lifelove+justice

Fly.

2010-09-12T18:24:00.000-07:00

Figured I should probably post the song as well...just to make things easier on you. (See previous post to get the context/background story on this song. Listen for the angel!)

God is awesome.

2010-09-12T16:46:00.000-07:00

Incredible song. Incredible testimony to the greatness and power of God.

Watch this, then listen to the song.

It'll rock you.

four.

2010-07-01T22:06:00.000-07:00

Dear friends,

This email has been a long time coming. I've put it off for a while because, honestly, I don't quite know what to say. I've been back from Africa for almost two weeks now, and I'm still processing through and trying to figure out the purpose for which God sent me on this trip.

First, however, I'll start by telling you about the last few days of our trip. The team spent our last four days on the continent of Africa in Nairobi, Kenya. We stayed at a convent, where some lovely nuns run a retreat center. It was a wonderful place to relax, unwind, and reflect before we all returned to our lives rather busy and hectic lives back home in the States. While we were in Nairobi, however, we also spent some mornings and afternoons working at the Missionaries of Charity - an order of charity homes started by Mother Teresa years ago.

This place really, really impacted me last year. It's a beautiful ministry, and a little slice of heaven in the middle of a rather hell-ish slum. While I loved being back there, it was still really hard for me. This year, we had the opportunity to serve in the disabled childrens' ward, which was heart-wrenching and hopeful, all at the same time. I get so excited just thinking about how awesome it is that these precious children, who were once abandoned, and who are now finally being taken care of and finally being loved. But then I sort of cringe at the fact that so many of them are still in pain and silently suffering. I've never really worked with disabled children, so doing it for the first time was very difficult. The inability to communicate with many of them was one of the hardest parts. It's hard to want to take care of someone but have no idea what they want!

The hardest moment of all for me, however, was dressing the children after their daily baths. During the afternoons, the women bathe the children and set them on a dressing table to be dried and dressed. It's like a loving little assembly line. What immediately struck me when I headed over there was how contorted so many of the children's bodies were. When they're clothed, you can't exactly see what's wrong with them. But when they're not, their twisted legs, hunched backs, and stiff arms are clearly visible. I had to make myself useful though, so I walked up to the table and attempted to work at the pretty stressful job of dressing these sweet children with stiff arms and legs. I was so afraid of stretching an arm too far and hurting them, but one worker kept telling me, "Don't be afraid," and proceeded to pass me more children to dress. So there I was, drying and dressing disabled children after their daily baths, wanting to break down in tears, but feeling pressured to work as fast as I could to move on to the next shivering child. Honestly, it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. After one afternoon of doing that, I was completely exhausted - physically and emotionally. But what's crazy is that the women who work there do all that and more, every single day.

That was another thing I was struck by: the women who work there. Both female employees and nuns run the ministry. Last year, I left Nairobi completely in awe of the sisters who work there: they have given up their entire lives to love on people who have been abandoned by their families. But this year, I interacted more with the women who are simply employees there. They're truly unbelievable! Everyday, from the hours of 6:30 AM to 5:00 PM they love, bathe, clean, feed, and play with these children, only to return home and care for their OWN families. And then, they come back and do it all over again the following day. What huge hearts they have! I worked less than a day and a half and was completely exhausted. I don't know how they manage to do this everyday, with families of their own at home to care for as well!

Ultimately, I left the Missionaries of Charity in such perplexity. I was so encouraged by the purpose of the home: to love people who (far too often) go unloved in this world. But I was so heartbroken for the children: why did God create such beautiful children who have to suffer so much? I think it's something I'll never understand...

As for the trip in general, I'm still unsure of what God was trying to teach me. I went in with my own expectations and left with most of those unmet. In their place, I found myself unexpectedly processing and thinking about the overall purpose of missions, the effectiveness of short-term missions, and where my calling fits into all that. So many times, I buy into this perception of missions that says, "I'm going to another country. I'm going to help the people there. And I'm going to change them." But what I've learned is that it doesn't always happen that way, and, even more, perhaps it shouldn't happen that way. On this trip in particular, I often found myself feeling like the team wasn't "doing" enough or that things we were doing didn't have much meaning or purpose. And I got really frustrated.

But as I talked to Byron Borden, the missionary with whose ministry Maranatha High School has partnered, my frustration was eased. He, though frustrated with some of these very same things, still thinks it's worth it. He and I discussed (and concluded) that though we may feel as if we're not "doing" much, coming out is still worth it because we are being changed, and our callings and worldviews are being shaped. Though what we see may not be what we expected, it is still good and still able to be used by God. One thing that I liked most about what he said was that perhaps this perception of "going and doing" needs to be shifted. Perhaps short-term missions should be re-named or somehow re-cast to something more along the lines of "going and seeing".

Ultimately, I'm reminded that it's never me who does the work, but my God who is so powerful and incomprehensible. And it's there that I'm choosing to rest, while being thankful that despite my many inadequacies, he is choosing to let me be a part of furthering his kingdom!

Thank you all so much for your prayerful support. What a blessing the body of Christ is! I'm continually finding myself in awe of the places God is taking and the things he's doing in my life. So thank you for being a part of this journey, which is turning out to be quite wild!

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

May the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Numbers 6:24-26

three.

2010-07-01T22:05:00.000-07:00

Jambo!

We have made it back to Arusha safely from our week-long safari in the
Bush! What a week it was! My experience there this time around was
quite different from before. When we visited last year, the valley was
in a horrible drought. Most, if not all, of the men were miles away in
search of land for their cattle to graze. The land was just devastated
because there was so little water. I remember praying while we were
out there that God would heal the land and restore the life and hope
of the people living there. And sure enough, those prayers were
answered! As we drove into the valley, I could literally see the
difference! My heart leaped when I saw green field after green field
full of growing corn. Not only that, but we actually saw cows (healthy
ones at that) and men around the village! Although they lost about 90%
of their cattle, things are looking up this year! (The picture above shows

the improvement.)

Here are a few of the highlights I had this past week:

1. Filling in the gaping holes in the floor of the village schoolhouse
with cement. (I never knew how difficult mixing cement was!) Learning
how to do that was a rather difficult task, but the results were so
worth it!

2. Revisiting the valley and seeing such wonderful change in the land.

3. Roasting a goat. Believe it or not, I stood and watched the entire
process. Our Maasai friend and goat roasting extraordinaire Isaiah
brought a goat to our camp on Friday night, and we all stood by and
watched as he and his sons killed, skinned, cut up, and roasted the
goat. In terms of a cultural experience, it was a good one! It was
pretty funny watching Isaiah and his sons' reactions to our screaming
and squirming. It really highlighted the disparity and differences
between our cultures: we have no idea how to skin and roast a goat,
and many of them have no idea how to open a car door. In terms of
cuisine, however, goat is not my meat of choice. I did try it, but I
happened to get sick later that night (not from the goat, probably
just from dehydration) and unfortunately, I will forever associate
goat meat with feeling ill. (Although, I suppose that's not too
unfortunate a aituation as it's a much better deal for the goats!)

4. Interacting with the Maasai. Due to the fact that we were camping
out there for a longer period of time, we had the ability to interact
with more of the people fom the village. The guy I mentioned before,
Isaiah, was a huge hit among our group! He didn't speak a lick of
English but absolutely loved sitting with us and at least attempting
to communicate. He had a great sense of humor and loved taking "gifts"
from our group. Pretty sure he got a pair of sunglasses and some
family pictures out of us by the time we left. Despite that, I have
him to thank for my spiffy Maasai walking stick and for teaching me
how to count from 1-10 in Maasai! Oh, what a character! There's so
much more to say about him that is simply too difficult to relay in an
email. Ask me about him sometime!

5. Talking with Pastor James Kukan. Pastor James is actually the
contact Wild Hope has with that village, and his vision for that
valley and the Maasai people as a whole are the reason Wild Hope takes
teams out there! He was one of my highlights from my trip last year,
so I was really looking forward to seeing him again. He has such a
huge heart for his people - not just in his village, but in Maasai
land in general! I love listening to him share his heart because it
reminds me that God is already at work in the remotest places of the
world! Sometimes I catch myself thinking that we as Western Christians
have all the answers and all the solutions. But when I meet people
like Pastor James I'm reminded that we aren't the solution, and we
don't have all the answers. God is raising up people, natives of their
own countries, to lead and have incredibly powerful ministries! I just
love that we're able to come alongside Pastor James to encourage and
support his extensive and blossoming ministry!

I'm really excited about what God is doing in the hearts of our team
members - our prayers for unity are being answered! Pray for strength
an endurance in these next few days. The final leg of our trip
(working at the Missionaries of Charity home started by Mother Teresa)
is both exciting and hard, especially emotionally. Plus, we're all
still pretty tired from our safari. Also pray for continued health.
We've stayed pretty healthy on the whole, but have had a few upset
stomachs, which are less than desirable.

Thanks so much for your support and prayers!

two.

2010-07-01T22:02:00.000-07:00

Dear friends,

Our time here in Arusha is coming to a close. On Monday, we leave to
head out to the more rural area of Tanzania known as the Bush. We'll
be camping in a Maasai village for about a week and have the chance to
interact with the Maasai children and learn from them about their
daily life and their culture's traditions.

While I am very excited to move on to the next aspect of our trip, I
am really sad to be leaving the Nyota soccer club. The kids and the
leaders of this program are just the coolest! At lunch yesterday, I
had the chance to listen to one of Nyota's founders named Agu talk
about the mission behind Nyota. Oh man, his heart is as big as the sky
here! Though he was brought up and still lives in the very poor
neighborhood of Unga, he has a deep desire to see young boys' lives
transformed. It was so special to be able to listen to him talk about
the ways that he disciples these kids and has even been leading some
to the Lord -- not to mention how well he cares for them, even while
he himself doesn't have much. After he shared with us, I asked him how
we could pray for him, and in true Agu style he asked for us to pray
for his family but only after we pray for the Nyota kids.

One of my other highlights thus far has been the visit to the African
church we took today! I didn't really know what to expect, and I still
don't really know how to describe it! All I can say is that Africans
really know how to do church! They just dance and groove the whole
time in worship -- it's fun to watch and absolutely beautiful to
listen to! Their singing was simply angelic as the sound of everyone's
voices floated high up to the peaked ceilings. Oh, it's indescribable
really! I can honestly say that I encountered the presence of God this
morning.

What especially struck me about visiting the church today (and
visiting Africa in general) was how welcoming everyone was. They have
a special time in the service for visitors to stand up and be greeted,
and they even let visitors leave the sanctuary first when church is
over to be greeted by some of the church staff. As we were ushered
outside to meet some of the staff, we were led into a little room
where they had a short presentation about the church and mostly just
reinforced the fact that they wanted us to feel welcome. It was so
cool! All this hospitality has really got me thinking about our
customs in America. While I haven't exactly visited many churches in
my life, I still don't think I knownof many churches who make visitors
feel so, so welcome! I hope people in other countries don't visit and
think we're inhospitable because the people here really hammer
hospitality into visitors heads. "Karibu" is the Swahili word for
"welcome", it's gloriously overused! You visit a restaurant, and your
waiter will say that. You enter someone's home and they'll say
that...probably 10 times before you leave. Haha! It's great!

Another one of my highlights thus far was the little friendship I
formed with darling Fatma. (Pictured above.) She's one of the few girls who was invited
to the lessons on relationships that we presented to Nyota -- and I'm
convinced she was chosen for her brilliance and her leadership skills.
She's 15 years old and speaks nearly fluent English and has a love for
all things science. As I talked with her about her life, it was neat
to hear about her dreams of getting a job as an engineer and helping
support her family. But then my heart began breaking when she told me
that her father died two years ago, and that her mother doesn't have
enough money to support her. All that's to say that she probably won't
go to college or get a job that allows her to put her brilliant mind
to work, which is pretty horrifying. Plain and simple. Honestly, I've
realized that there comes a point where a sort of indignation replaces
any "romantic" feelings one may have had towards poverty previously.
While it is "heart-wrenching" and "sad" (adjectives I used just
earlier in this email), poverty goes far beyond that. It's real. It's
oppressive. It's horrifiying.

This all really hit home in my mind when Fatma invited me to come to
her house and meet her mom. I didn't really know what to expect in
terms of their living conditions. I mean, Fatma was pretty well-
dressed and spoke English very well, so it couldn't be that bad,
right? Wrong. She and her mom live in a room in a building along a rundown alleyway,

which I'm not sure we should actually call a building. They have one bed. Their
clothes are in bags. They share a bathroom of sorts with the rest of
the people who live in that alleyway. And the room can't be more than
15 feet by 15 feet. Yet, they're so proud of their home and so, so
welcoming! Fatma's mother Zaynab definitely said "karibu" 12 times or
something! My experience with the two of them will be hard to forget.

Things to pray for:
1. The boys and the families of the boys who play for Nyota
2. Provision for Agu and his family
3. Provision for Fatuma and her mom -perhaps a way for her to continue
on in her schooling
4. Continued team unity
5. That we would be sensitive to seeking/grasping/understanding the
life-changing lessons God wants to teach us here.

Thank you for your prayers! We need them!

Grace and peace be with you.

one.

2010-07-01T21:57:00.000-07:00

I've got a busy summer. And busy times call for extreme measures.

Well, that's not how the saying goes. But whatever.

What I'm trying to say is that instead of writing spiffy things about my recent trip to Tanzania and Kenya, I'm just going to post the few email updates I sent out to friends, family, and sponsors.

So here's numero uno:

Dear friends,

Just sending you all a little update about things from the other side
of the world!

My team and I have made it safely to Arusha, Tanzania! Our journey
here was certainly a lengthy one. We departed from LA on Sunday, May
30 and flew to Zurich, Switzerland for a layover. Our 17-hour layover
in Zurich, however, was much, much more enjoyable than the fiasco of a
layover we had in Dakar, Senegal last year. We got to spend a bit of
time exploring the city, which is absolutely beautiful - I'm
definitely planning to go back there someday! From Zurich, we flew
down to Nairobi, Kenya where we stayed for a night in a little retreat
center run by a group of Franciscan nuns. They are some of the
sweetest women I have ever met! Not to mention that they make the best
milk tea in the entire world! After a night at the retreat center, we
got on a shuttle that took us on a long (and quite bumpy) 6-hour
journey from Nairobi to Arusha. Last night, we finally made it to
Arusha after about 30 hours of travel. While part of the fun is the
journey, I'm certainly glad to be staying in one place for a few days!

All that's to say that today was our first "real" day, in a sense. We
spent the majority of it in one of the slum neighborhoods of Arusha
called Unga, which has apparently been nicknamed "the den of thieves".
Nyota Football Academy, one of the ministries Wild Hope (the non-
profit organization we're partnering with) sponsors and works with, is
in Unga. This small soccer club is run by two Tanzanian brothers who
have a heart for helping the young people of their city. (Agu, one of the

brothers is in the picture with me) They build relationships

with street kids in this pretty corrupt neighborhood
whom they invite into their soccer club and begin investing in. It's
awesome! Not only are young kids learning soccer and staying off the
streets, but they're also learning life skills and improving their
English. I was so excited to come back and work with Nyota again! We
connected so well with them last year, and I was looking forward to
interacting with them again.

