Full Circle

Three years ago I wrote a sympathy card. It was to a friend from high school. Both she and her brother went to the small school that I graduated from. I knew them through a few classes together and the occasional friendly conversation and social event, but we weren't close enough to keep in touch past graduation.

Several years ago Donny began his battle with cancer, and three years ago he went to be with the Lord. It was one of those situations where my heart broke for his family, and especially his sister, Cynthia. It was one of those awkward situations where I wanted to help in someway, but it had been years since we had even spoken, so I didn't really know what to do.

So I sent a card. I wrote words that I could probably never say face-to-face (because I am bad at getting real in real-life).

Today Cynthia posted this on her Facebook page:

This is the card that I sent three years ago, worn from three years of being carried in a purse..."To remind me that I am never alone, to remind me to step out for other people, to remind me that there are people praying for you and considering you and you would never even know it."

Seeing this and reading Cynthia's words was humbling and encouraging at the same time.

You see, lately I have been feeling worn. I've been working really hard at a lot of things. I have grown tired; tired of trying to give my best all the time and often failing, tired of trying to go above and beyond, tired of never feeling like enough, and especially tired of feeling like none of these things make a difference.

Today the encouragement came full circle, and when I needed it the most Cynthia reminded me that the little things do matter. Prayers and kind words make a difference. I was reminded that God is in the small things, and that heart stirs and God-given nudges are filled with purpose.

Even if we don't see the purpose until three years later, or ever.

She Chose Death

Originally posted in May, 2010

Never underestimate the value, purpose, and potential of a life.

Last week I read a gut wrenching blog over at Conspiracy of Hope. It was about the Nazi's Action T4, which was a government created euthanasia of people with special needs and disabilities. To gain support for this program, the Nazis placed a price on life. For each of these lives terminated, the government would save X amount of money. And it worked: over 200,000 were killed.

Reading this sickened me. Going to work each day and being surrounded by these precious lives makes is so personal. Their lives are priceless. How could anyone not recognize this? But, of course, that was the Nazis, and we all know how horrible they were, right?

But then, the same day, I was reading the local newspaper. There was a letter to the editor. I don't remember the title, but it caught my eye. And before I knew it I sat there frozen: Frozen with anger, shock, and fear.

A man wrote in about abortion, and to my horror, he summed up his letter by saying that abortion saves the government X amount of money for each life it takes (assuming most of them would be supported by welfare). And guess what? He wasn't a Nazi. He was an American (I won't assume his political party). And according to an earlier statement in his letter, he was a Christian.

Does anyone else feel the overwhelming need to throw up right now?

I know there is so much controversy about abortion, even in the church. But guess what else I know?

God does not create life on accident.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
Psalm 139:13-16

A life is a life. Whether unborn or born, physically disabled or physical perfection, delayed or genius, it is life. And no one can put a price on that.

He creates each child with care, and entrusts them to grow inside a carefully selected woman. He knows each one of his children intimately, and he knows all the wonderful ways this mother and child can learn from each other.

The role of a mother, most would agree, is the most influential role that exists. They are entrusted to love and nurture and grow this beautiful life. I am sure in some circumstances this can be painful, and this can be scary. But instead of supporting them and encouraging them and allowing them to be moved and changed by the child, either for nine months or a lifetime, we offer them a way out.

The problem with this? The problem is the one who has been entrusted to nurture this life has been given a choice, and instead of nourishment there is destruction. And society says it is okay. And sometimes society even says it is good.

It is death.

But because we will never be given a chance to hear so many voices and see so many faces, it makes it so easy for society to justify. That is until we get to heaven.

And I imagine at that time someone will ask God why he allowed people to suffer with AIDS and cancer and so many other diseases. Why was there no cure for these things? Why did he allow so much evil and murder in the world?

And at that time God will bring forward some of these priceless lives, and some of the voices that never had a chance to be heard on earth. And they will each have a name. And they will each have a voice.

And God will call one forward by name and the child will say, "My name is Simon. In my life I would have found the cure for cancer. But my mother was given a choice."

