Little Bird in the Big Blue Sky

lovers, art, science and movie analogies.

2009-12-05T22:24:00.007-06:00

Jesus wrecked my life. If not for Him I could be safely tucked away in the tender arms of apathy. But He came in, He crushed all my expectation and filled it with something far beyond my comprehension. And in beautiful and agonizing ways He continues to do so. I still feel the product of this initial destruction. I feel it every day in his further demolition of my life, and in the rebuilding. It gives me sorrow and fills me with joy.

If I were to list the things that have gone immensely wrong in my world over the past few months we would be able to tally them alongside the things that have gone wondrously right and perhaps conclude, with Herald Crick, that my life is in a dead heat between tragedy and comedy. But life, you know, is Stranger Than Fiction.

Love often destroys. Like Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde, Helen and Achilles. The more arduous the love the more potential it has to destroy you. But lovers immersed in such passion never regret the destruction. There is a certain sweetness to the bitterness. Something about being embroiled in the saga awakens you in a way you have never been awakened. Excruciating pain ensures that the senses are not dulled, not lulled to sleep by apathy. And if you can endure intense pain without accepting a drug to numb it, you are capable of experiencing its antithesis, immense, overpowering and almost unbearable joy.

There's a reason artists, poets and musicians often live such schizophrenic lives of high highs and low lows. Because to create art that makes people feel something, you must live that emotion more intensely than you are capable of communicating through your art. The best art is but a failed attempt to express the inexpressible. And the inability to ever fully express, coupled with the insatiable need to experience more, so perhaps to find the key to expression, can make you crazy.

But there is powerful truth to be discovered in that which can never fully be communicated. Maybe here in our mortal world those things which are most true are those which are least explainable. Those things which overwhelm us, which overpower us, which annihilate us and yet leave us begging for more are the very things which are MOST true. They beg to be experienced, to be contrasted with each other and to find a voice to quantify and qualify them. But it is "like trying to catch a wave upon the sand." You simply cannot. Even science proves this to us. How many times have you found a "verifiable fact" for each side of the case? Does this mean that one or the other is false? Perhaps. Perhaps one method is flawed. Or perhaps you simply don't have all the information you need to understand the facts and see fully how they fit together.

We are, as Stuart in Kate and Leopold so vividly puts it, like a dog who sees a rainbow, but none of the other dogs believe him, because none of the other dogs can see in color. The color exists, the potential of expression exists, but the comprehension never fully does. If we ourselves could perfectly comprehend it we could no doubt adequately express it so that others could also fully comprehend. But full comprehension of something so outside ourselves is impossible. But we try. And we try to comprehend through further experience and we destroy ourselves in the trying. And this is what we call living life to the fullest.

The point I am making, I suppose, is that humanity has a history of embracing that which destroys us because what destroys us redefines us and constant redefinition is essential to rational life. [Here I might insert that by merely thinking we are taking in information, synthesizing it and rationally redefining ourselves, so to cognizantly live and not merely biologically live perhaps there must indeed be an equation between "thinking" and "being"] We give ourselves for a love or a cause. We surrender ourselves to the flames so to rise from the ashes like a Phoenix. And so we must. If ever we are to become a Phoenix, we must first be reduced to ashes.

I choose the flames of faith in Jesus Christ. I choose it because out of rational thought and emotional experience I think it is the best and right option. And I continue to verify that decision through the experiences of my life. I continue to try to communicate it as I have attempted (and most certainly failed) to here. It is destroying me and rebuilding me, but looking back it has always done so in a way consistent with that which it has claimed.

And that, my friends, is the great irony of life. It is unexplainable, and so we must try to explain, and with each explanation we get closer to a more full understanding of the truth we can never fully understand, for to fully understand, to ever fully judge the rightness of, we must know all and that (thank you Renaissance, Age of Enlightenment, and Age of Technology for reminding us) is simply an impossibility.

Chasing the Teumessian Fox

2009-11-14T02:33:00.005-06:00

When the winter sky is clear, find the three stars that comprise the belt of the constellation Orion. Follow the angle of Orion's downward belt (opposite of the side that holds his shield) and the next very bright star you will come to is Sirius (yep, like the satellite radio mogul). Sirius is the primary star of the constellation Canis Major, the Big Dog. Up and to the left of Sirius is Procyon, the primary star of the constellation Canis Minor, the Little Dog.

In Greek mythology, the city of Thebes committed a terrible crime. As punishment, the gods sent a giant beast called the Teumessian Fox to prey upon their children. Now the Teumessian Fox had a mystical power, he was uncatchable. He endlessly terrorized the city until the Theban general, Amphitryon, devised a brilliant plan. He set the magical dog Laelaps loose in the city to chase the fox down. Laelaps was destined to always catch his prey. Zeus was troubled by the dilemma of an uncatchable fox being chased by an inescapable dog and so resolved it by tossing them both into the sky setting their contest to play out forever in the heavens. Voila! Canis Major and Canis Minor.

This, it seems, could be a metaphor for my life. Destined to catch what cannot be caught and so to chase forever the Teumessian Fox. Perhaps it would be easier if I could roundly define what is my Teumessian Fox, my uncatchable prey. After much wrestling with this idea and grappling with the question, "what is it that I'm chasing?" I come, I think, to at least one answer: perfect completion.

There is always another deadline. Time is a cruel taskmaster with little respite for the weary or the grace for those who flounder under her weight.

There is always another expectation. The more you accomplish, the higher your level of performance the more that is expected of you in subsequent efforts.

There is always another need. If every hurt of the world today were met another would greet the dawn of tomorrow.

There is always more to know. There is always more to experience. There is always more to have.