Part of the work we'll be doing with Nyota is life skill training. We
as a team are presenting a lesson/module on relationships during our
time here. And today, we began our first part of that. I think we were
all a but nervous about beginning these lessons because of the
difficulty of translating our pints across cultural and language
barriers. But, fortunately, our first lesson went really well and was
very well received!

One of my highlights so far has to be simply coming back to the same
places we visited last year and reuniting with the friends we made
last year! It's been fun (and surprising) to find that lots of people
remember us! It's so cool! I can't explain how special it is to be
able to return to and revisit a place that had such a profound impact
on my life.

I hope to be able to send you more updates soon, but in the meantime,
I'd love for you to lift up the following things in prayer:

1. Team unity
2. Clarity in communication for the relationship modules with Nyota
3. Life-changing growth in the hearts of the students on our team

Thank you so much for your support! I'm looking forward to the great
things God still has in store for us!

Grace & peace.

oh, my.

2010-05-17T21:07:00.000-07:00

Rather than Tweet (yes, I finally succumbed and got a Twitter) the first few pages of my latest read in their entirety, I thought I'd simply copy them here. I feel Piper's words have a strong correlation to my last post on missions and evangelism. The truth they bear makes it necessary for me to share them with you.

(Side note: Though I have yet to complete the second page of the book, I would highly recommend it.)

(Side, side note: The italicized portions below are parts that I found particularly poignant. However, they are not in the original text.)

"Missions is not the ultimate goal of the church. Worship is. Missions exists because worship doesn't. Worship is ultimate, not missions, because God is ultimate, not man. When this age is over, and the countless millions of redeemed fall on their faces before the throne of God, missions will be no more. It is a temporary necessity. But worship abides forever.

"Worship, therefore, is the fuel and goal of missions. It's the goal of missions because in missions we simply aim to bring the nations into the white-hot enjoyment of God's glory. The goal of missions is the gladness of the peoples in the greatness of God. 'The LORD reigns, let the earth rejoice; let the many coastlands be glad!' (Psalm 97:1). 'Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you! Let the nations be glad and sing for joy!' (Psalm 67:3-4).

"But worship is also the fuel of missions. Passion for God in worship precedes the offer of God in preaching. You can't commend what you don't cherish. Missionaries will never call out, 'Let the nations be glad!' who cannot say from the heart, 'I rejoice in the LORD...I will be glad and exult in you, I will sing praise to your name, O Most High' (Psalm 104:34; 9:2). Missions begins and ends in worship.

"If the pursuit of God's glory is not ordered above the pursuit of man's good in the affections of the heart and the priorities of the church, man will not be well served, and God will not be duly honored. I am not pleading for diminishing of missions but for a magnifying of God. When the flame of worship burns with the heat of God's true worth, the light of missions will shine to the darkest peoples on earth. And I long for that day to come!

"Where passion for God is weak, zeal for missions will be weak. Churches that are not centered on the exaltation of the majesty and beauty of God will scarcely kindle a fervent desire to 'declare his glory among the nations' (Psalm 96:3). Even outsiders feel the disparity between the boldness of our claim upon the nations and the blandness of our engagement with God."

- Let the Nations Be Glad! by John Piper

What a way to start a book, right?! The weight of it hit me like a brick. A really big brick. But a really good brick. That last line's a real kicker.

May zeal for your house consume me.

Psalm 69:9

And may your name and your renown be the sole desire of my heart, O Lord!

Isaiah 26:8

evangelism.

2010-05-12T22:42:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for quite some time to write this post. I do possess quite a sense of urgency regarding the topic upon whose waters I am about to navigate, despite its delay in reaching your computer screen. Just know that its postponement has no correlation with the level of importance it has recently begun to occupy in my mind.

First, allow me to preface my discourse.

As I reflect upon the very recent closure of my freshman year of college, I can’t help but remember the way it began, and how far I’ve come since then. In August of 2009, I returned from a month-long excursion on the great continent of Africa. If you’ve been following my writing for a while, you may recall the extensive impact that journey had on my life. My return to the United States was a rather tumultuous one. Though I refused to have the “typical Africa experience” and attempted to steer clear of having to admit to experiencing culture shock, it inevitably took place.

In a matter of two weeks, I was forced to not only adjust to life back in America but also say goodbye to everything I’ve ever known and move across the country to the complete unknown. It was a struggle, to say the very least. I sank into loneliness, and I began questioning my purpose. My daily life, which consisted of writing papers and reading a bunch of books written by men who died centuries ago, seemed so mundane and meaningless. I felt like those things had little relevance and made no contribution to eternity. All I wanted to do was go back to Africa, where I felt like I had found meaning and purpose.

However, as the months went on, I learned a great deal and found that purpose was slowly being infused back into my life.

Enter the concept of evangelism.

In my mind, evangelism has always been secondary, or better: controversial. I didn’t really know what it looked like because I’d never really seen it practiced. It seemed like some icky thing that really prideful Christians did to “force their beliefs down others’ throats”.

In my mind, evangelists were the people who walked around at the Rose Parade with signs screaming, “Turn or burn!” to the innocent bystanders trying to enjoy the New Years’ festivities. (“Fire and brimstone” approach? Not very effective, just saying.)

In my mind, if evangelism looked like that, I didn’t want to be a part of it.

In my mind, evangelism was sharing the Gospel through my actions. I considered mission work helping people out of the unjust oppression of poverty, equipping people with practical skills to enable them to become more competent members of society, restoring hope, bringing love, and the like.

And while being a doer of the Word certainly has a place in our faith—after all, God tells the Israelites in Isaiah:

“Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house, when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?” (Isaiah 58:6-7)

and James urges believers to

“be doers of the word, and not hearers only” (James 1:22)—

our doing the Word does not mean we are exempt from a duty to also be preachers of the Word.

For far too long I shrunk back in fear, preferring the “preach the Gospel, use words if necessary” approach mostly because it meant that I never had to get out of my comfort zone and tell people about Jesus (that of course, would be much too risky!). For me, this approach was a “cop-out”. I was too concerned with how I would be perceived and with offending people who may already be disgusted with the church.

But if I say that I want people to have what I have, why am I not shouting it from the rooftops? Because it’s inconvenient? Because that would be shoving it down people’s throats? Because it might hurt their feelings? Because it might put my reputation at risk?

Our Savior calls us to preach the Word. How can I ignore his call? The last command he gives the disciples,

“Go therefore andmake disciples ofall nations, baptizing them inthe name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching themto observe all thatI have commanded you.” (Matthew 28:19-20)

ought to be reason enough to share the Gospel.

In 1 Corinthians 9:16, Paul even says, “Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel!” Conversely, Isaiah 52:7 says, “Blessed are the feet of him who brings good news!” Oh, how much more I prefer blessing than woe!

People are the currency of heaven. The lives touched by the way I live will be the proof I present for my faith at heaven’s gates.

In coming to face all of this, I have had my own value system completely upset. And I’ve learned a thing or two in the process. So to the ones in doubt—a group of which I was a part for far too long—I would like to share with you what I’ve learned along the way.

1. Jesus is what this world needs.

Jean Danielou said, “The world today does not need greater social organization but a Savior: man today needs someone who will answer the fundamental problems of his existence, which no social structure has ever been able to answer.”

While mission work does need to address people’s physical needs, it must address the soul’s needs. Lives are not transformed unless bodies and souls are restored. I am not a missionary if my work looks like the humanitarian efforts of the secular society around me. As a Christian, I must be doing it differently; I must be sharing the Gospel!

And because Jesus is what the world needs, I can’t believe the lie that people don’t want to hear this good news. This is what all creation is groaning for (see Romans 8). Assuming that people don’t want to hear what I have to share with them is silly—especially given that my friends and I saw people on our very own Christian university’s campus come to know Jesus! The proof makes it an undeniable necessity.

2. It’s not about me.

One fear I had before this realization was the fear of rejection. But I’ve learned that when people reject my words, they’re not rejecting me, they’re rejecting the Gospel: “The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects you rejects me, and the one who rejects me rejects him who sent me” (Luke 10:16).

Ultimately, when I choose to shrink back, when I don’t step out in faith, when I don’t share the Gospel, I’m denying God the opportunity to work through me, and I’m denying someone a chance at salvation and eternal life.

Something is terribly wrong when I begin putting my own personal comfort above God’s purposes for the world.

3. Salvation is a process.

I’m merely a cog in the machine. I’m simply sowing seeds to be reaped later.

Not everyone accepts the Gospel the first time they hear it. When I share with someone and they choose to make Jesus the Lord of their life, it’s highly possible that ten people have shared with them before me. Other times, I may be the very first one to share with them and because it’s so new, they may choose not to accept it. Nevertheless, I need to remain faithful and obedient, realizing that I my efforts are a relevant part of the process.

4. It’s fun!

Share with people their one and only opportunity for a chance at eternal life? What better thing could I ever want to do? Seeing people come to Jesus is a blast! Call me crazy. Call me foolish. I don’t care. My God uses “what is foolish in the world to shame the wise…what is weak in the world to shame the strong…what is low and despised in the world…to bring to nothing things that are” (1 Corinthians 1:27-28). I can’t believe Jesus chooses to use me and you in this process of redeeming creation!

So back to the main point…

Understanding all of this has not only revolutionized my perception of mission work, but also my feeling about my purpose at this time in my life. Though I may not be able to go to the nations, there is a nation at my fingertips thirsty for good news! There are practical things I can do everyday to contribute to eternity!

So go. Go share the Gospel. Make it a part of your daily life: at the gas station, with your waiter at a restaurant, with the man on the corner, with your professor. Ask people how you can pray for them. Ask people if they know Jesus. Share your testimony. No one can take your story from you. Besides, Revelation 12:11 says that we will overcome by “the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony”! Your testimony is powerful!

Try it once this week. I promise that any “pain” you experience is incomparable to the potential pain in hell the other person’s soul will be spared in heaven!

What post is complete without some song lyrics?

So it’s with everything I am, I reach out for your hand

The hope that changed the second chance I’ve gained

On you I throw my life, casting all my fears aside

How could greater love than this ever possibly exist?

…

So I wait upon you now with my hands released to you

Where a little faith’s enough to see mountains lift and move

And I wait upon you now dedicated to your will

To this love that will remain a love that never fails

“Second Chance” (Hillsong United)

how he loves.

2010-05-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

I wouldn't recommend watching this while you're in the library studying for finals. I'm sure my tears distracted a few people.

But I suggest you watch it regardless. You've got to know the story behind the song.

Jesus is alive. He's moving. Can you feel it?

video.

2010-05-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

Remember that song I told you to buy a few weeks ago? Well, here it is...in video format! (Which, I must say, more accurately captures it's greatness. Or rather, the greatness of our God!)

This was taken at my church's annual missions conference that will pretty much rock your face off!

Please watch.

faithful.

2010-04-27T19:28:00.000-07:00

This is a miracle.

My Great Texts' essay is due on Thursday, April 29, 2010 at 12:00 PM. It is Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 9:00 PM, and I haven't started. I should have started last week. But I didn't. (Don't ask me why.)

I have just rushed to the library and claimed a spot in the most isolated study carrell I could find, which is pretty hard to do this week seeing as everyone and their mom decided to come here all at once to finish last-minute papers, projects, and the like. My humble desk of choice is by an electrical outlet, of course. I anticipate that it's going to be a long night, which means lots of electricity will be needed to keep the technology running.

I turn on my computer, dreading the next 36 hours' duration, which will mostly be full of desperation, frustration, and illogical articulation. In a final effort of procrastination, I check my email. (Enjoying the end rhyme yet? I'm easily amused in states of exhaustion-ation.)

Lo and behold, an email from my professor titled "Papers Papers Papers! (Did I hear extension?)" is sitting in my inbox. My heart skipped a beat. And I wished my hands would move faster. I just couldn't seem to open it fast enough.

Yes, 'tis true! Now my paper - nay, (essentially) the crowning achievement of my career in Great Texts - is due on Monday, May 3, 2010 at 3:00 PM.

I've been praying that God would multiply my time. It's sort of an odd prayer if you think about it. I mean, really: How will my time be multiplied? What does that even look like? Will hours move slower? Will some days have 36 hours instead of 24?

Alas, I will never know because

"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Isaiah 55:9

I'm so glad he's in control.

He's faithful to the end.

He's faithful to my heart.

question.

2010-03-15T14:26:00.001-07:00

For once in a really long time, I have time to kill on a weekday.

I've been keeping a list of questions that I've had lately, and I thought I'd share them with you.

1. How are we to love other selflessly and yet not let ourselves be mercilessly trampled upon?

2. Given what Matthew 24:14, is Jesus' return really contingent on an action we as humans complete?

3. If God is for us and his will is to make people whole, why aren't our prayers for healing always answered?

4. What does speaking the honest truth with gentleness look like?

5. How do you reconcile restoring people's souls (evangelism) with restoring people's lives (social work)?

6. Why do I get to live like this when they have to live like that?

7. When did it all of a sudden become the government's responsibility to care for the poor? Why didn't the church step up?

8. What does taking up our cross practically look like in our society today?

9. How do we reconcile faith and reason about faith?

10. What's the point of theology if we can never fully know God?

Feel free to leave a comment. I'd be interested to hear what you say.

(Also, yes. The cartoon has nothing to do with this post. Thanks, Google!)

when heaven meets earth.

2010-03-13T09:11:00.000-08:00

And just think: I almost didn't go.

For the past seven days, I have been heavily occupied watching heaven meet earth. And let me be the first to say that when this takes place, crazy things happen. Here's the tale...

Each Spring Break, my church takes about 600 college students on a mission trip. In the past, they traveled to Juarez, Mexico, but due to political complications in recent years, they have taken everyone to a town on the border of Texas called Edinburg. The term town, however, is probably a little misleading. I was under the impression that all 600 of us would overwhelmingly descend upon this "town", and everyone living there would hear the Gospel at least 5 times. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), I was wrong. Edinburg is quite large, certainly as large as, if not larger, than Waco.

My life up until this trip has been incredibly. busy. Not the kind of busy in which you feel like you don't get to see your friends enough or don't have enough time to walk your dog, but in which you are battling exhaustion constantly, never getting a moment to yourself, and totally consumed by one thing (in my case, school). So to be quite frank, my excitement for the trip was rather minimal. All I wanted was to take a week off to sleep and just "be".

But God had different plans.

And if I've learned one thing about God recently, it's that his plans for us are good. Not good like a hamburger good, but good like something-that-just-happened-resonated-with-something-really-deep-inside-my-soul good. Yeah. That good.

So the trip...

Last Saturday morning, 600 college students piled into a bunch of buses and embarked on an 8-hour journey to the land of Edinburg, Texas. In the coming days, they proceeded to share the Gospel with various neighborhoods and witness heaven meeting earth. What that looks like is hard to describe. All I know is that when the glory of the Almighty God's infinitude meets human's depravity and finitude, things get shaken up, the church in Acts comes alive.

This week, I saw the blind receive sight, the lame walk, and the poor hear the good news (Matthew 11:5). All my skepticism went out the window. There's no room for doubt when you pray for a lady's foot and it's healed.