Then he will bring forward another face and she will say, "I am Ruth. I was created with a love for the broken and a courageous heart. I would have led many dictators to the Lord, and the lives of many would have been spared. But my mother was given a choice."

Then another, and he will say, "I am Paul. I hold the cure for AIDS. But my mother was given a choice."

Then another, and another, and another, and they will all say, "But my mother was given a choice...."

And she chose death.

One of those moments

While I lack the time to write new posts, I will be wiping the dust off of some old stories that I've told here. This is a repost  from 2008, inspired by the summer I spent in Malawi, circa 2004.

I was looking through some old pictures and I came across this:



I love this picture for so many reasons. Obviously I was not quite ready...for the picture or for the moment. You see, this picture was taken my first time in Africa. I was in the country of Malawi, and I believe this was one of our first moments with the kids. I was excited, happy, overwhelmed. I had just graduated from college and I thought I knew it all. Little did I know how much I was about to learn, the adventures that would lie ahead, or the passion that was being ignited in me. I love honest pictures like this. This is one of those moments I hope I never forget.

Love Your Neighbor

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second (commandment) is equally important:
Love your neighbor as yourself. 

No other commandment is greater than these.'" Mark 12:30-31

As God has been growing and stretching my vision, He has been drilling "Love your neighbor" into my head over and over and over again. And, until a few weeks ago, I really thought I got it.

I love on kids here at home, I go overseas to love on orphans and widows. I have surrendered my life to working with what society considers "the least of these" in whatever way He may ask. Some of my best friends are redeemed prostitutes, ex gang members, and struggling addicts. From time to time I even visit people in jail and minister to the homeless. And I truly love them.

But in the last month or so God has been telling me to go deeper. To be honest, I didn't know what that meant.

If what I am doing isn't loving my neighbor, than what is? 

As my vision for ministering to special needs and underprivileged children around the world has grown, so has my outrage for the injustice brought upon them. The most horrific acts are done against the most vulnerable. And although I would call this outrage for injustice a righteous anger, I have found a little black weed growing in my heart.

HATE.

If cold is the absence of warmth, and dark is the absence of light, I believe that hate is the absence of love. And, quite honestly, I have been experiencing a great absence of love for the careless orphanage workers I see in documentaries, the government officials who say it is okay, and the parents I read about in news reports who abuse their own children.

Repeatedly I have heard the saying, "Those who are the hardest to love are the ones who need it the most." And for me the people who are the hardest to love are, without a doubt, those who treat children with anything less than respect and compassion.

I am sure that many of you will agree that this is completely understandable. Its even something I thought God might allow me to sit in comfortably.

Wrong.

This week God opened my eyes in a painful knife-through-the-heart kind of way. He showed me that these people, the ones that are so desperately hard for me not to hate, are the ones He has called me to love.

And not only that:

They are the ones who He has called me to serve.

As hard as it is to admit it, after tossing and turning for many sleepless nights over this, it makes sense.

The vision God has given me is to love and teach the children that many societies would rather push aside. But deeper than that, my vision is to train and educate caregivers about the needs and disabilities of the children in their care. I don't want to just love on kids and leave. I want to leave their home and school environments better, more supportive, and happier places than when I arrived.

I am sure that along the way I will meet many parents and caregivers who want the absolute best for their children, but just need a little help in their journey.

I also know that I will meet many caregivers whose hearts are absent of love and homes are absent of warmth for the beautiful children in their care. The same black weed that I struggle to uproot in my own heart has- through hardships, what society tells them to believe, and lack of education- grown wildly and taken them over.

If I hope to bring lasting change for these children, I must first bring change to their caregivers. Only warmth can rid the cold, only light can cause darkness to flee, and only love can uproot the hate. 

So now it is time for the hardest translation of "Love your neighbor" to be drilled into my heart, over and over and over again, until it takes root in the deepest depths. 

Reckless

Reckless: marked by a lack of proper caution

I've always been somewhat of a reckless person. As a kid I would climb to the very top of our tree house and then jump down without hesitation, while my cousin (more than twice my age- and a boy-) would shimmy down on his bottom as far as possible, and then cry until an adult would come to rescue him.

