nee

***********************************

Tonight something has clicked. A change has been was set in motion by my experience in Uganda, by the faith I encountered in the Acholi people, by the way I saw God providing for them and working among them.

If there is a word that has characterized my life to this point I would say it's fear. Putting my heart on the line petrifies me. I am beyond scared to trust God. Fear has held me captive for far too long. Fear of what I must give up. Fear of taking the wrong path. Fear of being vulnerable.

I spend a lot of energy worrying and trying to manipulate and control things because I do not trust God to create something beautiful and powerful from my life. I fear that my weakness is bigger than God's strength. I fear that my heart is somehow not safe in Him. This fear comes from not knowing the truth about who God is, and from fighting for my way instead of surrendering to His. How can we trust someone we don't know? And if I need to push what I think is best, how can I rest in His hands knowing He has it all under control?

These past few weeks since Uganda God has hit me devastatingly hard with the lesson of trust. I don't think it's possible to stress enough how much of a failure I have been in this area. How quickly my eyes are averted from Christ. How easily I am convinced that I need to take control of my own life and make something happen. Inevitably I make more of a mess and end up looking spiritually bi-polar, perfectly at peace one minute and anxiously fighting the next.

What happens if tomorrow I lose everything and everyone that ever mattered to me? One thing will remain: Christ. So if He is the only constant, how foolish must I be to place my focus anywhere else?

Today I declare a realignment of priorities. I relinquish the pursuit of anyone and anything but Him. As He continues to teach me I will lay more and more of my heart on the line. So what if I get hurt. So what if I am lied to, abandoned, abused, misunderstood or have my heart broken. So what if I end up with nothing and no one but God. What really have I lost? Should I not count it all joy?

But if I miss out on the joy of sharing in His purposes for the world, then I have truly lost something worth mourning. That is no longer a sacrifice I am willing to make.

No more chasing life. No more chasing what this world has to offer. No more chasing attention and affection. I will go where He leads and do what He asks. I will take what He brings and declare as blessed the Lord who gives and takes away. I will fix my eyes on the author and perfecter of my faith.

Tomorrow I will need to re-declare all of these things. And probably every day for the rest of my life because I'm hard headed and walking away from old patterns is never easy. It's worth it.

Timing. Even More Perfect Than We Thought.

It is possible to be outside of God's will and inside it at the same time.

What I mean by that is that something can be right, but not right now. We can get out of order by refusing to listen to the Holy Spirit and taking for ourselves right now what God has prepared to give us later, in His perfect timing. I am the worst at jumping the gun on God's timing.

Think about Adam and Eve.* Classic, classic mistake. Creator God came down every day to walk through Eden with them in the cool of the evening. They would literally walk and talk with God Himself. Don't you know they had amazing conversations? Can you imagine learning how everything works firsthand from the One whose infinite wisdom had breathed those things into existence? Adam and Eve weren't created knowing everything, otherwise, there would have been no temptation in the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But God knew that the wrong knowledge, or knowledge given in the wrong order would destroy them. It was part of His plan to reveal to them everything they needed to know in a way that would continue to deepen and strengthen the relationship He had with these firstborn of creation. They were inherently dependent on Him to teach them in a similar way to how a newborn child is dependent on its parents.

Like every human being after them, Adam and Eve were susceptible to doubt and pride. Maybe God was holding out on them, they thought. Maybe there was some really amazing stuff He wasn't telling them because He didn't want them to be too much like Him. Now isn't that ironic when you think about it? How could they begin to think the very God who had crafted them in His image, the imago dei, would want to keep them from becoming like Him? Here is a perfect example of the way Satan is able to twist logic in human understanding.

So in the greatest act of betrayal in human history man and woman took the forbidden fruit, ate it and suddenly realized they knew more than they ever wanted to. In fact, they knew more than they were capable of synthesizing.