That's what happened the first day we went out on an outreach. Our team was dropped off in a very poor neighborhood known called the "Alamo", but more fondly referred to as "Little Mexico". Most houses were shanties. Undernourished dogs walked the streets. And trash decorated most front yards. We split up into groups of three and four and knocked on doors around the neighborhood to ask people if they needed help around the house or if we could pray for healing in some way.

The third house at which we stopped was where we met Marta. She was cordial but rather disinterested. We asked her if there was anything we could pray for and after a moment of silence, she said we could pray for her niece Desiree, whom she held in her arms. We prayed for Desiree, nothing very specific, and went on our way.

As we were talking to an older couple down the street, Marta rushed up and asked us to come back to her house. A bit perplexed, we finished up what we were doing down the street and headed back to Marta's. She invited us on to the porch and asked us to pray for her mother Maria whose foot had been hurting her for the past four or five months. I looked down and cringed. Her ankle was swollen and quite deformed; it was obvious that walking was quite painful and probably pretty unbearable.

We proceeded to lay hands upon Maria and pray for her foot. We did this three times. Each time we did, the pain subsided a little, and by the third time it was completely gone. To be sure, Maria got up and walked around a bit only to sit back down and assure us that there wasn't any more pain. Marta even pressed on a part of Maria's arch, which just five minutes before had made her flinch in pain, but now it didn't hurt at all.

I was shocked. I was in disbelief. Though I'd heard of this kind of stuff happening, I'd never actually been a part of it. My disbelief was finally shot down when we went back two days later and Maria said the pain was still gone. It was crazy! That's the only way to describe it.

And that's just one of the healings we were a part of throughout the trip. Each day, our team of about 90 people came back with testimonies of healings. And on one day alone we counted that there were over twenty-seven!

Even better though was the incredible number of salvations we saw. As we walked around the neighborhood, we also made it a point to share the Gospel with people. When it comes to this kind of stuff, I'm usually very timid. There's a part of me that assumes that people will say no. There's a part of me that figures everyone's already heard the Gospel because this is America, and if they're not Christians already, it's probably because they don't want to be. As a result, I miss out on helping people receive the greatest gift they could ever receive. (Needless to say, that was convicting, and I'm going to change some things.)

Anyway, back to the neighborhood. As we went around, we found so many people who were hungry and lost spiritually, and a countless number of them accepted the Lord! Plus, we found lots of others who were already believers and were very interested in starting a house church, of sorts. One in particular, named Maria, agreed to host of fiesta at her house on Thursday night. Over thirty of the people we'd interacted with that week came to the event and were eager to maintain community among each other. We have a small team staying back to do follow-up stuff in that area, so in the most basic sense, we planted a church in that neighborhood! If that's not cool, I don't know what is!

On the way home, I found myself chuckling at how different I'm coming back to school than most people. Most will probably have crazy stories, but of a different sort. They'll be returning with a nice tan and with lots of hours of sleep under their belt. And then there's me. I'll have some crazy stories to tell, that's for sure. And I'll be coming back just as pale as I left and with less hours of sleep under my belt than ever.

But I wouldn't trade that for anything because I've learned that

This is what I'm made for. This is what we're all made for. This is life. This is living. This is the kingdom. This is real. This is reality. This is an adventure. This is the adventure.

All of this is just a fraction of what happened while we were there. And all that happened while we were there is just a fraction of what can happen when we call heaven down to earth.

And just think: I almost didn't go.

song.

2010-03-03T21:47:00.000-08:00

Please purchase the song "Above Every Other Name" by Justin Rizzo.

And prepare to dance.

The end.

with everything.

2010-02-27T19:25:00.000-08:00

Probably my favorite song. Not sure why I haven't ever posted it before.

Please indulge yourself.

consolation of philosophy.

2010-02-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

Other people just say it better than I can:

You who control all the world everlastingly by your own reason,

Sowing the seeds of the earth and the heavens, commanding the eons

To roll from eternity; resting unmoved, you put all things in motion,

You whom no alien causes demanded to fashion creation

From mutable matter, but only the unstinting essence of true good things,

All of them, out and, most splendid yourself, in your own mind you carry

This splendid world and you shape it to mirror your image and likeness,

And you command that its perfect components accomplish perfection.

You bind in number and ratio the elements, ice and flame matching,

Dry matching moist, so there is no flight up for the rarified fire,

Earth is not dragged by its weight to sink down to the depths of the waters.

You center Soul: It unites threefold Nature, sets all things in motion;

You divide Soul and apportion it into harmonious members;

Soul, once divided, collected its motion in two equal orbits,

Moving so as to return to itself, and completely encircling

Mind at the core, so the universe wheels in its image and likeness.

You by like causes bring forth lesser souls; for these lesser creations

You fashion nimble conveyances for a heavenly journey.

You plants these souls in the heavens, in earth; by your generous statutes

You make them turn back toward you and return—a regression of fire.

Grant to the mind, Father, that it may rise to your holy foundations;

Grant it may ring round the source of the Good, may discover the true light,

And fix the soul’s vision firmly on you, vision keen and clear-sighted.

Scatter these shadows, dissolve the dead weight of this earthyl concretion,

Shine in the splendor that is yours alone: only you are the bright sky,

You are serenity, peace for the holy; their goals is to see you;

You are their source, their conveyance, their leader, their path, and their haven.

-Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy-

beloved.

2010-01-28T21:56:00.000-08:00

Home is the center of my being where I can hear the voice that says: "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests" - the same voice that gave life to the first Adam and spoke to Jesus, the second Adam; the same voice that speaks to all the children of God and sets them free to live in the midst of a dark world while remaining in the light.

I have heard that voice. It has spoken to me in the past and continues to speak to me now. It is the never-interrupted voice of love speaking from eternity and giving life and love whenever it is heard. When I hear that voice, I know that I am home with God and have nothing to fear.

As the Beloved of my heavenly Father, "I can walk in the valley of darkness: no evil would I fear."

As the Beloved, I can "cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils."

Having "received without charge," I can "give without charge."

As the Beloved, I can confront, console, admonish, and encourage without fear of rejection or need for affirmation.

As the Beloved, I can suffer persecution without the desire for revenge and receive praise without using it as a proof of my goodness.

As the Beloved, I can be tortured and killed without ever having to doubt that the love that is given to me is stronger than death.

As the Beloved, I am free to live and give life, free also to die while giving life.

-from The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen

Even now here's my heart, God.

comfort.

2010-01-24T20:42:00.000-08:00

I'll confess: I don't feel that I have had the proper response to the disaster in Haiti. I find myself praying that God would break my heart for what breaks His own, and yet, I have been pretty insensitive to this whole disaster. I haven't done anything to help.

I'll admit: I feel trapped. I feel like my present circumstances keep me from being able to do what I really want to do. If I could have, I would have hopped on to a flight to Haiti and rushed to join the groups of people bringing relief. Instead, I feel like I have to wait till I'm an "adult" (or at least out of school) to really start living, to really start making a difference.

I conclude: I've fallen prey to the mentality that strikes far too many people. This mentality that breeds passivity and inaction, that emphasizes personal distance from a given catastrophe, that says, "This has nothing to do with you" or "If you can't go down there and help, you can't do anything."

I find myself wondering, for the about the millionth time:

What can I do?

How can I help?

Me.

A small, happy college student stuck in big, suffering world.

If I call myself a follower of Jesus Christ,

If, given that, I'm supposed to be like Jesus,

And if Jesus' first sermon went a little like this:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

because the Lord has anointed me

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;

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

Then who am I?

What I am doing here?

Why am I not doing anything to further that mission?

And why do I get so comfortable with my life as the world rages on around me?

quotable.

2010-01-23T11:58:00.000-08:00

I am reassured to know that the straightness of my grain

is not a precondition of usefulness to God.

And I am humbled to see that out of the twistedness of my wounds,

he designs for me a special place of service.

-Theirs is the Kingdom by Robert Lupton-

vanity.

2010-01-06T19:30:00.000-08:00

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

- Emily Dickinson-

My high school English class would probably cringe at the sight of that name and face. None of us were fans of this hermit-gone-poet (or perhaps, poet-gone-hermit?). Please see Matt Dorado for further discussion - he is very passionate about this topic.

Despite all that, this little poem of hers captivated me. She seems to express so uniquely, the very thing I've come to grasp in the past few years: if we live for something other and greater than ourselves, our life is not lived in vain.

There is a story being woven across all of human history.

It's the story of the entire universe. It's made up of millions of little stories. It's bigger than we can fathom, and its Author is more grand and magnificent than anything of which we ourselves can even attempt to conceive.

And because of that, our own story is insignificant. Minute. Miniscule. Negligible. Replaceable. Disposable.

We won't even come close to mattering until we put our story in that story.

We become significant only in becoming a part of something else.

But by that time, we ourselves are no longer significant. By that time, it's not even about "mattering." By that time, it's not about us, for we have been lost in Something (or Someone) else.

As John Piper put it, "We weren't created to be somebody, we were created to know Somebody."

When we live for Something greater than ourselves, we end up trading our very small "something" for a very large (and I'll even venture to say, infinite) "Something." In the end, everything we were and everything we were about pales in comparison to that of which we are now a part, to the One we now know.

And that's why it's not vanity:

Because it's no longer about us.

stars.

2009-12-28T16:36:00.000-08:00

How could such a King

shine His light on me

and make everything beautiful?

I want to shine.

I want to be light.

I want to tell you it'll be alright.

'Cause I've got nothing on my own to give to you.

But this light that shines on me, shines on you.

And makes everything beautiful again.

Have I mentioned that I like David Crowder?

don't even reply.

2009-12-23T16:45:00.000-08:00

Globalization is a fascinating thing.

In this age, the internet provides us with infinite possibilities. The world is at our fingertips (...or about to bust through our window).

While it certainly has some downsides, I've been in awe of the way in which it connects the world. Since I've entered college, it's been fun to see how kids all around the country are familiar with the very same YouTube videos, SNL skits, and funny websites that are popular in my circles of friends.

One such website I frequent is called "dontevenreply.com."

Some of my favorite entries include: Free Couch, Vegan Housemate, and Kons for Kids.

I apologize for the rather frequent use of profanity. But you have to admit, the concept and execution is genius.

Way to go, Mike. Way to go.

the glory of it all.

2009-12-18T16:17:00.000-08:00

I hate Christmas music. My most legitimate reason is simply that I don't enjoy it.

So during the Christmas season, I keep listening to every-other-time-of-the-year music. I find myself reaching way back into the archives of my iTunes library and being surprised at how much I still enjoy old favorites.

Here's one that tickles my fancy. I find it quite appropriate for this season as well.

At the start

He was there, he was there

In the end

He’ll be there, he’ll be there
And after all our hands have wrought
He forgives

Oh, the glory of it all is
He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all

All is lost
Find him there, find him there
After night
Dawn is there, dawn is there
After all falls apart
He repairs, he repairs

Oh, the glory of it all is
He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all

Oh, he is here
With redemption from the fall
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all
The glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all

After night, comes a light
Dawn is here, dawn is here
It’s a new day, a new day
Everything will change

Things will never be the same
We will never be the same

We will never be the same
We will never be the same
We will never be the same

-"The Glory of It All" (David Crowder* Band)

Side note: I know the picture doesn't have much to do with Christmas, "the glory of it all", or "never being the same" but I still like it.

tanzania: soccer with nameni.

2009-12-12T23:26:00.000-08:00

I miss this.

(Nameni is the precious young girl whom my grandparents sponsor through Compassion International.)

poverty.

2009-12-08T09:09:00.000-08:00

I'm re-reading one of my favorite books, The Irresistible Revolution. Despite the fact that I'm in the middle of reading several other books, despite the fact that final exams begin in two days, and despite the fact that one of my professors suggested that it's best we not think about "big picture" stuff during these next few days, I'm convinced this is necessary.

I need a good reminder. I need a new perspective. I need my outlook on the world refreshed.

I just finished the chapter in which Shane (yes, we're on a first-name basis) talks about visiting Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity home in Calcutta. (I'd forgotten that he spends a whole chapter discussing his time there.) After I read it, I looked over at my journal and flipped to July 3, 2009 - the day I visited the Missionaries of Charity in Huruma, Kenya. It was a cool moment. I realized that this time, I can actually share in some of Shane's experiences.

Here's what I wrote that day:

So we did end up going to Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity hospital-place. I sort of knew what I was getting myself into and sort of didn't...We entered the compound, and I immediately noticed how tidy it was. As compared to the slum of Huruma, which was just feet outside the gate, the charity was clean and well-kept. It was like the world was raging on outside, and then we entered, and it just seemed like all that stopped.

We first stopped in the disabled children's ward. As we walked to the door, I looked through the windows at the crippled children lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Tears welled up in my eyes as the nun went on to explain that nearly all of these children had been abandoned because of their disabilities. It was sad, but hopeful at the same time. Because, despite their disabilities, these children now had a chance at life. They stretched out their hands to greet us and climbed all over us as we bent down to touch them. They were just so precious. And to think that their family literally abandoned them is heart-wrenching.

Next, we visited the disabled women's ward. In this area, women with mental disabilities are cared for. To be honest, I always feel a little nervous when I'm around mentally handicapped people. I think I've adopted that tendency from the sick societal stigma/fear of mentally disabled people. But as I walked around and shook their hands and watched their faces light up, I knew my fears were not only ridiculous, but were the very reason these women were here: other people had been too scared to take care of them.

The last ward we went into was the children's ward. Unfortunately, most of the children were already asleep, but a few were up and came running to greet us. They had so much joy and so much love. How cool is it that these orphans get to enjoy a rather happy, peaceful existence?! That was the thing that kept striking me over and over again: in this place filled with people who have experienced so much sorrow, there was totally a sense of joy. Clearly, that joy can only be from God. It's that genuine holistic change/love/care that really restores and sustains people, I guess.

That was my experience. And this is Shane's:

I fell in love with the Home for the Destitute and Dying and spent most days there. I helped folks eat, massaged muscles, gave baths, and basically tried to spoil people who really deserved it. Each day, folks would die, and each day, we would go out onto the streets and bring in new people. The goal was not to keep people alive (we had very few supplies for doing that) but to allow people to die with dignity, someone loving them, singing, laughing, so they were not alone.

And later on:

I had no idea how hard the transition would be. When I walked into the atrium [of Willow Creek Community Church] where they have a food court on the megachurch "campus," I knew I was a long way from the leper colony in India. The worlds of poverty and wealth collided, and I guess I felt a little dose of what the experts call culture shock.

Though our experiences were quite different (he went to Calcutta, I went to Huruma; he met Mother Teresa, I did not; etc) I understand what he's talking about. I get how powerful and beautiful the revolutionary mission of the charity is. I understand how hard the transition back to life in America is. I understand the grief of having to return to your "life" after feeling like you just experienced true life.

I understand what it feels like to see and witness true mercy and pure love and to wonder how to replicate it elsewhere.

Now, nearly five months after my experience abroad, I still don't feel like I've been able to adjust comfortably to my life back here. And I don't know if I ever will. I'm still struggling with how to live in this world, fully knowing what's going on in the other world. I'm still wondering what I'm called to do here, when my heart is elsewhere.

But as I was reading last night, I found a little comfort in Shane's paraphrase of Mother Teresa's words:

"It is among the wealthy that we can find the most terrible poverty of all - loneliness."