In the same way I would climb the ladder onto my grandparents' roof and take a running leap into the arms of my dad or grandpa waiting below, never questioning if they would catch me (I'm sure while the women hollered and gasped and cringed in anticipation of my near death).

I never wasted my time fighting girls and went straight for the boys (but only the ones who really deserved it).  As a kid I never found a fence I couldn't jump, a reptile I couldn't catch, or an abandoned building too scary to break into explore.

In my teenage years I took reckless to a new extreme (I'll spare you the details). And now, as an adult, it has calmed down a bit, but occasionally makes an appearance through things like bungee jumping, tattoos, skydiving, moving alone to dangerous and far away lands, and giving rides to strangers (the big, burly, tattooed kind).

For a long time (partly due to the raised eyebrows and disapproving glares) I believed that being an adult means that I must now resist the wild adventure that so sweetly beckons. But when I only do things that are considered safe it feels as though my spirit shrivels. When I get too comfortable the fight in me gets smothered. And when I struggle against the adventure seeking personality that God gave me, I feel as though I will surely implode.

Much of my recklessness has always been about the excitement and rush of danger, but as I grow more into this adult thing, it is more about a hunger to feel and do great big extraordinary things.

NeedtoBreathe put this hunger beautifully to words in their song 'These Hard Times'. These lyrics have literally become my everyday prayer.

Give me something brighter, give me something I can see

Give me something vicious, give me something I can be

Give me all the love and peace to end these wars

Give me something sacred

Something worth fighting for

I am learning that when God gives us passion and vision that can be described as wild, a little recklessness becomes a necessity. And when reckless abandon is for Him alone it becomes less about adrenaline and more about faith (I am still working on this part), and this is when God can really use us to do great big extraordinary things.

When God created me He not only knew that I would have a streak of wild, but He made me this way, on purpose. He made me this way for a purpose. He gave me an inner fight, because there is so much worth fighting for.


Do you have any characteristics or personality traits that make people raise their eyebrows in disapproval or disbelief? Ask Him how these quirks you were created with can be used to do extraordinary things.  It may take some tweaking and molding, but remember, He made you this way for a purpose.

Jesus as a Child

Most of my life I have been aware of the fact that Jesus lived a humble life. He was not born with status or wealth or beauty. We know that from scripture.

Then this week I saw a documentary about the life of Jesus, and I realized how many details are missing. This documentary dug into history and used anthropology and archeology to really tell us more than we have ever known about what Jesus' life really looked like.

His home, family, culture, and those things that shape us as humans, they were all detailed out as factually as possible using modern-day technology and research.

Out of everything I learned, Jesus' childhood is what stands out to me the most. I learned things that will forever increase my respect of Jesus as a boy and a man, and every word he ever said concerning the poor.

Jesus, to put it plainly, according to all the evidence, was the least of these.

Nazareth, where Jesus grew up, was at the time a fairly small village. From studying bones of people who lived in Nazareth during the same time as Jesus: his friends, neighbors and family, Nazareth was a place of extreme poverty. Famine, starvation, disease, malaria, and drought plagued the region. A mere 50% of children survived to the age of 10.

I also learned that because of Mary's pregnancy outside of marriage, that Jesus was most likely the victim of extreme bullying and grew up living as an outsider among his peers.

Jesus saw death and hurt and pain beyond what most of us could imagine, and he lived in it all his life. He was a victim of abuse and famine. So when Jesus is saying that what we do to the least of these we do to him, we can know he really was there. In their shoes. He has felt our human pain and suffering in every sense of the word.

And for those of you who are blessed enough to work with the least of these, take time to look them in the eyes and tell them that Jesus knows their pain. He knows what it's like to be looked down on and teased. He knows the hurt of losing people he loves. He knows the pain of hunger and disease. Tell them that they are so important and loved, that they have a Savior who not only died for them, but lived a life of suffering for them.

And for those of you who are blessed enough to work with the least of these, may the suffering you see and experience grow your compassion, mercy, and pursuit of justice, just as it did in Him.