This is what makes existence life, right? It's the American dream. Strike that. It's the world dream, the pursuit of happiness. Even in chasing we ourselves are pursued by a relentless sense that we ought to be able to catch and hold what we chase.

Tonight I am tired of myself and my own inability to measure up. If I could outrun myself and be alone without myself for a few blissful moments I would revel in the delight of purely, simply being. How disheartening to find that even in sleep I dream and am there as complex and dynamic a character as ever in waking. There at least I seem to know my lines, but life is an improv.

And so I wonder, am I Laelaps or the Teumessian Fox? The pursuer or the prey? And will this dead heat chase ever end or is it only in being flung into the vastness of eternity that completion is achievable?

to mourn is to sing.

2009-11-06T23:20:00.005-06:00

A simple research paper and a little life has begun a revolution in the way I think about a passage of Scripture. The paper I refer to was on Jewish funeral and burial customs in the New Testament world. I won't go into a lot of detail, you can always read the paper :)

In Jewish culture mourning was overt. It was no holds barred. You were expected to look and act and speak like someone in mourning. In fact, culture mandated that you participate in active mourning by such things as restraining from certain social events, entering through a particular temple gate, and dressing in a certain manner. Everyone knew your world had been turned upside down and your heart was breaking, and they were expected to treat you accordingly. What's more, it was in your hands. Those who would offer comfort and condolences to a grieving person were forbidden to speak to the bereaved until they first spoke. (it makes sense why Job's friends did not speak for so long. And it makes even more sense why they should have continued to keep their mouths shut.) Interestingly enough though, after a year of overt grieving broken into a step down process from more intense levels of grief to the less intense, the season of mourning was concluded with a ceremony, and a lifestyle of mourning was no longer permitted. ("For everything there is a season...a time to mourn, and a time to laugh.")

All of this to say, mourning is necessary, and even wonderful. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." To admit heartbreak was to open oneself up to comfort and facilitate healing. To be forced, in a sense, by the cultural norms to continue mourning for a defined season was to be refused the ability to hide from or suppress the hurt and instead to find a way to work through it, with the help of the community.

There is so much that each of us face that is cause for mourning. Drinking the cup of sorrow to the last drop (to paraphrase Henry Nouwen) is the only way to be able to taste fully the cup of joy.

I could regale you with the number of things that have happened in my personal life, family, church family, and in the world that touches me that have been causes for heartbreak in my life over the past few months. I have felt so many times as though I was in mourning, literally and spiritually, sometimes to the point of physical sickness. Some of this is the nature of existence in this world. Some of it is the Enemy's way of battering my soul and trying to discouraging me and make me abandon the path I am on.

But dear ones, we must take comfort in the fact that we are mourning, for we are recognizing and admitting that all is not well in this world, and that there is nothing we can do to raise what is dead back to life. But we know the One who can, who has, and who does. He longs to bring us comfort, but he cannot bring comfort where there is no embracing of pain.

Defiance

2009-10-25T01:29:00.003-05:00

I am haunted by two things. How I can ever be a part of making the Name of Jesus Christ great in our world, and how can I make even the tiniest ping of a dent in the suffering that belongs to so much of it? The two are not mutually exclusive. I know that. But I cannot escape the inexplicable feeling that I have nothing to offer for either cause. And what frightens me more than failing to meet some part of such immense need is failing to try.

For some, opportunities for "greatness" as it has been defined for us will never come in this life. We will hear the stories of others who have had this opportunity thrust upon them against their will and who have risen to the challenge. And we will wish for such a moment to come in our own lives. And we will wrestle with a fear of not rising to face it as we hope we will, a question about whether or not we will be so bold should such courage be asked of us. But how easily we forget the courage that must come with living each day as it ought to be lived. How quickly we lose sight of the truth that every day is such an opportunity. A chance to turn and face the injustice of our world head on. To let a tear fall with those who weep, to rejoice at the fortune others celebrate. To give beyond what we can afford to, to refuse to worry about providing for our own comfort. To take the path of integrity when doing so will put us at odds with the culture, to embrace without prejudice the culture that would suffocate everything we believe in. To extend a hand and expose our hearts. To refuse to be backed into a corner or beaten into submission by the threats against our pride and social standing when we offer relentless, unmerited love.

Dear brothers and sisters, we are the warriors on the front lines of the battle. It is we who determine the future. It is we who have been given the opportunity and the responsibility to act. If we refuse to rise to the occassion and meet the enemy head on do we think we will be spared? Never. We will become a casulty of the war that envelopes us, but we will have no reason to be remembered, no hope of offering something of value that perhaps only we can. Real courage is encountered on the front lines of daily life where all is routine and nothing seems to be a matter of life and death. Living life like this is the most painful way. We will encounter resistance every step of the way, and we will be broken, and used up, our ashes scattered in each place we stop along the way.

If you don't believe that, and if you don't think being a Christ-follower has any such ramifications, then you perhaps ought to ask yourself what God you are following, and what Bible you are reading. What Jesus offers is not quiet, uninterrupted, successful, "fat" lives, but a radical lifestyle for which we will be persecuted, but from which we cannot bring ourselves to turn because we know that it is the Life blood of Truth that flows through our veins.

But this is real freedom. Freedom for more than pleasure: freedom for life, the fullness of life that comes only with embracing the sacrifice of God and allowing it to echo strongly, passionately in the way we live. We have prayed for God to bless our country for so long, and finally the opportunity for blessing and chance for greatness is upon us. It looks nothing like we expect, but regardless, now is the moment to seize it, to lay down our lives in pursuit of the Kingdom that has come into our daily world and attempts to turn it inside out and upside down.

