breathless.

Please read this post to find out why I'm out of breath and overwhelmed by how the Lord has used an amazing little girl to change my life over the last 6 months.

over.

Great Companion, You have loved us first.
May we never forget that You are love,
So that this sure conviction might triumph in our hearts
Over the whirling of the world,
Over the inquietude of the soul,
Over the anxiety for the future,
Over the fright of the past,
Over the distress of the moment.
May this conviction discipline our soul
So that our hearts might remain faithful and sincere
In the love which we bear to all those we love as ourselves.

-Soren Kierkegaard-

others.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see.

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

Alexander Pope.

worthless.

I wish to devote my mouth and my heart to you... I myself will learn and ponder diligently upon your Word. Use me as your instrument-- but do not forsake me, for if I ever should be on my own, I would easily wreck it all. -Martin Luther-

I went to the doctor with my son today. I feel like we've been living in doctor's offices and emergency rooms lately. Sometimes it feels hard to breathe. I burst into tears the minute I sat down in the car. I felt like I'd messed everything up for Graham. For some reason, this doctor, whom I genuinely liked, and I seemed to have a communication issue. I felt like I said all the wrong things. I felt like Graham wasn't going to get the right testing because I messed it up. I felt like I had ruined everything.

I talked to my brother on the phone right after. For some reason, he is who I needed. As I was trying to explain the appointment, I couldn't stop crying. I felt so responsible. So worthless as a mom and medical advocate. I wanted to re-do the whole thing. Gone back and not said some things and said some others. I kept apologizing for my tears. And Drew said it was ok.

I know why he said it was ok. He cried the same tears for years with me as I waited for a diagnosis. He had the same helpless feeling. His prayers felt unanswered and his actions felt worthless in the face of my pain. That is why I needed him. He got it. And he never gave up on me-- praying for me and encouraging me. I needed to remember his faithfulness. I needed to be encouraged by it.

I read this quote by Luther today, and I couldn't help but be encouraged by the presence and sovereignty of the Lord in my wreckage. More often than I care to admit, I feel like I wreck it all. I open my mouth when I shouldn't. I hurt people. I am so full of idolatry and junk that I can barely see out. And I wreck it.

On our own, the best we can hope for is wreckage. On our own there is no need of grace or mercy. They are worthless. Justification only comes with the cross. Perfection and goodness only come from the Creator. Truth only from Word and it made flesh, dwelling among us. Hope and peace only on the wings of the Spirit.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God. The creator of the ends of the earth, he does not grow tired or weary. And his understanding, no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Those who hope (wait on) the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow tired or weary. They will walk and not grow faint. Isaiah 40:28-29,31

yapper.

"Never about, always to"- attributed to Amy Carmicheal

"Let all things be done for building up" 1 Corinthians 14:26

I opened my damn mouth again. Wide open. Gross.

I have a friend whom I call "the vault". She is a safe place. A safe place to work through things and bounce things off of. And those things stay in the vault. But often I take it too far. The great thing for me is somewhere, after many failed attempts, I have learned to spot quickly those who will keep my secrets. The vault. The problem is that there are plenty of days where I pull my dump truck of criticism and judgment and annoyance and self-righteousness up to the vault and dump it. I told her she is like a dam for my sin. She holds it all in until I figure out that it is gross and sinful. It has got to be exhausting to be close to me.

And then the repentance. I spent all of Lent learning how repentance is a lifeline of our journey with Christ. It is non-negotiable. It is constant. It is really hard. It is really ugly. It is really beautiful. It is freedom. It is exhausting to look at the filth and junk in my own heart and have to tell someone about it, especially someone who already knows it is there but is gracious enough to let me get there on my own.

I have been trying to guide my conversations with this motto: "never about, always to". It is really hard: a very tough balance. I tend to sit on the far end of "openness". I spent 23 years giving half truths so that no one would ever fully know me. From there I decided that secrets were sinful and sensitive information was selfish. I learned over and over again in difficult ways that this "openness", though quite appropriate at times, is not always unselfish. Openness has a twin sister called "gossip" and she is nasty and hurtful. She destroys lives and hearts and relationships. I have a friend who sits on the other end, telling nothing. This friend understands that sensitive information can bring mercy and protection in beautiful ways. But it also gets this person in trouble because prayers and celebrations and ministry can be missed when the wrong secrets are kept. There is a balance found in 1 Corinthians. A new motto. Build up in all things.

It is not ok to break down in words-- behind peoples back, or to their face. Breaking down behind someones back is for cowards. Sometimes you should keep your thoughts to yourself. Sometimes you should repent for even thinking them. Sometimes you should share to help build up others. Sometimes you should share to keep from hurting them.

New motto: build up in all things that come out of my mouth.

church.

“Community arises where the sharing of pain takes place, not as a stifling form of self-complaint, but as a recognition of God’s saving promises.” -Henri Nouwen-

I have spent the last few weeks trying to find words for my church. We celebrated our 5th anniversary of being a church last Sunday. It was incredible to relive the last five years and to remember why I love this church so deeply. At the risk of sounding ridiculously self-centered, here is what my church has offered me in the last five years:

1. My husband.

We knew each other for years, but our church sparked the romance. I visited because I thought that another friend of ours was going to a cult, so I wanted to prove to him that it was. It turned out I was wrong. And it turned out that the keyboard player was the man who would become my partner forever. After church on Sunday evenings we would go to Barley's or IHOP and I fell madly in love with him.

2. A Picture.

The reason I thought the church was a cult was because when I heard our friend Anthony talk about it I had never heard anyone have so much love and joy and faith in their church before. It creeped me out. I had never spent much time studying the church in the scriptures before. I grew up in Young Life and that is where I learned the gospel. My church seemed to be where I learned the "rules" of following Jesus. I sort of thought that Young Life had the gospel market cornered because I had never really experienced it in a church before. My church is the most clear picture I know of the bride of Christ. The longer I spend reading about the early church and those throughout history, the more love and joy and faith I find through my church. We are broken and bruised and scandalous. But, we are committed to what Peterson calls a "long obedience in the same direction." We give to each other when there are needs. We show up on really bad days and really great days. We laugh a lot. People are healed. People are saved. People are loved in a deep and real way. And, people come face to face with a God that is alive.

3. Community

I went to a wedding shower last night for my first (and longest) friend. His parents' friends came together as one big family to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my friend and his fiance. It was amazing to hear as his father talked of the community, the family, that they had shared life with since college. It was incredible to listen to his prayer for his son and his new wife to have the same. And it was quite unbelievable the amount of gratitude that overcame me when I realized that I have that kind of family at my church. We love our life group. We love that there are a million kids under age 5 there. We love game nights and beer margaritas. We love digging into scripture with the vastly different theologies and life experiences that we all have to offer. They are our dear friends. They are the ones who will help to protect and raise our children if something ever happens to us. They are the ones who will show up to celebrate the joys in life and will cook for us and hold us during the really hard things that life offers. They are a weekly reminder of the promises of God.

4. Hope.

I never knew that the church could be like this. I never knew that truth and love and hope could walk so sweetly together. I am more aware of what God wants for us by looking at my church. I am more aware of who we are to be and who He is to us. I believe that our nation has some trouble. But my church offers hope that the One who created it still reigns above all and is completely in control. I know who we are and I see what He has done with us and our meager, laughable gifts. He is in control. And he is madly in love with us.

Thank you, Maryville Vineyard, for loving the glory of God so much that it has made you have loved me so well.

no.

"So how can I thank You And what can I bring What can a poor man lay at the feet of a king So I'll sing you a love song It's all that I have To tell You I'm grateful For holding my life in Your hands When it's dark and it's cold and I can't feel my soul You are still good When the world has gone gray and the rain's here to stay You are still good" -Erin O'Donnell and Nichole Nordeman "You Are Good"-

My children were born at 10 o'clock in the morning on Friday, September 21.  It was 10 o'clock Saturday evening before I had the guts to ask one of their NICU nurses if they were going to live.  What I didn't know is that days before she had lost her first baby in the NICU and she was terrified of that happening again.  Her vague answers did nothing to quench the insatiable fear that was overtaking me.  When we got back to our hospital room, I cried Daniel to sleep.  When his breathing was long and slow, mine became short and tight and hard to do.  I was gasping.  Freaking.  Begging.  I begged God for hours to promise me that my boys would make it through the night.  For hours his answer was quite clear.  Still.  Quiet.  Full of mercy and love.  He said "no".  I hated his answer.  I begged for another one.  He said "no".  Clear.  Calm. Constant.  I never received the assurance I was looking for.  I did however receive two things I needed far more:  a peace I still have no way of understanding or explaining and a simple truth from the one who spun them together in my womb "I am good."  The peace turned to a worship that I had never experienced before or since.  And the morning came with strong breaths and heartbeats from my babies.  And for the next 47 days I wrestled with the Lord.  The answer was the same, but I never will be.

drink.

"Are you thirsty?" said the Lion.
"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the Lion___"There is no other stream."

C. S. Lewis. The Silver Chair-

I have some friends who have an incredible little girl. Riley is trying to raise $5,000 to build a well for people in developing nations who do not have clean drinking water. And she is working her butt off for it. For every dollar she raises, she is doing service projects around her community. She is seven years old and she is refusing to look away. She is warring against the statistics. She is not ok that 5,000 people die every day because of water (lack of clean drinking water, assault when walking hours to a water source, etc.) Riley drew 5,000 lines on paper so that she could understand the statistic. It took her 4 days. She is incredible because she is choosing to live the life that we are meant to take part in.

There is one stream. And it flows with such beauty and grace. And it is for all people. And when you dive in, when you swim from bank to bank you will see just all it is about. The grace and beauty and peace and forgiveness and salvation and justice and mercy and compassion. It matters. When you look away from the basic needs of humanity, it matters. It matters. In James it says that if we know what is right and we choose not to do it, for us that is sin. In Proverbs it warns that once our eyes have been opened we should not look away- that God holds us responsible to act.

I hope that the love of Jesus has captivated you- swept you off of your feet and blown your mind. I hope that as you are falling in love with Jesus the more you realize how much his love matters. I hope that as you discover the importance of that love that you are learning more about who he is and what he is about. And that you are learning how deeply important humanity is to him. And that you hear his invitation to come and play as he loves and heals and saves the masses. As he plants churches in places long devastated. As he cares and protects the victims of AIDs, the lepers of our generation. As he builds wells and quenches souls. As he gives a mommy and a daddy to the abandoned. As he rebuilds the ruins and heals the broken. Beauty for ashes. Come and play.

I think that it is time for the church (we, followers of Jesus) to understand that it is our job to lead the troops in the fight against oppression, poverty, abandonment. It is our job to meet the needs- not the government or the rich people. And it starts with us. If we are choosing not to help, then we are refusing to be who we were made to be.

Find a way to play. Find what fits you best. Stop making excuses and justifying your own greed or laziness. Find out what you need and what you don't. I learned that $20 will give one person in a developing country clean water for 20 years. We can all find a way to give or raise $20. Please visit Riley's website and learn more about her project(rileyproject.blogspot.com). Or google ways to play-- way to make a difference and stop looking away. It doesn't matter how you help, just do something. And it doesn't have to be money- fix stuff, make stuff, hang out, babysit, buy red, paint, visit, play, feed. Just do something.

IDEAS:

Compassion International

YoungLife

Show Hope

All God's Children International

410Bridge

Charity:Water

One Campaign

Your Church.

My church. (look at "The Box")

Your local hospital or indigent care clinic

Give up one luxury (cable or pedicures or iTunes or eating out) for a month and give the money away

Buy items that support developing countries

There is a church in Knoxville that does a pot luck on Sunday and people give what they would spend to eat out after church and they give it away. You could do that with your friends.

Play basketball at the park. Make friends. Feed these friends. Become part of their lives.

**Leave your ideas in the comments section!**

tender.

"There is no gentle road to tenderness…..Tenderness is learned in the testing place, where the man who dares to wrestle with the Absolute limps, and then wins a blessing. Pain is the crucible in which one is made tender. " -Brennan Manning, The Wisdom of Tenderness-

"Do I love her more than I love you?" -Matt Chandler(speaking about his daughter and God)-

I sat on my living room floor holding the lifeless, still, unbreathing body of my almost 2 year old son. It is moments like that which transcend theology, intellect, knowledge. The moments when what you know and what you are experiencing seem to be in complete contradiction. It wasn't the first time I've held him screaming prayers that he would breath, I do hope it is the last. In moments like these theology feels thick and cold and void of all comfort.

I understand the theology of the sovereignty of God- of his complete control over our seemingly out of control world. His governance of chaos and order and life and breath. But in a moment so terrifying, I come face to face with my doubt and idolatry.

I understand the theology of God being in control when my boy decides not to breath. It just hurts so deeply. My body and soul are screaming, "What in the hell are you doing?". In the moment I feel cheated and zapped by a God proving his power. My mind goes back to the days when I spent much of my days poking and prodding and tickling and startling and begging and begging and begging for breaths from my 5 pound children. I understand the theology but it hurts all of the way to my core.

And when the moment ends and the breaths are deep and full and the color is beginning to return to those tiny cheeks and lips, I am crushed. I am crushed by the complete and sovereign tenderness that the God of the universe holds me in. I am crushed by his arms, full of mercy, drawing us closer to himself. I am crushed by the peace that swarms us in silence and takes away the anger.