Isaiah 55:12

Today I'm joining Scripture and a Snapshot.

Thankfulness

Sometimes I get so caught up in what I think I could have or should have, I forget to be thankful for what I do have.

I forget that I have so much more than I deserve.

I become so focused on the wants or the "they have"s I fail to see the countless blessings around me.

This week I was reminded of some sweet children in India, and what an example of humility they were to me.

I have shared these pictures before, but this week I have really been reminded of the beauty in these moments.

After meals were served at the Compassion centers (meals that many of us would consider meager) the children would take their plates to their place on the floor to eat. Before the serving even began, a project leader would say a prayer and blessing over the food.

What I watched day after day, project after project, child after child, was beautiful. For many of the children served, this would be their only real meal of the day, and no doubt their tummies were hungry from wait since their last meal.

Yet they took the time to say thanks. Separate from the group prayer, not being told or asked to do so, these kids would spend not seconds, but minutes in independent prayer. Because they were truly thankful.

From humility blooms thankfulness.

Abundantly

Today I was able to spend time meditating on our Saviour through some of his most wondrous gifts. It is amazing how he not only speaks His love for us- but shouts His love for us- through his creation.

As I unwrapped this glorious gift, I noticed the greens in this beautiful artwork.

Green: new life, rebirth, growth. Such a fitting message for this time. A time we set aside to remember and give praise for the sacrifice that He made. A time to give thanks for my life as a  new creation.

Thank you, Jesus.

"I have come that they may have life,

and that they may have it more  abundantly." John 10:10b  

Untouched

It was day 7 in India. I was walking through a small secluded village with my family group. We had just visited several homes of families served by Compassion's Child Survival Program. We had held babies and prayed over them and their homes and their mamas.

As we walked along we saw a man just ahead aged by time and a hard life. He sat in the shade propped against a flimsy wall. As we approached he murmured a few words, and our translator relayed to us that he would like our prayers.

I saw the whitened skin on his hands and the sores on his body, but I had an overwhelming urge to lay my hands on his shoulders as we prayed over him. As I reached down several people spoke out in unison to stop.

He had leprosy. 

I don't know why their sudden shouts startled me. I knew he had leprosy; I had seen it many times before. And I also knew that leprosy is not spread as easily as many believe, and I knew that leprosy is very treatable in our day and age.

Yet I ignored the Heavenly urge and obeyed the human voices.

And I stopped.

We prayed for him as we stood around him, several inches between the safe and unsafe. And then we left him there on his mat in the shade, untouched.

To this day, three years later, I cannot forget his eyes and their longing for human touch.

On that day I passed an opportunity to touch the least of these. I passed by an opportunity to touch Jesus.

Safe

Safe: buttoned-up, invulnerable, out of danger, shielded, careful, discreet, wary, unadventurous, unthreatened, sitting pretty, out of harm's way, guarded.

This could possibly be the most overused and abused word in (western) Christian speech.

We are so concerned about staying "safe" we forget that the word "Christian" means "Follower of Christ."

Yet how much of Jesus' time on earth did he spend being safe? And the disciples? And his followers?

Will we only follow him to the safe places to do safe things?

Will we only go where it is safe to go, love who it is safe to love, and touch when it is safe to touch?

Unsafe: alarming, chancy, hazardous, risky, dangerous, uncertain, venturesome, vulnerable, painful.

So, my friends, let's follow Christ. Let's go, love, and touch wherever, whoever, and whenever He leads. But be safe. 

Slumber No More

Awaken.

Yep, 2012, that's my word.

My favorite part is that I know God gave me this word, because honestly, I'm not really sure what it even means- atleast not in relation to my life and the next year. Plus, I know it was God because I am always on time- usually early- and, well, God was a little late on this one. On January 1st I was tempted to just choose my own word, but then I figured that if the word comes from me and not Him, it's not really worth all the to-do.  Plus, God controls all this time stuff anyways...and I hear that His timing is always perfect.

Perfect it was, indeed. The very day God put this word on my heart, I cashed in a giftcard for the new Needtobreathe album.