Blessed are those who have nothing to offer. For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who are consumed with grief for a fallen world. For they will receive comfort.
Blessed are those who submit to the true Authority. For they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who are ravenous with an insatiable hunger and unquenchable thirst for the ways of God. For they will be filled.
Blessed are those who extend unlimited, unmerited favor to others. It is they who receive the same.
Blessed are the innocent who know as God knows and see as He intended them to see. For they will see God.
Blessed are those who promote reconciliation, forgiveness, and who make way for the Kingdom of peace. They are the children of God.
Blessed are those who suffer because they take up their cross daily and follow Christ. For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Are you willing to truly embrace this life with it's heartaches and it's joys? Are you willing to step up to the challenge and live in defiance of the status quo? Am I?

Sometimes other people just say it better.

2009-10-01T22:27:00.003-05:00

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

You're the God of this city
You're the Lord of this nation
You're the King of these people
You Are

You're the light in the darkness
You're the hope for the hopeless
You're the peace for the restless
You are

Greater things have yet to come
Greater things have still to be done
In this city

Greater things have yet to come
Greater things are still to be done here

Let my life light up like the city lights
Let it burn for you in the darkest night

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should sway
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed his own blood for my soul

Jesus, You are Life and Breath to me

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sins curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry, to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can every pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ, I'll stand

Be Thou my vision of Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me save that Thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping Thy presence my light

Be Thou my Wisdom and Thou my true Word
I ever with Thee and Thou with me Lord
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I in Thee one.

Riches I heed not nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and Thou only first in my heart
High King of Heaven my treasure Thou art

Little Bird Flies the Coop

2009-08-29T11:02:00.002-05:00

Month one in Virginia is nearing it's long anticipated end. To be perfectly honest, I absolutely know I am supposed to be here, and I absolutely have no idea why. There is a surprising liberty in being able to admit that though. When people I have never met and have no inherent need to impress step into an introductory conversation with, "So, what are you studying?" and I reply, "Intercultural Studies," the almost universally accompanying remark is, "Oh, so you're going to be a missionary?" Something about that makes me laugh every time. As if I cannot have an appreciation for culture without being expressly called to live over seas. It is interesting how in the body of Christ we want to classify the plan of God into neatly labeled packages, and we do it without even realizing. I simply respond with something like, "God hasn't told me yet. He just told me to be here. And, scary as it is, here I am." I mean, we are all missionaries right? Where did this idea of life and ministry and mission being separate entities come from anyway?

Nothing reveals how much you have grown or changed like plopping yourself back into the educational environment. I was one of those undergrads who was paranoid about knowing all the details and getting it all right. I was the one who really wanted that good grade but was struggling to be OK with not being a straight A student for the first time ever. Now, I just want to learn. I don't have to be here. For the first time ever I don't care about the grade (of course, I haven't gotten my first one yet, I may have to get back with you on this one ;). There is no scholarship to maintain, no career to acquire. I am here to increase in knowledge, not to receive the commendation of the ability to regurgitate facts and ideas.

Three years of ministry and work in between Belmont and here has brought me to a point of being comfortable in who I am and who I'm not. Growing up in ministry as a pastor's kid and being on a church and ministry staff myself in multiple roles means I have learned something about the risk, the weight, the pain and the struggle and the failure that comes with it. But I also know the reward of watching young people blossom into mature followers of Christ. Of serving along side an elderly saint and drinking in their wisdom. Of holding the hand of the blind, the destitute and the blessed. Of seeing the first light of Christ dawn in the eyes of a new believer. Of the life-change caused by faith, prayer and the exercise of truth. I have fallen and failed and wrestled and surrendered and have come no where close to where I want to be. Every day I realize afresh that I can do absolutely nothing, but I AM can do absolutely everything.

I should have turned away long ago. Without a doubt I would have but for the grace of Christ intervening to hold me steady on this unseen path while I fight with all my might to veer from it. Now it is my purpose to point others to this glorious Jesus I have seen and to encourage them to come to Him, to know Him, and to remain faithful to Him.

The Blackness of White

2009-03-21T11:17:00.003-05:00

Blackness permeated the night. It was the kind of blackness that isn't content to hang starless in the sky or weigh heavy on the air, but insists on infiltrating the mood of those who venture out into it. My Sentra's tiny headlights waged war against the darkness, fighting to illuminate the road ahead, even as the whirring of my weedeater engine struggled to inject noise into the silence. Still, they were no match for the opponent and the battle raged thickly in the driver's seat.

"Is it really wise to be walking away from the life I have here, from all my contacts and years of relationships and credibility built? How can that possibly be wisdom speaking?"

I've lived either north, west, or south of Nashville for 19 years, called 8 churches my family (oh the joy of being a pastor's kid), gone to 3 different schools and the best University ever - Belmont, woot! - and I know TONS of people.

I love pretty much everything about Nashville (except the way people drive!). It's small town, big city. People are family here, and the air is alive with the excitement of dreams. Sure, being in the Bible Belt can be frustrating instead of inspiring as a Christ-follower, the commercialism of the music scene can grow tiresome, and the prospect of New Hollywood scares me just a little, but this is home.

Over the past few years I've worked with the best of the best in the industry, and developed close friendships with future A-listers. I realize that can sound a bit vain, but it's just the way things are when you grow up here. It's no uncommon thing to sit beside a Dove award winner in church on Sunday, run into a film celeb at Starbucks on Tuesday, have lunch with a multi-platinum engineer on Thursday, and hang backstage with a soon-to-be-signed band on Saturday. I lost the ability to be starstruck a long time ago, and now I realize that so many of my friends have credentials that make them worthy candidates for name-dropping. But I've never even thought twice about it because we spend our time talking about the merits of Jersey Mike's, the location of my fusebox, the French Revolution, Nacho Libre, and relationship statuses.