Perhaps that's the poverty I'm supposed to address here: poverty of the spirit. This poverty strips people of comfort and identity in an entirely different way than economic poverty. But it's just as sad, and it's just as in need of attention.

I feel like my posts don't always make complete sense. And I feel like this one is a very messy regurgitation of a bunch of stuff that's swimming in my head. But there you have it. Take it or leave it.

awkward much?

2009-12-05T18:02:00.000-08:00

Have I ever mentioned my favorite website, awkwardfamilyphotos.com? Please visit it as soon as possible.

this is our god.

2009-11-30T12:15:00.000-08:00

O Thou, the greatest and the best, mightiest, almighty, most merciful and most just, utterly hidden and utterly present, most beautiful and most strong, abiding yet mysterious, suffering no change and changing all things: never new, never old, making all things new, bringing age upon the proud and they know it not; ever in action, ever at rest, gathering all things to Thee and needing none; sustaining and fulfilling and protecting, creating and nourishing and making perfect; ever seeking though lacking nothing.

Thou lovest without subjection to passion, Thou art jealous but not with fear; Thou canst know repentance but not sorrow, be angry yet unperturbed by anger. Thou canst change the works Thou hast made but Thy mind stands changeless. Thou dost find and receive back what Thou didst never lose; art never in need but dost rejoice in Thy gains, art not greedy but dost exact interest manifold. Men pay Thee more than is of obligation to win return from Thee, yet who has anything that is not already Thine? Thou owest nothing yet dost pay as if in debt to Thy creature, forgivest what is owed to Thee yet dost not lose thereby.

And with all this, what have I said, my God and my Life and my sacred Delight? What can anyone say when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to them that speak not of Thee at all, since those who say most are but dumb.

-Saint Augustine's Confessions

a revolutionary revelation.

2009-11-20T14:39:00.000-08:00

The magnitude of the incarnation of the divine through the person of Jesus Christ is lost in the Gospels’ translation from Greek to English. These inspired accounts of Jesus’ life and ministry speak uniquely to the first-century Jew and Gentile. As such, our understanding of the Gospels is made more complete when we look at the person of Christ from the worldviews and perspectives that dominated the culture of that day.

The ideas and philosophies of great thinkers like Plato provided the intellectual backdrop of this first-century world. Particularly, his allegory of the cave would have been the lens through which many people perceived and understood the world. And it’s through this very lens that I would like to consider the message and quite revolutionary meaning of John 1.

The unique thing about the Gospels, and particularly this chapter in the Gospel of John, is that they enter into a conversation that already exists in the ancient world. In both the Republic and Timaeus (my incorporation of and comments regarding the latter may not be entirely accurate seeing as I have yet to read this Platonic work; my knowledge and commentary regarding it are based on one single lecture from the great Dr. Jeffrey), there is an underlying craving to understand the world, how it came to be, why it has gone so terribly awry, and how to bring it back to completeness. And John brings answers to these questions.

Plato, in both his works, recognizes that the notion of goodness and justice is transcendent. There is something higher, something intangible that is guiding all things. In Timaeus, he identifies this being as the demiurgos: that which has brought all things into being. In the Republic, his allegory of the cave (which is my new favorite topic of discussion) is a metaphor for the world and all things that were created through this demiurgos.

Consider the illustration above. The cave is a place of darkness, of shadows, and of half-truths. It deals with the tangible, the becoming, the changing. Objects, facts, and things of the literal realm define life down here. As I discussed in a previous post, and as Plato indicates, all of humanity is in this cave. We live in a world where the things we see and experience are merely shadows and incomplete imitations of the truth.

But above this cave, above this darkness is a world full of light. It deals with the intelligible, the being, the eternal. Subjects, forms, and things of the spiritual or figurative realm define life up here. This is a world of truth. This is the place we try (but fail) to imitate.

Side note: C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce is enfused with these Platonic ideas. The Valley of the Shadow of Death (filled with gray shadows) and the Valley of the Shadow of Life (filled with bright, solid objects) are closely based on this idea of the cave.

In the Republic, Plato (well, technically, Socrates seeing as he is the speaker) mentions that some people will journey from the cave into the light. But it’s a select few: only the best and brightest, the philosophers, and those who possess a predisposition for understanding the world of forms travel above. Thus, the opportunity to know the truth and to experience true life is only for a privileged few. The rest of us are, basically, without hope of ever knowing the intelligible, perceiving the eternal, or stepping into the light. Our lives are restricted to the world of shadows, our comprehension limited to simple, finite objects and facts.

The Gospel of John addresses this philosophy. It enters into this conversation. The author plays on Plato's ideas by turning them on their heads:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.” (John 1:1-3)

Here, John is suggesting that the Word has created all things. (Later, he’ll go on to establish that the Word is Jesus, God incarnate.) In Greek, the term for “word” is logos. Logos, however, can also mean the “reason,” “argument,” “speech,” “story,” and “verb.” (Remember this. I’ll bring it up later.) So John is replacing the demiurgos, which Plato has suggested to be the creator of all things, with Jesus, the Word, and logos.

The revolution comes when John writes, “In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:4-5, 14)

Light has penetrated the darkness. Jesus, being truth, came down. He descended the throne to dwell among us, the people in the cave.

Here, in the person of Jesus, the world above, the intelligible, the being collides with the world below, the tangible, the becoming. Where formerly the Greeks considered all things either tangible or intelligible, John points out that Jesus is both! The Creator of the Universe, the logos, the reason, the story, and the verb connects the object with the subject. (Get it? subject + verb + object? It’s like a sentence; it’s completion and fullness. Once again, Dr. Jeffrey’s insight.)

So the Platonic way of thinking has been reversed:

We do not have to go up to receive truth. The truth is no longer unable to be grasped. The truth is not for the select few anymore. It’s not just for the smart people. It’s not just for the people who have it all together.

Rather, it’s accessible because it has come down to us.

It’s for everyone.

Do you get it? Do you see? This is crazy! Jesus changes everything! Just as he does Jewish law, he turns Greek philosophy upside-down. He’s the fulfillment of the promise, and he’s the truth among us. Because of him, there is hope in our darkness. Because of him, we can reach the light.

So there you have it, the revolutionary revelation. It’s there. Actually, it’s always been there. It’s in the words. It’s in the significance behind the words. But sometimes we miss it because we don’t know the context or because we lose it in the translation. So we must keep looking back. We must understand the context to understand the message because this is too big to miss.

Because this is revolutionary.

understanding divinity.

2009-11-10T19:01:00.000-08:00

This is an essay I very recently turned in for my favorite class, Literary Bible. It's long, I know, but I wanted to share it with you.

Francis Petrarch once posed the question, “What is theology, if not poetry about God?” His inquiry suggests a connection between poetry and “the science of things divine,” as The Oxford English Dictionary defines “theology.” This supposition that divine knowledge may be acquired best in the figurative sense aligns with a statement made by Thomas Aquinas:

Poetic knowledge is of things which, on account of a defect of truth, cannot be grasped by reason, and that is why reason must be seduced by a certain likeness; theology, however, concerns things which are above reason. The symbolic mode is common to them both, therefore, because neither is precisely proportional to reason.

Both of these statements share the idea that basic modes of reason are insufficient means of attaining knowledge of the heavenly realm. These men recognize that the finite minds of humans are unable to comprehend things divine in nature. Reason alone does not, cannot, and will not produce full knowledge. Thus, figurative language becomes a necessary means to acquire an understanding of that which is beyond our literal world. As Jesus demonstrates in Mark 4 however, symbolic discourse does not always usher in a complete understanding of the divine. Rather, his explanation of his parables reveals an underlying supposition that our knowledge of God is not under our control; these parables and figurative stories lay truth in the hearts of men, but the Spirit brings final revelation to our limited perception.

In this sense, poetry only acts as a partial bridge between the end of our ability to know and the beginning of divine truth. As defined by The Oxford English Dictionary, “poetry is the expression or embodiment of beautiful or elevated thought, imagination, or feeling in language adapted to stir the imagination and emotions.” It arouses within readers an emotional response. Its imagery illuminates truth. It speaks to the deepest part of the soul. It is “the art by which the poet projects feeling and experience onto an imaginative plane, in rhythmical words” (Funk and Wagnall’s Standard Dictionary: International Edition). As a result, poetry has the potential to reveal the qualities and character of the poet as they are projected into verse. But often its ability to do so is incomplete, as Jesus’ parables demonstrate.

When Jesus descended the throne and entered humanity, his main mode of discourse was allegorical. He, both divine and human, recognized our inability to comprehend by reason alone so he taught using parables. Though not exactly metrical verse, these culturally relevant metaphors infused with moral lessons were very similar to poetry. Their symbolism spoke to the heart and stirred emotion using figurative language. In this way, wisdom of the heart, chokmah, was nurtured, and knowledge of the divine was then fostered. In essence, he seduced reason into that “certain likeness,” of which Aquinas spoke. At the same time however, few people understood the meaning of these metaphors. So although figurative language brings us closer to comprehension of the truth, as Petrarch and Aquinas assert, we are still reliant on another to usher in complete revelation; Someone must reveal the truth to us.

Just after telling a large crowd the parable of the sower, Jesus opposes the notion that symbolic language divulges understanding. Concerned that his parables cause more confusion and unrest than necessary, the twelve disciples question Jesus. In response, he says to them, “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, so that they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven” (Mark 4:11-12). In saying this, Jesus refutes that figurative language makes things easier to understand. Rather, he confesses that some will not understand the parables, and those who do not understand the parables will not understand the truth. It is here that the beginnings of the notion of an incomplete comprehension of the divine manifests. For even the disciples, who have been given the secret, are unable to grasp the truth. And if those closest to him cannot understand him, others might not either. As a result, the chasm between own human finitude and God’s incalculable nature is made obvious.

Jesus further expounds on this concept of knowing by explaining the parable of the sower to his disciples. He first establishes that the seed being sown is the word. This word is the Gospel, the good news, the truth. In Greek, it may be translated as logos, or the reason and the argument. In Hebrew, it may be translated as dabar, or the word and the action. Regardless, this word is that through which revelation is revealed, and this word is sown. Here, an emphasis falls on the idea that truth comes to believers; believers do not reach the truth by their own means. The division between God and us is far too wide for us to cross on our own. Thus, the idea that Something or Someone intercedes for us offers hope that the truth can be grasped.

Jesus continues to discuss the understanding of parables as he proceeds to assert that the different types of soil in this parable are representative of the different types of people. The effects of the environment surrounding the individual and the state of their heart affect the way they receive the word. In most people, the word is choked or does not last. But in some it is sustained: “those that were sown on the good soil are the ones who hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirtyfold, and sixtyfold, and a hundredfold” (Mark 4:20). In some people, the word does mean something. Because their hearts have received the word, they now have wisdom of the heart, or chokmah. In these people, the word produces radical results. Yet it is not by any work of these individuals. Rather, it is the work of the Lord. Later on, Jesus explains this, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how” (Mark 4:20-21). Regardless of the man’s actions, the seed sprouts, and he is dumbfounded. The mystery of a seed’s growth is reiterated in the following parable:

With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches. (Mark 4:30-32)

So what by nature appears to be small and insignificant, God makes larger than imaginable.[1] Like the seed, our understanding of truth grows. As these two parables indicate, however, a seed’s growth is not by our own works. The truth manifests itself in us not on our own terms, but rather, on the terms of another Being who sustains its growth. So ultimately, our understanding comes from God.[2] As a result, we are dependant on him for knowledge. So while the figurative brings us closer to revelation, we ultimately find ourselves reliant on God for complete comprehension.

Though hard for our finite minds to apprehend, these parables reveal to us God’s nature. His complexities, like the parables, are not easily discernible; he remains shrouded in mystery. But in the same way that our understanding of Jesus’ teaching is on God’s terms, so is our understanding of God himself. The author of Mark notes that after receiving Jesus’ words and witnessing the calming of the storm, “they were filled with fear and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?’” (Mark 4:41). Though not necessarily a concrete revelation of who God is, this question is representative of the disciples’ journey to discover their rabbi’s identity. We can be sure of this because fear of the Lord ushers in wisdom.[3] This place of fear is humbling; it reminds us of our place in life, the chasm between God and ourselves, and thus our own insufficiency. Yet in this place, we acquire wisdom as God’s Spirit reveals him to us in his timing. We will begin to see that he is strong—strong enough to cause the small to become great, strong enough to calm storms on the sea. We will see that he is love—for what other reason would someone choose to cherish the broken. In the end, our revelation of the nature of God is concluded because the Spirit inclines himself to us, completing what the figurative introduced.

As Petrarch and Aquinas stated, reason alone cannot usher in understanding of the heavenly realm. Their conclusion, however, that the symbolic mode brings full comprehension is not sufficient either. As Jesus demonstrates to his disciples in Mark 4, what is figurative is more often puzzling than enlightening. And though his parables are not poems, they are figurative in their symbolism. Mostly, they illustrate that while the parabolic does bring us closer to understanding the truth than does reason, it is still incomplete. For, as the parable of the sower exemplifies, full knowledge is not a result of our keen perception. Rather, it is a consequence of the grace bestowed us by an all-powerful God, who plants truth within us and is the cause of its growth. Our understanding of the “science of things divine” is contingent on that Divinity’s descent and offer of revelation to us.

[1] This mirrors Paul’s assertion in 1 Corinthians: “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are” (1:27).

[2] Paul calls this wisdom from the Spirit: “what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him—these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:9-10).

[3] Proverbs 1:7 states, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.”

a call to justice and costly grace.

2009-11-04T22:16:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I was reminded of the injustice in our world. Tonight, I find myself a little frustrated, a little unsatisfied. But rather than take the time I do not have to write out how I feel, I'll leave you with several quotes...

"I hate all your show and pretense - the hypocrisy of your religious festivals and solemn assemblies. I will not accept your burnt offerings and grain offerings. I won't even notice all your choice peace offerings. Away with your noisy hymns of praise! I will not listen to the music of your harps. Instead, I want to see a mighty flood of justice, an endless river of righteous living."

-Amos 5:21-24

"Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn..."

-Isaiah 58:6-8

"When you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!"

-Matthew 25:40

"We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters...Dear children, let us not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions."

-1 John 3:16, 18

"The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing...Cheap grace means the justification of the sin without the justification of the sinner. Grace alone does everything, they say, and so everything can remain as it was before.

"Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has...It is the call of Jesus Christ at which any disciple leaves his nets and follows him...Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ."

-The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

My challenge to you is this:

Don't reduce your faith to a schedule of religious activities through which you feel justified to live unbothered by the brokenness, injustice, and suffering in our world. Let the love and grace you've freely received cost you something.

we're all in this together.

2009-11-04T06:12:00.000-08:00

Someone put my heart into a documentary:

"When we ignore the prostituted child, we actually lend our hand to their abuse. When we ignore the widow and the orphan in their distress, we actually add to their pain. When we ignore the slave who remains, it's us who's entrapping them. When we forget the refugee, it's us who's displacing them. When we choose not to help the poor and the needy, we actually rob them.

"Perhaps the only fair thing to say is that when we forsake the lives of others, we actually forsake our own."

Thank you, Joel Houston.

(Stay tuned. After seeing this film later tonight, I'll probably have something to say.)

isaiah 53.

