this love.

"He heals the broken heartened,

binding up their wounds."

Psalm 147:3

i had a terrible bicycle accident when i was seven years old. admittedly, i never really mastered the whole bike riding thing - mainly because i was self-taught. i can remember riding up and down our street and instead of turning the handlebars when i needed to turn around, i'd panic and just let the bike fall over while simultaneously trying to jump off of it. lots of torn jeans and scraped knees later, i eventually figured it out. it was a saturday afternoon. i was visiting some friends from school. twins. karen & kathryn. they were identical, but one was a tomboy and the other was girly, which is completely irrelevant. i didn't have my bike with me so i'm pretty sure we were taking turns on the bikes, going up and down the street. i remember thinking what a great job i was doing, as if pedaling up and down the street were some great feat. wind in my hair, smile on my face. and then, that dreadful feeling that i was losing control. gravel. pothole. darkness. total and complete darkness. it was the only time i have ever been knocked unconscious in my life. i came to in their bathroom, the twin's poor mother panic stricken trying to clean the blood of my face. only i didn't immediately recognize her because i had no idea where i was. i had no idea who i was.

yea. life's like that sometimes.

there have been days, many days, since i took the first step on this path that i have allowed my attention to wander momentarily. caught up in the busyness of my everyday life, or the selfishness of my human nature, i begin to [foolishly] think i've got this part under control. in those blurry, busied moments my focus shifts and along with it, some undefined part of me shifts with it: from dependence on Him to self-reliance... and then, i "come to" - face down on in the dirt, having never seen the gravel or the sinkhole in my path.

i'm often reluctant to revisit my past postings for fear of painful reminders from where i have traveled. but then there are moments, like today, when in a quiet whisper i say, "Lord, I need to know you are still there". every word i have written becomes evidence of His presence, of His relentless pursuit of my heart and His unyielding love for me. for me. for me! this is the love that transforms lives. this is the love that calls us out of darkness and into light. this is the love that draws us to obedience and causes disobedience to break our hearts.

when i came home all bandaged and bruised from that bike accident, if i'd had a father waiting for me, i would've likely curled up in his lap. a father's love could not have prevented that fall, but the depth of his love certainly would have compelled me to run to his arms and helped heal those wounds.

yea. God's love is like that.

for me. for you. run to it.

"How great is the love

the Father has lavished on us,

that we should be called

children of God!

And that is what we are!"

1 JN 3:1

light of mine

"You are the light of the world.

A city on a hill cannot be hidden.

Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.

Instead they put it on its stand,

and it gives light to everyone in the house."

Matthew 5:14-15

i'm forcing myself to write. completely against my will, in much the same way i force myself to finish the laundry or unload the dishwasher. words and thoughts piled up, waiting to be pressed and folded, neatly organized and reorganized and put away. stored somewhere along the cybershelves of my blog. void of the typical poignant packaging. i've opened and closed this blog more times than i can count over the last two weeks and though my life has been moving at an even faster pace than usual, i find pieces of myself completely still.

i was completely paralyzed by earthquake in Haiti. unable to write. unable to think.

since that moment in late Spring of last year, i have experienced almost every facet of life in a completely different way: it as though i am seeing everything with new eyes; hearing everything with new ears; feeling everything with a new heart. i'm overtly emotional on birthdays and holidays. it's as though i had viewed the world through shades of gray; a grainy and silent black and white motion picture turned to high definition sound and color. in an instant - against the minuscule scale of my own personal life and the grand scale of humanity - the backdrop changed. along with everything else. one of my many perspectives that have been radically altered by His truth is this:

"The Great Commission is not an EITHER/OR option, but a BOTH/AND command. From cover to cover, the Bible teaches that all the church – not just select individuals, but all the church is created to reflect all the glory of God to all the world. We are all commanded and commissioned to make disciples of all nations. Each of us must Pray and Give and GO." ~ The Church at Brook Hills

i'd always felt foreign missions were for a few. you know, those who were called. the Lord didn't just change my mind on this, He changed my heart and just a few weeks ago, i turned in my paperwork for my first short-term mission trip. shades of gray transformed to technicolor.