The most beautiful part of the story of creation is the story of redemption that follows it. Adam and Eve did not escape the consequences of their actions. They began a process of spiritual and physical death, they set a burden upon humanity and creation and took upon themselves a life of pain, work and unfulfilled longing. In essence, they reaped what they had sown. But God had no intention of throwing them to the wayside. He had destined them for an incredible knowledge of Himself that would lead to a beautiful relationship and He was not to be thwarted. He had already set in motion the most intricate and glorious plan of redemption so they might be restored to the knowledge and perfection He'd designed them for. For man and woman the journey to that end goal got a lot more complex and painful, but they had not fallen from the reach of grace. Grace would redeem them still.

Now my story doesn't register on nearly such an epic a scale. I'm not setting the tone for humanity. BUT this archetype points to a truth about stepping outside of God's timing. Sin–and make no mistake, usurping God's timing is sin–does not take us outside of the reach of grace. We may not have disqualified ourselves from reaching the end goal, but we have probably introduced a level of heartache and difficulty that did not need to be there. And we've also opened ourselves up to the attack of the enemy. These are the very things God wants to help us avoid.

God does not vindictively snatch away what our heart desires when we get life out of order, but He often needs to reshape our desire so that it can fit within the context of His will, His good, perfect and pleasing will. Why? because, whether we see it or not, His will is what is BEST. God always has His glory in mind and our best interest always rests inside what best displays His glory. An unwillingness to wait or work through the proper process reveals that we are not yet capable of handling, or even fully enjoying, what He wants to give us. These are tough, painful truths to walk through the process of learning, but they certainly make the prospect of grace even more saturated with hope.





*Please know I'm not suggesting this is the only or primary theme of the story of the fall. But I think this is one lesson among many we can glean from what happened in the garden. As always, I'm happy to share with you more fully where I get this from Scripture.

Restless Upon Returning

Yes, I am getting things a little out of order, but so it goes. Here are some thoughts from the moment and we will return to reflections on Africa shortly.

Back in Virginia feels like a million miles from everything and yet right in the center of where I ought to be.

Coming back reminds me of all the details yet to be worked out. Even my apartment seems to reflect this. It's perfectly functional exactly the way it is, but there are pieces still missing. So I refinish furniture and buy things to hang on the wall in what I long ago discovered to be a coping mechanism. When I can't sort life out I rearrange and clean and tweak what I can. At least my living space can look like my life has some sort of congruity.

And that's where I am. Sorting. Trying to figure out which pieces do and don't fit. What needs to be reworked, taken away or added. It's the inevitable by-product of change. Let's be honest. We all know I can get too far inside my own head. I get in there and wander around for a while and end up totally lost. Whenever I start to write more than normal you can safely bet that's what is going on. I'm wandering around again and trying to write my way out of it.

Goodbyes have the strange effect of producing restlessness. I hate them. HATE them. There have been too many in the past few weeks. What's strange is that I actually enjoy change. I like the freshness, the promise of adventure and having something new to discover. If only there were a way to solve the age-old cliche dilemma and have my cake and eat it too.

But life is full of goodbyes. That's the way it works, right? You can't cling to all that is new and old at one time or your hands get too full and you end up holding nothing at all.

I read a story today about missionary James Calvert. He went as a missionary to the cannibals of Fiji and while on the way the captain of the ship he and his coworkers traveled on tried to convince him to abandon the mission and return home. "You will lose your life," the captain said, " and the lives of those with you if you go among such savages." Undaunted, Calvert replied, "We died before we came here."

I can't help thinking that is exactly the point. We are always dying to something. What matters is choosing the right thing to die to. I love the beautiful simplicity of that. When you own nothing, there is nothing to hold you back from fulfilling the calling placed before you. This is exactly where God wants us to find ourselves, totally, completely, irrevocably dead. He reminds us that to die to ourselves is to live to Christ. It's why we nail ourselves to the cross daily in order to understand all the fullness of life. In other words, to be unafraid to say goodbye is to be wonderfully free to say hello.

Funny how much sense this doesn't make until you come on the other side of it. But from this side of the shore it makes perfect sense to have taken that route. This restlessness is nothing more than learning to put a little more of myself to death so that new growth can spring forth.

From the Pearl of Africa: The Power of Presence

Short term missions has its challenges. One of the themes of difficulty discussed much in my world lately is the propensity to abandon relationship for action.