2009-10-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share this with you all. It's beautifully poetic. I wish there were a way to record my professor's gentle, thundering voice (yes, that's an intentional oxymoron) reading this aloud. But alas, this must suffice.

"Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a roof out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.

"He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

"Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.

"He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living; for the transgression of my people was he stricken. And he made his grace with the wicked, and with the rich in his death: because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.

"Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.

"Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors."

Isaiah 53

a new day.

2009-10-07T09:51:00.001-07:00

Dietrich always has the right words at the right time. (Yes, we're on a first-name basis.)

"When we become a burden to ourselves, when we don't want to keep on going, when we are afraid of the mountain lying in front of us, when guilt feelings weigh heavily on our mind, we we feel we have been lied to and victimized by the world, then we need only one thing - we need a person whom we can fully trust without reservation, a person who understands everything, hears everything, a person who bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, forgives all things. We need a person to whom we can say:

'You are rest, you are gentle peace, you are the longing and the one who stills it.'

"We need a person under whose eyes our suffering disappears and our heart opens up in silent love, a person who gently takes our burden from us and frees us from our fits of rage and from all our fears. In so doing, this person delivers our soul from this world...

"Now the greatest of all miracles is that every individual has and can find this person because this person calls each of us to himself on his own initiative, offers himself, invites us. This person who is our rest, our peace, our refreshment, and our deliverance, is Jesus Christ alone. He alone is truly human. And in this true humanity he is God."

-A Testament to Freedom (235-236)

i don't even know...

2009-10-06T12:31:00.000-07:00

I’ve officially survived seven weeks of college. And what an odd seven weeks this has been.

I love college, don’t get me wrong. The hesitance I have is complex.

I’ve felt a weight on me for the past several weeks. And until today, I couldn’t find a way to explain it.

Today, I sat in my Great Texts class discussing Plato’s Republic (Wow. That’s something that should go on “StuffWhitePeopleLike.com”, which, if you have yet to visit, is a genius website), and I discovered the source of my burden.

I’ll explain:

In our discussion, I found myself completely identifying with Socrates’ model of the cave. Rather than trying to describe it myself, I’ll quote his description (as translated by “Stinky” the very affectionate nickname my professor has given a man named Benjamin Jowett; my professor is reading the “far superior” Greek translation, so to him, Jowett’s work does not measure up to the real Greek text):

“Behold! human beings living in an underground den, which has a mouth open toward the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette-players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets…men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone of various materials which appear over the wall…they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave.”

So there’s the illustration. What Socrates is describing here is a world in which people do not see actual objects. Rather, they see reflections or shadows of the true forms. They are, as a result, in the dark.

In his discussion, he goes on to add that certain individuals (philosophers) will occasionally leave the cave and travel above, into the light. And in this light, they will see the actual objects, the true forms of which, previously, they had only seen shadows. And after witnessing the truth, these philosophers will descend into the cave. And as they do, they will have trouble adjusting to life there.

For one, they will have trouble communicating to the others what they saw above—for the others will have no way of conceiving the truth they have just witnessed. Secondly, they will be dissatisfied with the world of shadows—for the philosophers have seen the far superior truth.

This aspect is where I draw the parallel to my life.

I have seen.

I have seen a world far different from my own. I have seen a world that doesn’t pretend to have it all together. A world ridden with strife, yet full of smiles. A world ridden with despair, yet blossoming in simplicity. I have seen a world full of need, yet persistent in offering good ol’ hospitality.

And I have descended.

I have returned to my own world. A world fixated on personal success, often missing community. A world striving for simplicity yet complicating matters much more. A world full of individuals, wholly disconnected.

And here is where my problem lies: I am caught between two worlds.

I have seen the light. I have seen the reality of the world. I have seen the obstacles. And yet, I have experienced meaning and true life in serving in and among hopelessness.

And now, I’ve descended into a world, which is my reality but not the reality. A world in which my days are reduced to sleeping, sitting, eating, and essay-writing.

It’s not satisfying.

It’s not fulfilling, especially when my mind is tormented by those images of despair,

when I remember their accents,

when I picture their smiles,

when I can almost hear their laughs,

when I marvel at the eternal purpose behind my work there.

And like the philosophers, I have a desire to show people the reality of “there,” but because they’ve never seen it, they won’t understand it.

My world doesn’t understand the other world. My world pities the other world. My world doesn’t see why I’d want to leave it and go to the other world.

My world doesn’t understand me.

And so that’s my burden: I know there’s something more out there. I know there’s a world of despair yearning for hope. And I want to be a part of that world. I want to make a difference in that world.

But I’m here. Far-removed. Here. Living a comfortable life. Here. Feeling a little guilty. Here. Dissatisfied with the way things are. Here. A bit overwhelmed by the brokenness in this world. Here. Wishing I was there, wishing I could take part in restoring a world that’s in decay, a world that’s craving redemption.

And in the midst of all this, I find brief moments of comfort in the words of Paul:

“If we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering. What we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.”

I guess there is purpose in this, in me being here. And just as the ones in the cave can’t fathom the truth the philosophers have seen, I can’t see the purpose God has for me in this place. But I must rest in the fact that there is purpose, and there is Someone who can see it.

And so, too, may you be at peace with your circumstance, wherever this life finds you.

All glory to the only wise God.

nothing new.

2009-09-18T08:56:00.000-07:00

We speak as though we no longer had "a proper joy and certainty" about this way, or, still worse, as though God and God's Word were no longer as clearly present with us as they used to be. In all this, we are ultimately trying to get round what the New Testament calls "patience" and "testing."

...Dear brethren, our real trouble is not doubt about the way upon which we have set out, but our failure to be patient, to keep quiet. We still cannot imagine that today God really doesn't want anything new from us, but simply to prove us in the old way. That is too petty, too monotonous, too undemanding for us.

And we simply cannot be constant with the fact that God's cause is not always the successful one, that we really could be "unsuccessful" and yet be on the right road. But this is where we find out whether we have begun in faith or in a burst of enthusiasm.

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, A Testament to Freedom 443

(For the record, Dietrich's a BAMF.)

hidden treasure.

2009-09-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why the kingdom is such a "hot topic" in my brain right now (Wow. That's kind of an awkward sentence...), but it is. To my disappointment (and yours too, I'm sure), this post is coming later than I would have liked. But I'm just going to roll with it.

Last week, I went to a mid-week service at Antioch Community Church. And to try and describe it in English would not do the service justice. "Off-the-chain", "crazy sauce", and "insane-in-the-membrane" all fail in allowing me to accurately express my feelings towards that night.

If you know me, you know that since reading Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution about two-and-a-half years ago, my life has, well, been upset. No, not "angry" upset. But upset in the "they-were-supposed-to-cream-the-other-team-but-they-lost" sense. In the same way that Jesus flipped Israel's law on its head, my life has been turned upside-down. (I'd like to note that it wasn't the book itself that shook things up, but rather the questions and concepts it raised. In searching for answers, I've turned to the Bible, which has been the sole source of my unrest.)

Anyway, rather than giving you a short synopsis of my life, presenting my reason for starting this blog, or convincing you to read the Irresistible Revolution, I'd like to share with you what the pastor said last Wednesday night.

Matthew 13:44

"The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field."

I've read this passage several times, but what I never really grasped or noticed was that this man re-hid the treasure. Yes, selling his possessions to buy the field was one thing. But selling his possessions to buy the field that may or may not still contain the treasure was another.

That, my friends, was a huge risk.

After much more eloquently making this point, Carl (the pastor) went on to make a connection between the boredom we sometimes feel towards Christianity. We've boiled "following Christ" down to being nice, going to church, and having a quiet time. And no wonder we're bored?! We're sitting on the bench, while the most exciting football game of all time is being played in front of us. We're like gymnasts laying down on the high beam in the middle of the Olympics - as Carl's analogy described.

We play it safe.

But if the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure in a field that a man bought after selling everything he owned, what are we doing? If we really lived like that, Christianity wouldn't be boring. If we really lived like that, how would our world be different?

How are you living? Are you a part of that kingdom?

(So many questions, oh boy! That's all thanks to Socrates and Plato's Republic, which I am currently reading.)

the kingdom of god.

2009-09-04T23:38:00.000-07:00

The kingdom of God is a beautiful thing.

Honestly, there's nothing like worshiping the Creator of the Universe with several thousand people.

There's nothing like sitting in a room full of college freshmen listening to them share their stories, their dreams and aspirations, the things God has placed on their hearts.

There's nothing quite like marveling at the beauty in people as they walk to and from class.

Lately, I've found myself in awe of the way in which God's so uniquely crafted each and every one of us. How he's calling us to different roles in society, to different places around the world.

If only more people realized their potential and paid attention to that call. I feel like society impresses upon young people a pressure to become successful, to make a life for themselves. I saw this quote the other day, and I find it incredibly troublesome:

Life is not about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.

On another occasion, we could talk about what exactly "finding" oneself implies. But for now, my point is that I certainly don't believe life is about "creating" ourselves. In fact, life isn't even about us - or shouldn't be about us, at least.

I worry that too many kids aren't hearing the right message.

And to them, I want to say that this life is about bringing glory to our God. This life is about humbly following his heart. Falling before his throne. Giving way to his call. Being his hands and feet. Defending the fatherless. Rescuing the oppressed.

Sure, it might bring success. It might even bring money and fame. But I hope that's not all we focus on.

On many occasions, I've found myself sitting in our twice-weekly chapels praying that the Lord would light a passion in the students here. I so desire for people to experience God in the same way I have. To understand him in the rather simple and quite incomplete way I've understood him. To grasp the fulfillment and abundance that's comes with his presence. To have a passion for following him and living their lives for him, and only him.

Ever since I've returned from Tanzania, the concept of creation returning to the Lord has been on my mind. In one of my previous posts, I mentioned how Pastor James had a unique perspective on the terrible drought there: it's God's way of renewing the land and calling the people back to him.

And the concept seems to be at the forefront of my mind once again as I read about the fall of man and the flooding of the earth in one of my classes. Since the beginning of time, or at least the fall, creation has been yearning for renewal and restoration. Paul puts it well in Romans 8:22 when he says,

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies."

Now, things are incomplete. Now, things are messed up. But someday, "we will see him coming on the clouds of heaven" (as Hillsong sings). Someday, all of creation will return to him.

And until then, I hope that more people will be overwhelmed by his glory, his majesty, and his beauty. So that they will come to grasp how fearfully and wonderfully they have been made. So that they will use their gifts to bring him praise with their lives.

So that justice and love can mark the work of the kingdom,

to point people to the King,

to restore the earth.

May our hope be in Yahweh, whose love is greater than all.

He shall reign forever.

the hard hours.

2009-08-27T19:35:00.000-07:00

I'd like to share a poem with you. We had to read it for my "Literary Bible" seminar. I think it's absolutely beautiful. And once you know the background story, it's even more powerful. So here's the story:

The poet, Anthony Hecht, went through a pretty brutal divorce. After everything was finalized, his ex-wife moved halfway around the world to Israel and took both of his sons with her. Realizing he would never get to see his sons again, he wrote this:

"The Hard Hours"

"'Adam, my child, my son,

These very words you hear

Compose the fish and starlight

Of your untroubled dream.

When you awake, my child,

It shall all come true.

Know that it was for you

That all things were begun.'

"Adam, my child, my son,

Thus spoke Our Father in heaven

To his first, fabled child,

The father of us all.

And I, your father, tell

The words over again

As innumerable men

From ancient times have done.

"Tell them again in pain,

And to the empty air.

Where you are men speak

A different mother tongue.

Will you forget our games,

Our hide-and-seek and song?

Child, it will be long

Before I see you again.

"Adam, there will be

Many hard hours,

As an old poem says,

Hours of loneliness.

I cannot ease them for you;

They are our common lot.

During them, like as not,

You dream of me.

"When you are crouched away

In a strange clothes closet

Hiding from one who's "It"

And the dark crowds in,

Do not be afraid -

O, if you can, believe

In a father's love

That you shall know some day.

"Think of the summer rain

Or seedpearls of the mist;

Seeing the beaded leaf,

Try to remember me.

From far away

I send my blessing out

To circle the great globe.

It shall reach you yet."

why?

2009-08-10T01:12:00.000-07:00

So where is it? I don't see it.

I don't get it.

The fulfillment of the promise.

I don't see it down here,

in the middle of the fear.

What hope can remain,

in the depth of this pain?

I don't see it.

The earth is groaning night and day.

A song of human slavery,

of dark disease and poverty,

of children in captivity.

God, that's the sound that comes to me...

I know about theology.

I know you gave your son for me.

I know you're wrapped in mystery.

I get invisibility.

But I still see their misery.

I hear those voices haunting me,

saying, "Who will come and set us free?"

Absolutely brilliant. Not mine, but hers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiNBmNl88Pk

glow.

2009-08-06T23:53:00.000-07:00

So many posts tonight. But I just had to share these lyrics with you.

Hillsong came out with a new album this week. I had no idea one was even in the works, so it was quite a pleasant surprise.

Here's my favorite song, "Glow"

Lost and stranded, empty-handed

Broken down and all alone

Your mercy, it entered into darkness

And enfolded us in love

Just a glimmer of your glory

And the earth falls to its knees.

You level the mountains with a whisper

And you calm the raging seas.

We give you all we are

For the glory of your name.

We give all we are

For your praise.

Let the earth come to life

In the light of heaven's glow.

And the streets sound with joy

As the shackles lose their hold.

You laid down your life

For one and all.

So we give all we are

To you alone.

This means freedom for the captive

And good news for those in need

Your message is justice and compassion

God of love, and Prince of Peace

With one voice we sing hallelujah

All the earth cry out hallelujah

With the angels sing hallelujah

Jesus Christ is King

We give everything

To you alone.

two more...

2009-08-06T22:46:00.000-07:00

My gifts (or as they pronounce it, "jifts") from my BFF's (I taught them what that means) Idarus and Willy.

I told them I like elephants, and that I wanted a picture of Kilimanjaro to put up in my dorm room.

This beats any photograph, in my opinion.

and more pictures.

2009-08-06T22:33:00.000-07:00

a village in Tanzania - Nameni is a precious 8-year old girl sponsored by my grandparents through Compassion International.

Arusha, Tanzania - Peace House Secondary School - Immanuel is one of the most mature 14-year olds I've ever met.

Arusha, Tanzania - Peace House Secondary School - Danielle and I with our Form One "rafikis."

Arusha, Tanzania - Peace House Secondary School - My BFF's Willy and Idarus.

more pictures.

2009-08-06T22:31:00.001-07:00

Namanga Road - On our way to Tanzania from Kenya - The once lush foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro now look like a desert. Tanzania is experiencing one of the worst droughts in its history.

somewhere-near-Longido, Tanzania - Perhaps a little reminiscent of the Dust Bowl?

Tanzania-Kenya border - The pillar marks the border between Kenya and Tanzania. I like to say that I illegally entered Kenya...

Mto Wa Mbu, Tanzania - We woke up to trails and trails of these massive safari ants one morning. Not your typical ants: these ones will quietly crawl up your legs and start biting you. Main lesson: don't pour out the juice from a tuna can near your tents.

Tarangire National Park, Tanzania - Note to self: don't open a jar of honey to make lunch on a safari.

pictures.