witnessing, along with the rest of the world, the aftermath of a natural disaster was different, too. in the naivete of my youth unbelief, such tragedy would only fuel my doubts about the nature of God. in my humanness, i couldn't reconcile God and such tragedy. and frankly, i didn't try. it wasn't for me to understand His ways or question His sovereignty. but as i heard and watched and read the words and images from Haiti, those familiar pangs of fear and doubt were noticeably absent and in their place, an overwhelming compelling just to pray. there was but one thought that resonated in me. i didn't think it, but i felt it, and it was simply: God desires to pour out His spirit on the suffering that He might make Himself known. that isn't profound revelation, but biblical truth. for the people of Haiti. for me. for you.

for those of us fortunate enough to find refuge in our comfortable suburban cul de sacs, the veil is ripped. we pause, for a brief moment, to feel empathy, to pray, to give. and then our lives continue. and we stitch the veil back together with the threads of our everyday lives. for the most part - if not the whole part - we remain unchanged. we move on. because our lives move on. because we feel we have no choice but to move on. because everyone else is moving on.

but instead of moving on, i have been continually following the blog of one American family in Haiti who, living by faith, radically abandoned this life to live in radical obedience. in the aftermath of the quake, they did not flee, but set up a makeshift clinic. i have witnessed, through the words and actions of this family, more miracles in one week than most hear about in a lifetime...

and this is where my words become inadequate. details of my everyday life, my everyday walk, become trite. i am standing still and everyone else is moving forward. headlines are obscured with football scores and celebrity gossip. we move on. and yet, something inside of me remains unsettled. something feels inherently wrong with waking in the morning and selecting what clothes to wear. i am painfully aware of the privilege of my every move, my every possession. backing my car out of the driveway, pushing a button and watching the garage door close. children fastened safely in their seats. car rider line. traffic. even against my will, i am moving on with a part of my heart paralyzed - and that feels wrong, too. i can pray. i can give. but beyond that, in that moment - and all the ones that follow - i am helplessly inadequate. small. one of six billion. my own words and thoughts fade into obscurity - even from myself. i lose sight of what i'm writing. i lose sight of why i'm writing. i don't know what i'm doing. i don't know what i should be doing...

and then, out of nowhere - or out of somewhere, rather - i hear the faint whisper of my daughter singing, "This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/This little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine/Let it shine/Let it shine/Let it shiiiiine." "Mommy," she says later, "i know what the little light is!". "What is it?", I ask. "It's Jesus in my heart!"

and so i write again. because it's what i do. because of this little light of mine.

"In the same way, let your light shine before others..."

Matthew 5:16

bridging the gap.

"Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar?

Where is the philosopher of this age?

Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

1 Corinthians 1:20-21

it has been an interesting (and entertaining) return to college for spring semester this week: i briefly contemplated buying myself a "UAB MOM" sweatshirt; i have a classmate who, in a senior level course, publicly referred to the Spanish language as "speaking Mexican". i'm studying alongside kids who were in junior high when i was a junior in college; i have a "communications" professor who has been married a half dozen times, literally: six times. the irony that this man is my guide into a deeper understanding of human communication makes me giggle. i opened my laptop earlier today to write a detailed, witty recap of these things and more, but by the end of the day, something much deeper had already begun to stir inside of me and though i could write a blog - or a book - about it, i was reminded that this college experience, even in its most entertaining moments, is not the central focus of my life. it's simply a part of it. one that will soon pass. only not soon enough...