I understand the theology and its truth crushes me. Face to face with the truth of God's absolute sovereignty is my hidden idolatry. My deep desire for Graham's breath over the glory of the one who gave it to him in the first place. My deep desire for comfort and peace and pink cheeks more deeply than Him. I adore my children. They have swooped into my life and have offered me more life and laughter and love than I have ever deserved. They are the answer to my longings for more of Daniel Mizell for this earth. I wish I could describe how important they are to me, how deep and wide my love for them is. Same with their father-- he is my partner and I count that among my greatest joy. I did nothing to deserve any of them and I am overwhelmed by my heart's ability to love and adore them in ways I never thought possible. But if I believe the gospel and the glory and the sovereignty of God, then anything that comes before his glory in my life is idolatry. And it will take a lifetime to learn how that works its way out with them as well as with my own self-love and self-righteousness.

Moments like I have experienced this week are changing me. I can see tangible evidence of the tenderness that they provide-- tenderness that was never there before. Tenderness that only happens when you are met in the arms of the One who wrote the standard. Who is bigger than my doubt and my fury. Who is full of mercy and abiding in love. Who weeps with me, who adores me, who is quieting me with his holy love and rejoices over me with singing.

speck.

I praise you that you are sovereign-

completely and totally in control.

I praise you that the world is

so much bigger than I am aware of.

(I am a speck in the big picture)

I praise you because you still celebrate the

ordinary

everyday

parts of my life with me.

Like two little boys giggling through nap time.

joke.

Prostitutes are in no danger of finding their present life so satisfactory that they cannot turn to God: the proud, the avaricious, the self-righteous, are in that danger.
-C.S. Lewis-

For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. -Galatians 5:1-

I think I am going to have to wake up every morning and remind myself to live the way that was purchased for me. To choose the freedom that came at great cost. To believe that I am loved and chosen and set apart-- no longer bound to my sin, but only to Christ and his perfect rescue.

As I am learning to believe that God is pleased with me, I am finding the depths of the lies that I have used to replace that belief. I am finding that I am so thick in self-righteousness that some days it is hard to see out. I am learning that somehow I found a sick sense of comfort in earning the pleasure of God. I am finding that my pride and my own self-righteousness drive my choices to be moral and to run from it....to judge the moral and to follow them.

I live in the bible belt. We think we've got it. We tend to believe that by not dancing (because what if it got carried away), by voting republican (didn't Jesus), by respecting boundaries (what if the person doesn't want to talk about it?), by not "gossiping", by never going to bars (what if someone saw you there and it ruined your "witness"), by wearing t-shirts with gospel overtones, by making gift baskets for the needy, by burning Alanis Morrisette and Pink Floyd CDs or by a myriad of other actions we are somehow joyfully living the freedom of Christ by not sinning.

But, we've missed it completely. We have created rules that aren't there. We have created a system of religion based on these rules rather than on Jesus and his great rescue of us. And by living under the rules of systematic religion, we have completely belittled the cross of Jesus. Matt Chandler says that around here we never hear anyone talking about the "good guys". The good fathers, good husbands, good moral people. No one says to them, “You god-belittling, self-exalting, religious, self-righteous sinner, you repent. You, the good ones. He’s actually calling man-made righteousness sin.” (Matt Chandler) Our attempt to create righteousness spits in the face of the righteousness of Christ.

We can't do it. To act as if we have one righteous bone in our entire body is a complete joke. You don't. I don't. Mother Theresa and Billy Graham don't. Outside of the righteousness of Jesus, we have nothing to offer. It is only his righteousness, that can make us righteous. Not what we do or don't or how many people we feed or how many cigarettes we choose not to smoke.

To live under the law (or for us the rules of the Bible Belt) is to belittle the sacrifice and rescue of Christ. Jesus did not die for us to live like this. He died for freedom. Galatians says over and over that the only thing that the law does is to prove that we do not measure up to the standard of the law. The only thing the rules of the bible belt do is prove our need for a savior. We can't ever be good enough. We can only be rescued.

Freedom gives us the chance to dance in complete worship of our rescuer. Freedom offers us the hope to dive into the lives of others, asking questions that are terribly difficult and intrusive. Freedom means that morality is trash because instead of acting like we are righteous, we can actually become the righteousness of Christ. Freedom means that outside of Jesus no one gets it right...even republicans. Freedom means laughter and dancing and singing and suffering and loving and fasting and repenting and risking and eating and drinking and weeping all for the cause and glory of the Father.

wishes.

May the Lord bless you and keep you. May he send his face to shine on you. May he lift his countenance upon you and may he give you peace, now and forevermore. -Numbers 6:24-

My children,
May you learn that every single ounce of this life is all about him. Everything.
May you learn that he is more sovereign than we can understand. May the bottom never have to fall out so that you can learn that he is in control.
May you know that his love is completely and utterly unaffected by your actions—both good and bad. You are helpless in the face of his love, and his love will always remain, no matter what you do or don’t do.
May you recognize his voice: soft, still, warm, full of laughter and abounding in love.
May you remember—hear his beggings to never forget. Never forget the height from which you have fallen. Never forget that absolutely nothing matters outside of the cross.
May you experience the wind of God: the grand and full and glorious freedom that fills its breath.
May you know what is right and do it because it brings glory to God. And in the same way may you know what is wrong and choose what is good for the glory of God—never for your own glorification. Never feeling the license to sin, but always feeling the freedom of God’s love and the desire for his glory.
May you always have an open hand and an open home and an open heart for those who need it.
May you learn the benefit of silence and solitude and partake often.
May you understand from the time you are small that to be a child of God is to be a great delight to the One who made you.
May you be patient and kind in your love, always seeking the good of others above yourself and knowing that love will not give up when things seem impossible.
May you learn to defend the weak as you become more like the original. Fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.
May you learn to live simply and full of passion and adventure. Wild and free.
May you never have to learn how very little of this world is about you—may you always know that every single part of this world is about the Glory of the One who made it with only a word.
May you perfect the art of the long meal with those dearest to you.
May you also perfect the art of the belly laugh, the spiral, and the pillow fort.
May you never relate to the terms self-righteous, self-serving.
May you always understand how highly valued humanity is in the eyes of God and may you treat everyone with that value.
May your love be full of freedom and absent of fear.
May you appreciate and recognize the move of the Spirit in blessing and healing and offering the supernatural to our world.
May you never be able to look away: from the pain, from the suffering, from the oppressed.
May you realize that the gospel has nothing to do with whether or not your dance, drink beer or watch rated R movies and is all about the rescue, redemption and reconciliation to the Father. It has never been about what you do or don’t do and has always been only about what Jesus did for you.
May you see the beauty and majesty and fingerprints of a living God all over his creation and his people.
May your life be full of gratitude.
May you see the depths of others and be moved in mercy and grace.
May you bring peace with you where you go. May you offer beauty and laughter and music to a world of pain and sorrow and doubt.
May you see hurt and oppression and be moved to action. May you serve because the glory of Christ is so engrained in you that you can do nothing else.
May you get really dirty sometimes as you figure out what it means to be a man.
May you understand the gift of the church, and protect and defend her.
May you really believe that his love will never fail you.
May you often hear the still voice that is singing over you, quieting you with a love that has set you free.
May you act in justice always. May you love mercy and kindness always. And may your footsteps always be humble as you follow those of the One who rescued you.


Love,
Mom

cry.

And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts crying, 'Abba, Father!' -Galatians 4:6

"...it was the way Jesus spoke to his Father, in spite of the fact that virtually no one in Jewish culture referred to God with this endearing word abba. It stunned the disciples. They held onto it as a precious remnant of the very voice of Jesus in the language he spoke." -John Piper-

"The Spirit leads us to call out passionately to God as our tender and loving Father. The Spirit calls out 'Abba' ... We do not just know and believe that God is holy and loving, but we actually experience contact with his holiness and his love in personal communion with him." -Tim Keller-



I love it. The Spirit of God, sent to us and the response of our heart is "Abba, Father!" It is a cry of need, of repententance, of helpless and hope, of laughter and dancing, and a cry for mercy all together. The cry that changed me. The cry that lingers as the years make the valleys deeper and the mountains higher. The cry of my soul.

In my shame, Abba, Father! In my laughter, Abba, Father! In all of my junk that I carry around, Abba, Father! With my dearest friends when laughter abounds, Abba, Father! When I can't see my way out, Abba, Father! When you know you're meant for something or someone, Abba, Father! In all of the shame I can't seem to shake, Abba, Father! In the NICU, Abba, Father! When the impossible becomes the miraculous, Abba, Father! When I feel unheard, alone, and unknown, Abba, Father! Dancing with my husband, Abba, Father! Poverty and AIDS and pandemics, Abba, Father! "Mommy" from my children, Abba, Father! In the silence, Abba, Father!

It is within me from the moment the spirit of God put it there. Every minute and fiber of my being crying Abba, Father!

Pleased.

"Do you think that God is pleased with you?"

I was listening to a sermon a few weeks ago that ended with this question. My answer surprised me. I talk so much about God's love and mercy and compassion-- of what the cross and the resurrection offered us. But, completely honest and naked in front of that question, my answer is "no". That answer has changed everything for me.

I've been reading Galatians. Somehow in my upbringing I lost this book. I have, like so much of the bible, read and been presented with snippets and verses here and there. But reading something in its completeness and in its context is a whole different experience. Paul is talking to the Galatians about the Law vs. faith. It is our faith that offers us life and salvation and oneness-- not the law. Though good and holy and righteous--God's chosen way to live, the law is not our salvation. In the 3rd chapter Paul writes, "But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian [the law], for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, though faith. ...There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male or female for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

As progressive and missional and free as I think I am, I have spent a lifetime living for the law. Living with a checklist hoping for God's pleasure. I have spent the last few weeks learning that being a Christian has so very little to do with what you do or what you don't do (as Matt Chandler says, being a christian doesn't have to do with beer) and so very much to do with a God who made me and chose me and loves me and is pleased with me. I thought I was beyond this-- I thought I'd already learned this. But I answered "no".

I know that there is nothing I can do to earn my salvation--that was accomplished only through Christ and the cross and resurrection. But I still feel like I am trying to earn God's pleasure. The church I grew up in, though incredible in some things failed in others. I was taught a gospel that reinforced what I was still believing: you can't earn your salvation, but you better not do this list of things and do this list of things in order to keep God's pleasure. I am learning that there are a lot of things that I was taught that I can't find anywhere in the scriptures.

As it turns out, He is pleased. He is pleased because he made you. He is pleased because chose you. He is pleased because he died for you. He is pleased because his death offers you his righteousness. He is pleased with you even though you drink beer and watch rated R movies. He is pleased with you when you feed those who don't eat and clothe those without clothes....and when you don't. He is pleased with you even though you make terrible decisions and run away and doubt him. He's just pleased with you. In fact, in Zephaniah it says that he will "rejoice over you with singing".

I believe now that God is pleased with me. I believe that what I do or don't do doesn't affect his pleasure or his love, but that it affects our community together. He can be displeased with my choices and actions, but still pleased with me. Some rated R movies affect my community with him...not all of them. When I choose not to do what he's asked, our community is affected. When I live in captivity and shame and doubt, our community is affected. In the same respect, when I do goodness and righteousness and bring beauty, our community is affected. When I make wise choices and love the way I am commanded, our community is affected.

He loves you. He is pleased with you. And when you live as one who is taken great delight in life is full and free. When life is full and free in the community of god then our choices and actions will become ones that will not negatively affect that community. Sanctification is a gift from the One who loves us and takes great delight in us. So, be loved today. Be delighted in. Grow and change and choose goodness to delight the heart of the One who has taken great delight in you.

"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" 2 Corinthians 5:21

almost.

I have a lot to say. I almost have the words. Stay tuned.

live.

"Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God, and everyone who loves the father loves his child as well. This is how we know that we love the children of god: by loving God and carrying out his commands." 1 John 5: 1-2

"When Jesus said he was hungry and thirsty and naked in those around us, he was referring to more than mere corporeal needs. Surrounded by people who are hungry and thirsty and naked in their souls, they come to us for understanding, thirsting for affirmation, naked with loneliness, and wanting to be covered with the mantle of our genuine concern. So often I refuse to give it to them. I'm not really interested in their hopes, fears, dreams, joys, aspirations and disappointments. Yet I claim that I am dedicated to God, that I live for Jesus Chris, that I am dedicated to my religion. What kind of religion is this? Jesus thundered, 'None of those who cry out, "Lord, Lord", will enter the Kingdom of God but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven' (see Matt. 7:21). And surely it is the will of the Father that we spend our days loving in deed as Jesus did." -Brennan Manning-

I have been so learning so much over the past few weeks and I have been clueless as to where I could begin to write about it. Brennan Manning, once again, offered me that chance. I think "devotional books" are sort of silly. I've always been a little judgemental about them, like how reading a blip every morning was sort of pissing out on your "quiet time". But in the last few months, as evidenced by this blog, I have found so much teaching, wisdom, inspiration and direction from little devotional blips from Brennan Manning (Reflections for Ragamuffins) and Frederick Buechner (Listening to Your Life: Daily Meditations with Frederick Buechner). If you are unfamiliar, these books offer about a paragraph or so of thoughts by the author as well as a scripture every day of the year. I also can't get enough of sermon podcasts right now- my favorites are Rob Bell/Mars Hill Church and Matt Chandler/The Village Church. These guys are brilliant and funny and the most gifted communicators of our generation. Also, our church is doing a study on Galatians and I can't get enough. I have never done a study of this book and never really looked at it in depth and in context without just picking out verses. I am constantly thirsty.