I downloaded the c.d. as I rushed out the door to the airport. A few hours later, on the plane to Colorado, fully absorbed in the wonderful that is Needtobreathe, these words rang through my ears and made me want to jump out of my seat and dance:

Days they force you
Back under those covers
Lazy mornings they multiply
But glory's waiting
Outside your window
So wake on up from your slumber
And open up your eyes
....
Tongues are violent
Personal and focused
Tough to beat with
Your steady mind
But hearts are stronger after broken
So wake on up from your slumber
And open up your eyes
...
All these victims
Stand in line for
The crumbs that fall from the table
Just enough to get by
All the while
Your invitation
Wake on up from your slumber
Come on open up your eyes
(Slumber- Needtobreathe- The Reckoning)

Coincidence or confirmation, only God knows, but I have to say that I am so excited to see how God opens up my eyes this year.

P.S. click here for some ear candy :)

The Women- Best of 2011

(This is a repost for the "Best of 2011" hosted by Shanda at A Pause on the Path. The post, entitled The Women, was my most viewed post of 2011, and was written on April 23, 2011).


As I have read through the gospel accounts of the crucifixion and resurrection this week, I have taken special notice of one thing.

All four accounts are different, touching on different details of this story of ultimate sacrifice, and emphasizing different things in the story. But there is one thing that has stood out to me that all four gospels have in common….one detail that they are all sure to mention:

The women.

If you read through all four gospels, you will see that there was a large crowd of women with Jesus on the day he suffered for our sins.

They were with Jesus as he, beaten and bloodied, carried his heavy cross up the Via Dolorosa. They watched as his physical body gave way and could no longer carry the weight. (Luke 26-27)

The women were there as the guards tore off his clothing and cast lots for his undergarment. They were there as the nails pounded through his hands and feet, as his body cramped from dehydration and pain. (John 19:25, Mark 15:40, Matthew 27:55-56)

The women witnessed Jesus, as he hung dying on the cross, reach out to the criminal next to him. As people spat on him and mocked him, he loved. As a mother watched her son die, as these women watched their Savior suffer, they also watched him tenderly save a lost sheep. (Luke 23:42-43)

As Jesus experienced the ultimate form of humiliation, he showed ultimate humility.

The women were there as, with all his strength, Jesus cried out to his Father God. And the women were there in the moment he breathed his last breath.

In every step of Christ’s suffering, many women walked beside him. They did not have to. Their salvation was surely not at stake. In fact, most of the men who are present throughout the gospels are absent in these few chapters.

It was not an easy thing to do, to walk beside Jesus. But when women have passion, it is fierce, and as we see here, it is unstoppable. It can withstand the mocking and humiliation, intimidation and fear, and likely the hardest of all, the passion of a woman can withstand the sorrow.

Their mission was not to stop the crucifixion, because this was the most crucial event in history. Their mission was to be there: to be with Jesus, to not leave his side.

As Jesus suffered, he looked out into the crowd, and amongst the jeers and the hatred, his eyes met the gazes of those who loved him, those who reminded him of the beauty of salvation amidst all the ugliness of sin.

These women spent much time with Jesus during his life, and they were with him in those sacred moments leading up to his death. In these moments they learned.

They learned love, humility, and strength. These seeds that were already planted in them from creation were grown, and they were in full bloom on this day.

As we know, on the third day Christ rose. As we celebrate this day, the most important day in history, and as we sing praises to our God who sacrificed all, I ask that we, as women, would spend time here.

Here: in the pages of history, on the Via Dolorosa, in the crowd at Golgotha, at the foot of the cross, and at the empty tomb.

Spend time with your savior, gaze into his eyes, and allow him to grow the seeds of your heart. He has given you the mission to walk with the weak, to stand in the midst of fear, to look into the eyes of the suffering, to show humility in the face of humiliation, and to be beauty in a world of ugly.

As you spend more time with him, pray that the passion he has placed in you will become fierce and unstoppable.

Spend time here, and see what blooms.