So as I'm driving along in the dark realizing that my life puts me in the circle with so many of the "right" people and with some work I could turn those connections into almost any job I want, I'm freaking out and thinking, "Seriously God? Are you absolutely sure it's a good idea to move to Lynchburg, Virginia?! Is it really wise to take my life in an almost completely different direction?"

As dark as it was on the road and in my mind, not thirty seconds after throwing this question out into the night, my headlights pierce the black for a moment and fall on a church sign (normally one of the crummiest of the crummy when it comes to stupid sayings) that reads "I GUIDE YOU IN THE WAY OF WISDOM."

How many times have I joked about God just putting up a billboard to tell me what to do, and BAM! There it is. It's a little humbling to take advice from a tiny Free Will Baptist church in nowheresville, but I guess that's more of the irony of God's upside down economy where the least is the greatest.

I am reminded once again that the Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, that we may make plans, but the unfolding of the future lies in His hands. God wastes nothing in our lives, and just because I don't see how He can take the sum of my experiences and connections and use them in an entirely new way for the Kingdom doesn't mean He can't. If I am seeking Him, waiting on Him, and walking in the path He lays before me, even when it may seem foolish in the eyes of the world, the light of wisdom is shining brightly.

Driving Lessons and Greener Grass

2009-03-09T15:24:00.009-05:00

Rounding the corner to my parents house I passed a silver two-door saturn with a particularly fuzzy faced driver. Or so I thought at first glance. Turns out instead it was a young dad with his daughter in his lap. Her tiny hands grasped the steering wheel and brown curls bounced up and down excitedly as he strained to look around her for approaching vehicles. We shared a wave as we passed. I couldn't help but laugh at her delight, and his obvious entertainment in it. Seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my daddy's lap behind the wheel of our blue station wagon. We'd drive around that Michigan parking lot, waiting for mom to finish her errands. It was so hard for my little hands to turn that steering wheel, but I remember the sheer joy of "driving" and wishing only that I could be big enough to push the pedals myself too.

This long lost memory jilted the cache of my memory file and brought a flood of childhood memories to mind. My first pony ride, first motorcycle ride, the agonizing process of trying to learn to ride a bike, building forts, trying to start a fire, pulling the legs off crickets, flushing my live goldfish, bossing other kids around on the playground...

I always remember being pretty imaginative as a child. When Lindsay was just a baby, Justyn and I would play outside in our front yard in Swartz Creek, Michigan for hours tossing a ball, trying to perfect cartwheels (a feat I have yet to accomplish to this day) riding tricycles with the neighborhood kids and whatever other randomness we came up with.

One thing we NEVER did was cross behind our house into the neighbor's yard. Apparently there was something super special about their grass. It was luscious, soft, and brilliantly green - I mean, really nice for grass, but grass nonetheless - their pride and joy. We had specific instructions relayed through our mother not to lay a foot on it. Which is sad you know, because our grass was dry and scratchy (this, of course, had nothing to do with our down and dirty playtimes) and I always imagined that grass would be like playing in Eden.

Anyway, one day we were playing a rousing game of kickball when our ball inevitably went into the forbidden Eden. Naive logic said, well, you gotta get the ball. I mean, if it just sits there, it really will turn the grass brown, plus, they'll probably be MORE mad that we let the ball land in their precious yard. Being the oldest, I got nominated to brave the invisible boundary, dash in, snatch the ball and get out without being seen. Windows were closed, blinds were down. We figured we'd be safe, and it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, I went for it. Gingerly, I ran on my tiptoes into the softest grass my feet had ever touched, grabbed the ball, and turned to make my triumphal exit. All of a sudden, behind me I hear the screen door slam and incoherent shouts come from my neighbor who is chasing me through the yard with a BROOM! Call me crazy, but I was four, pretty sure I was doing a lot less damage to his precious grass than Mr. 250 Pounds was as he plowed through it wielding that broom and screaming like a banshee.

Good times man, good times. With a million more stories like that from my childhood, I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how I managed to be such a crazy mess at 25!

Lead of Love

2009-03-02T21:25:00.003-06:00

Though Rascal Flatts latest hit Here bears suspicious thematic similarities to their smash single Broken Road, it's still good music. And I confess, I can't get it out of my head. Sometimes the lyrics of a song just resonate, you know? The chorus in particular:

I wouldn't change a thing
I'd walk right back through the rain
Back to every broken heart
On the day that it was breakin
And I'd relive all the years
And be thankful for the tears
I've cried with every stumbled step
That led to you and got me here

I feel something quite like that these days. There is nothing perfect about this life. Nobody has it easy. Everyone gets their heart broken in one way or another. Even the rare moments of bliss are tainted with little bits of regret and humanity. But I just have to say that some of the most bitter experiences have produced some of the sweetest results. Wrestling with the angel in the valley may leave you with a dislocated hip, but at least there's a blessing attached, eh?

Over the past few weeks I've had some tough decisions to face. More than once I've felt like turning around and walking away, doing absolutely nothing to "change the status quo." I don't know if it's curiosity, a sense of adventure, insanity or serious divine grace, but for whatever reason I've turned to face new opportunities and challenges head on.

The lavish outpouring of God's reinforcement that I am indeed following Him has been simply stunning. New school opportunities, new job experiences, new contacts; the past week alone has been crazy! Add one fantastic snow day and an amazing sunrise over snowtopped hills this morning and I can feel Him wrapping His arms around me with delight as He whispers in my ear, "Taste and see that I AM GOOD!"

Tomorrow it could get really hard. It could be time to come down from the mountain. Inevitably the trials will come back with a vengence. I am on a road of resistance because it's the road of using my life for something that counts eternally. For now I'm basking in the affirmation, but the joy and peace of my spirit will last much longer than the high.