I am learning and changing. I feel it in my bones. Things are different. What all of these books/sermons/blips seem to be saying is the same thing. It is the gospel as best I understand it. That the story of earth and the story of our lives is a God who created us out of a ridiculously deep and crazy love and through his own son offers a story of redemption and perfect reconciliation. And through that reconciliation to the Creator of all things is a joy and a life that is more powerful and beautiful and good than any other life. That we were created by God and for God and that our redemption is only through his grace and love and mercy. And that life with him is different than "normal". It is requires greatness: great mercy, great sacrifice, great love, great faith. That our life is a process of sanctification: God's great redemption of our joy.
This life- this adventure as part of the tribe of Christ followers is more than I ever understood it to be. I realize that my lack of interest and compassion in others is absolutely not ok. Even when they are strange or clingy or sort of annoying. I realize that I am filled with greed and it is robbing me of joy and others of food, water, basic healthcare. I claim to be a follower of Jesus. I claim to be saved and rescued and freed. And I am learning how to live like someone who has been rescued. I realize that I sometimes I act and fight for justice, every once in a while I will offer mercy and compassion, and my life is controlled by my pride-90% of the seconds in my day are about me. I want more. There has to be more than that. I want more because the glimpses I have of justice, mercy and humility are moments with a Savior. I want more.

medium.

"He is here and now. When Jesus cried, 'It is finished,' the unapproachable God of intimidating holiness opened His arms and invited us to feel His embrace." -Larry Crabb Shattered Dreams-

I have been overwhelmed by theology once again. It seems to happen a few times a year. I love John Calvin and I love Mr. Arminian (shows my lack of seminary). I think I just keep returning to a happy medium. I keep returning to the fact that both of these men, as well as hundreds who have written on the topic of Calvinism vs. Arminianism think that they have found what the scriptures claim gives God the most glory. And it leaves me unapologetically and enthusiastically a nothing. Or an everything. A Calviminian. Is that stupid? I am left with such excitement that in the end, through the life and heart of the believer, the church, the saints: God receives perfect glory. And when there is glory going to the One who invented it...it is good.

What makes me sad is that theology seems to take away the experience- the person- the relationship. One of the best friends I know and I talked about this for a long time last night. I love his experience and his relationship and his person. I love his view of the scriptures. I love that when he talks theology to Daniel and I we understand not only more of the heart of God, but more about him. It is as if he really believes that the death and resurrection of Jesus was truly the proclamation that it was finished-- that our relationship is mended once and for all. That we are free and full of grace and mercy and hope! What makes me sad is that sometimes theology is all books. Sometimes it is self righteous. Sometimes it is exclusive. Sometimes it says it is bringing "grace to you" and it really offers arrogance.

I listen to this guy's podcast named Matt Chandler. So do about 100,000 of you. He is unbelievable. And his theology of salvation is different than my friends'. And I love the way he talks about the Glory of the creator and the risen savior and the spirit indwelling. I understand more of the heart of God. It is as if he really believes that the death and resurrection of Jesus was truly the proclamation that it was finished-- that our relationship is mended once and for all. He is no less real, no less experienced, no less about the Glory of the creator, the risen son, the spirit indwelling.

I have a third friend who has a blog. And he opened up a discussion about this theological stuff. And I love the dialogue and the discussion and the conversation. I love that both sides are trying to prove their points without being self-righteous or judgemental. I love that the most important thing for both sides is Glory. And...I love my happy medium. I love the holiness and the embrace.

live.

I heard this at a wedding this weekend, and I think it is my New Years Resolution. Is it too late to have one?

"Love from the center of who you are; don't fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle.

Don't burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don't quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.

Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck-up.

Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody.
Don't hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you've got it in you, get along with everybody."

-Romans 12:9-17, The Message-

good.

Good Friday!!!

Thy mercy my God is the theme of my song, The joy of my heart, and the boast of my tongue. Thy free grace alone, from the first to the last, Hath won my affection and bound my soul fast.

Without Thy sweet mercy, I could not live here. Sin would reduce me to utter despair,
But through Thy free goodness, my spirit's revived, And He that first made me still keeps me alive.

Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart, Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart.
Dissolved by Thy goodness, I fall to the ground, And weep for the praise of the mercy I've found.

Great Father of mercies, Thy goodness I own, In the covenant love of Thy crucified Son.
All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine, Seals mercy and pardon and righteousness mine.
All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine, Seals mercy and pardon and righteousness mine.
-Caedmon's Call

resurrection.

"Christ is risen, alleluia. he is the Lord of the dance, the dance of the living. He is the Lord of laughter; our laughter is the echo of his risen life within us. he is the risen Lord of glory, who in sovereign authority can say: 'Blessed are you who laugh now, because you can bring the joy of Easter to others. But blessed are you only if you can laugh at yourselves, if you don't take yourselves too seriously, if human living doesn't revolve around you and your needs. Only if you can take delight in all of my Father's creation-- in sun and surf, in snow and star, in blue marlin and in robin redbreast, in Cezanne, Olivia Newton-John, and veal scaloppini, in the love of a man or woman, and in the presence of the living God within you. Only if your laughter means that you have let go in reckless confidence all that shackles you to yesterday, imprisons you in your small self today, and frightens you with the uncertainty of tomorrow. Blessed are you who laugh, because you are free!' " -Brennan Manning-


I am a little bit ahead of myself. It is only the middle of Holy Week, but I AM SO EXCITED. The celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ has never meant more to me in my 26 years. I am on the edge of my seat.

The resurrection is freedom. Freedom from my chains and my shame and all of my junk that I carried for so many years. Freedom from the ridiculous responsibility I feel to judge others and to control all that happens. Freedom in the air, thousands of feet high, in a tiny plane with 5 very important souls. Freedom to dance and laugh and live in the joy of a hard and broken, but redeemed and freed world.

The resurrection is laughter. With my husband who is a daily glimpse into the love that Jesus had for me that took him to the cross and woke him up 3 days later. With my boys as we dance around the room, Graham with dance face and elbows flying in all directions and Campbell's soft giggle and rhythmic bounce. Laughter with my girlfriends on a cozy couch under the moonlight with vampires and enchiladas and margaritas. With my brother, whom I absolutely adore, when we talk about Carowinds and Matthew Isbell and the Boyetts.

The resurrection is generosity. In knowing that the world is bigger than our own needs. Generosity through a small church that refuses to turn away and leave needs unmet. In the thousands of dollars a group of people have already raise toward a bus to the rocky mountains. In the heart of a friend who bought me my first One Campaign bracelet and taught me how to care for others. In my bigger little brother who gives away his music to send kids to YL camps and in support of the Mocha Club. In the heart of a family who challenged themselves to give away as much money as it cost them to eat for a month.

The resurrection is gratitude. For the sandpaper hands of my husband- the same hands that hold our sons and grabbed my own to promise forever and make me feel safe. For an afternoon by the window with Matisse and Renoir. For the yard where my kids hit their first baseball on Sunday. For a car ride where I could just talk and a fried who will just listen. For a family that sees the good in robberies and deaths of estranged fathers and sickness and expensive dogs. For chocolate and ice cream and strawberries and U2 and summertime. For a life that is full and hard and scary and wild and wonderful.

Freedom through the resurrection. Laughter by the resurrection. Generosity in response to the resurrection. Gratitude in debt to the resurrection. My life matters because Jesus came back.

Saviour, He can move the mountains. My God is mighty to save. He is mighty to save.
Forever, Author of salvation. He rose and conquered the grave. Jesus conquered the grave.
-"Mighty to Save" Hillsong-

What is Easter to you?

response.

"There is a place at which God and the cosmic reality are reconciled, a place at which God and man have become one. That and that alone is what enables man to set his eyes upon God and the world at the same time. This place does not lie somewhere out beyond reality in the realm of ideas. It lies in the midst of history as a divine miracle. It lies in Jesus Christ, the reconciler of the world." -Dietrich Bonhoeffer-

It is a marriage of two thoughts- a juxtaposition like no other.

The more time I spend in the presence of the Father and following the way of Jesus through the spirit, I am discovering that the God who created the universe is absolutely, head over heels, madly in love with me. His love makes no sense, as nothing I have ever done or failed to do matters in the face of his love. Somehow He just loves. For some reason he chooses for His glory to be intimately involved in my heart and my life in my world. As if to Him, the entire universe revolves around me. And he feels the same for you.

The juxtaposition comes in the response to that love. The response to the head over heels kind of love is seen so clearly in the way of Jesus. It is Lent, and I’m spending my time reading John’s scriptures recounting the days before the death of Jesus. He is clear about His love—as John reclines on His chest, as he washes the feet of His dear friends. His last days are full with His love. And it is that love that leads him to the cross. It is that love that requires him to give up all that the earth has offered him in order to offer the only thing the earth really needs. His last days are full with his response.

And ours is supposed to be the same. Our response to that kind of love- the love that the Father has on us to give us his only son, that we might become HIS- must be to live a life far beyond ourselves. Our response is to follow the ways of Jesus- for everything else to matter more than we matter, for goodness and grace and peace and beauty to follow us, for laughter and community and healing to be what we are about.

We are being worried about by a God who is intimate and powerful and fully in control. There is no time and no cause to worry about ourselves in the face of that. The economy sucks, but God remains good and He remains in control. As our 401Ks plummet and our belts get even tighter, there are still people in our communities and all over the world who have wondered every single day what and if they will get the chance just to eat. The response to the love of Christ can only be to be a part of a life that has very little to do with you- because there is a God whose world has very much to do with you.

forever.

"Make yourselves at home in my love." -John 15:9

It is a friendship. A dance. A lifetime.


As the Lenten season continues, my diligence has been fair, my attention wavering, and my timing has not always been great. But, when I show up, in mind and body, to repent and to be still- something happens. I am finding myself drawn into a life full of something more. Something different. Something that matters.


I have been a follower of Jesus for a long time. I find that His is the way that is good and right and full. In the last 24 days I am learning to be a friend of Jesus. It is good and right and full. I am longing for more. I am learning the dance.


His steps are as wild and free as they are slow and soft. They are comfortable and constant. I am only learning how to follow. His embrace has truly started to feel like home. I am learning how to listen- to his voice, to my life, to our hearts. I am learning that my listening skills are only as good as my actions. That this dance and this friendship are for everyone, everywhere. The more I hide away in our love and our friendship, the more out of rhythm I become.


And the longer I dance, the longer I want to.


It is a friendship. A dance. A lifetime.

repentance.

"How else but through a broken heart may Lord Christ enter in" -Oscar Wilde

Repentance is blowing my mind.

I am discovering that the deeper I search into the dark and terrible places of my heart the more shame wants to take root in me. But the opposite is happening. I ended my battle with shame a long time ago. And I pray that we will never be partners again. As I watch shame try to creep in to my repentance, I watch the cross of Jesus bring His shalom. His peace in the face of my shame. In my junk and my dark parts....in my judging and slander and pride and selfishness I find the peace of the One who restores all things.

Daniel and I had a long talk the other night about what it takes to understand the gospel. For both of us, we believed the gospel without ever really understanding it. To understand the gospel- for it to hit you in the face, as my pastor says- there is a brutal and genuine and reverent honesty that has to happen. To stand in the face of Jesus how you really are, not how you claim to be and offer your filthy rags into the arms full of freedom is to really understand the gospel. To live in the gospel is to stop caring who knows about all of the things you have done.

To understand repentance is to know that it is finished. Your sins of the past and the present and the future: finished. To understand repentance is to know that in response to your confession, Jesus offers his peace. It is impossible to truly see yourself for who you really are without the peace of Christ. It is impossible to be reconciled without the cross of Christ. And it is impossible to live the gospel until you truly receive the shalom and reconciliation of the only One who can truly offer it.

reckless.

"For all that has been, thanks. For all that shall be, yes." -Dag Hammarskjöld-

The statement is simple. Concise. Easy to say. The dare is to live a life that is wild. Free. Full of reckless confidence*.

I was watching a show the other day where they made the claim that only 25% of Americans truly felt the effects of the Great Depression, and that our current economy seems to facing the same fraction. I am part of the 25% and so are my friends. In the last months, I have had friends lose jobs, lose hours, lose pay, lose homes, lose cars. Our world is scared and so are we.



In the face of fear, my times with Jesus have been about hope. He continues to sing it over me. Hope that things are better with him. Hope that I can trust him. Hope that he is good. Hope that his world is not my world. His world is wild. It is free. It is full of reckless confidence*.

In his world, people draw from their savings accounts to feed their friends when they need it. In his world a small church pays the heating bill of a family literally turned down by every other church and non-profit in the county during the coldest week of the year. In his world, laughter and MarioKart or American Idol with friends is good and important and eternal. In his world regular flights for chemo treatments and bone marrow scans in Texas are paid for three years by someone you don't even know. In his world families find healing where there is none to be found and daughters find joy in places long abandoned.

In our world right now, hope doesn't make sense. Laughter and music and joy have a hard time finding a place to stay. But his world makes no sense in the face of ours. I choose to be wild. And free. With reckless confidence that I know not what the future brings, but if it is part of the world of Hope and Joy and Laughter, then yes.

*Brennan Manning's term, not mine.

who

God, who are you?

I believe you to be good. But, if I believe you to be good then why do I instantly doubt it in the face of oppression? Do I believe you are my protector when I am filling my storehouses in case you don't come through? I know that you are holy. I am sure that you are the One who heals. Do I believe that you are love, if I can never believe that your love stretches even to me? If I believe you to be the source of all joy, then why am I searching so many other places for it? I believe that you are beauty- I've stood on the continental divide, kissed the man I was meant to be with, read the words of those you inspire. I know that you are strong. Do I believe that you are full of grace and full of mercy, even when I do the unthinkable? If I really believe that you are trustworthy, then why am I too afraid to trust you?

You are. It doesn't matter what I believe to be true or what I have hard time believing. You are. Despite my opinion of you or my experiences. You are. I need to look only to Jesus to see that you are all that you ever claimed to be.

ashes.