There's a lot of pressure placed on short termers. First, you have to prove you're going to accomplish something viable in order to raise support. Second, you're spending a lot of money to spend a little time somewhere and you want to walk away able to pinpoint a discernible impact..."what I did mattered." Third, once you get home, you need to prove to people who invested time, prayer energy and money into the mission that their resources were not wasted.

None of this is necessarily a bad thing. But we need to look at it in context. Western American context says that time and energy are wasted if there are not visible, tangible results. We are goal oriented. We set goals, and once the goal is set there is pressure to meet it because we are also result oriented. Often we consider the result to be the measure of the person. Why? What you DO is often equated with who you ARE. i.e. "I do a lot for God. I am a good Christian."

I know that when I get home from a short term mission trip I had better be able to pony up some numbers. Numbers of people who made decisions. Numbers of literature distributed. It often doesn't matter what the numbers are, as long as I can neatly summarize in two sentences an entire month of blood, sweat and tears so that you know it was "amazing" and that we accomplished something.

Don't mistake my words for bitterness. This is not a diatribe. I am not bashing our culture. There is significant value in being able to quantify what has happened, of using data to help determine the effectiveness of what we are doing. But it is not the only way to measure results. We are in danger, as a church culture, of depending too heavily on data as an evidence of change. But growth cannot always be measured empirically.

What I learned in Uganda was the power of presence. Our team had work to do, and we did it, a lot of it. But we also had people to be with, to share life with for a few hours, a few days and a few weeks. Relationships are the heart of ministry in Africa. Actually, relationships are just the heart of ministry. Period. I have been the first to forget that. Sometimes time spent trying to learn a few words in a new language, or holding the hand of a child, or watching soccer with a church member, or eating with co-laborers is the most productive thing you can do. Time spent with people, knowing people and investing in people is immeasurably important.

My boss at Liberty, the incredibly wise Dr. Fanning, reminded me when I got home that we will never know the fullness of the impact of our time. God uses our genuine, messy servanthood to reap a harvest of righteousness that we can't begin to imagine.

We have numbers, don't get me wrong. We're excited about the visible work that we saw God accomplish and the very tangible ways we were able to serve. And we're excited to share those things with you. But at the end of our trip we left Uganda. The people we spent our time with remain. If we truly invested in their lives and they in ours, both of us walk away better equipped for what God brings in the future. The results of that are beyond what we can measure in numbers. They are the stuff of the Kingdom.

From the Pearl of Africa: first thoughts and what I learned about myself

These prosaic summaries are always one part reminiscing, one part therapy. I can't decide if it's more like looking at a photograph or an inkblot. Maybe it doesn't matter; the image in both is Africa.

If you know me at all it's no secret that I am a characteristically complex person. Nothing is simple. Once in a while out of the internal complexity pieces connect and something makes sense. Most of the time I feel like I'm blindly punching my way through the fog until I happen upon that rare spark of illumination. To me, life is like trying to find a thesis statement, a hinge pin that an argument can center around, the sentence that makes all the other sentences coherent. Time in Africa usually has the effect of making remarkably clear the road before me. It took some time this go round.

One of the things I struggle with most in life is finding a fit. It's a confusing place to live in ministry world when you are a young woman. Some people encourage you to take a leadership role, others say take a back seat, you're just here to support, or "get married already!" Honestly, I don't know what to do with that. I cannot be less of who I am, but I also can't be more.

My first couple weeks in Africa were especially frustrating on this front.
A. Every international mission trip I've been on before this one I went as a videographer with a specific task to accomplish. While I've been wanting to be out from behind the camera for a long time, I admit, it was a pretty good security blanket.
B. I am not an entertainer. I just don't have the personality to be a front woman, and since much of what we were doing required holding the attention of an audience of high schoolers, I felt totally ill equipped.
C. I'm a woman. Taking a leadership role in church ministry time in the African culture wasn't much of an option. And really, the couple times it was required of me I felt incredibly uncomfortable.
All of this added up to a lot of frustration early on. There's nothing quite as humbling as feeling like you have nothing to contribute to a task that weighs heavily on your heart. Meanwhile I stood by and watched Pedro admirably handle quite a workload of preparing lessons, messages and seminars, Andrew patiently wrangle a mass of children all day long and Hillary graciously maneuver through anything that was thrown her way.