I leave you with these words from an old Caedmon's Call song, Lead of Love, which I think could just be my theme song:

Looking back at the road so far
The journey's left it's share of scars
Mostly from leaving the narrow and straight
Looking back it is clear to me
A man is more than the sum of his deeds
How you've made good of this mess I've made
Is a profound mystery

Looking back you know you had to bring me through
All that I was so afraid of
Though I questioned the sky
Now I see why
I had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view
Looking back I see the lead of love

Trust

2009-02-24T11:20:00.003-06:00

I call this part of my life "Trusting."

Somewhere in the past six months the voice of God ceased whispering "Wait. Rest. Heal." into my heart and began to whisper "Trust. Believe. Follow." instead. The problem and beauty of the whisper is that you don't hear it unless you're listening. I tend to set myself upon a path and cling to it like a bulldog with his bone. Tenacity is my greatest strength and toughest weakness. I'm really great at big decisions. Where to go to college? What degree? Quit my job? Start a business? Mission trip? Go to seminary? Man, I can rock those out, and it's not that I have some special insight...it's that I have time. Time to question and search, to wonder and wrestle, to research and receive counsel. So when I make a big decision, I know that I know that I know it's right, and though it may be hard I'm ready to act on it, I can find the faith to follow through (wow, I'm so alliterative today).

But small decisions, things that should be simple, minor, not life-altering? Those are the hardest thing for me to settle on. Maybe it's because I believe there is nothing small, everything has significance, and you never know what small action will change your life in a big way. I don't want to do something small that ends up being hugely wrong down the road. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those that walks about regretting every poor decision. You make mistakes, you learn the lessons, you embrace the past and move on. But I can't help but want the absolute best for my life, God's absolute best.

I believe in communion, walking with God every step along the way, acknowledging that our decisions, great or small, reflect on Him, and trying to live righteously, but with reckless abandon. Righteous in integrity, reckless with regard to the cares of this world. But I am such a doubting Thomas. I find it easy-ish to believe in God Almighty's bigness, His absolute ability to be all that He is. I am not troubled by the identity of Jesus, that He was God, loved me, died and rose again (though I absolutely do not pretend to have God figured out, don't misunderstand me). But I am totally puzzled and mystified by the Holy Spirit. It is immensely difficult for me to trust His working in my life, because I so easily confuse His voice with my own, or that of the enemy.

So, right now God is teaching me to trust Him in the little things. If I am walking with Him, daily in His word, constantly in prayer, and I take a moment to pause and ask His will in the little moments and problems of my life (as well as in the big ones) can I not trust that He answers? That the voice I hear gently whispering is His? That He is indeed not a God of confusion but of peace, one who's name is Near, who is found by us when we seek?

The Adventure of Becoming

2009-02-21T23:39:00.005-06:00

All because of one encounter. One question. One e-mail.

Even though I feel like God has so clearly directed me into the next step of seminary for an MA in Intercultural Studies and Global Apologetics (it would make me feel better if that acceptance letter would come!), I've felt ridiculously unclear about how I'm supposed to use that for the Kingdom.

Here is what I know about myself:

I am NOT and never will be a musician.

But some of my dearest friends are.

I am NOT extremely or overtly creative.

But I get along well with dramatic, artistic people.

I do NOT have fantastic business sense.

But I know great people who do.

I am NOT really a techie.

But I absolutely love my group of friends who are great at this.

I am NOT cut out to work day in, day out in "church world."

But I've grown up in it and truly appreciate those who are there.

I am NOT a super-extrovert.

But I am really good at blending in to almost any environment.

(Are you sensing a theme yet?)

I AM the person most people like, but rarely understand.

I AM the one with the split personality, stuck right in between introvert and extrovert, thinker and feeler, driven and easy going.

I AM the one with the spiritual gifts of prophecy, exhortation and compassion (talk about an oxymoron!)

I AM a free spirit who has a hard time with being classified and harder still with being tied down to one course, but I AM also fiercely loyal to those I love and what I know is right.

Yep, I'm the walking contradiction, the one who can do a little of a lot just well enough to make people think I could go far in it, but without the true joy in doing it that actually makes me want to go far. And that's always been frustrating. I mean, I can't tell you how many times I've wished I could be good at just ONE thing so that I'd know THAT was what I was supposed to be doing. Instead I've been stuck trying to force myself into a course of action that makes good, logical sense, but denies the essence of who God created me to be.

I think God has let me dabble in a lot of things, walk through a lot of ministry situations, live in and visit many places, and know many types of people so that I can have a broader base of understanding from which to operate, not grow more confused on what I'm supposed to be doing.

What I realized today is that it is more than OK to be who I am, to be great at intangibles and only good at other things. It's more than OK to not be good at fitting the molds so many people want me to fill of artist, businesswoman, wife (my poor husband, whoever he is). What I've needed was not simply the direction to head in, but the courage to accept who I am and move forward into the adventure of becoming.

In tough economic and spiritual times what comes next is the least logical course of action. But I feel strangely unafraid. In fact, I really don't care what anyone thinks of me at this point. I don't want to waste my life. And I will do whatever I have to in order to share the hope of Jesus with the world that desperately needs it, in the way that I, and only I have been gifted to do.

THERE IS NOTHING ELSE THAT MATTERS.

Philippians 3:7-14

The Sweetest Moments

2009-02-20T20:43:00.004-06:00

Some of the most cherished moments in my life are the unexpectedly tender ones.

This weekend I'm staying with my "big brother," Brett, dear friend, Becca, and my "psuedo-niece," Juliana. Since Brett and Becca had a leadership training session to attend at church, Cricket and I have spent the evening babysitting Juliana. This involved lots of Cricket's slimy squeaky toy, making pancakes in her play kitchen, and dancing along with the Teletubbies (oh yes).