"One of the disciples, the one Jesus loved dearly, was reclining against him, his head on his shoulder. " John 13:25

"Of all powers, love is the most powerful and the most powerless. It is the most powerful because it alone can conquer that final and most impregnable stronghold which is the human heart. It is the most powerless because it can do nothing except by consent." -Frederick Buechner-

It is Ash Wednesday. In response to this season of repentance and penitence, I find myself absolutely overwhelmed and blown away by the light in the loneliness. There is nothing more lonely on this earth than the condition of our heart, which is sin. I can't think of a more dreary way of spending the next forty days than reflecting on the dark and rebellious parts of my heart. But, today- day 1, I was confronted and overwhelmed by the great love that conquered that sin thousands of years ago.

I have been reading the gospel of John for a month or so. I'm technically only on chapter 2, but I skipped ahead today. Over and over again, throughout his gospel, John refers to himself as beloved (there is some argument over if it is in fact John the apostle, or someone else that bears this title...but to me in my little mind and world, there is no doubt). It is not arrogant or pious. It is merely the result of spending time with Jesus. Three years, a lot of late nights and deep talks over wine and water, miracles, and teachings, laughter and tears-- John was sure. His time in the presence of the maker made him believe that he was dearly loved. So sure, that he titled himself as such: the Beloved disciple. He was sure.

I'm learning that things happen even if I don't take part in them. In this instance, it turns out that Jesus is madly in love with the entire world. And just because I choose at times not to believe it...it doesn't mean it isn't happening. It is time to get on board. It is time to know. It is time for me to stop wondering if I am loved, if I delight. My doubt or my disbelief has never and will never change the fact that somehow my heart was worth dying for--somehow I am dearly loved by the One through whom all things were made.

I don't understand. I know myself. I can't think of a single reason why God should love me the way he does. I don't know of anything that I could have ever done to bring joy and delight to his heart. But my lack of understanding does not mean that it isn't happening. It is. It makes no sense, but it still is true. Buechner calls it the "tortured's love for the torturer". Despite my lack of consistency and care and doubts and disbelief---Jesus loves even me.

blank.

I have nothing to say right now. I'm not sure why. But I love this, and I thought you might to:

The love for equals is a human thing – of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.
The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing – the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing –to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is love for the enemy – love for the one who does not love you, but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured’s love for the torturer. This is God’s love. It conquers the world.

- Frederick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat

impossible.

"A reasonable human question receives an answer that exceeds all human reason. it exceeds, too, the natural law. But the angel turns from rules to the Ruler. He grounds the truth of his answer not in creation but in the Creator, whose word shall never be impossible." -Walter Wangerin Jr. -

So there I was in an uncomfortable table/chair sort of thing looking up at the screen. Scared. Sick. Infertile. Barren. With three positive pregnancy tests. The nurse was gracious, explaining how common miscarriages are for someone like me- words like "normal", "all the time". And then, there he was. Little Campbell. He looked like a fish. He was all heart and it was beating- flashing faster than I could see. He was real. Breathing and alive! Then, the second dot. When I asked what it was, again the grace flowed from the nurse's mouth. "Vanishing twins". "Common". "Not fully developed". "Miscarriage". And then, he flashed. Over and over and over again. Little Graham was floating and flashing away. Real. Beating. Breathing. The screen was without question the most confusing and beautiful thing I had ever seen. In a moment, all of the rules of medicine were broken, all logic was defied, and the impossible had become flesh.

It is small, tiny even, in comparison. But it is my picture of Christmas. Of Mary and and Elizabeth--confronted with the impossible from an angel. Good tidings of great joy- for in them were growing impossibilities. Miracles of a God who had chosen them to nurture his Way. I remember the fear. I remember the questions. I remember the butterflies and the joy and the laughter and dancing.

Christmas is far more than what I have ever known. Christmas is the celebration of the impossible: a son from a barren womb. Christmas is a celebration of the broken rules of nature: a baby outside of sex. Christmas is a celebration of the defiance of logic: a child who came to save the world by volunteering for the unthinkable. Christmas is a celebration of the Ruler, the Creator-whose word is never, EVER impossible.

In the face of our pain, our doubt, our fear and anger--hear the truth, that--his words will never be impossible.

emmanuel.

"Listen to your life; pay attention to what happens to you. Because it seems to me that if indeed there is a God, which most of the time I believe there is, and if indeed He is concerned with the world, which is what the Christian faith is saying -- concerned enough to enter it, to live in it and to work in it and to fail and succeed in it and finally die in it and rise again in it -- if he is really involved with the world, then one of the most powerful ways He speaks to us is through what happens to us, which means keep your ears open, keep your eyes open for the often hidden, illusive word of God." -Frederick Buechner-



Emmanuel. God is with us.

I have been trying to grasp it. I simply can't do it. But I am trying.

I love the Buechner quote. I feel like if Jesus Christ really is as concerned and involved with our world, as I believe he is-- that there is something so ridiculously intimate about him being Emmanuel. That every single minute of our being reeks with the scent and presence and very being of God himself. Strong, powerful and sweet-- the scent and experience of God with us. If Buechner's quote is true, then it means that I am missing it. God is with me and I am missing it over and over again. The days that I get it remind me all the more of those when I don't.

I have a friend who just got his pilot's license. It is pretty incredible. I flew with him for the first time a couple of weeks ago. To say it was remarkable does not even begin to cover it. The world is fascinating over 6000 feet. The mountains take your breath away-leaves and snow and peaks. The lakes blow your mind-shiny and still and curvy. The created world feels attainable and unavailable all the same-beautiful and calm and wild. But my experience with God went far beyond the scenery. My friend's dad, who was a pilot himself, died a few years ago. I have never been able to find words to say how sad I am that I never knew him. But in that plane I knew him. I know it sounds creepy and weird--but it was incredible. I don't know the theologically correct answers on what I felt. But, I do know that I took the time to watch and to listen. And in that time, I felt the pride and gleam and hope and joy of my friend's dad. I didn't say anything in the plane---what kind of words are there to explain it? A few days later I wrote him a letter. Words failed me still.

In a moment with my eyes and ears open, God spoke. He spoke the words of a father, so proud and adoring and crazy about his son. He spoke the words that flow all over the scriptures, of His pride and adoration and obsession with me and my world. In a plane thousands of feet over the earth I experienced the Emmanuel.

laughter

"Christmas is a vision that enables the Christian to see beyond the tragic...a reminder that he needs the laughter of God to prevent him from taking the world too seriously. Christian laughter is the echo of Christmas joy in us. If you really accept the mystery of Bethlehem, 'glad tidings of great joy,' your heart will be filled with the laughter of the Father." -Brennan Manning-

I am so drawn to Brennan Manning right now. His words are simple and smooth and they have been water to my very thirsty heart. This week, Manning has led me over and over again to scriptures where God the Father is singing over me.
I have a friend who loves Christmas an incredible amount. By incredible I mean, like you can't look away incredible. Like a three legged dog or something strange. I always thought that it was one of the weirdest most endearing parts of her. This year, I find myself relating for the first time. I am getting crazy over Christmas. Seriously. Crazy.
In Luke, we are reminded to "rejoice" and "leap for joy" because great is our reward in heaven. The "glad tidings of great joy" is the reminder of what was, what is, and what will be. The already and the yet to come. The of the story of creation and the gospel echos with the laughter or the One behind all of it. Our stories are full of his laughter because they are abounding in his love.
I have never seen or imagined the world how it is now. Our economy is dark. People I know are having trouble feeding their families. There are people in our world who are dying from diseases spread through bug bites. It is dark. It is scary. It is tragic. It is completely overwhelming. The hyperconsumerism in the face of it is suffocating.
But behind the cries of tragedy is a laughter that is still and small and sweet and full. A laughter that is a gentle reminder of mercy and peace. A laughter that is a promise that He is always good and He is completely in control.

season.

"By God's free doing in Bethlehem, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Light, Life, and Love are on our side. " -Brennan Manning

I am more excited about Christmas this year than any other year. We decorated as soon as we finished our turkey and dressing. I got all warm inside when I found the box of ornaments that belongs to my sons and thought about how far we've come in one year. Our church started planning our Christmas in Kenya campaign, which I love. I bought Amy Grant's first Christmas album on iTunes. And I thought about all that this season is.
Brennan Manning talks about the amazing secret that lies behind all things Christmas: the message of Jesus. The mystery that covers the pages of the scriptures comes to life in a season. It is quite literally everywhere. Manning says, "Of course he is proclaimed in speech, song, and symbol in all the Christian churches. But he rides every red-nosed reindeer, lurks behind every cabbage patch doll. Remotely or proximately he is toasted in every cup of Christmas cheer. Each sprig of holly is a hint at his holiness, each cluster of mistletoe a sign that he is here."
Mannings words confirmed the appropriateness of the holidays to me. They confirmed the feeling in my belly that just wont go away-- the excitement, the love, the laughter, the togetherness. The joy that is Christmas. All because 2,000 years ago in Bethlehem a man was born who quite literally changed the course of history. And who is big enough and full of enough joy and peace and infatuation with us to lurk in all things Christmas.
In the scriptures, Paul explains to the Colossians that the mystery of all of this is quite simply: "Christ in you, the hope of glory." It is Jesus Christ in those whom I love that offers hope in the eyes of a reindeer, grace in the giggle of a mall Santa, and love in the places we least expect it.
Of course we take things to far. America spends $450billion on Christmas alone every single year. I saw a youtube video this morning that was so simply powerful. More than anything I hope that my children associate Christmas with long meals, belly laughs, messy kitchens full of baked goods, feeding families at home and in far away countries, and togetherness. That giving comes far more naturally than receiving. And that they realize early that because of the baby born in a manger, that every single part of Christmas is a reminder that nothing can separate us from the deep, deep love of God.

enter.

To live with compassion means to enter others’ dark moments. It is to walk into places of pain, not to flinch or look away when another agonises. It means to stay where people suffer. Compassion holds us back from quick, eager explanations when tragedy meets someone we know or love. –Henri J.M. Nouwen

I’ve spent my lifetime trying to understand compassion. It is an art-form to me: slow, fluid, beautiful. It is also extremely unnatural to my self-absorption. I find it very difficult to crawl into the pain of others, when I have so much going on myself.

The difficulty isn’t fear of what I might find in them—a loss of respect, a gross detail, a jaw-dropping skeleton. For me, the difficulty lies in my inability to crawl away from my own places of pain. The epitome of hubris. My pain has a tendency to consume me. It takes a lot of effort to cover up the junk in my life. It takes a lot of effort to try to deal with it all alone or to decide how I can get away with letting others see only what is comfortable or dealt with.

I think it is similar for most of us. In the face of others hurt, we offer the excuses. We have nothing to offer right now because we are in a dark or dry place. You wouldn’t want my help. We offer generic attempts. We talk to someone about their pain and somehow the conversation circles and we end up just talking about our own. We offer fakeness and masks in the form of advice and helpful tidbits. We cover our pain and our junk, thinking that it will make us more loved and accepted, make it look like we have it all together. We say we are fine. We say we don’t have time. We plan on doing better the next time someone hurts, if we even realize how bad it went.

Jesus never talks about compassion as an afterthought. He never asks that in order to love others and bring compassion on someone, you have to have it together yourself. He asks for something more. He seems to ask that we get over ourselves. He seems to have a much bigger agenda. Sure our pain and our junk are deeply important to him. However, they never excuse us from compassion. Our self-absorption is the exact opposite of all that Jesus talks about. Jesus never offered others excuses, generic attempts or fakeness. As Lazarus lays dead in a tomb, Jesus knows that he will walk again. He doesn’t say that “everything will be ok” before he enters the pain of those around him. He is overcome with compassion as he sits and weeps. He sighs deeply to heaven in the face of man both deaf and mute as he enters the man’s pain in the face of his own. Hanging from a cross, torture most of us know nothing of, he had compassion on those who had betrayed him and on the criminal who saw him watched first hand as the bruises and agony formed.

Jesus made us to love. He made us to bring his compassion to the masses. Because of our own short-comings, not even in spite of them. Because we know pain. Because we have been betrayed, abused, used, tossed out, abandoned, rejected. We were created to be compassionate and living any other way is to, quite simply, choose a life outside of the call of Jesus. No matter you look like inside.

Compassion is listening when you want to be heard. It is following someone into their depths even when it is uncomfortable. Compassion does not interrupt. Compassion cannot look away. Compassion stays when things are really hard. And in compassion, love always wins.

Remain

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. - Isaiah 61:1-3 -

I have been off lately. I am not sure what it is. With a few exceptions, I feel like I’ve taken a 3 month emotional sabbatical.
There have been moments of joy and laughter and excitement and hurt- but there have been many more moments where I only existed. Today has been a good day. I feel like this weekend I learned to feel again. And I am worn out.

What is incredible to me is that despite my emotional vacation, the promises and movements of a very Sovereign Lord did not change. In fact, even though I was often failing to even notice them, they remained completely the same. I love that God is constant. That amidst his wildness and adventure, He remains- unphased, unchanging.

In the face of my apathy, His promises continued. He has still anointed me to preach the good news to the poor. I am still sent to bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim freedom for the captives and give light to the prisoners. Beauty, gladness and praise are still mine to offer in the face of grieving and ashes and despair. Even though I wasn’t doing any of these things, God continued to ask me to. And He continued to use others to do it. In spite of my silence and immobility, He was rebuilding places long devastated.
He is all I know of constant. All I know of purpose. And all I know of hope. How grateful I am that he remains.