being a full time student in my thirties provokes a lot of questioning: why i've decided to finish college, what i plan to do with my degree, what i want to be when if i grow up. i've learned to just shrug and smile, which seems to both insinuate and appease: it insinuates i, myself, have absolutely no idea what i'm doing (which, as we know, isn't completely false) and it's appeasing in the sense that people don't care anyway, not really. the real answer, of course, is both too ambiguous and too complicated. the answer is: i don't know the purpose, i only know there is a purpose... and whatever it is, its not about me. ((shrug)) ((smile))

this semester has also placed me face-to-face [in two classes] with a publicly professing non-believing professor who has "the religiosity of an old pair of shoes". most of the time, i find such blatant honesty refreshing. his disclaimer was so very disarming and nonchalant, the same way you'd imagine someone saying, "and, by the way, i'm not very fond of that shade of green" or "i like ketchup but not tomatoes". i'm certain this is because he has recited this phrase many times over the course of many years, prefacing the class with the promise of subjectivity; and the understanding that any discussions on anything related to Christianity are not aimed to either indoctrinate or undoctrinate. after all, we're studying language and human thought here.

atheism and agnosticism are commonplace in this realm it seems and understandably so: a man becomes so lost in his pursuit knowledge and wisdom (what Paul called the "wisdom of the world") that his intellectualism and understanding of the revelation of man increases, all the while his capacity for seeking and understanding the revelation of God somehow decreases. . .

"If our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. The god of this age [satan] has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:3-4

as he began his lecture, i began to feel strange, ongoing pangs of empathy for this man with an obviously brilliant mind. i heard the words that he was saying, but as the time passed - at the risk of sounding crazy - i also began to hear the words that he was not saying. much of the course, at least in the beginning, is focused on the writings of St. Augustine, who sought to dignify the intellectual foundations of Christian thought through his writings, defining language as something that is mental, rather than physical. but he spoke of Augustine with such passionate fascination it was hard to fathom how - in reading Augustine's plethora of works - he hadn't been persuaded. He spoke of his affinity for reading the King James Version of the bible because of its prosody; he referenced [the book] the Jesus Movement and made mention of his fascination and theories on how Christianity survived throughout the centuries. this was a man well versed in Theology and Manichaeism and Neo-Platonism and Eschatology and lots of other terms that i can neither pronounce or define.

still, nothing that he had said [out loud] warranted whatever it was that was welling up inside of me. but what he didn't say - and what i didn't hear, but could feel - was that this is not a man who has, lost in intellectual cynicism, boldly rejected Christianity as nonsense; nor is he the Lee Strobel who dedicated years of study to disprove Christianity and justify his own atheism. some inexplicable part of me felt that he was - and is still - a man desperately seeking truth - the truth that he holds in the palm of his hand. the truth that i carry in my backpack and keep on my nightstand. this is a man who is captivated and fascinated by a gospel that his mind cannot believe, but somehow, through words unspoken, seems to wish that it could.

oh, it was more than i could bare. i couldn't wait until class ended. i prayed. right there in my seat. eyes open. mouth closed. praying. for reason and understanding - for myself. how? why? that was it. two words.

the next thing i wrote in my lecture notes were these simplistic elements of communication:

sender. message. receiver. (yawn) right, learned that in the third grade. the professor then reverted to speaking in a foreign language for a few moments as an example and then paused to ask if anyone understood the message he was speaking. of course we didn't. he continued, this time in English:

"how? .... why?"... (didn't i just say that?) "the reason is that you have to have the capacity to bridge the gap between the sender and the
receiver".

my eyes welled up with tears in the midst of that crowded college lecture room as i turned the page and drew another simplistic illustration; and i felt the Lord whisper to me His own words of John 14:6 "Jesus answered, 'I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me ... [and only I can bridge this gap]":

"The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God,

for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them,

because they are only discerned by the Spirit."

1 Cor 2:14

oh, how long i stood where that stick figure stands, truth in my hand and void in my soul without the capacity for understanding. i prayed another prayer. not for me, for him. in all his inestimable knowledge, relentless seeking, had he not cried out these three words, i was now crying them out on his behalf:

bridge the gap.

if when i die...