The Things We Can't Take With Us

The other day, while standing in a long line, I watched a little girl in front of me transform from a sweet and joyful daughter to a product of our ugly materialistic society. One moment she was talking and giggling with her mom, and the next she was threatening to bite, scream, and kick if she did not get the toy she wanted. The event concluded with a "compromise"...the mother bought the toy, but the daughter would get it in her stocking on Christmas.

This situation is in no way uncommon. Especially during this season of more, more, more. But somehow it still deeply saddens me.

I feel sad for these children who are being deceived into believing that these earthly and temporary things will somehow make them happy or keep them happy.

For Christ to leave his heavenly throne and be born into this dirty ugly world, it took heapings of humility, to say the least. And he did not come rich or attractive or with status. He came humbly, in every sense of the word.

Yet somehow we have made this holiday about status, money, and us. We can be truly arrogant, ignorant, ugly beings.

Yet He came to save us.

One of my favorite scriptures is Matthew 6:19-21:

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal...

So, this Christmas season, let us focus less on those things we can't take with us, the temporary happy. Let us instead find our treasure in the only One who can bring true and everlasting joy.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

World Changers

Esther. Nelson Mandela. Saint Nicholas. Eleanor Roosevelt. Louis Armstrong. Steve Jobs. Billie Holiday. Ella Fitzgerald. Leo Tolstoy. John Lennon. George Washington Carver. Carol Burnett. J.R.R. Tolkien.

All these people have two things in common:

They are all talented people who have used their gifts to change the world.

They are all orphans.

And there are many more like them. Some world changers are known far and wide, and some are known only by those lucky enough to be in the same corner of the world.

I can't help but wonder how many world changers are sitting in orphanges today. How many children who were created to be freedom fighters are being held in bondage of child slavery. My heart breaks as I wonder how many talents are being smothered by the cold and vulnerability of the streets tonight.

Orphaned by bereavement or death, it is a lonely, broken, and vulnerable place to be. But we must remember that it is in brokeness that Christ makes whole. It is in weakness that Christ is strength. It is in the lonliness that Christ is Love.

Each of these precious ones were created with unique talents and gifts that no one else can give the world.

So, I ask, how are you being the hands and feet of Christ to the 143 million orphans in the world today?

Here are just a few ways you can support these children in reaching their full potential:

Adopt
Become a foster parent
Advocate for an orphan
Become a Prayer Warrior
Sponsor an orphan through Compassion International
Give these girls in India a Home for the Holidays
And, as always, you can share Bethany's link to help me find her family, or make a donation towards the cost of her adoption.

Have any more ideas? Please share.
Oh, and happy National Adoption Day!

“My friends, adoption is redemption. It’s costly, exhausting, expensive, and outrageous. Buying back lives costs so much. When God set out to redeem us, it killed Him."
-Derek Loux

 

As Seasons Change

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time.

He has also set eternity in the human heart;

yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

I pray that whatever season of the heart you are in, that your eyes would be opened to the fingerprints of our eternal and loving Creator. May He reveal beauty to you in new and exciting ways, and where there is ugly, may you have eternal sight to see the unfathomable ways God is moving and molding.

~Happy, Wonderful, Blessed Fall to Beautiful You~

A Little Faith

Today I encourage you to check out the post Sun Stand Still by my dear friend JD at Compassion Can. Because I don't have anything good to say, but she does.

And if you need the back story of her mission to Ghana, you can read that here.

I hope that you'll take the time to click over and soak in these stories, and that they will encourage you in your faith as they have me.

P.S. God is awesome.

Overwhelmed

The last couple days I have been so blessed to spend time in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

It is a place that was one of my many homes growing up. I lived there during a time when there was an undeniable crazy battle going on for my soul.

God brought me to work and retreat at this place when I was broken and needed healing the most.

But looking back on those years I want to kick my teenage self in the head. Yeah, I had fun, and there was a lot of adventure; Yet I was hardened and bitter and resistant to what the Holy Spirit was trying to reveal to me.

God sent amazing people in my life, and placed me in among his most glorious handiwork, and I took it all for granted.