Orphan

"Living is death; dying is life. We are not what we appear to be. On this side of the grave we are exiles, on that citizens; on this side orphans, on that children." -Henry Ward Beecher-

My husband's mother passed away a few days ago. She had been sick for a very long time, and for her it was such a gift to die as peacefully as her sleep. His father died three years ago. I've heard it said that no matter how old you are when both of your parents die, you still feel like an orphan. It must be soul crushing to call yourself an orphan.


As I watched Daniel cross the bridge to become one, I was amazed at what met him on the other side. I was keenly aware that I'd never loved him more than I did on Thursday. I was taken back by the realization that neither had his friends.


When we walked into the funeral home, it was empty and lonely and sort of creepy. Just us and his mom's remains. We spent some time paying our respects. And then the clock started ticking. And we had the awkward end of life care conversation. And the we had some small talk. And then we just stared at each other and slurped on our Sonic drinks. And at the point that the pain of the day was so thick you could hold it, we heard the sound of sweet diesel.


As Steebe walked in the door, he loved and understood Daniel more than he ever had. He knew to be respectful first, hilarious second, and a little crude third. He knew exactly how to be because at our life's biggest milestones, he is there. He has prayed with Daniel on those spine tingling nights that you know God is up to something. He was with us when Daniel's dad died. He stood with us on our wedding day. He brought us dinner the first night we had to leave our children alone in the hospital. His house was one of the first places we went when the boys were well enough to leave our house. He is there on Wednesday nights when our families watch American Idol and Jon and Kate Plus 8 and stupid Family Guy videos.


Steebe wasn't the only person at the funeral home that day. After he left, the doors flew open and our friends and family did what they do best- they showed up, they loved us more than we've ever deserved, and they made us laugh. Some of them drove miles. They took off work. They called us. They emailed. They texted. They hugged us. They sent cards. They watched our kids. They stood next to the grave and told us why they loved Daniel's mom. They laughed about the weird preacher with us afterward.


On the heels of such a hard week, I have learned to disagree with the quote above. Certainly I believe that dying will mean living, and that we are not what we appear to be. But on this side, God gives us a taste of citizenship and childhood. As we stood with our friends, I realized that Daniel will hurt like hell, but he will never know the full weight of being an orphan.


We were created, chosen, and loved by a God who calls us his own. And he offers us life- life to the full. And life is hard and it hurts. But we are his children. We are never alone. And he reminds us of that by offering a community of people to call our own. To live with and love with and laugh with. At funerals and birthday parties and nights doing nothing important. A community, a family, that will sit with us in the pain of losing our parents, remind us of our meaning in the world, and sing of our significance to our creator.

Show.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Cause he watches over me every night while I’m asleep. And he watches over me, yes he watches over me. He clothes the flowers of the field, the fortune of the sparrow sealed. No worry, no vain care have I that escapes his guarding eye. Cause he watches over me every night while I’m asleep. And he watches over me, yes he watches over me. From a distance and from very near. Yesterday, today and tomorrow never fear. No need for me to fret or cry, safe beneath his wings am I. Cause he watches over me every night while I’m asleep. And he watches over me, yes he watches over me.” -Ryan Long, “Rebecca’s Lullabye”-

Last night both of my boys woke up at the same time. They rarely wake up after going to bed and it is even more rare for them both of them to wake up. Usually we just go in and pat them for a little while to let them know that everything is ok. Last night, though, I got them both out and held them. I’m not a large person, so carrying both boys was a very ambitious task. I sat on the ground, both boys in my arms, and sang to them as I rocked back an forth.

If I had patted them they would have fallen asleep much faster. I know that. But last night, the most important thing in the world to me was to hold them. To hear them breathe and yawn. To sing into their tiny ears.

I have a good friend with a really good blog. He talked recently about the places where he has experienced God. Beth Moore talks about the “holy of holies” or the “holy, holy, holy”- the place where God meets you very intimately.

Last night was a “holy of holies” for me. In the dark, with my boys in my arms, God met me where I was. He met me in the middle of the funk I’ve been in. He met me and I didn’t expect it. It was as if I got to thank him for my living, breathing sons in person. That together we got to celebrate their life and their health and their yawns. It was intimacy that I cannot create with words.

He does that sometimes. Just shows up. Not because I ask. But because he loves me. Because he is intimately and intentionally involved in me and my world. Because he is a God of intimacy and community. I never wanted to leave that room.

And there are times that he doesn’t. Show up. There are times when I feel like he is nowhere to be found. And I wonder what in the world I am believing in. And I get angry and sad and confused and doubtful. And I feel lost and ridiculous- looking all around me for some unseen being. I’ve been there too often lately.

I don’t know why I can’t find him sometimes. I am sure that it has more to do with me than anything. When I look back I always see his fingerprints, feel the lingering of his breath on my back, hear the faint whisper of his song in my ear. I know that it always happens like this, but in the moment the feelings of silence and loneliness are still so hard. The more I experience, the easier it gets. Because I can rest knowing that it isn’t so much silence but quiet. That my loneliness is a question of distance rather than emptiness. And I am learning that my feelings do not beat truth. And whether I know it or not, he watches over me. Yes, he watches over me.

claim.

A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said [about Himself] would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic -- on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg -- or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God; or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon, or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come away with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to. –C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity--

There is a sense of freedom in knowing that Jesus never intended for us to try to figure out his claims. To turn them into symbolism. There is freedom in knowing that Jesus actually happened to earth. He left plenty to interpret, however his claims about himself were clear. His claim was simple: He was the son of God, the way for life to the full, through God, for every living person.
I believe that he really lived. I believe that he really claimed to be God. I believe that he actually loved and healed and laughed and walked and breathed and saved. I believe that he is worth following. I believe that he is life changing. I believe that he rescues, restores, rebuilds the darkest of places. I believe that he is and was exactly who he claimed to be.
I believe that he spoke often in symbolism and parable. But, I believe that he really did spit on the ground and rub the mud in a blind man’s eyes. I believe that in reality a woman touched the tassels of his robe and was healed. I believe that he actually raised people from the dead.
I believe that he changed my life. I have seen him change the lives of my family and my friends. I believe that he is worth following because his is a way of peace and mercy and justice. I believe that he is always good. I believe that he is deeply involved in our world. There are a million debates to be had: Calvinism, inerrancy, eschatology, sexuality. At the end of the day, I think that how we view Jesus is what matters. I do believe that he appreciates our journeys, our inner-struggles, our research. But, his requests remain the same throughout the scriptures: feed the hungry, clothe the poor, take care of the widows and the orphans, love your neighbor, fight for justice and mercy and peace and goodness, tell people about me and how much I love them. How we view Jesus directly effects how we view the world. How we view the world and the ways of Jesus are what matters when it comes to change the world. And, as a dear friend said to me this week, “If we aren’t trying to change the world, then what the hell are we doing?”.

ebenezer.

"God exerts an incomparable power in the lives of those who continue believing in Him. Nothing on earth compares to the strength God is willing to interject into lives caught in the act of believing." -Beth Moore-

Years ago I did a Beth Moore bible study called “Believing God”. I was in a terribly lonely and dark place when the study began. I was living in a cycle of sin and shame that seemed to have no way out. My world was made up of myself, my shame, and my terrible decisions.

She was teaching on the passage in 1 Samuel when Samuel takes a rock and sets it up for the people as a reminder of God’s faithfulness. He tells them that this far in their journey the Lord has helped them. And from there they can go to the next day. She talks about the struggle to live one day at a time. For me it rang true. My shame and my terrible decisions seemed to be the stone that I’d set up to remind myself that God promises to be faithful, but that those promises were not for me because I continued to make terrible decisions. No part of me believed that I would wake up tomorrow and that it could be a new day.

As she talked, I leaned forward. I thought I got it—what life with Jesus looked like. But, for some reason it wasn’t working for me. I wanted so badly to believe what she was saying. That you can go one day at a time. That you can decide, for the rest of the day I will live in the promise of the one who made me and he will help me not to make terrible decisions. It was such a slow time for me. I would wake up a few days in a row and believe God, believe his heart for me, his promises for me, his control. A lot of times it wasn’t more than a few days in a row. Maybe not even a few hours in a row.

But, one day, I looked back. It had been months of learning to live without my shame. Months where I had not made the terrible decisions that were controlling me. I had changed into a new person and I didn’t even realize it was happening. One day at a time.

Suddenly the world was about more than myself and my shame and my terrible decisions. There that been a hurricane with thousands and thousands of homeless, hurting people. It turned out that I was not the only victim in this world. I realized that there was a world out there hurting, dying, broken. That I wasn’t alone. And that not only do God’s promises reach my shame and brokenness, but theirs too. God turned my world from being centered around myself and my shame, into a world that splattered with possibility and worth and meaning.
That was when I decided to help change the world. If God was able to change me. If he was able to use his wildness and his mystery and his compassion and mercy to make me into a new person, then he can do the same for Africa, for New Orleans, for South America, for Blount County, for high school kids, for babies in the NICU, for my friends, for my church, for my family.

It is with this hope, and this joy, and this mystery that I set up this blog, my Ebenezer. Crazy as it sounds, it continues to be a reminder that up to this point, God has been faithful. When I read back over things I’ve written, I hardly recognize the girl that I talk about. The story of my journey reminds me that God is to be trusted, that he is always good, his grace is enough, and that his faithfulness stretches even to me.

safe.

"Is he safe?" "Safe?" said Mr. Beaver... "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." –C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe-

I walk almost every morning at 8:30. It is perfect at 8:30 in the morning. It is calm and cooler than the rest of the day. The more I walk in the morning, the more sure I am of God’s goodness. The faces of my sons when we walk by the fountain in the park assure me that God is good. I listen to sermons on my Ipod while I walk (because I am that holy). The words so close to my ears assure me that God is good. (Rob Bell is always talking about His goodness). When we get back to the house and my boys are laying on each other fast asleep and I watch them breathe and remember where we’ve been, I know that God is good. As I lay them down in their beds to nap, I am sure that not only is God good, but that He loves being good to me.

It is a weird thing that the more sure I am of God’s goodness, the harder it is getting for me to trust him. It may be that the more I experience of his goodness, the more aware I am of my rotten-ness. The more aware I am that I cannot be trusted. And anyone who would choose me, love me, die for me, bring goodness on me, and trust me with the world—am I sure that is someone I can trust? Anyone who would do that would have to be a lunatic. Is it safe to trust someone who has such a high view of me?

This morning, I keep playing this quote from Narnia over and over in my head. It is as if the damn beaver is sitting right next to me saying to me: “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good”. No, he certainly isn’t safe. To follow the goodness of God is to live wild. To follow Jesus is to live a life that is full and better and transcendent. To follow Jesus isn’t safe because it means you have to believe that you can make things better, that you are supposed to make things better, that were made to change the world. To follow Jesus isn’t safe because it means that your life is different.

And in this life, full of goodness and wildness and danger- can you trust Him? It seems weird to even ask—as if I should be further along than this. In the face of His goodness, the dark and hard and hurtful and shame of this world don’t add up. When I know that he is good—and oh, is he good—can I trust him when things aren’t? Can I trust him when He chooses not to stop them: the hands of those whose touch bring shame, the diseases of those who loved, the choices of those who hurt.

When I was little and I was afraid my dad would whisper these words in my ear: “Do not fear for I am with you. Do not anxiously look about you for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10,11) In the face of my fear, when there was no one to trust, my dad whispered goodness into my ear.

Years down the road, when terrible things would happen—when I saw God as choosing not to act in my behalf and therefore as unable to be trusted—my dad would whisper the same words. “Do not fear for I am with you. Do not anxiously look about you for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” And I’ve learned that in that right hand the world is never safe. In the same breath, the right hand promises to be unfailing, it promises to be constant, and it promises to be trustworthy.

When I lay my boys in their beds after a morning walk and I just stare—I am sure that God can be trusted. Not because they are alive, though they are. Not because they are well, which they are. But because in the face of my sons- whom I would do anything to protect- I am sure that God’s love for me is deeper still. And if I know anything in that moment, it is that his kind of love can always be trusted.

journey.

It means entering into a journey of becoming one. It does not mean accepting a world view but rather entering into a healing journey of life. To be a Christian also means that one is committed to exploring this life through the Judeo-Christian tradition, wrestling with it, learning from it and being transformed by it. Being a Christian means learning how to be the opening of life into the world. –Peter Rollins-

The church in general doesn’t offer me a lot of answers. If anything, only more questions. My church, however, offers me life rather than answers. My church is different. We come from different backgrounds. We’ve had different life experiences. We have differing theologies. But we love each other. We journey together.
I am in a small group at my church. This is one way that my church offers me life. Some of them believe what I believe, some of them don’t. Sometimes we agree, sometimes we don’t. But they love me and my family well. They love me in lunches at Mexican Restaurants. They love me in late night labor and delivery talks. They love me over beer margaritas and Mad Gab. They love me on the stage while we give our babies back to the One who created them. They live their lives with me. They even bother me sometimes. Sometimes they don’t answer my questions. Sometimes I don’t get invited to things. Sometimes they don’t respond the way I want them to. And I get bothered or hurt. And when I think about it, the bother offers me assurance that I really am sharing my life with these people.
Life isn’t about always being happy with one another, always agreeing, always perfect. Life is sometimes about wrestling and twisting and bothering. Sometimes it means that we don’t agree. Living life together means that in those times of twisting and bothering and disagreeing, we remain. We stay. We see what happens. And we continue loving and living life together. Loving means that we wrestle well, we bother well, we disagree well.
Being a follower of Jesus is about being on a journey. It isn’t perfect all of the time. The people on the journey with you aren’t ever perfect. But Jesus is. And he is the one offering healing and life.

music.