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.
In my Father's house are many rooms;
if it were not so, I would have told you.
I am going there to prepare a place for you."
John 14:2

i have some news: i am going to die. oh, don't be so alarmed: so are you. it is, perhaps, the only certainty in life and yet, it's so taboo to speak of our own deaths that we refer to it as if instead of when. why is that?

i suppose we all have our own versions of our preferred, idealized deaths, most of which entail us being very, very old and gray and peacefully passing in a state of contented sleep with loved ones gathered around remarking what wonderfully full lives we lived and how it was simply "our time". i have no idea where we (or i) have conjured up this romanticized image from but, for as long as i can remember, it is the only manner in which death has seemed acceptable to me. everything else has seemed tragic and sad, not to mention monumentally untimely and unfair. . .

until now.

i love that the men Jesus chose to be His disciples were imperfect individuals just like us me. When faced with the news of Jesus' imminent death, they were wrought with grief and anxiety and lack of understanding in much the same way we are when we are facing the death of someone we love. in the verse above, Jesus is comforting them by urging them to TRUST Him. He can see the unbelief on their faces and I can almost hear Him saying to them, speaking very slowly and intentionally: "listen to me. believe me. believe what I am saying to you. If it weren't true, I wouldn't have told you... "

we live our lives in fear of death, dreading it both for ourselves and for those we love. we conjure up ways in which we can somehow prevent or escape it when - if we really believe what we claim to believe - i'm not sure why. there are a couple of inescapable tenants of this whole Christianity thing and one is that you have to believe Jesus. [note that i didn't say believe in Jesus. no, that's too easy.] Jesus wasn't urging his disciples to simply believe IN Him, He was urging them to believe the words that were coming out of His mouth... words like:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy;

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

i believe that both my life and my [physical] death are in the palm of His sovereign hand. when I die, regardless of the time and manner, i'd want others to believe that as well. don't get me wrong, i don't believe that He causes some of the things that we perceive as tragedy. but i do believe that He uses everything - including the free will of lost people, human error, and evil - according to His redemptive purpose. for years, i beleived IN Him; but now, i believe Him. because of that, i believe the words of Paul when he wrote, "We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord" and "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far". me too, Paul. oh, me too.

and while i'm thinking, writing, blogging about it i have a couple of candid observations/last wishes that i've already noted to my closest friends or family. you know, just in case. [my mother would be mortified that i'm actually "posting this on the internet", but better to have it here than scrawled on a piece of paper someplace, right?]...

1) close my casket. period. i do not want anyone "viewing" my dead body. we all know how this goes: people either walk away commenting on how "good" you look or how it "didn't look a thing like you". just put a big poster board of my smiling face up front if people need something to look at. you know something like this:

maybe someone can draw in one of those cartoon clouds where i'm thinking, "Yay! I'm in heaven!" or "Don't cry, I'll see you soon!". you know, something like that...

2) wooden casket. i know, i know. its not like i'd know the difference, but please don't parade my body around in one of those gaudy shiny metal boxes, even if they do come in pink.

3) please don't waste money on flowers. do an "in lieu of" to Compassion Intl or Lovelady Center. and for those flowers that inevitably come anyway, well, i've already assigned someone to hand pick every carnation out of every arrangement... just sayin.

4) if i die in an automobile accident, please do not decorate/erect a marker at the accident site. if you need decorate something, decorate my grave site - although, i'm not there either... and it had better not be one of those glow in the dark crosses.

that said, these are requests that - in the grand scheme of eternity - won't matter one iota. the vast majority of the time, requests as these are never honored because those left grieving have to do whatever it takes to comfort themselves. i experienced this firsthand when my step dad passed away. if it had been up to him, he would've likely wanted to be buried somewhere on his own property in a pine box. but in our grief, we doted on the spray of red roses, hand selecting the pine cones and branches that intertwined to give it a "rustic, wintry look"; we took time to decide on the tone of the wood, opting for the darker espresso rather than the lighter shade. we did those things knowing full well he would've detested all of it, even giggling at some points about how he would've fussed at us for "wasting money on his dead body". oh, he would've let my mother buy it all anyway, but the point is - funerals are not for those who have passed away, but for those who are left behind. and because of that, my only real request is this:

WORSHIP.

even, if not especially, in the midst of suffering and loss, we have a God who desires to bring glory unto Himself and who - in all things - is deserving of our worship and our praise. the bible says there is a time for all things: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to mourn and a time to dance. you can mourn later, but if when i die, WORSHIP.... and believe.

Praise the Lord.
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.
Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.
Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,
praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,
praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord.

Psalm 150

happy Holy New Year!

"by the power of God, who has saved us
and called us to a holy life—

not because of anything we have done

but because of His own purpose and grace."

2 Timothy 1:8-9

i was asked to share a devotional with my small group this last week. initially, i thought it would be as simple as pulling up a recent blog or sharing a specific scripture that had been on my heart that week. but as i began to think and pray through preparation, i realized that either of those things felt... contrived. this was an opportunity to share with my faith family and the more i tried to come up with something on my own, the more i began to realize that the Lord was calling me to share something else entirely: my heart.

the dilemma then became how - in the span of a few short minutes - could i even begin to share the inestimable transformation that He has worked in my heart and in my life? to compartmentalize any facet of His work in me seemed an impossibility; to focus on just one aspect seemed too difficult a choice. time was running out and just as i do every time i sit down to write, i simply prayed, "Lord, you're going to have to move my fingers - and my heart - for me."

it was new year's day. and on a blank sheet of journal paper i simply wrote the phrase, "Happy New Year". there. that was a good start. i paused and studied the the phrase for a moment. something was not right. instinctively, i drew a line through the word happy and instinctively, wrote another word in its place:

the beginning of a new year is - for me - a time of both reflection and looking forward. for years, i'd lived in the the pursuit of my own happiness fully believing that it could be obtained through the means of the world or the affection of others.

it was my selfish pursuit of my own happiness that ultimately destroyed my life and along that path of destruction i fell prey to the deception - and two of the biggest lies - marketed and sold by both the world and of the enemy:

LIE #1: God wants me to be happy.

LIE #2: I can walk in willful disobedience and still be "saved by His grace".

i lived my life, not according to God's truth, but according to these two lies. living by them gave me a "free pass" to live my life however i wanted to live, pursue whatever i wanted to pursue. a little over a year ago, as my divorce was finalizing, i thought that would bring relief... peace... freedom. instead, it brought the exact opposite: turmoil. despair. bondage. and somehow, by something i cannot explain or define, this happened in my heart...

my pursuit of happiness has been radically altered; radically replaced by the pursuit of holiness, Christ Himself. He replaced my longing for happiness with a desire for His holiness and He replaced the lies of the world and of the enemy with His truth:

Truth #1 - God wants me to be happy holy.

Truth #2 - His grace is not permission to live against His will; but rather His grace transforms our hearts so that we desire obedience.

how did this happen? i have no idea. there is a passage in the book of John where Jesus is teaching Nicodemus about what it truly means to be born again. Nicodemus, much like us, cannot fathom what Jesus is talking about... and Jesus says to him, "The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit..." and so it is with me.

as i shared this with my faith family - those who have truly become my brothers and sisters in Christ - i realized that this was not simply the part of my heart He was calling me to share with them, but a written and visual reminder to me of what He has done for me and to look forward to a Holy New Year...

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert

and streams in the wasteland."