I broke bread with Francis Chan and changed his babies diapers, yet his words and godly wisdom wouldn't break through the hardened layers of my heart until years later. They somehow reached me through words on a page, when they had been given to me years earlier through friendly conversation. And there were so many others like him. God used their children in the nursery where I worked to connect me with people who would speak overflowing words of wisdom into my life, and I let them fall carelessly to the floor.

Thinking back on moments like this, I wish I could go back and drink them all in. I wish I could write down those words and savor them completely. Yet I know it was a season, and that season has passed.

But today I am reminded of the fact that this season, the one I am in now, it is not over. It is not too late to appreciate today. So I sit and reflect on the place God has me in now, the people He has sent to speak truth into my life today, and the ways the Holy Spirit is fighting for me and revealing himself to me in this season.

And today I am also reminded of where I was then, and where He has brought me. Healing has taken place, my hardened heart has been cracked open enough to let a little light through, and I am changed. My Savior has won the battle, and there is freedom.

Hume, California. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

I will leave you with words from one of my favorite worship songs. One of the writers of this song is one of those very people God sent to speak wisdom to me, and the words to this song were completed at the very place God fought so hard for my heart. And today, as I walk away from this place, I am nothing less than overwhelmed.

I am nothing, yet you bid me

Come to You, O Lord Almighty

As I come I'm overwhelmed with You.

Humbly now I break the silence

As I'm weeping in your presence

I'm so wretched, overwhelmed with You.

Your blood of redemption is covering my shame

Your voice that shakes the heavens

Is whispering my name

As you catch my tears

With your nail-scarred hand

I'm overwhelmed, I'm overwhelmed with You.

I'm overwhelmed, I'm overwhelmed with You.

I am nothing, yet you bid me

Come to You, O Lord Almighty.  

Written by Tom Dickson and Joel Weldon

Fishers of Men

Throughout my life I have heard conversation after conversation about the misfit disciples, and why in the world Jesus chose the particular group of men that he did.

Don't ask me about the tax collector and the politicians. God hasn't revealed that one to me yet, but I think I've got somewhat of an understanding of the fishermen.

For so many years I have envisioned these fisherman as something like this:

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 Or this:

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So peaceful and nice (and a little boring). These men must have been so calm and patient, right?

Nope, I am pretty sure these images are all wrong. 

I have come to view Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John in a whole new light. Because in reality, fishing wasn't a hobby for them or a peaceful retreat. It was work. The manly rough dangerous kind of work.

The kind of work that requires passion, courage, loyalty, heart, and maybe even a little recklessness.

The kind of work that requires someone like these guys:



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 Or these guys:



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Sure they may be a little rough around the edges, but Jesus sought the kind of guy that was loyal to the point of getting pissed enough to cut off someone's ear.

When I think of the disciples this way, I totally get it. I mean, life with these guys would be a little wild and unpredictable, but so was Jesus.

The Death of the Doggy Paddle

I recently had a conversation with one of the wisest women I know. We are starting a Bible study with what has become the most diverse group of women you will probably ever find gathered in one room, which is exciting.

But as we have been searching for a study, we have been more than frustrated.

The words that keep coming up are surfacey, shallow, fake, fluff, polished.

These are words that should never be found regarding anything referencing my Christ, and it's ticking me off a little.

And it's not just in the Christian literature. It is an overall theme within our culture. Why is there so much striving to make Christianity seem easy, comfortable, clean and safe?

In a nation full of Christians doing the doggy paddle in the shallow end, I want to do more than simply stay afloat.

I want to go deeper.

Immersion.

More of Him and less of me.

I don't want to live the easy way or the clean way.

Gritty. Grimy. Dirty. Bold. Uncomfortable. Untamed. Wild. Radical. Crazy.

And I sure as heck don't want to be safe.

I want to lay hands on lepers and dine with outcasts. I want to live outside the camp.

Because my Savior died for my freedom. And freedom means more than a comfy pew and air conditioning in my Sunday best.

In a church culture that tells us to be careful, let us pray for reckless abandon.
 

"Woe to the person who smoothly, flirtatiously, commandingly, convincingly preaches some soft, sweet something which is supposed to be Christianity." - Soren Kierkegaard