“The music streamed into my ears, saying, I love you. I care about you. You matter. Your pain matters. Your struggles matter. Your life is sacred and dear to God. He has a future for you, plans and hopes and dreams for you, and blessings for you.” –Ken Gire, The Reflective Life-

Music always takes me away. There are few things as sacred to me as time alone in the car with windows down and Ipod blaring. My finger always seems to find the songs- you know the ones. The ones that transcend. The ones that rescue. The ones that speak for your soul and to it. “I want to run. I want to hide. I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside. I want to reach out and touch the flame. Where the streets have no name” U2 takes me away. Miles Davis. Dave Matthews live in concert. James Taylor. Steve Perry. My husband singing Coldplay. Music makes my life easier to process. Often it is the tangible representation of the intangible feeling. The description of the indescribable.

I was created by God and for God. I was created by him- therefore I matter deeply to him. And I was created for him-for his glory, for his grace, for his life. Being created for him means to become the music to a hurt and confused world.

I remember when it really made sense to me for the first time. I was 17 and spending my summer at a Young Life camp waiting tables. One Thursday night, 400 high school kids heard the message of the cross that had changed my life years before. Under millions of Colorado stars, kids were scattered reflecting over the message. I was praying alone when I heard it. Soft and smooth. The music of the creator. It was transcendent and rescuing. It spoke to my soul in a way I had never heard before. It spoke for my soul because I did not have any words. It connected.
The melody was familiar-it had been playing all of my life- but the lyrics were new. I’d always known the stories of Christ. Known that God created and man chose against and that God spent years rescuing man… that Jesus came to settle the debt and then there was heaven. I knew the story. I believed the story. It mattered to me, and it mattered to the world. But that night, it connected. Years later, that connection would allow the music of my creator to guide me through some very terrible times. It would offer the rhthym to dance in some unbelievably good times. But that night, -the story and music of Jesus gave me purpose.

That night I realized that our reason for being is to become that music. To become people who transcend, who rescue, who speak words to the soul and for it. To love people and care for them. To remind them of their worth in a world that does everything it can to take it away. To give grace and purpose to their pain and their struggles. To offer them hope and to teach them to dream.

"...[The Lord] has sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release from darkness for the prisoners....to comfort all whomourn, and provide for those who grieve." Isaiah 61: 1-3

two.

"Every now and again, my heart takes a swim in all that I have with you. You're more lovely than ever lately. You're changing I can see. I'm loving you more than ever greatly. You must be changing me. Take it from the beginning, when you were winning my heart--who I am now and what I was then are miles and miles apart." -Ryan Long, "Changing Me"-

Today is my second anniversary. I love writing about my husband.

Shortly after we got married, I wrote an email about what it was like to be married. It went something like this:

Ahhh....Marriage.
Marriage is so wonderful and so hard. I think it is the hardest most wonderful thing I’ve ever done. Daniel and I have never gotten along better. No more bickering…no more going home at night!! I've never been loved more. I've never felt so complete.

I am most amazed by sleeping in the same bed every night. And it amazes me what that bed requires. The amount of vulnerability it takes to sleep next to someone every single night knocks the breath out of me. I love it. And on the same hand, it makes me tired. It's not that we fight all of the time or anything. It's just that sometimes I don’t want to pour my heart out. Sometimes Daniel doesn’t either. But, sleeping next to someone every single night requires an intimacy that neither one of us had any clue about. No one can prepare you for that. It is the most comfortable part of my life, and at the same time it takes so much work. There is no other soul worth that amount of work to me, or anyone else I would want to figure all of this out with. What makes it so beautiful is that each night ends in redemption for me. Because I wake up, and I hear Daniel breathing. He is still there. And no matter how good (and there are plenty of amazing ones) or bad(and there are a few hard ones) the night before, he still loves me. He's still there.

Isn’t amazing, though, that in our intimacy and vulnerability with each other we see what God invites us to? A long, hard, wonderful road that demands a vulnerability we never imagined and a perseverance that we never saw ourselves capable of--in order to enter into an intimacy beyond our wildest dreams! That no matter how hard it is to experience intimacy in Christ, no matter how we’ve tried to pull away, no matter what it costs us…. it always ends in redemption. Always. He's still there.


Daniel, I love sharing not only a bed with you, but a life with you. You are still my dearest friend and the best part of my day. I love growing up with you. You are strong and wise and brave. You are hilarious and weird and spontaneous. You fill our house with music and laughter. You are the kind of dad that people write books about, the kind of husband that fills poetry books, and the kind of man that changes the world. You continue to teach me redemption every single day. Thank you for loving me exactly how I am, and for inviting me to grow into something more. I still don't know why you chose me, but I will spend the rest of my life being so thankful that you did. I love you to the moon, me.

song.

"Bold, naked prayer leaves us between God's promise and absence, between a divine rock and a hard place. On the one hand is the sure promise of love, on the other is his silence or apparent inactivity. the waiting continues. I cry out: Redeem me. Change me. Heal me. The tears flow and my heart beats fast in anticipation of the dream fulfilled. I open my eyes and the room has not changed, the clouds have not parted, and my soul often feels more empty and alone than it did before I prayed." -Dan Allender, The Healing Path

The quote is from my favorite book on the planet. If you haven't read it, do. If you have, read it again.

This morning my pastor was talking about healing, and praying for healing. And he talked about how sometimes we pray for healing and it happens immediately, sometimes over months, and sometimes not until Christ returns. He talked about losing hope when you continue to pray for healing and it doesn't happen. And for the first time I sat on the other side of the "divine rock and a hard place".

For almost every single day for over 10 years I was in pain. I was losing hope. Most days it was just annoying, some days it was excruciating, and a few days it landed me in hospital rooms or on operating tables. I prayed all of the time for healing. I saw what it did to my family and my closest friends. They would pray constantly. And for ten years- nothing. Sure there were glimpses of light, but they seem to be few and far between. The last year of the "pain-demic" (ha!), I felt like I finally learned to listen. Before that- 9 long, hard, hopeless years. For 9 years I had prayed, seeing and hearing only absence of healing, equating it to the silence of God in this area of my life. It became overwhelming, even breath-taking at times to think that God had the power to heal me and was continuing to choose not to do so. My soul was left "more empty and alone than before I prayed".

And finally, in the tenth year, I began to hear the song of hope that He had been singing over me. I learned that the absence of healing was in no way a silence from God. He was always moving toward me, always talking, always singing and whispering and offering me hope. I just hadn't been listening. I learned of His delight in me. I learned that He is incapable of being unfaithful. I learned that He is only capable of good. I learned that He always chooses healing, and that whether on earth or in Heaven, it would happen one day. And I learned that the closer I drew to him the more lovely His silence became, because the silence of God is far from silent. It is full of music and laughter and weeping and it is booming with HOPE.

Don't give up hope. Just because He didn't answer, or because He isn't answering- it doesn't mean that there is no song. Hear His delight in you, His promise of goodness and faithfulness. And be loved. Because without love, there is no hope. Maybe He didn't heal them, but it is beautiful to see Him healing you.

Ruins.

"We are glorious ruins" -Francis Scheaffer

A friend of mine wrote a book. A really great book. I was re-reading it recently and stumbled upon a part that he wrote about our friendship. He was overly kind, and each time I read it I am blown away by his graciousness and his complements. At one point he quotes Francis Scheaffer and calls me "glorious ruins". As I read over it I laughed out loud. Ruined, sure. Glorious. Hah. There’s not one glorious bone in my body.

So, I googled "glorious ruins" to see what in the world it meant. I needed some evidence to give to his publishing company to have them print a retraction, as I was sure this was only a half-accurate description of me. I found something incredible. A description that I found said something along these lines: glorious ruins are the struggle between shame and grace. The struggle between shame and grace.

My story isn't special or even unique. I grew up in an amazing family. A family that laughed often and gave generously and loved deeply. I don’t remember ever not knowing Jesus. I do remember that early in adolescence, I experienced something that was earth shattering to me. I experienced as a victim a world that is fallen and broken and hurting and sinful. It was as if everything that I knew had collided with a world I knew nothing about. It left me covered in a blanket of shame wondering where the God I thought I knew fit into everything. I spent years residing in that shame blanket.

The amazing thing, looking back, is that as I crawled under this blanket of shame, the One who created me climbed under it with me. Through everything- my questions and anger and self doubt- he continued to offer me joy. He laid beside me every single day of every single year and he whispered into my ear, “I love you, no matter what happened or happens. I choose you just how you are, covered in shame. I love you and I delight in you.” He never stopped. He was with me in my loneliness. He cut through the thickness of my shame as I cried myself to sleep. He held me as I doubted every part of myself and every part of him. All the while, loving me, choosing me, delighting in me.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.
Isaiah 61:4

Over time I started to listen to the still small voices whispering over and over. Rebuilding the ruins. I learned that just because a fallen world collided with my picture of life, it does not change who God is. The hurt of a fallen world does not change the heart of God for me. I’m loved. I’m chosen. In me, the God who made all that is finds delight. I am learning to live with grace winning a struggle over shame. Ruined? Certainly. Glorious? Only because I’m chosen.

Perfect.

Perfect love is rare indeed - for to be a lover will require that you continually have the subtlety of the very wise, the flexibility of the child, the sensitivity of the artist, the understanding of the philosopher, the acceptance of the saint, the tolerance of the scholar and the fortitude of the certain -Leo Buscaglia-

Perfect.
May 18, 2008

My little brother got married a week ago. It was perfect. One of the few “eternal” days I’ve ever known. Days where you feel like you have a real glimpse into the heart of God. Like my own wedding day and a day when my friends came over to pray with us while our little boys were in the hospital.
It was perfect for me because I love my brother. I respect my brother. And I look up to my brother. And May 10 was the best day of his life. When great things happen, or terrible things- I always seem to want my brother there. There are so many things that don’t seem to be complete without him around. I remember when they took my boys back to the NICU after they were born. I don’t remember many feelings from those moments, it all happened so quickly for Daniel and I. I do remember looking around for my brother. Wanting to share one of the most wonderful, miraculous, absolutely terrible days of my life.
My brother is very weird to me. I don't really get him. It bothers me when he thinks he gets me. It’s always been that way. He isn’t like me. I spent a huge chunk of my life putting him in my own box. In my box, my brother frustrates me to no end. When I finally began to understand that his box was very different from my box, and that he wasn’t very interested in being trapped in my box, I discovered a depth and a joy in our relationship that I never thought was possible. We still argue. Often. But, my brother has spent his years on earth offering me life. I love my brother.
The day was also perfect because I love Molly. She is different from every person I know. She is organically joyful. She is pleasant. She is genuine. She is constant- the same no matter her mood or company. She is patient. She is very kind. She is cool. If you knew Molly, as you read in the Bible what Jesus taught his disciples to be like you would always think of her. She is what Jesus asks us to be.
Above all of her attributes, her mercy is my favorite. It is her mercy and Drew’s ridiculously abounding love that made the day perfect. A day of perfect clouds in a perfect garden. With two imperfect people who were smiled on by a perfect God, becoming one in perfect union.

Eucharist

"...any person I encounter—regardless of their religious background, their skin color, their worldview, their political stance—they are a fellow human being created in the image of God. I have a bond with them that transcends every other bond. Humans are created in the image of God. Only later do you have geography, family boundaries, ethnic groups and religion. What happened is that we have flipped that upside down, and people begin with all of their differences; they begin with all the way in which we aren’t alike. " -Rob Bell-

There are I people I know who have literally changed my life. They changed me because they stepped into my life, not because of who I was, but because I was. These people aren't exactly like me. They don't agree with me on everything. We are from different places, different backgrounds, ages, cultures, politics, habits, etc. There is an ex-marine, a tiny little girl in South America, a cheerleader, a financial advisor, a democrat, a boy from Texas, a simpleton, an old lady, a mother.
My life changed because these people became the Eucharist. Jesus died to break down boundaries. Not only the boundary between us and the Father, but between each other. No longer Jew or Gentile, but child of God. He begged, "that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you." in John 17.
Communion is the symbol that God removed our boundary. It is the reminder that every single soul on this earth has one thing in common: we were created by God. It is here that we find the community of the Eucharist. We may seem to have nothing in common, but we begin here: that we are all children of a Great Creator.
I don't like to complain about the church, but this is a way I see that we've failed. We continue to create boundaries and build walls that I believe Jesus died to break down. We build walls around specific political parties and claim them in the name of Christ. In history the church has made boundaries of race and sex and even education in the name of holiness. Today we draw lines of sexual identity, semantics, and worship rituals in the name of truth! And rather than pursuing the unity of the Eucharist, we continue to build walls to eliminate.
Eliminating is far from loving. How can we possibly love, serve, and respect others when our energies are spent classifying them? And how do we go to the table and accept the freedom that Christ offers without offering it in turn to those around us?

Cadence

"The heart of God is to serve a broken world. The church cannot live when the heart of God is not beating within her. God's heartbeat is to seek and save that which is lost." -Erwin McManus-

I was watching a Nooma video and Rob Bell talks about how God desires for our hearts to line up with his own. The beat of our hearts the same as the beat of his heart. I can't get over that image. It is hard for me to believe that my broken, bruised, callused heart would ever beat with the same rhythm of God's very perfect, just, merciful heart.
Because I know that more often than not my heart beats for myself. For my convenience or my own justice. Sometimes my heart beats with mercy for my friends. Sometimes it only beats frustration.
But, sometimes, I get a taste of the perfect unity that I think heaven is. Even if for only a second, there are times that I can hear my own heart in almost perfect rhythm with the One who created me. When my desires are eternal, when I am aware of the desperation of the world, when I am enjoying the created, and when I realize that I can change the world- it is as if my heart slows its busyness, slows its noise, and enters into the still, small cadence of the heart of God.
Even more beautiful to me is when I see this in the ones I love. I saw it in my brother the other night when we prayed for children at risk. I see it in my friend Sharon constantly. I saw it in my husband last night and on many nights. I can hear it all the way from Colorado when I talk to Courtney. I read it all over Xan's book. I hear it in Lindsay's tears. I heard at Calhoun's on Friday as the lake flowed softly and the night grew dark and the laughter proved steady. I hear it in books I read, sermons I hear, music that moves, laughter, tears, silence. I am surrounded by the beating of God's heart.
And it is through this community that I have learned to hear the perfect, just, merciful beating of God's heart. If I ever get it right, if ever I am close in rhythm and cadence- it is because throughout my life I have been taught well by those whom I love.