2009-08-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

If a picture is worth a thousand words,

then here's what I'd like to say:

Nairobi, Kenya - Prior to taking this picture, I could have honestly admitted that I had never had the pleasure of witnessing goats run through a Shell gas station.

Arusha, Tanzania - A typical East African meal: ugali, chicken, and cooked vegetables. Let's just say that I'll never take fresh fruits and vegetables for granted ever again.

Arusha, Tanzania - Living Water Orphanage & School - Two precious little students. Maybe my favorite picture ever.

Arusha, Tanzania - Lunch at our favorite local restaurant. Hassan just kept bringing us more food! It was kind of insane.

Arusha, Tanzania - Walking around the neighborhood.

lord, take me to the world.

2009-07-30T00:08:00.000-07:00

Throughout my three-and-a-half weeks on the other side of the globe, I found myself repeatedly asking God, "Lord, what are you trying to teach me? Why did you send me on this trip? What do you want me to leave having learned?"

And throughout those three-and-a-half weeks on the other side of the globe, I didn't really have an answer. I didn't (and still don't) feel like there was one, single aspect of the country or the culture that impacted me. I didn't (and still don't) feel like there was one, huge lesson God was trying to teach me.

Upon returning, I'm realizing that maybe there wasn't one thing he was trying to teach me.

Now, I'm more confident that he used this trip to affirm the things that have been on my heart for quite some time.

So ultimately, this is what I feel like I've come away with:

This is what I have been created for. This life of ministry. This life in the mission field. This is what I'm supposed to do.

For so long, I've felt called to overseas ministry. But having never really been on a missions trip, I was worried that "call" might just be an over-dramaticized excitement for cross-cultural experiences.

In the weeks leading up to my departure, I found myself considering this trip the turning point: what happened on this trip would indicate whether or not this feeling, this call was true. (Perhaps not the most wise thing to do: to base my call to ministry off of one experience. But the Lord works in mysterious ways, right? Just kidding.)

Regardless, I feel like I've returned with the assurance that God has called me to vocational ministry.

There was no other place I would rather have been than

asking Byron Borden questions regarding the way we do church, the purpose behind short-term missions, and why he's in Tanzania,

holding those orphaned infants,

listening to my 14-year old rafiki, Immanuel, describe what it's been like to lose both parents,

or sitting and marveling at the way in which God was using Pastor James in Maasai land.

Describing it is difficult. All I can say is that in those moments, I felt like my life meant something. In those moments, I was participating in and contributing to something greater than myself. In those moments, there was something real, something lasting, something true.

My love for this God. My heart for his people. My desire to join the work being done to redeem the nations. They all seem to collide here: in ministry and missions.

I have to admit, however, that realizing this and then coming back home has been hard. I now find myself wondering, "If I'm called to ministry there, what do I do here?"

But as someone reminded me at church tonight, God knows me. He sees me. He's placed that desire in me. And he won't forget me. He'll call me back there someday. But until that day, he has a purpose for me, here and now.

I need not forget that.

With all that being said, I know now that I'm called to this. But I'm not sure if he's calling me back to Tanzania. And I'm not sure when he'll choose to send me out.

Nevertheless, my prayer remains: "Lord, take me to the world."

pastor james.

2009-07-29T23:25:00.001-07:00

I've attempted to start writing this post several times. And each time I do, I'm at a loss for words. How does one describe Pastor James?

He was out of this world. A walking, living, breathing testament to the power of our Lord.

Born to a Maasai diviner, James was expected to assume his father's role as the tribe's laibon (a mystic; a ritual and spiritual leader believed to have healing powers). After learning of the love, sacrifice of, and redemption in Christ, however, James' life was changed. Thus, becoming a laibon was out of the question. But in refusing to accept the inherited position because of his faith, James faced immense persecution from his tribe. Breaking the norm and going against the grain is unacceptable in a culture so focused on unity and togetherness. Yet he remained strong. And since then, God has rewarded him: James is now married with six children, and he pastors a rather large church in Maasai land.

I had the privilege of sitting and listening to him share his testimony and his heart for the Maasai. And I was in awe. Despite the oppression this man endured, he still feels so strongly for his people. He desires to see young people raised in the way of the Lord to grow up and become Christian leaders in their communities. He believes that this drought (possibly the worst Tanzania has ever seen) is God's way of redeeming this land and this people. I literally could have sat there and listened to him all night!

It's sad to think that finding people with a love and a passion for the same God halfway around the world surprised me, but it really did. Once I got over that element of surprise though, excitement set in.

Our God is at work in a Maasai village on the border of Tanzania and Kenya.

Our God is using a man like Pastor James to lead a broken people home.

Our God is just as present there, as he is here.

His mission is global. He wants to see all people return to him. We Westerners have never been needed to facilitate the salvation of the nations (despite what some people might like to think). God does that on his own. God raises up leaders in communities around the globe to be exactly what a people need.

And it's this mission, with these leaders, that we're invited to join. Not take over. Not run. But join.

May God continue to bless James and his beautiful family. And may God continue to equip the nations with leaders like James to bring hope, salvation, and redemption to lost people.

(I took the picture above on our descent into the gorgeous valley where the Maasai village, in which Pastor James lives, is located.)

missionaries of charity.

2009-07-28T12:24:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Nairobi, Kenya twelve hours later than planned. Despite the setback, we all made an effort to drag ourselves out of our mid-morning naps to visit the charity home in Huruma (the second largest slum in Nairobi) established by the Missionaries of Charity ministry Mother Teresa started. (Picture is above. Notice the contrast between the slum outside and the charity home.)

We pulled in with the expectation that the sisters would let us come in and volunteer for a few hours, only to learn that most of the kids were being put to sleep, and we could only go on a tour. Figuring a tour was better than nothing, we commenced our walk through the home's three wards: the orphans' ward, the disabled orphans' ward, and the disabled women's ward.

Not only was I unprepared for what we saw, but I was not aware of the toll this short visit would take on my emotions.

Choking back tears, I marveled at the beauty of the home. Here we were, in the middle of a slum, watching women, who have given up their whole lives to compassion, care for unwanted children.

In the midst of a place that should be ridden with despair and sadness, I felt such an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. The sisters were happy to be there, caring for these women and children. It was inexplicable. Only the presence of God could make such a place so hopeful.

As we walked back to the entrance, I was talking to the sister who took us on our tour. I asked her how often new orphans come, and if they ever turn people away because their facilities are "too full." She ever so gently told me that infants are left at their doorstep just about every other day, and they never turn any away.

It seems so obvious that they wouldn't turn children away, but it really struck me. I found it reassuring to know that somewhere, in this world, people are being loved.

Somewhere on our globe, people aren't being turned away because it's too hard to care for them.

Somewhere, in the middle of a slum, the least, the last, and the truly unwanted are welcomed.

In a matter of minutes we were on our way out. But I found myself wishing we could go back. I wanted to turn the car around. I wanted to work there. I wanted to interact with the sisters. To see what they're all about. To understand what keeps them there. I wanted to hold the children. To show them love.

And by the grace of God alone, we were able to return some twenty days later, in the last two days of our trip.

We spent nearly a whole day holding infants.

I will never forget walking into that nursery, lined by rows and rows of cribs. Many of the babies were still sleeping, but one little girl caught my eye. Lindsey (as I later learned she was named) was wide wake, wrestling around on her little mattress. I walked up to her, patted her back, and looked into her big brown eyes. Through tears, I tried to comprehend how someone could leave her, could give her up. How could someone discard her: a precious, perfect infant?

My heart broke. Within minutes of meeting her (if you even consider an infant able to formally meet someone), I already found myself wanting things for her: To grow up with joy. To find love in Christ. To have peace. To remain innocent. To avoid deceit, cruelty, and pain.

(I love the picture above. It's as if the Lord's Spirit is truly being poured out on this place.)

I left that day feeling two things:

1. The sisters, they were saints. Literally. From the deepest part in me, I admire (and am somewhat envious) of their work. What greater thing can one do than give up their life in service to our Lord, to care for people the rest of the world has rejected? That is love. I want to be like that. (And thus begins my quasi-obsession with all things Mother Teresa.)

2. The orphans, they need love. The Bible always mentions God's heart for the widowed and the orphaned, and I see why. These children have no one. They are alone in a cold, corrupt world. If ever I thought I was convinced that I'd adopt, I'm even more so now. I cannot and will not forget them. As Brooke Fraser sings, "Now that I have seen, I am responsible." It is my duty as a follower of Christ to love the fatherless.

Because "faith without deeds is dead."

tanzania.

2009-07-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

I very recently returned from a three-and-a-half week missions trip to Tanzania (it's in Africa, in case you just got up to find a map). And feeling like I'm finally over jet-lag and on my way out of culture shock, I thought now would be an appropriate time to share with you my experience.

I'll start by saying that I'm refusing to call these past three weeks "life-changing."

It's as if it's become stereotypical to go to Africa and come back changed and saying, "They have so little, and yet they're so happy!" (My team nearly dissected this phrase one night and finally came to the conclusion that this statement is really a facade, masking what one is really feeling, "I have so much, and yet I'm so unhappy.") I feel like it's these very same people who also return from short-term, "life-changing" mission experiences with a lot of empty promises and goals. For instance, they promise to be less materialistic. And for a week, sure. It works! But eventually, they adjust to life in the states and fall back into their old habits.

(If you find yourself identifying with this hypothetical individual I described, please don't be offended. I am confident that God has used that experience to shape you, regardless of whether or not you remain completely impacted by it to this day.)

Thus, my refusal to consider this a "life-changing" experience (though life-changing it was indeed) springs from a desire to not be another statistic.

I don't want to be one more kid who comes home and forgets about their experience abroad in a matter of weeks.

I want to be the kid who remains changed,

who remembers the orphans' names,

who remains touched by their smiles,

and whose heart is continually broken for the least, the last, and the lost.

Because, to be honest, my heart was broken, and I am changed.

(Rather than compose a single, ridiculously long post of my Tanzanian adventure, I've decided to write a few posts focused on different, specific experiences. Please standby...)

the van.

2009-06-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

“The van was a good call,” she said turning to me.

My friend and I were returning from the “senior rafting trip” with our school, and we both agreed that choosing to ride up and back in the school van (as opposed to charter bus driven so skillfully by a lovely woman named Susan) was a good idea. Not only because our hip government teacher was driving it, or because we had an iPod adapter and could listen to the music we wanted, or because it was air conditioned, or because we could make Starbucks stops, or because we could average a good 20 miles an hour more than the bus, but also because we had meaningful conversations with people we wouldn’t have talked to otherwise.

Our lovely van was comprised of quite possibly the most random group of people in our graduating senior class—only a punk-rock vegetarian or one-legged veteran could have made the group more diverse, in my humble opinion.

We broached every topic from the Lakers to the Dodgers, from academics to athletics, from our greatest fear to the person we wish we had spent more time with, from what’s important in a church to why people make fun of others.

It was engaging.

It was thought provoking.

It rendered us vulnerable.

And I think we all came out with a greater appreciation for one another.

At the end, I found myself wishing this had taken place sophomore year. Why was I just now connecting with people two days away from graduation? Why was I just now developing compassion for people I’ve known for four years?

And now, here I am, about to embark on a new adventure: college, where I’ll be surrounded by new, different people for another four years.

I’ve decided I want to do things differently.

I don’t want to pass judgment on people. I don’t want to realize that “so-and-so isn’t that bad, after all” minutes before I wave goodbye to them at my college graduation.

I want to get to know people. Really. Truly. Deeply. Because when I learn about people’s lives, their struggles, and their hopes, I develop a new appreciation for them as individuals. I see them for who they really are: broken people, loved by our Creator, searching for meaning and truth, just like me.

But it’s hard. I pass judgment so easily. I assume people who dress a certain way will act a certain way. I make up excuses not to talk to them: “they won’t like me”, “our personalities will clash”, “they’ll annoy me”, or “they’re too fake.”

But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it, right?

Mother Teresa once said, “I do not pray for success. I ask for faithfulness.”

Beyond anything else, I ask that God would grant me the grace to remain faithful to him in this next phase of my life. Regardless of whether or not a bounty of friendships meet me as a result of my “don’t-pass-judgment” scheme (success, in a sense), I hope I will at least learn a lesson in faithfulness.

who are we trying to impress?

2009-06-23T11:01:00.000-07:00

"When our love of music becomes a race to beat each other with knowledge of obscure bands, we've lost our love of music. When our political engagement boils down to who has the best screen-printed swag, we're not engaging politics. When our passion for social justice isn't coupled with actual knowledge of the issues we're fighting for, it's just posturing."

I read this in an article today.

It was interesting.

The author criticized the way in which our culture (namely, my generation) has made everything from social change movements to environmental campaigns trendy. He says, "We seem so intent upon creating an impressive display of cultural and political awareness that the culture and politics we tout become secondary to the style in which we tout them...Who are we trying to impress with our cultural savvy, our rebellious fashion sense and political awareness? Essentially, it's each other. On a whole, we're trying to impress our peers, strangers we pass on the street who - in reality - notice us no more than we do them."

I'll be honest, I'm a victim of this epidemic in progressive culture. I like the Urban Outfitters look, which we all know is not as "effortless" as it appears. I'd consider myself a "band wagon" fan when it comes to things like boba, frozen yogurt, and lattes. I intentionally purchase music by obscure artists to avoid being labeled as "mainstream."

And when I think about it all, I realize this guy's right: "It's time we stop trying to impress, and start making a difference for the sake of making a difference."

In this day and age, we need people to stand up for truth, but not because it's trendy.

(To read this article, visit http://www.relevantmagazine.com/features-reviews/life/17250-who-are-we-trying-to-impress)

a benediction.

2009-06-03T23:37:00.000-07:00

ben-e-dic-tion: an utterance of good wishes.

I like benedictions. I really do. I wish we gave them more often.

They're often profound and empowering.

This one in particular was offered at a recent chapel service I attended. It really resonated with me, and I thought I'd share it with you:

May God bless you with discomfort

At easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships,

So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger

At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,

So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears

To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,

So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness

To believe that you can make a difference in the world,

So that you can do what others claim cannot be done,

To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen

arms open wide.

2009-05-31T00:07:00.000-07:00

There's a new album out that I like to say has made my entire summer. It's Hillsong United's Across The Earth.

I'm a recent convert to the fanfare surrounding this Australian worship band. But a convert, nonetheless.

This is my prayer tonight:

Take my life, I lay it down

At the cross, where I am found

All I have, I give to you, O God

Take my hands and make them clean

Keep my heart in purity

That I may walk in all you have for me

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

Take my moments and my days

Let each breath that I take

Be ever only for you, O God

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

My whole life is yours, I give it all

Surrender to your name

And forever I will pray:

Have your way. Have your way.

Here I stand, arms open wide

I am yours and you are mine

Arms Open Wide

high school.

2009-05-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

I graduated from high school today.

The whole experience is still really surreal. I remember a senior telling me freshman year, "High school flies by." I didn't really believe her at the time. But now I do. In fact, I can barely remember being handed my diploma this morning!

That was a joke.

Or an attempt at one, anyway.

Not only was today special because I graduated, but because I got to share my heart with several hundred people. It was the coolest thing I've ever been able to do.