Isaiah 43:18-19

free indeed.

the narrow path home to freedom

"He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

and recovery of sight for the blind,

to release the oppressed... " Jesus

Luke 4:18

beginning the new year in total and complete freedom in Christ is the most exhilarating experience of my life. although my journey with Him has been unfolding throughout most of this past year, as the year comes to a close, i have become increasingly aware of this freedom that i have in Him. truly, He came to set the captives free. i know because i was one. the realization that i am finally free after years of turmoil and struggle is overwhelming. i am free - not just from persistent sin in my life and the penalty that i deserved for such, but i have been rescued, saved from myself.

i have not walked this path in perfection. at times, i haven't walked at all. i have crawled. other times, many times, He has carried me. i have fallen flat on my face. but the difference, oh, the difference that becomes more clear with each day, with each step, is that the condition of the path beneath my feet is not that which is the most different; but the condition of my heart.

i have learned that, above all else, in Him alone is where my daily dependence lies. if i take one step thinking i can walk this path alone- that i can somehow "do" this thing called the "christian life" apart from being completely dependent and obedient to Him - that becomes the point in which i stumble. and fall.

and lets face it: this "falling down" thing is not unfamiliar to me. after all, i'd spent years falling and then wallowing in the miry pit. a heart that was full of shame and regret eventually hardening to a numb apathy. the difference now is that the inevitable falls along the path hurt. literally, it causes my heart to ache. for years, i had fled in shame or covered myself with darkness, but now - by way of something i can neither describe or define - i am immediately compelled to cry out to Him to pick me up. and I relive the truth of Psalm 40 all over again.

my daughter Chloe will [if you ask her how old she is] proudly proclaim that she is now, "five and three quarters". in the midst of her growing independence she is becoming increasingly prone to break rules we have established to keep her safe, rules like: not jumping on the sofa or playing too rough with Parker. yet, when she falls and hurts herself, her eyes immediately swell up with big crocodile tears just like her mama's and innately, she cries out for her Daddy, whom she affectionately refers to as Dada. oh, I will do if Chris isn't around, but I don't stand a chance if her Daddy's strong arms are there to hold her. Her heart is compelled to seek the loving safety his embrace, the forgiveness of his tender heart.

Yea. God's like that.

for years, i had associated freedom with living for myself. trying and failing to live my life for God certainly never felt like freedom. i was blind, but now i see: freedom is not defined by feet that walk the path perfectly, but by a heart that longs to adhere to it. Only He can transform our hearts and change our desires so that we will innately long for His presence, desire His provision and immediately be drawn back to the refuge in the shadow of His wings.

May 2010, if not this very moment, be when you find true freedom in Him.

"When the Son sets you free, you shall be free indeed." John 8:36

design of delight

"The thief comes only to
steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life,
and have it to the full."
John 10:10 NIV

Christmas is different this year. all of my life, i have known - or rather, thought i knew - the true meaning of Christmas. in Christmases past, it has been a time to celebrate His birth, but this year - it has become a time to celebrate not simply that He came, but why He came.

growing up, i knew that Jesus had come to earth to "die for my sins" so that i might have "eternal life". but why, oh why, do we stop there? there is more. so much more. He came to set me free from the captivity of sin - the captivity of myself; He came to destroy the enemy, the father of lies, who had come to steal, kill and destroy; He came to serve me in my helplessness - my hoplessness; He came to bring me life, but not just eternally, abundantly.

Those who are really "His own" listen to His voice. They recognize that He has been sent from God, and are ready to follow Him as the good Shepherd, who by His sacrificial love rescues His flock from evil and death, and leads them into the best of all pasturage where they can enjoy a richer and a fuller life (9,10). He does not offer them an extension of physical life nor an increase of material possessions, but the possibility, nay the certainty, of a life lived at a higher level in obedience to God's will and reflecting His glory. ~ Barclay's Notes

i'm certain that throughout all my years spent warming a church pew, i heard those words. but this year, i have experienced them through Him.

He has given a life and a love like i have never known and with a heart full of awe and wonder at the design of His redemptive plan, i celebrate His life, the design of delign - the gift of new life.

Merry Christmas!