When it was time to be tucked in for bed tonight Juliana said her prayers, most of which I couldn't quite understand (although I did catch, "and for Cricket to be healthy" which made me giggle a little because it is perfectly logical for a three-year-old. I mean, everyone else around here seems to be coming down with this or that bug, and Cricket is her self-proclaimed "bes fwend," so it follows she would be concerned for her health), and asked me to sing Tender Shepherd. I barely know this song, but I've picked up enough from previous visits to be able to follow along with her. Next she asked me to snuggle. I mean, who can resist "Anna, wiwl you snuggle with me?" I'm quite the snuggler anyways.

We're snuggling away and as I play with her long, baby fine hair and stroke her little hands I couldn't help but think back to the day she was born. I remember holding her and just thinking God must have something so big in mind for her. Every baby is a miracle, but Juliana's birth was particularly special. She was welcomed to the world by emergency c-section a mere six minutes after a placental abruption (basically, the placenta is detached and the baby is no longer receiving oxygen from the mother's blood stream). Even a minute later and she could have suffered severe brain damage, a couple minutes and she would have died. In fact, every last detail about the entire situation was so clearly ordered by God that we were all in awe of His grace that day.

All of this is going through my mind when I hear a sweet little whisper, "I love you Anna. Can we sing Oh How I Love Jesus?"

A month ago today Juliana accepted Jesus as her Savior. I know not everyone thinks this is possible for a three-year-old, but I was only four and I absolutely know how real and true it was for me. So after hearing the whole story my soul was dizzy with joy. As precious as the miracle of her birth was, the miracle of her second birth is more wonderful still.

I lay there beside her with tears in my eyes, the two of us singing: There is a name I love to hear, I love to sing it's worth. It sounds like music in my ear, the sweetest name on earth. Oh, how I love Jesus! Oh, how I love Jesus! Oh, how I love Jesus! Because He first loved me" over and over. Each time I sang the words it felt like the warmth of the sun pouring over my heart.

He first loved me! There is no chasing with God. No wondering. No ifs, ands, buts or maybes. There is only absolute, endless, unconditional love. It is simple. It is passionate. It is sweet. It is eternal. Even little Juliana can understand and accept this without reservation. That moment was so innocent and pure. Those words were so wonderful and true. I don't know that I've ever had a more beautiful, precious moment of worship than I had tonight.

Just some heart wanderings

2009-02-17T20:10:00.002-06:00

These thoughts are nothing new for me, but I've found the best thing to do is to get them out into some tangible form where they can be sorted through and maybe not be so overwhelming and joyfully painful.

Africa has so infiltrated my person that I feel as though something vital of me is missing. It's not that I feel like I'm supposed to up and move there (though the thought of that doesn't frighten me). It's just the feeling you get when a relationship you invested a lot of your heart into ends, like a piece of you is irrecoverable, and you have something of them always with you, always haunting you.

When I turn on my mac, faces of beautiful Ugandan children greet me. When I sit in church all alone on Sunday mornings I can feel their little bodies pressed up against me as tightly as they could, all around me, two and three deep on my lap. When I close my eyes to sleep at night I hear that stupid South African rooster outside my window, and I think about mosquitoes and the faces of all the precious people I met who were dying of malaria and AIDS play back one by one while I wonder if they are still among the living.

Yesterday I opened a notebook to jot down a thought and found my notes from this past summer. The names of every single person who we spoke to in the villages and IDP camps was listed with notes beside them. Rose, 30s, afraid to believe because of husband...Michael, 30s, seeking answers...Lucky, 18, my new sister in Christ...I remember those moments so clearly, the emotions attached to them. The pain of the rejection of my sweet Jesus, their only hope. The unexplainable joy of leading a sister to His feet.

But Africa is just one example of the ways in which I feel this. A similar experience greets me when I think of how the modern American church is content to pursue so many things but the face of God. How desperately I long for our nation and world to become reconciled to Him, to revel in His glory and simply delight in His presence. In so many ways it feels as though my heart is breaking, and then I spend honest moments with Him and am filled with such peace and joy that I feel as though I'm glowing from the inside out. I wonder if this is what it means to mourn in order to receive comfort.

If only I could find a way to give a voice to the voiceless and help the blind to see.

Unplugging, Turning Down, Signing Off

2009-02-15T21:42:00.003-06:00

It is quite possible that I am the weirdest media person ever. I think most of it is totally unnecessary, a waste of time at best, damaging to our hearts and minds at worst.

Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of my Mac, I enjoy reconnecting with people over Facebook, watching The Office and typing my thoughts here. But I'm growing annoyed with technology and media in general.

Today I began deleting my Myspace account (involves changing my e-mail account, so it's taking longer than normal). I also checked out Twitter and made the definitive decision to decline. I mean, do I REALLY need to know everything everyone is thinking and doing right now? No, no I don't. Because it's important to my roomie now, I have cable. But I'm turning the TV off far more than on these days, and Jen and I have already decided against adding cable when we move. I downgraded my smart phone to a simple, every day cell phone. Not that I wouldn't love an iphone, but seriously, not important. AIM? A thing of the past. Skype? Even though my best friend is in Spain for 4 months, I can't seem to bring myself to the point of actually signing up.

With the way I've been frustrated and seem to be shunning technology and downgrading at a rapid pace, it's making me seriously consider why I got into this field to begin with. I mean, I don't think I'm clinging to a romanticized version of the "good ole days," I just don't see the need to entertain myself constantly. Or to be privy to the intimate details of everyone's lives at any given moment. Let's be honest, we have an epidemic of acceptable voyerism and an insatiable appetite for entertainment in our culture, and increasingly our world. I find less and less satisfaction there.