It was in studying with Pedro in preparation for one of those lessons that I realized something about myself I had never seen before . . . I was inadvertently doing exactly the sort of thing I love the most. Time searching, time studying, pooling our collective resources and dialoguing, all for a common purpose, each of us finding a way to help the other better function within their gifting. One thing I have is the ability to collect, synthesize and share information on a relational level (I love you Jenny Spencer for helping me see this!) I realized that for me, having information or understanding or whatever is completely useless if it can't be shared. I was learning so much from the people I was working with and feeling like I couldn't contribute anything in return. But the truth is that there is more than one way to contribute. Sure, I can lead a devotional or coordinate a discipleship training. But I can also help guide people in the truths God has shown to me, help them communicate with each other and connect in areas of service. I can pray while you preach and ask questions so we can figure out answers.

There is no reason to complicate my life by trying to force it to be simple. Where and how I am needed will not always look the same. I will never be able to fit myself into a neatly identifiable box and that's a dang good thing. Better to be (and here's the dreaded word) flexible. Better to bring to the table whatever is needed and not need to insist on bringing what I'd prefer.

So there is photograph/inkblot/lightbulb from Africa number one.

Maybe we'll take the porch swing with us.

Rough surfaces of worn off finish replace what used to be a glossy luster. The chains are starting to show signs of rust around the edges. Tiny spider webs have multiplied in the corners. But this front porch swing is still one of my favorite places in the world. That weeping cherry tree was tiny when we moved here in August of 2000, now it completely blocks the view to the road from where I sit. I love the shade that keeps this spot ten degrees cooler. And I love feeling like I'm alone. Of course it's not really private at all. I am sitting in my front yard and I know my next door neighbor Tony is right behind me tending to his banana trees.

Tony's trees are from Puerto Rico, his homeland. Every Fall when the weather turns cool he bundles them in burlap and puts them in the basement. Every Spring, after the last frost, he brings them back out again and plants them in the sun. They are a few inches bigger than last year. Sometimes I come out and work in the yard just because Tony is working in his. Everybody loves that guy. Tony is the one who always has some new family or friends living with him. A few months ago our across-the-street neighbor from Columbia (the country, not CTown) lost his job. Tony helped him make the house payment for several months but the house got repossessed anyway and they moved out while I was in Africa. I wish I had been here to help.

The guy behind us-he's new since I left for school, and I don't know his name-always mows our back yard. I can't figure out if he really likes to mow or if he's just a nice guy. He mows it like three times a week though, so he's probably OCD and can't stand things to be uneven. He never mows the Tobin's yard, which seems strange since he can actually see more of their yard than ours from his back deck. The Tobin's are the only neighbors who have lived here longer than we have. She teaches with my mom at Zion and both of their girls went to school there. I remember when the girls were still in middle school and they would have slumber parties and try to roll our yard. It usually only took about five minutes to clean up the toilet paper.

Good memories from this front porch swing. I love having my quiet time here; there's something about being outside in the world God created, it's easier to be with him. I've discovered amazing things about him from this very spot at sunrise, midday and after the stars have taken over the sky. Almost breaks my heart to see this house go. Almost.

This house is the longest my family has lived anywhere. By the time my parents move out at the end of the month it will have been almost exactly ten years. To most people in Columbia, TN that seems like nothing. But I've moved 18 times so it matters to me. If I were to call any place on this earth home, this would be it. Funny thing about home though, it moves with you. All the memories from here will come with me after the last box is packed in the truck and the keys have been handed over to the new owners. I haven't just lived here, I've lived here. The experiences we truly live come with us, they become part of us. And I've become who I am because of the experiences and the people of this place, because of the times on this front porch swing.

Things Are Sweeter in Tennessee

Since moving to Virginia, I have not been homesick...until now.