Really.

To stand up in front of a rather eclectic group of people and tell them about my God. Who could ask for anything else?

Since many - or should I say, most - of you were unable to participate in this event, I'm copying my speech below:

My fellow graduates, Mr. Crane, teachers, staff, family and friends, I’m standing before you today for one reason, and one reason only: the Almighty God. This God has captivated my heart. My story isn’t grand; I’m just a girl once stuck with a stale perception of Christianity who has finally come to grasp the depth and strength of her God! My hope is that you too, will come to see the glory of this mighty God, as I share my story.

One of my heroes, Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said:

Look up…you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth…Look up, your redemption is drawing near. Something different than you see daily, something more important, something infinitely greater and more powerful is taking place. Become aware of it, be on guard, wait a short while longer, wait and something new will overtake you! God will come, Jesus will take possession of you and you will be redeemed people.

I’m just your average 18-year old girl. I love watching The Office and rolling my car windows down and blasting Taylor Swift music. I frequently come home past my curfew. And I still think that throwing toilet paper in friends’ trees is a great way to spend Friday nights.

But this God has taken possession of me. It took a while though. Growing up, my suburban life has afforded me nothing but comfort and blessings: I have been raised in a supportive family that loves the Lord. For so long I’ve felt like I’ve been hearing the same things over and over again. My faith has grown stagnant.

Coming to Maranatha, however, has revolutionized my faith. I’ve learned two life-changing lessons here:

The first is that we live in a crazy world. In the last year, my eyes have been opened up to its harsh realities: terrible things I never thought existed, like human trafficking—the third most lucrative illegal industry in our world today. People, our fellow human beings, have become mere commodities—right up there with drugs and weapons—to be traded and exploited. And I’ve been alive, for 18 years, thinking slavery was long gone—oblivious to it all. That could have been me. Why am I here in America, living in complete comfort, taking my freedom for granted while people are suffering? It’s just not right! I don’t deserve any of this, and I certainly can’t go on living as I always have knowing that people are dying for deliverance! I have to do something.

And just as my awareness of our world and my role in it has changed, so has my view of God.

That’s the second thing I’ve learned: Our God is so much more than felt boards and cheezy light blue sashes. He is the Creator of the universe. The Author of salvation. The Healer of hearts. The Overseer of the overcomers. The Lover of the lost. The Hope of the hopeless. The Father to the fatherless. The Servant of all. The Famous One. The Alpha. The Omega. He is everything. He is all we need.

This is our God, the One we serve! His heart breaks for the orphaned, the oppressed, the widowed. He longs to see justice reign. He emptied Himself for you and for me. We were made for a relationship with Him, and we are made alive in Him.

And because of that, I owe Him everything. I want my life to about Him. Christianity isn’t about comfort. I don’t want to live a “normal” life. There’s no meaning in anything I do, unless it’s for God, His glory, or His Kingdom—because He’s the source of life. I cast everything else aside because the desire of my heart is to bring Him praise; I want to reflect Him and His heart for justice.

In Isaiah, the voice of the Lord cries out, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” And Isaiah responds, “Here I am. Send me!” And even as this awkward, inadequate teenager, I feel myself saying the same thing: “God, use me! Send me, Lord!”

But where do I start? I can’t drop out of high school, move across the world, and just begin breaking people’s chains. I can’t change the world by myself. But I can do my part. God can use each and every one of us! He has gifted us beyond measure, and if we use our talents, if we all do our part, if we all take up our cross and follow him, this world can change.

Let this God take hold of you. Let Him guide you and your choices. Let Him redefine your idea of success. Let Him break your heart for what breaks His. Let His power fill you in your weakness, and give you strength to do things for His Kingdom. Let him change you.

Because of what I’ve learned here, at Maranatha, which means “the Lord cometh”, this God has come into my life. He has invaded my heart. He has changed me, and I won’t ever be the same. I’m not perfect, by any means. But His grace sustains me, and I can stand here and say that I have chosen to give my life, my whole life, to honor Him.

And I hope and pray you will dare to join me in this adventure. I challenge you with this: Abandon the need to be normal. Forsake the tendency to take control of life. Let love tear down the walls that divide us. Don’t make success a goal. Rest with the assurance that God will provide. Seek after His heart. Follow His calling.

We must use our talents, our gifts, our strengths to contribute to something greater than ourselves, to make a difference in this world that is so hungry and thirsty for hope. We can’t let apathy hold us back, fear keep us from trying, or hardship prevent us from finishing. We ought to live a life worthy of the calling we have received, a life in honor of the Most High, the one true God, the Savior King!

So look up…you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth…Look up, your redemption is drawing near. Something different than you see daily, something more important, something infinitely greater and more powerful is taking place. Become aware of it, be on guard, wait a short while longer, wait and something new will overtake you! God will come, Jesus will take possession of you and you will be redeemed people.

crap.

2009-05-25T16:15:00.000-07:00

This world is full of crap—and not just the I-had-a-bad-day, a-cop-pulled-me-over-and-gave-me-a-ticket crap (which happened to me the other day), but real crap. Deep hurt. Brutal pain. Hopeless agony. Utter despair.

I’ve been blessed to enjoy a rather peaceful existence. The extent of my pain has been loss of friendships and scholastic rejection. At times, I wish I suffered more. I feel like my lack of life-altering trials discredits the advice, consolation, and encouragement I offer others who are hurting. I’ve wondered if more hardships might enable me to better identify and comfort those who are struggling.

But I’ve realized my lack of struggles are in no way an indication of my inability to nurture, shepherd, and help those who are suffering. God can still use me.

So many of my friends are in dark places right now. The devil is trying to grab hold of them, isolate them, make them feel scared, warp their perception of reality. Some feel a constant presence of darkness all around them, some are confused, and some just tire of trials.

As they relate to me their problems, part of me is afraid to answer, part of me doesn’t know what to say.

I don’t want to sound like a cheesy Hallmark greeting card, reassuring them that “God’s got a plan” or that "everything will heal with time." Because while that’s true, let’s be honest: no one wants to hear that in the height of their pain.

I don’t want to sound condemning, have them think I am judging them or minimizing their pain and struggle because I have yet to undergo what they are feeling.

I have no idea what this is like. I have no idea what to say.

As I stumble for the right words to say, I ask, “Do you want to know what I think?”

After receiving any range of affirmative responses: a nod, a grunt, a “sure”, or an “OK”,

I say, “I think it’s the devil.”

Silence.

“He’s trying to isolate you, trap you, make you feel hopeless, make you feel scared and alone. There’s this battle above us between God and Satan. And Satan’s trying to get as many people as he can to be on his side. He’s trying to beat God. But God is so much stronger. His power triumphs over Satan’s. In fact, he’s so powerful, that just uttering his name will send Satan running. So there is hope: our hope is in God. We can rely on him. He’ll overpower Satan. He’ll fight for us.”

Silence.

The epic battle between good and evil is present in every scenario. God is good. Satan is evil. The pain and the agony we may feel aren’t from God. They’re from Satan. Yet he doesn’t have power over us. God is triumphant. And there’s hope in that.

I’ve felt his love, and I want them to. I believe his majesty resides in me, and I want them to. I can’t necessarily be their rock, but I can point them towards mine. But how do I take them there? How do I show them that?

I’m not sure I can. I can’t be their hope. I can't take their pain away. But I can introduce them to mine. I can take them to someone who can.

I don’t need to have walked through the fire to do that; I can help foster restoration in those who hurt without experiencing their pain.

Right now, I think I can serve as one who reminds them over and over again that they are worth something. They are something worth fighting for. They are important. They matter.

I’ve realized that a lot of personal struggle is intensified by a skewed perception of one’s self-worth. It’s sad that after all this Sunday school and Christian education, kids are still missing the point (which makes me wonder about the church's "Children's Ministry"...) that they are a child of the king, an heir of grace, a beautiful, magnificent creation. Their identity is not contingent on the inconsistency of their life and shifting circumstances, but on the unwavering constancy of our relentless God.

Someone told me recently, “Sometimes you confuse me. I don’t deserve your help.” My heart leaped at this paradoxical compliment. The beauty of God’s kingdom is confusing: it turns our world upside-down. Our world has no conception of God’s freedom, grace, and mercy: people are intent on getting what they deserve. But God, in his righteousness, has "lavished his love upon us", sent his only Son to die for us. We don’t deserve it. We haven’t done anything worthy of receiving it. But he gives it to us anyway. Freely. It doesn’t make sense.

And now, I’m told that I’m not making sense. But how cool is that? To be God’s. To follow him. To desire to reflect him. And to not make sense in this world. Because of that.

As I think about my life, my strengths, my weaknesses, and my circumstances, I feel like these might be the people I’m supposed to minister to: the ones in pain, the ones in agony, the ones stuck in a pit of hopelessness. I’ve never experienced true, deep suffering. I can’t always relate to people. I don’t always know what to say. But our God is mighty. And he can use anyone as the tool or the avenue through which he reveals his heart to one of his beloved, a lost soul, one thirsting for hope. And in that, here’s what I’ve learned:

This crap isn’t the end. There is hope. We are worth something. God’s grace is freely given. I can be a light.

And

“The LORD will fight for you; you need only be still.”

Exodus 14:14

the exchange.

2009-05-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

Last night felt like the biggest night of my life. The event and movement I've been planning for almost a year now came to life. I was humbled and simply in awe of what happened. I can't really even put it into words.

Tears came to my eyes as friend after friend ran up to me with the profile of the child they just sponsored through Compassion. It was so overwhelming to see people caring, my friends, my teenage friends giving of their small allotment of money to help people in need, children with no hope.

It was beautiful. This is how the world should be.

I don't have much else to say, so I guess I'll just paste the little speech I gave:

To be honest, I didn’t want to do this event two weeks ago. I was tired. Plans weren’t going through. I didn’t feel like we could do these issues justice if we sloppily slapped something together. I didn’t feel like I could keep my sanity and go through with planning this. And I kinda figured that if God wasn’t pulling through, since things weren’t working out, he might just not want us to do it at all.

I agonized over throwing it all away. It pained me to think that this movement I started, this mission I feel drawn towards, this work I’ve invested myself in might be thrown away. But I really didn’t think I could do it. And looking back, I failed to see one thing:

“No act of love, no matter how small, is ever wasted, is ever meaningless.”

As I stumbled in my confusion, Mr. Hough sent me an email, reminding me of the greatness, and love of our God.

I remember just sitting in my room, in sobbing tears as I read his words over and over:

“No act of love, no matter how small, is ever wasted, is ever meaningless.”

This is worth it.

So I’m here, we’re here, and this is happening. And I’m just in complete awe. I’ve been broken, I’ve been pulled from every angle. I’ve cried just about all the tears I thought I had. I’ve said all the prayers I consider humanly possible.

But through it all, I realize that love is why we’re here. The truth, the freedom, the assurance, the peace, the grace, the abundance of life we experience in love. A love for people. A desire to see their lives transformed. That’s why we’re here.

We started this event last year to reverse the exploitation of people in our world. I learned that over 27 million individuals are enslaved each year—that’s over 3 times the population of Los Angeles! I was in shock. I couldn’t even fathom how slavery still existed—and I’ve lived 18 years completely oblivious to it all!

And this year, we’ve tacked on the issue of homelessness, something so prevalent right here in our own city. I drive by homeless people on my way to and from school, and most days I just pass them by.

But the statistics are so staggering: there are 1,165 people who are homeless on a given day in Pasadena. That’s like an entire school! 254,000 men, women and children experience homelessness in Los Angeles County during some part of the year, which is almost 1.5% of the total population of Los Angeles. Not to mention, nearly twice the amount of all homeless people in New York and Chicago combined!

Who am I to just keep driving by them?

They’re people too. A couple weeks ago I was doing some service with my church, and for part of the day we met with this homeless lady named Cindy. We listened to her share her story, and I was just struck by how normal she was. Lots of times, I think I just assume that homeless people are a little nutty, and if I give them money, they’ll just go spend it on drugs.

But when I met Cindy that all changed. She put a face to the issue. Here was a woman struggling to get by, honestly. Here was a woman who had a completely normal life, but poor decision after poor decision brought her to the streets. What hit me the most was the amount of discrimination homeless people face. It’s crazy to think that when politicians say they’re going to clean up the streets, they really mean they’re just kicking homeless people off the streets. Where are they supposed to go? Shelters are often so full! What are they supposed to do when cities make it illegal for people to sleep horizontally in public places? How are they supposed to get a job, when they don’t have a place to wash up? Who’s going to help them? Who’s going to challenge the law enforcement, who’s going to stand up for them?

I am. I will. This discrimination, is wrong. And it needs to stop.

This past year, I’ve prayed and sung that God would break my heart for what breaks his. And I think that’s happened: my heart breaks for people like Cindy, for little girls stuck in the sex trade in Thailand, for families endlessly toiling in rice mills in India to pay off an age-old debt.

As I look at my life, I want it to have meaning, to have purpose, to have impact. I want to live and die for something higher, something other than myself. I want to lead people into experiencing what I have, into the knowledge I know. I want to love people, love people till it hurts. I want to encourage people, in their weakest, darkest moments. I want to advocate justice, reminding people of the way this world should be. I want to be a light, a reflection, a living sacrifice for my God, in everything I do. I want to live in complete surrender to him, abandoning all else for his glory.

I don’t want to reach the end of the road and find I’ve lived this life in vain, lived for my own ambitions. I don’t want to breathe my last breath, wondering what else I could have done. I don’t want to leave this world, regretting the choices I made. I don’t want to be normal, seeking and storing up for myself treasures on earth. I don’t want to lose sight of what’s important, forgetting the overwhelming love of my God, forgetting to be his hands and feet, forgetting that I’m the one he’s invited to finish the good work he’s begun.

I don’t want people to live in pain. I don’t want people to feel inadequate. I don’t want people to be exploited in their weakness. I don’t want people to be forgotten, their talents unappreciated. I don’t want people to despair, live with no hope. I don’t want people to go through life without knowing about this God. I don’t want injustice to wreck any more lives. I don’t want corruption to reign supreme any longer.

Something needs to be done. Pleasure is too high a priority, while people are in peril and pain permeates. The lost need to know and experience the overwhelming love of our gracious God. They need to know there’s another way. They need to see how the power of his presence will crush their despair and bring them into freedom.

So tonight, I encourage you to join me in taking a step towards that change. We have tons of organizations here and there are so many practical ways you can help. I want to especially encourage you to consider sponsoring a child through Compassion. We’re really excited to have them here tonight because through their program you can donate just about a dollar a day to ensure that a child is released from the confines of spiritual, economic, social and physical poverty, that they’re cared for, have food, and a safe place to go. They’ve even done something really special: they’ve brought profiles of kids who live in the areas we as a school send missions teams. Imagine how cool that would be to sponsor a kid here tonight, and visit them next summer on a missions trip?! If you can’t swing that monthly commitment right now, then I encourage you to donate what you can to help us as a school sponsor a few kids.

Whatever you choose, take this opportunity to do something! Because tonight, we’re taking a stand. Tonight, we’re letting our awareness of these issues, our love for these people, to motivate us to action. Tonight, we refuse to let the weight of these issues cripple us. Tonight, we will not be silent.

addict.