What I love about media, what drew me to it in the very beginning, is the ability it offers to tell a story, to provide a voice to someone who might otherwise not have one. I love the ability to show others how I see the world, not just because I want them to like me, but because I want them to understand and appreciate the truth I've discovered. I want them to become passionate about what I am passionate about, and in love with the One I am in love with. For me it's not about the novelty, the accessibility, or the desire to be seen in a particular light. It's about communication, real, honest, heart-connection communication.

Why make it easier to be shallow, superficial and contrived? I'd rather sit down with you over coffee for hours and dig into the mess of our lives together then wade out on the other side stronger, truer, not merely perfectly worded. It's harder to do life in person. It's harder to hide, it's harder to handle. But the difficulty makes it so beautiful. The vulnerability of face to face makes us stronger and I'm less afraid of that than I used to be. Maybe I just don't need to market myself to the world anymore. Maybe I don't need to be told how to think about the events of our world. Call me antiquated, but simpler and slower is not all that bad. I'm kinda loving it.

Buy with Love

2008-12-11T10:52:00.002-06:00

During some research on all things "sustainable/green/eco-friendly" I came across a couple other phrases that caught my attention, words like "fair trade" and "slave free". I began to ask myself, do I really know where my money is going? Do I know who is making the things that I'm purchasing, and what conditions they're made in?

According to the Internation Labour Organization, more than 12.3 million people around the world are forced into labor (slavery), and it is estimated that over half of these individuals are under the age of 18. Many of these children are taken from their homes or sold by their parents into slavery. Others, desperately in need of a job, are lured in by promises of payment then forced to work in sub par, often abusive conditions, with little or no pay and are not allowed to leave.

Before you think this has nothing to do with you, maybe you should know that some of the biggest corporate offenders in recent history who have used these sweatshops are names you know. Companies like Wal-Mart, Nike, Gap, Levi, Prada, etc. etc.

Do you know where your coffee and your chocolate come from? Farms where cocoa and coffee beans are grown are some of the worst offenders. Think about it. If you're paying $4 for your cafe mocha, you might expect some of that money to get back to the people who grew the beans in the first place right? You might even be taking it for granted that it does (I did). But is it certified Fair Trade? Do you know for sure?

Here's the biggest question: Do you even care?

I can't tell you how many times I've suggested to people Fair Trade products and given them a brief account of why only to have them say something like, "well, I don't care...they're more expensive and I can't afford that/it's inconvenient to get to where I can buy those products/but I really like that product."

The question I ask myself is "If I can't be reasonably certain that this product arrived here without having abused, mistreated or taken advantage of those who have been involved in it's production, then do I really need it?"

Can I cut back on how many things I buy, or change the brands I use so that I can spend a little more on products that protect the rights and lives of the people involved in making them?

Proverbs 31:8-9 says:
Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy"

If we are Believers, we have the respnsibility of speaking for the rights of those who have no voice.

In America we have a right to speak out on all kinds of things, but shouting only gets us so far. Let your money do the talking. If we refuse to spend our money on products made in sweatshops, and spend it instead on Fair Trade products, which type of business will grow as a result? It might be harder to find and more expensive now, but if our dollar demands it over time the choices will continue to become more plentiful and the cost will go down.

PS. It IS more expensive to buy products labeled Fair Trade/Slave Free/Organic etc. but that's because nobody in the chain is being ripped off. I can live with that.

My challenge to you is simple, do a tad bit of research. This Christmas, hit up some of the amazing websites that offer beautiful, quality, unique gifts that give people in the Third World hope for a better tomorrow. Refuse to buy coffee and chocolate that uses slave labor. If you're up to it, send a letter to the companies whose products you are leaving behind telling them why and asking them to make better production choices.

Here are some fantastic sites that can help make this decision a little simpler to act on:

Research:
www.fairtradefederation.org
www.organiconsumers.org
www.transfairusa.org

Products:
www.tenthousandvillages.com
www.uncommongoods.com
www.963coffee.com (this is some of the best coffee out there!)
www.amaniafrica.org
www.americanapparel.com
www.giftswithhumanity.com

The Measure of Grace

2008-10-20T10:06:00.003-05:00

I am astounded at the measure of my own selfishness.

It's so easy to buy into the social ideas of getting ahead, and I'm tired of being surrounded by people who base their decisions on what will benefit them the most personally. Quite frankly, that is no longer the kind of person I want to be.

What if we are measured not by our ability to self-preserve, but our ability to self-destruct for the good of others? What I mean is, what if it's not about me at all?

Any "good" Christian (what does that mean anyway?) knows the greatest commandment is to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind." And of course the second greatest commandment, "Love your neighbor as yourself." But I wonder how many of us have missed the significance of the sentence that follows this famous passage: "Do this and you will live." (luke 10:27-28 NIV)

So you mean to tell me that I am only living when I'm living for God and others, not myself?

Now there's a development in the Christian community that is all about learning to love yourself, because we can't love our neighbor as ourselves until we learn to love ourselves. On on hand, there is some legitimacy to this concept, but on the other, we're still screwing up the focus. I would venture to say that even those who exhibit the extreme tendencies of both self-indulgence and self-destruction are doing so out of self-love, however twisted their vision of it may be.

Maybe what we need to do, what I need to do, is not to learn to "love" myself, but to learn to see myself the way God sees me. Which, of course, involves more about learning the heart and character of God than it does of learning anything about me. The discoveries we make of ourselves should be residual effects to our pursuit of the knowledge of God. Then and only then can we see ourselves through His perspective.