Just a few short weeks ago while home on Spring Break I drove the streets of Nashville, soaking in the city that has been my home since I was five years old. I drove the back roads from Columbia, Spring Hill and Thompson Station where I've lived since 2001, to Dickson, Kingston Springs, Pegram, and Bellevue where I spent most of my childhood. I drove through Belle Meade, West End, by Belmont, my alma mater and all around downtown Nashville. I ate dinner at Opryland.

Here, was the feeling of home. I've lived in Hendersonville, Bellevue, Ashland City and Columbia...almost every side of the city. I've gone to school in Whites Creek, Columbia and Nashville. I've been part of churches in Goodlettsville, Bellevue, Franklin, Thompson Station and Columbia. I have friends and family members in every part of Middle Tennessee, from Springfield to Pulaski, Smithville to Centerville. This is my city. These are my family.

As I drove a certain, unexplainable sensation arose in me, as though this time of driving the city, reliving the memories of my past was something important. Something I'd never be able to get back. How was I to know how real that would prove to be?

Many of these places now sit under feet of water. Many of them will never be recovered. Many of them are relegated forever to the halls of memory. But there is one thing, the most important thing, that rises to the surface of the water and stands as proudly and as firmly as it ever has...the spirit of Nashville herself.

Nashville is a community of Faith, and of family. The "small town, big city" opens her doors to everyone. She is the city where people with dreams too big for anywhere else come to fit in. Here country music stars, college students, and down home boys sit in the same Starbucks on Friday night and the same pew on Sunday morning. Here everybody knows "somebody" because everybody is somebody.

There are things we know as a city.
You don't talk bad about anybody because the guy sitting behind you probably knows that guy. You don't chase down celebrities for their autograph, they're just people.
We have the best music shows anywhere, hands down. Because let's face it, a show in Nashville is like jamming with friends.
The Loveless Cafe still has the best biscuits in town.
One day our Titans will win a Super Bowl.
You wave to people as you drive past them, hold open doors, ask people how they're doing, look people in the eye when you give them a firm handshake, say "yes ma'am", and you always drive like a crazy person during rush hour.

There's one more thing we know: we take care of our own. So it is not surprising to those of us from Music City to see each other banding together, unconcerned whether the outside world pays any mind to our trials (But we sure do appreciate y'all who have. Welcome to the family.) We are each other's Good Samaritans. We are our brother's keepers. By God's grace, like a Phoenix from the ashes "The Athens of the South" will rise as a testimony of love for one another. So, while I am stranded miles away, missing you, unable yet to put my hands to work for my city I will lift my voice and my prayers in solidarity with my fellow Nashvillians.

WE ARE NASHVILLE.

To the men...and the ladies.

There is one thing I have come to deeply value over the past few months: the men who aren't afraid to kick life in the face for me. I have brothers and friends who have fought for me in prayer over some of the most heartbreaking months of my life this past semester. Some of you have made a point to call and check up on me. Some of you have emphatically stressed that you want to be there to fight on my side. Some of you have offered to give a beat down on my behalf. And some of you have given incredible spiritual advice and encouragement. I think I would have given way to the terrible feeling of being in this battle alone if not for you.

Seminary is full of people looking to get married. And honestly, who can blame them? For those of us with very firm and specific belief systems it can seem a daunting task to find someone compatible to share life with in an increasingly pluralistic and globalized society. Why not move your hunt from singles groups or eharmony to a place where you have this in common?

I made peace with my singleness a long time ago. First out of necessity, but then because I realized: life happens in the waiting. We are always becoming someone. Who we live our life for defines and shapes us. If all (or most) of life revolves around a search for someone to marry we are defined by our expectations of that person long before we ever meet him or her. Is this who we want to become? People who think only of a checklist or of trying to gain the attention of others?

Here is my point. My brothers, you may not have a wife or girlfriend, but plenty of your single sisters (who you will never marry) need you to offer your strength. We are not weak or inferior, but we are NOT the same as you, and we do need you in our lives. Ladies, we have a way of approaching the world that our guy friends could use access to as well. We've unfairly demanded too much and too little of them at the same time. It is time for us to allow them to be who we need them to be and stop getting so offended or threatened when they step up.

So there you go. My long overdue thanks, and long unspoken thoughts. Love.

Anna G.