Nothing

"If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. -Philippians 2:1-11-


I think I have learned more in the past 4 months than at any point in my life. I'm curious. I'm confused. I'm saddened. I'm aware. I'm ecstatic. I'm in awe. I'm well-researched. I'm ignorant. I'm grateful. I'm having so much fun.


And I'm learning how very little the world has to do with me. And how very much I have to do with God.


The world cares very little about my life- what I do, where I live, who I know. The world will continue to revolve despite my heartache or confusion or joy. As I enjoy deep community and long meals with my dearest friends, there are people in the world trying to eliminate entire races with machine guns. When the pains of my past keep me up at night, there are Olympic torches being lit all over the world in celebration of competition. There are things, both good and terrible, that make my world stop spinning in its tracks; yet the earth continues to revolve. Life happens with me, without me, despite me.


And this is where Christianity is different and separates itself from other religions. Despite the apathy of the world, I serve a God who very much cares about my life. I have a God who celebrates over long meals and good wine with my friends. I have a God whose tears fill the scars that cover my heart. I know a God who is intentionally, literally, obsessively involved in every single detail of me- from the hairs on my head, to the dreams in my heart.


It is his great love for me, a love I am far from understanding, that calls me to become nothing. Because he loves me so deeply, I no longer desire for the world to stop in its tracks for me. The more I know of God, the more I love him. The more I love him, the more I long to be like him. The more I long to be like him, the more I understand that the world is not about me. But that the God of the Universe is all about me, even though I've never earned it. The God of the Universe is all about me, because somehow, in some way, I will bring him glory. Not because I'm wonderful or even capable. And, not every day. Probably not even most days. But some days I will. And oh how he dances for the some.

more

Whether in church or in circles of social dissent, there are plenty of people who define themselves by what they are not, whose identity revolves around what they are against rather than what they are for…Most people are aware that something is wrong. The real question is, What are the alternatives?” -Shane Claiborne-





There has to be more than this.

When I look at the world it is so clear. I have no idea what is going on in Iraq and why. I don't understand how if we took the money that we (in America) spend on ice cream alone we could end poverty, yet we don't. I get sick when I hear about the group that holds "God hates fags" signs at soldiers' funerals and claims to be the church. It makes me hurt to my core that my husband and my best friend lost their dads before they ever got to see their sons become fathers.

There has to be more than this.

And there is. My questions don't have answers. And my mind is racing with confusion, frustration, and pain. But at the end of the day there is more.

At the end of the day, I believe that there is a God who is good. At the end of the day, I believe that He looks at Iraq, and poverty, and wack-o sign holders, and death and he sighs. A deep sigh.

In Mark 7, Jesus comes in contact with a deaf mute. And he looks at him, and sees that things are not as they are supposed to be. And he offers a deep sigh to heaven before he says "be open" and heals him. A deep groan. Things are not as they are supposed to be.

All over our culture we see the deep groans of heaven. Jesus talked of a world of kindness and mercy. Of clothing the sick and feeding the poor. Of laughter and music. Of compassion and value. We hear groans, sighs echoing in all of the ways that our world offers the exact opposite of the world Jesus talked about.

It is through us, the church, that He offers something more.

I'm realistic enough to realize that I don't write an internationally ready blog. But, to you who do read and to myself, I say: Be more. Get over yourself. Get over complaining about all that is wrong in the world and decide to change it. Stop worrying about what you aren't and discover who you are. Make a difference. Be kind. Be compassionate. And above all, love. Love despite race or religion or politics or sexuality or gender or education. Love as Jesus did. Freely. Fully. With no agenda or expectation. And with reckless abandon.

Starving

"I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a shit. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night." Tony Campolo

In light of this being an election year, I am enjoying the political debate everywhere from the Today show to my kitchen table. I love hearing the theories of people smarter than I am. Sometimes I am brave enough to interject my own thoughts. More often than not to the laughter or confusion of others. My friend Chris and my brother claim that I am the only conservative socialist they know. I am so split. I won't try to hide it, I love the idea of a small government. However, I cannot break away from the social activist that lives in me. The social activist is grateful that I live in a country that sees great need, invites its people to awareness and activism, and steps in where the country falls short or is unable to rise to the occassion. I believe that the responsibility of social justice lies in the hands of us, citizens of the world, rather than in our government. But until our hands become more generous, I am grateful that our government steps in.
That being said, what are you doing for the world? I was struck by the quote above. I was even more struck by a verse in Matthew 11, when Jesus describes His kingdom on earth "the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them." In Isaiah 61, we are called to, "bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound".
In the face of Darfur, malnutrition, the AIDS pandemic, malaria- we as Christians simply must stop looking away. It seems to me that Jesus talked consistently and explicitly about social justice as often as anything else. I'm not saying to go give all of your money to American Idol, but it saddens me to think that we could watch their presentation of the needs of our world and not be moved to do something. In our world there are literally entire racial and religious groups being held captive. It is our job to bring freedom. In our world there are literally more 852 million people who do not have enough food to eat each day. It is our job to offer them not only food, but life to the full.
It seems daunting. It seems like your tiny contribution could not possibly matter. But, I promise you that in the wake of all things eternal lie many tiny contributions that will eventually equal change. It matters to the world what you do in the face of malnutrition, AIDS, genocide, etc. And most importantly it matters to the One who created you.

Waiting

"How do we get to the morning, to the sunshine, to the joy? There is only one way. By waiting for it. We can't hurry the dawn, no matter how anxiously we pace the floor or how impatiently we watch the clock. And so the question is not do we wait or not wait, because waiting is all we can do. The question is, how will we wait? Will we wait well...or will we wait poorly?" -Ken Gire

I read this quote and had to write about it. From the first seven words, I could not wait to tell this story.

I have a friend, a dear friend, who should tattoo this quote to his chest. He has seen pain like I hope to never see, heard a silence that I never hope to hear. He has become a hero of mine. It takes my breath away sometimes to think about his faith. He is as straightforward as I've known. And when he talks about his life, I cannot help but to lean forward.


A death started the waiting. A death, the impact of which I have no way of imagining. He is open to tell you that after death came anger. Quick, hard, and deep. And as time continued, a marriage offered him hope. His commitment to his wife was to create a life for them outside of his hurt and his anger. And this is where I've had the joy of stepping in and watching.


His feelings of anger turned into his longing for the God who was receiving them. His longing for the God he was angry with became a deep desire for community and intimacy with Him. And his community with the Father became a wisdom and knowledge, and a waiting that you would be more than blessed to sit with.


I get to sit next to his wisdom and knowledge and waiting almost daily. I get to be a part of a faith that continues through pain. And I get to see first-hand the cracks of light, the revelations of beauty, and the fingerprints of God on a heart that I love so much.


I wish you knew him, because in him you find what so many of us lose- consistency. He will wait. If it takes forever for him to see the morning, I promise you he will wait on it. Some days he will wait poorly, and he won't try to hide it. But, oh the days that he waits well. They bring hope and life and light to everyone around, to the extent of which I don't think he'll ever know.

Unlovable

To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark. In admitting my shadow side I learn who I am and what God's grace means. As Thomas Merton put it, 'A saint is not someone who is good but who experiences the goodness of God.' -Brennan Manning

Last weekend Daniel and I went to a wedding shower for one of my longest and dearest friends and her fiance. During the shower, we spent some time giving Megan and EJ marriage advice. Megan's mom wisdom during this knocked me off of my feet. I felt like she was talking directly to my heart. She told Megan to always let EJ love her, because there would be many times that she would feel unlovable.
I've spent my relationship with Daniel trying to learn this. And I'm fairly certain that I will spend the rest of it continuing to learn how to be loved by my husband. And oh how he loves me. He loves me to the depths of my heart, places only he has dared to travel. He loves me when I nag, when I boss, when I demand, when I manipulate. His love makes me more aware of how unlovable I really am, and more grateful than I have ever understood.
It is the same with Christ. He has walked with us through all of our life story-good and bad, light and dark. He knows that we are unlovable. And as I get a glimpse with Daniel, the closer I find myself to Christ, the more unlovable I realize that I am. And it is in my deep, dark, unlovable state that grace steps in. And through that grace I can find goodness. Even though I'm unlovable, Christs' grace steps in and his love sweeps me off of my feet and welcomes me into his goodness.

Cleanslate

Freedom means the opportunity to be what we never thought we would be. -Daniel J. Boorstin

I think all the time about freedom. I always say it is my favorite part of the heart of God. (If you are allowed to have a favorite).

I realized this morning that I think I'm missing it.

The idea of freedom is birthed from forgiveness. It is the forgiveness of God the Father, through the Son, that makes my freedom reality.

I believe so deeply in forgiveness. That it is divine and supernatural. That it is just and merciful at the same time. That God offers it to us, though we are undeserving and often unasking. And that when God forgives, it is as if whatever you've done never happened. Sure there are consequences that remain, but the action no longer does. It dies with His forgiveness and His sacrifice.

My brain understands it.

But it is a long way to my heart. And my heart believes that forgiveness is free and full for you. But my heart knows me all too well. And It has never grasped the "clean slate" theory. I know the things I've done. I haven't forgotten. It's not that I am controlled by the things of the past. They don't haunt me. But they remain. And therefore, so do my chains.

Because if I truly believe the cross for what it is, then I do not live under the punishment of the Father but rather His forgiveness. He is certainly just, and that is why Jesus had to die on the cross. And each day that I choose to live as if he is withholding, or punishing, hiding himself from me for the things of my past is to choose to live as if the cross didn't matter. Sure, there are consequences for my actions. But the punishment has been paid.

For forgiveness births freedom. And true freedom can only come at great cost, making no sense, taking a lifetime to understand, and with a clean slate.

*This post was sparked by an amazing sermon I heard yesterday. You can find it at www.maryvillevineyard.com

Right

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent, unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting. --George Elliott

I can't stop thinking about marriage. I was writing an email to a friend whose wife is going back to school to train for the very thing that she was created to do. You know how sometimes you just know that someone is meant for a certain profession? It was one of those "knowings". I was telling him how good of a fit I think it is for her, which led to my thoughts of how good of a fit she is for him. I love marriage.
On my mom's 50th birthday, my dad was recounting for everyone memories of her. He called her the calm to his storm. I love marriage.
It is amazing to me how another person could become my partner for the rest of our lives. Call it the optimism of youth, but I really do believe that Daniel and I were made to change the world together. He is becoming my fit, my calm, my partner.
I am also learning how difficult marriage is. No wonder divorce rates are so high. It is so hard to learn to love all of someone. It is even more difficult to learn to be loved in your entirety by someone. To learn real intimacy. To become all that partnership entails.
For some, I think it is even harder because you think you married the wrong person. I feel like the more I learn of marriage, the less I sign on to that thought. To say you married the wrong person is giving up. Whose marriage is easy? Who just fits every single day right from the start? No one I've ever known.
It is learning to become the right person for someone. To become their fit. Become their calm. Become their partner. And I think that there is a reason that God created it to last a lifetime. I guess it takes a lifetime to learn how to do that.

Goals

Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring and integrity, they think of you.
H. Jackson Brown, Jr

Manifesto

Cold words freeze people, and hot words scorch them, and bitter words make them bitter, and wrathful words make them wrathful. Kind words also produce their image on men’s souls; and a beautiful image it is. They smooth, and quiet, and comfort the hearer. -Blaise Pascal

Something has been haunting me all week. Last weekend we ate dinner with some of our dearest friends. The kind of friends that you can rest around...be yourself around...that your trust infinitely. I said something stupid. I talked on and on and on about someone that I consider "my nemisis". I listed all of his problems, as I see them. When I was finished, the most gentle in the group asked, "Yeah, but does he sit around and say things about you to all of his friends?".
Wow.
I wanted to puke. Or dissappear. Or crawl under the table to never come out again. I was so embarrassed. Not because my friend embarrassed me- no one seemed to notice. But because my friend had stepped into a part of me that I despise. And all week, it's been on my mind. As much as I long to be kind, to be merciful, to edify, I seem to long more for the acceptance of my culture. My culture has grasped with no comparison the love of social justice. We are generous. We long for justice. We are helpful. But somehow we have missed simple kindness. We are sarcastic. We are gossips. We are self-elevating. We are critical. And I am the worst.
It's like I never learned that if I don't have anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything. It seems such a simple concept. And then I hear something that bothers me or I think is foolish, and a million unkind, funny as they may be, things enter my head. And out they come. To feel better about myself. To get a laugh. To turn the attention on someone else. Or just because I have no filter. It's all over scripture. "Edify one another" (1Thes.5:11). "Love your neighbor" (Matt19:19). And somehow it has taken me a week to really learn that I do not edify. It took me a week to look both inside myself and at those around me. And here is what I learned:
1. It isn't ok to make fun of others. Simple enough...I learned this in kindergarten. But, it's deeper. It isn't ok to make fun of others behind their back. To their face. Even if you are kidding. Even if they know you're kidding. Even if everyone else is. Even if they can take it. Any way you twist it, making fun of others is not edifying.
2. I hate sarcasm. It is trouble. All across the board. And no matter how funny I think it is, there is not one kind or edifying thing about sarcasm. I dare you to find one.
3. Too many things bother me. I am annoid, judgemental, and the worst of all critics. What is worse is that I am nowhere near smart enough or cool enough or accomplished enough to be any of these. Who am I to be so critical?