So what does He see when he looks my direction? Hebrews 10:10 tells us "we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" So the answer is, He sees us through Christ (because it's ALL about Him). He sees grace, and he loves us through grace.

Now if occurs to me that if living is not about me, then I will only find satisfaction in my life if I'm serving God and others. This is not about a quest to find myself and where I fit in this world.

I think it means starting out small, granting grace to the driver who cuts me off, or the friend who hurts me, not saying what I feel because it will do more harm than good, and doing something I don't enjoy because it brings joy to someone else. I think it means praying about people instead of talking about them, and proactively reaching out to them instead of intentionally avoiding them.

Maybe it's not taking advantage of God's grace for me by doing what I want to, maybe it's pushing the limits of that grace for the benefit of those I encounter.

Counter-Sub-Culture

2008-10-13T10:15:00.002-05:00

About 2 months ago I read an editorial article in the magazine Relevant that was discussing the failure of Christianity to exist as a counter-culture and it's subsequent integration into the mainstream as a sub-culture. That really got me thinking.

Subculture is a group of people with a culture which differentiates them from the larger culture to which they belong. They are social with their own shared conventions, values and rituals. What's important to note is that a subculture does not at it's root typically conflict with the mainstream, it is merely a dialect of the social language.

Enter the counterculture which is characterized by its systematic opposition to the dominant culture, in other words, the values are inherently counter to the social mainstream of the day.

I think most of us feel perfectly content existing as a Christian subculture. We get our own bookstores, we get the freedom to worship as we please in big comfortable buildings, we get tax-exemption status, and we get celebrities and politicians with our Christian title that we can feel OK about lining up behind. We get health, wealth, and the relative protection of our government because we are playing by the societal rules.

Unfortunately, we also have to make some sacrifices in the interest of the constitutional rights afforded to all subcultures. We do not get the ability to put up our ten commandments on a courthouse wall, because neither does any other subculture. We do not get the ability to pronounce our gospel or our God as the only way, because neither does any other subculture. And so on and so forth.

Realistically, there are a lot of things we have to sacrifice in order to be a subculture, and I wonder if it's even possible to really be a follower of Christ in this day and age and not be counter-cultural.

It seems to me that Jesus is a case-study in counterculture, not out of obsitance or a desire to be different, simply because the Way that He prescribed as the Truth IS different at it's very core from the social norm. Seriously, can you proclaim to be the only Way, Truth and Life without being countercultural, really?

Whoever heard of generousity being the moderator of equality? But Jesus says it is. It's contrary to our basic American idea of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" to say that we should do what is best for others over ourselves, that we should give instead of hoard, sacrifice instead of preserve, and pursue peace instead of assert our rights. But Christ taught us to do all these things if we would have His Kingdom come on Earth as it is in Heaven.

You see, real Christianity is inherently countercultural to the American way of life. Treating it as a subculture effectively kills it. We have become "luke-warm" by attempting to blend in to the cultural landscape. And ironically, we have forsaken the call to become "all things to all people" by trying to make the gospel relevant instead of just living it and letting everyone see how relevant it is.

We should fear the comfortable existence of our faith in society, not the persecution of it. I mean, come on, our ultimate role model and Teacher was killed because of what He taught and lived, and so were all of his closest companions. But it's ok for us to live in a pocket of pleasure and societal acceptance, never venturing out or swimming against the current of cultural teaching, even though He said we WOULD be persecuted for our faith and we should count it all joy?

Jesus is relevant, and the proof of that is in the way He meets the needs that nothing else in our indulgent, materialistic, self-centered society is able to do, no matter how long and hard we pursue them. That is what we need to live. We are not the change we want to see in the world. Christ is the change the world needs, we are simply the hands and feet of that change. If we will not be afraid to be it.

Reflections Over the Face of the Deep

2008-10-06T10:51:00.004-05:00

This morning I was reflecting on the story of Noah and the Ark, in particular, the point in the narrative where the 40 days and nights of relentless rain and storms had finally ended and Noah & Co. were adrift atop an endless sea.

I kinda picture Noah holed up in a corner of the ship miraculously not occupied by one of the "two by two's", carving into the gopher wood an account of the day's events. Day 1-40 would probably have read like a forecast from the Weather Channel in Seattle (but without the snazzy jazz music bed)...Rain, rain, more rain, and what? It's still raining.

But then there was Day 41: Stopped raining! Ready to step off this dingy and kiss the ground!

Not so soon! 150 days later the water finally receded enough that the ark could settle on top of a mountain. 40 days after that and Noah figures that he can send out a bird and see if it finds somewhere to land, but the poor little guy wears his wings out flying around to no avail. A week later. Take two. This time the dove returns with an olive branch. HOPE! Don't you think the ark was rockin that night! 'Nother week and the bird doesn't come back at all.

I haven't been able to get that little bird out of my head. After weathering the storms and all that rain. After flying, and flying, and flying, straining to see a landmark, a sign of life, any evidence that there was anything but this vast, lifeless ocean. After unrelenting pursuit of the promise that God would save and restore, renew and rebuild, reward and refresh, there it is. There it is. At last a little patch of dry ground, a place where it is safe to make a nest.

Maybe it's just that it's easy for me to identify with that bird. Finally the storms have ended and there is an expanse of blue sky where I can stretch my wings. But there is not yet a destination, not yet a sign of things to come, just my reflection in the deep blue below me, taunting with a pantomime of my movements as I peer into it, looking for a sign of life.

Who knows how long I must fly, how far I must travel until the waters recede. But they will. They will and they will reveal new mountains to climb, new lands to be traversed on the journey.

Who knows what epic adventures the future holds. But for now, I'm just a little bird in the big blue sky.

(Genesis 6-8 contains the story of Noah. Check it out)