I would like to say that I'm a changed person. I'm nowhere close. But I admit there's a problem. With myself. With my peers. With our culture. And I want to be different. How can we ever change the world if we're lacking one of its greatest needs: kindness.

Anniversary

Two such as you with such a master speed cannot be parted nor be swept away from one another once you are agreed that life is only life forevermore together wing to wing and oar to oar. -Robert Frost

Two of our best friends celebrated their 5 year wedding anniversary yesterday. They are amazing. Their marriage is one of the most delightful things that I get to watch. It's a spectacle. I haven't been around since the beginning, but I am guessing that they have always been this way. They are crazy about each other. When I first started spending a lot of time with them, I thought that it had to be fake. I've rarely seen two people so in love.


I think what impresses me most is how much they are in each other's corner. They are so supportive. They know each other well- strengths and weaknesses. They celebrate so often in the strengths, and are honest in the weaknesses. They are beautiful to watch.


Watching them reminds me of God's heart for me, for us- his people. His love is relentless. He is always in our corner. His love is just as full of very difficult times as it is deep laughter. He supports us, celebrates with us, is honest with us.


Watching them makes me thankful for my husband. I am crazy about him. More today than yesterday. His love and care for me is beautiful to watch. I can't get enough of him.

Fifty

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

My mom turned 50 today. There's a lot of pressure that comes when your mom turns 50. You see, my mom is even more beautiful at 50 than she was at 25. And she was hot at 25. She is more wise and gracious and gentle and discerning. On Saturday evening we had a birthday party for her. We went around a circle and told our favorite memories of her. It was such a beautiful thing to watch- her brother adoring her, my father adoring her, her dear friends adoring her, her mother so proud of her. Don't ever miss the chance to hear people brag about someone you love. Since then, I've reflected so much over my mom's life. And I've realized that she has put skin onto this verse from Micah for me.

1. My mom acts justly. I think she seriously thought about being a judge at one point. There is no greater petitioner of truth than my mother. She fights for facts and expects integrity.

2. My mom loves mercy. I think my heart for social causes comes from my mom. For as long as she has taught, she has been the silent partner of the poor in her class. She's purchased coats, painted rooms, and so much more on behalf of those less-fortunate. She has wiped away tears after deaths, supported dear friends through miscarriages, sung softly over 3 very sick little boys.

3. And she sure walks humbly. Out of the spotlight. Full of a discernment few can relate to. Laughing quietly and smiling beautifully.

Twisty

"Therefore God, in his mercy, sometimes bends us into painful, inescapable positions so that we will learn to cry “Mercy!” to him for every relief that we seek, and so that we will rely more on him who is able to cure every sorrow and pain. " John Piper

I read this today on Piper's blog. He talks about the game you play when you're younger, and you hold your hands together and twist around until the other person cries, "mercy!". I just had to laugh as I read this last paragraph about the "painful, inescapable positions" that God sometimes twists us into. When I look at my life, and the life of my friends, I find that this is so true. That God has chosen to put us in some very painful, and often inescapable positions. In fact, I was recently talking to a friend who is in the midst of wrestling with God. Twisty. Bendy. Painful. Inescapable.
At first it seems so mean--thinking that the God who made the universe is just toying with us. Hurting to hurt. Twisting to twist. I think so many of us see it this way if we are honest with ourselves. God seems like the cruel big brother or unfair teacher.
Until you cry "mercy". It isn't immediate release. It is a slow series of unbending and untwisting, where the God who made you steps inside you and works out the kinks. And when it is finished, when together you have escaped, you look back to realize that you were not being untangled, rather you have been dancing with mercy.
For me, the most clear picture comes in the form of mine and Daniel's friendships. For 2 months, we cried "mercy! mercy, Lord! mercy!"as we visited our children in NICU. And in He stepped, in the form of our friends. In the hugs of our family. In the tears of each other. And one evening, in our home, we prayed as one body with those dearest to us...and he stepped in and inhabited our prayers. With one voice, we called "mercy", and with a swift gust--it came. And we danced. And Daniel and I will never be the same.

Sanctity

Health is the state about which medicine has nothing to say: Sanctity is the state about which theology has nothing to say. --W.H. Auden

I'm tired of theology. I've been stuck in it for weeks. I've met it with interest, fear, sadness, anger, hatred, love, laughter...I feel like I've been dating theology. Theology pressures me to argue, to choose, to act knowledgeable, to give a damn.
Theology makes me feel sad.
The more I research, the more I see how much we disagree. That we nit-pick and magnify and assume. It makes me sad to see that the rising theologians of my culture do not base their thoughts on truth, but political correctness or politeness...we want to be well-liked. We are not revolutionary--we are all-inclusive, indecisive, and a little wimpy.
Theology makes me feel tired.
The deeper I dig into, the more I feel that I have to choose a side or a title or a mentor. Orthodox, Emergent, Calvinist, Universalist, Athiest. And it tires me because it is like a rabbit hole--the deeper I dig, the more important it becomes to my survival.

I came upon this quote by Auden, and it was breath to me. Don't get me wrong, there are days that I love theology- to study, to decide, to debate, to dig and dig and dig until I find the truth. But it was nice to be reminded that my sanctity--my righteousness--does not come from theology. It comes from truth. My life is not based on a theology. But a man. Who came, who lived, who died, and who loves. Deeply, fully, without boundaries and without questions. And at the end of the day, it is what He says that matters. And what He says the determines who I am.

Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. John 17:17 NIV

Resolutions

Keep walking, thought there's no place to get to.
Don't try to see through the distances. That's not for human beings.
Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move.
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical
instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
- Rumi

I'm not one for resolutions. I do have a strange respect for those who make them. Those who blurt them out in casual conversation. "I want to lose weight" or "I am going to write in a journal every day". The announcement is so vulnerable. It's out there. And if you fail...it's also out there. And I respect the voluntary translucency that it takes to put your possibility of failure right there on the table. No fear at all.
In attempt to be comfortable with vulnerability, I'm deciding to make a new year's resolution. Two actually. I found them in this Rumi verse. I will:
1. Refuse to move the way fear makes me.
No more action or nonaction because of fear. 1 John says that perfect love drives out fear. So I choose for 2008 to act on the perfect love that the Son of a very living God has for me and to try with all I have to stop being afraid. In a year, I want to be known as someone who moves the way faith, grace, hope, beauty, and love make me move.
2. Let the beauty I love be what I do.
That I will do the things that are beautiful, and honorable, and excellent. That my love for my community, and my friends, and my family, and my God will be the things that I am about, because they are very beautiful.

And there you have my resolutions. My chances of failure out on the table.
May you receive the renewal and excitement of this time, and a year full of many beautiful things.

Wrung

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." C.S. Lewis

Anyone reading this blog should get used to C.S. Lewis quotes. If you're going to quote, it might as well be from him. I have been trying to find a way to talk about my new sons. And when I came across this quote, I had a deep revelation of not only my love for them, but of God's heart for me.

I spent so long trying to cram my heart into the casket that Lewis talks about. After a few deeply heartbreaking events, I wanted more than anything to become unbreakable, irredeemable, and most importantly impenetrable. And the love of the One who made me followed me into the casket, into my depths and spent the last 3 years teaching me to love.

I have continued to have pain...and plenty of heartbreak. But I have learned to love in ways that I never knew I could....

I learned to love every second of the 47 days that my children were in the NICU. My heart has never hurt so terribly as it did driving to the hospital, getting on the elevator, walking the long hall that felt like miles, and worst of all driving home. My heart was wrung. And certainly broken. But more full and strong than I have ever known.

Stats

Every 14 seconds a child is orphaned by AIDS.
50,000 children will die of AIDS this year.
1,400 newborn Africans are infected with AIDS everyday.
There are 900,000 orphans in Nairobi, Kenya today, mainly due to AIDS.
More than 300 million people in sub-Saharan Africa live on less than $1 a day.
Every 3 seconds a child dies of nutrition deprivation/starvation. More than 300 million people in Africa do not have access to clean water.
1 million children die of malaria each year.

They are so real. And I feel so overwhelmed. And so lucky. And so full of hope at the same time. Change is a possibility. I read that Bill Gates pays for 98% of the world's polio vaccines. Change is possible. The One Campaign has raised awareness among Americans in the ways that other organizations have only dreamed of--and the awareness led to millions and millions of dollars for poverty, hunger, and disease. Change is possible.

And I am on the edge of my seat to see what we're going to do in Joska, Kenya. My church has promised support to get clean drinking water to Joska until it is done. We've money, support, and more than anything to build a community of relationships between us. And I am so thrilled to be a part of this...something that matters.

Swing

Maybe we both realized that growing up doesn't have to be so much a straight line as a series of advances and retreats. Maybe we just felt like swinging. But what ever it was, Winnie and I made an unspoken pact that day to stay kids for a little while longer.- The Wonder Years


I love that- a series of advances and retreats. I feel like I am full of advancing moments right now- getting married, buying a house, having babies. I feel like it has been a major growth spurt kind of year. And there are plenty of ways that I am longing to grow up and advance—I am so ready to meet my sons, to host parties at our house where I cook, to discover who I am, to become an ambassador to an African country and really make a difference. But there are the moments that I feel like I am begging for retreat—in the midst of my excitement, I’m terrified of being a mother, I hate cleaning my house most days, I’m scared of discovering who I am and losing so much mystery, and some days I hate our budget. It just feels like it is all happening so fast.

Yesterday, begging for a retreat, I came home and my husband had cut his own hair. Straight across his face- like Lloyd Christmas on Dumb and Dumber. And I laughed harder than I have laughed in so long. We both did…sitting on the kitchen floor, tears in our eyes. And it was our moment. An unspoken pact—a promise to hold onto our childhood in the midst of our growth.

Worry Wart

I had an ultrasound today, and they found that one of our boys' legs and arms are smaller than the other's. It is probably no big deal, but they have to let the doctor check it out.

I worried a little bit. And Daniel worried a little bit. But then it hit me how silly my worry is.

Unfortunately, as a woman and a mother and a human...it will always be part of my life. But my worry offers absolutely nothing to a troubled situation, or to the heart of the God who is in control over it.

I guess that is another one of the amazing parts of freedom in Christ. Free from the bearing if sin, free from a life without God, free from worry. For the rest of my life, because of Christ, I have no need to worry.

I think of Horatio Spafford. He penned "It Is Well with My Soul", my heart's anthem for many years. You may have heard the story that Spafford, a prominent Chicago lawyer, wrote the song on a boat as he passed the waters where is family had died in a shipwreck a short time before. In the midst of his greif and his burden, he chose life. He chose to live in the freedom of Christ rather than in the cave of his worry.

It is a beautiful life that Christ has for us. A beautiful life full of endless freedom. It is good. It is very good. And over and over again, I choose to live only parts of it.

It Is Well with My Soul (Horatio Spafford)

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

It is well, with my soul,It is well, with my soul,It is well, it is well, with my soul.

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

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!My sin, not in part but the whole,Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Boom

See what kind of love the Father has given to us (lavished upon us), that we should be called children of God; and so we are. 1 John 3:1

I love fireworks. It is embarrassing how much. Last night we went to a baseball game and there was a fireworks show at the end. I was watching with amazement, when I realized that Baby B was going absolutely crazy in my belly during the whole thing. I understand that he could be scared out of his mind, but I am choosing to believe that he loved the whole thing. He moved and kicked and bounced around. I think it was the most enjoyable fireworks display I've ever been to...me and one of my sons enjoying the booms and bangs together. It is only appropriate for one of our children to be crazy about fireworks.
I was still enjoying the show when I got home...sort of a high from sharing one of my first experiences with Baby B. And I thought of the similarities I already feel with him. I thought of the parts of Daniel that his brother is already showing us. And I was reminded that just as they resemble Daniel and I, so were we created in the very image of the one who made us. The God of the Universe, creator of all things, chose to make us in His image. Chose to make us His own children. For the first time in my life, I'm starting to understand a glimpse of what this means. And I am so thankful. Thankful to be made in the image of my father, and thankful to be chosen as His child.

*This picture is from my friend Bob Sutton's photography site http://www.bobsuttonphoto.blogspot.com/. It is amazing and I hope I'm not stealing it illegally. You should check out his stuff.

Grace

"If only we could be a bit more like Him, the world would be transformed. …When I look at the Cross of Christ, what I see up there is all my shit and everybody else's. So I ask myself a question a lot of people have asked: Who is this man? And was He who He said He was, or was He just a religious nut? And there it is, and that's the question. And no one can talk you into it or out of it...It doesn't excuse my mistakes, but I'm holding out for Grace. I'm holding out that Jesus took my sins onto the Cross, because I know who I am, and I hope I don't have to depend on my own religiosity...Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I've done a lot of stupid stuff."
-Bono

I suppose it is very fitting that my first blog include 3 things: sin, the Cross, and Bono. Not that the third is in even the same realm of the first two, but fitting nonetheless. I'm amazed that he is actually changing the world.

I am overwhelmed with the Cross today. Overwhelmed that the mere action of Christ covers me and all of my sin. In my inaction, inconsistency, disobedience, rebelliousness, and reluctance...Christ died for me. And died that I would have a life full of freedom. My laughter, my study, my babies moving in my belly, my searching, my wedding, my life to the full all was the complete joy and the gift of Christ on the Cross. The grace that I find there will never make sense to me.