2009-04-13T23:21:00.001-07:00

I'll admit: I was a Facebook addict.

It consumed me. I came home from school, flipped on the Internet, opened it up, responded to friend requests, wall posts, inbox messages and the like, surfed the most recent pictures, and stalked old friends.

I found myself thinking, "If I just outline ten more pages in my government book, I'll let myself go on Facebook for fifteen minutes."

An hour did not go by when I wasn't checking my account for new updates.

And then, when nine o'clock came 'round, it was like prime time! (If you don't already know, nine to ten is roughly the time that everyone worth knowing is on Facebook.)

I think I found a certain pride in the fact that I usually had over 100 friends of my 1,000 online at the same time each night.

I know there are others like me. Don't try and hide. I have some of you as my friends. You subconsciously gravitate toward computers, type in "facebook.com", and begin living your second life. Updating your status, writing back to people you never talk to in-person, etc. The story's the same for everyone.

(Perhaps I should start a program: "Facebook Addicts Anonymous: A place for you and your friends. Your real friends. The ones who care enough about you to interact with you in person. In real life. In real time.")

I was right there with you.

And then one day, I just stopped.

Ash Wednesday came around, and this addict began realizing that she really did spend too much time on there. And it wasn't even time well-spent. I was stalking people. Snooping around. Figuring out who knows whom, and who's the biggest party-er.

It was pointless. All this time and effort for nothing. I never got anything back. It was just this empty black hole, this bottomless pit.

So I gave it up for Lent. I came to the hopeful conclusion that the proceeding forty days would be productive. The roughly two hours per night I spent on Facebook would be put towards something else more meaningful: sleep, blogging, talking to people on the phone, learning to play the guitar, etc.

And I have to say that these past forty days have been incredibly productive. But more surprisingly, I've learned several lessons:

1. Conversing audibly with individuals via the telephone is quite exciting and effective. Real laughing is more fulfilling than the "haha" or "lol" typically offered for witty interjections.

2. Going to bed before 11:30 PM every night makes you feel so much better in the morning. Staying up till 1:00 AM talking to people through a screen isn't worth the sleep you miss.

3. There is life beyond social networking. In fact, there are real people out there for you to get to know on a deeper level than what they post about themselves in their "Info" section. On top of that, you already have friends in real life, there's no need to aimlessly search for more (as the cartoon below satirizes).

Most importantly, however, I feel like I've learned something about my generation:

The development of the Internet, cyberspace, and online social network sites in general has created in my generation the acute desire to inform others of how we are feeling.

We have a need to be known.

For the first few weeks of Facebook-less-ness, after singing a song or making some snarky comment, I found myself thinking, "Oh! I can't wait to get home and make that my 'status!'" Moments later, I'd remember that I didn't exactly have a Facebook anymore. Such a status update was virtually impossible, and, as I began to learn, slightly ridiculous.

In times like these, I found myself questioning the motives behind updating my status. And all I found was this need to let others know how I was feeling.

But why? For what? Why don't I just tell someone how I'm feeling? Why post it on the Internet? So that I can get the most comments on my status? So I can make people feel bad for me?

It's stupid, right? What ever happened to actually caring enough for people to notice when they're down, and then talking to them about it? It's like we're too busy to care, but because we all still have needs, we resort to broadcasting them online for all our "friends" to see.

So now, with Easter and Lent behind me, I find myself incredibly hesitant to "reactivate" my account. I know I'll go straight back to stalking people, catching up on what I missed, staying up late "messaging." And I don't want to waste my life that way.

Perhaps I'll resume activity as the infamous event known as The Exchange rolls around. Or perhaps I'll reactivate it when I move off to college. I'm not sure.

All I know is that I've had the most productive, exciting, enjoyable past forty days of my life. And conversing with people, sans screen, is priceless.

And I wouldn't trade that for anything.

where you are.

2009-03-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

Since giving up Facebook for Lent about a month ago, I figured I'd have all this extra time to write. But that expectation has proven entirely false. I'm beginning to wonder if giving it up was more the hand of God looking out for me, than me trying to set time aside to observe and contemplate him.

In either case, life has been incredibly busy.

So busy, that I have an even more apathetic and lethargic attitude towards school than before. I'm just weary. I feel somewhat like a gopher drilling a hole into the earth, and despite being halted in progress by the presence of a large boulder underneath the layers of dirt, I continue digging just for the sake of digging.

On top of this lack of motivation, is this growing desire to just discard the unnecessary things in my life. I so want my life to have meaning and purpose; and at this particular time, I feel like there are so many things in my life that serve no purpose; things that I'm doing just to do; things that contribute to my "digging for the sake of digging."

We sang a song in church tonight that says it:

"I wanna be where you are."

I just want to be where God is. Serving him. Loving his people. Learning about him.

Everything else pales in comparison.

What's the point of life if we're not focused on the source of it? Why do I have to be in school? Why do I have to learn about regression lines in Statistics? Why do I continue learning about literary devices?

I feel like this picture captures the essence of the place I'm in. While driving up to Big Bear on a cloudy day, we reached a point on the winding road where we passed through and above the clouds. It was incredible!

And I wish that I could do that with my life: rise above its mundane and repetitive course, tap into the heart of God, and live in simple service to him--without Statistics, AP English, or this thing called high school.

convicted.

2009-03-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

Some of life's most beautiful moments are those in which you are utterly convicted.

Conviction itself is a humbling, rather uncomfortable state. One in which you have been proven wrong. And as a teenage girl from a society striving to avoid the unveiling of (or simply the recognition of) personal flaws, it's even more difficult.

At the same time, it's rewarding. This correction brings forth growth and a reassurance in the grace and forgiveness of our Savior.

The reason this is even a point of discussion is because I've been convicted. It's hard to explain right off the bat, so let me give you some context.

Lately, my super duper friends and I have been attending Christian Assembly's Fusion service on Sunday nights. It's fabulous. It's both "current"/"hip" and spiritually edifying - things are taken to a different level than most high school ministries (mostly because it's the college-age and older service, not high school).

Currently, we've been in a series called "The Sequel" - taking a deeper look at what it means to be Spirit-filled believers who are the sequel to Christ, the ones left to do his will. A few weeks ago, Mark Pickerill (the pastor) highlighted a passage in Revelation 3:

"These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God's creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm - neither hot nor cold - I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see."

This is a letter to the church in Laodicea. And as Mark went on to tell the congregation, Laodicea was quite a "happening" place. It was a city of incredible prosperity because of its ideal location: the crossing of major trade routes. Because of this, its people were quite self-reliant - particularly the believers. Their wealth blinded them. They were unwilling to see what they were lacking, and that because of their wealth, they were "wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked."

As a result, they were an inward-focused community, which Mark likened to a football team that consistently stays in a huddle. Imagine that: a football team that always strategizes but never runs an offensive play. He went on to say that our churches are still like this: we don't adequately share the Gospel with others because we're so focused on our church budget, or the publicity campaign for the next retreat, or which songs to sing next Sunday, etc.

My conviction came when he pointed out that he thinks the Alcoholics Anonymous program has got things right.

As he watched a relative work his way through the program he realized the institution's purpose was not to bring men to sobriety, but to help men become sober so that they can help others become sober.

And that he said is what we, as Christians, ought to do. That is the point of the Gospel: to embrace the good news ourselves and share it with others.

What got me was the fact that the Alcoholics Anonymous program is doing things right, and I'm not.

As that idea soaked in, I began really looking at my life.

You could say I've been raised in a Christian bubble. It's a wonderful bubble, don't get me wrong. But the problem with it is that its perpetuation has not exposed me to the outside world, the world that I'm supposed to share this good news with.

In fact, up till now, my only outlet to the non-Christian world has pretty much been through National Charity League (NCL): a 6-year program in which mothers and daughters serve their communities together. Having just completed my service with NCL, I've realized how much I've taken that ministry opportunity for granted. I have been too consumed with my disgust in watching women serve to acquire required hours and miss the point of it all, that I too missed the point: I could have developed deeper friendships with the girls who, though quite different from me, are thirsting for truth and meaning and purpose in life.

I could have been a light.

I could have shown them the way to fulfillment and joy.

I could have shown them hope.

But my selfishness kept me from doing so. I stayed in the huddle and forgot to launch my offense.

I don't want to live life in the huddle. I don't want to forget that at some point, I've got to put all this strategizing to play. I don't want to let my selfishness hold me back.

blind.

2009-02-25T22:18:00.000-08:00

Once again, I’m feeling inspired to write. And once again, I don’t exactly know where this is going.

I guess I’ll start with describing a conversation I had with my friend over lunch.

Lately, my friends and I have been sitting on this grassy lawn during lunchtime. We spread out, lie down, and gaze up at the sky. This month, California weather has been treating us pretty well: the just-after-rain sky is the most spectacular shade of blue, and it always seems to spur on rather meaningful conversations.

So this last week, my friend asked me if I ever feel like I would’ve defended the cause of Jesus in the first century, or stood up for the abolition of slavery in the 1800s, or fought for civil rights in the 1960s. Her question caught me by surprise: on many occasions, I have found myself wondering these same things. And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized other people wonder the exact same thing!

To be honest, the more I’ve thought about the whole concept, the more I’ve realized how much “hindsight bias” impacts my answer to the question. Having learned about these movements and reaped the consequences and benefits of their outcomes, I’m sure we’d all hope to answer, “Yes! Of course I would’ve believed in the teachings of Jesus. I’d be crazy not to. Of course I would’ve supported abolition. It’s the right thing to do. Of course I would’ve fought for civil rights. Segregation is wrong.”

But as I’ve reflected deeper on this question, I get more worried that I might not have.

For although I have this part of me that is committed to social justice, there’s this other part that is stuck in the conventional, the traditional, the “right” way of doing life. And honestly, while radical Christian living is quite appealing (and a bit of what I’ve written about in previous posts), I feel like there’s a point at which I cut it off, a point where I might not believe things.

Seriously, if we look at some of the stuff Jesus says in the Gospels it’s crazy sauce (my AP US History teacher’s favorite expression). In my Pastoral Theology class at school, we’ve been memorizing the "Sermon on the Mount", and it hasn’t been until now that I have realized how truly revolutionary and controversial his words were (and still are). Take for instance, Matthew 6:14:

“For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

Are you kidding? If we don’t forgive men, God isn’t going to forgive us? Wow. They certainly don’t teach kids that in Sunday school! No wonder people went nuts about what Jesus was preaching!

And with a record of saying things like that, I worry that, back in the day, I might have been one of the hypocrites, one of the Pharisees, one of those who shunned Jesus for being too counter-cultural, too crazy.

It's in realizing this that I get to wondering if there’s a movement going on right now that I’m missing out on: something or someone that I’m ignoring because they sound too crazy. What if I end up missing it? What if I become somewhat of a modern equivalent to a Pharisee or someone who was pro-slavery or someone who was pro-segregationist?

I don’t want to miss out on that movement. I don’t want to be blinded by my pre-conceived notions, or my prejudice, or my own judgment. And yet it’s so hard. In all societies, I think people are taught that "what’s right is right." And those who go against the grain, those who challenge or question the status quo are shunned or ignored.

But as we’ve seen with the three examples I’ve mentioned, it has turned out that these under-dog movements changed societies (and arguably, the world). And as we look back, the ones who were against those movements are now the crazy ones, the ones we frown upon.

Forty years from now, I don't want to be frowned upon.

Fort years from now, I don't want to realize that I missed out on an important movement because I have been stuck in the traditional, "right" way of doing life,

Forty years from now, I don't want to realize I've been blind.

(What do you think? Leave a comment, if you’d like!)

look up.

2009-02-23T23:02:00.000-08:00

so i found this quote.

i used to have it on my Facebook profile.

but i've decided to post it here - in hopes that more will read it and contemplate its poignance.

i think it's great.

it certainly challenges me to see beyond my often-trivial worries and anxieties and realize that something greater is coming, God is so near to us, and His kingdom's work is at hand.

so here's the epic quote by one of my heroes, dietrich bonhoeffer:

"look up you whose eyes are fixed on this earth,

you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth...

look up, your redemption is drawing near.

something different than you see daily,

something more important,

something infinitely greater and more powerful

is taking place.

become aware of it,

be on guard,

wait a short while longer,

wait and something new will overtake you!

God will come,

Jesus will take possession of you,

and you will be redeemed people."

i've just got one question for you:

was anyone else utterly convicted when they read the line, "look up...you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth"?

i feel like that's totally me. my time, my money, my life. they're all so oriented towards things on "the surface of this earth."

so how do we change that? how do we look up?

*i took the liberty of separating the quote into stanza-like segments for greater effect. please don't sue me...

life.

2009-02-01T02:17:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about life lately.

Like what we're supposed to do here. How we're supposed to figure out our calling. How we're supposed to be God's hands and feet.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like our society's got things wrong.

I was at Barnes & Noble today, and I noticed this magnet that said "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." At first I didn't think much of it, but before I walked by, I read it again and it hit me. Really? Life is about creating ourselves?

It seems a rather grim and trivial purpose: to create yourself.

This idea kind of reminds me of a recent message I heard from a speaker. During his sermon, this individual repeated over and over: "Make your name great." And like the magnet's little quote, I didn't think much of it until he said it for about the seventeenth time. And again, it hit me. Really? Life is about making our name great?

I know there's that whole "To each his own" philosophy. But honestly, I don't believe it - at least, not for this scenario. We do not exist to make our name great nor to create ourselves.

I'm just eighteen, and I'll admit, I'm not anywhere near figuring out what this life is about. But what I have figured out so far is that we are called to love God and to love his people. And I feel that in our society, we have lost sight of that primary calling. Few people sit down after their high school graduation, ready to consider their next step in life, and think, "Hm. What should I do now? How can I serve God and serve people with my life?"

That's not to say that no one does that, but I think, on the whole, few people do. Parents, teachers, and school administrators all encourage us to move on to higher learning, to gain wealth, to achieve success, and to become famous - because then we'll be happy, right? We seek to acquire material possessions rather than taking into consideration the greater reward that may come from "storing our treasures in heaven" rather than on earth. We put "making a name for ourselves" in front of bringing glory to God (because, let's be honest, loving God and loving people doesn't exactly rake in the money).

Lately, we've been reading essays written by famous authors in my English class. One in particular, by Annie Dillard, struck me. It's called "Living Like Weasels". The premise is a little odd: the author describes and recalls an observation of a weasel. But what she gleans from this rather silly, little animal is quite profound.

Yes, these creatures are long and skinny, but they are fierce. She mentions one instance in which a hunter shot an eagle, and found the skull of a weasel attached to its neck. The image is a little grotesque, but when you think about how it got there, more meaning develops: while being attacked by the eagle, the weasel most likely bit the eagle's jugular in an effort to fight him off. And despite the fact that the weasel was considerably smaller and bound to lose the fight, it held on. Tightly. It never let go. It died there. On the eagle's neck. Crazy, right?

In abandoning life itself, Dillard seems to admire the weasel's carelessness. This living out of instinct. This living in the moment. This living for survival. This "choosing the given with a fierce and pointed will" (or as I like to think of it, embracing what you're handed as if you have chosen it).

In the end, Dillard uses the weasel analogy to hammer home her conviction that in life, "the thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse." We should abandon excess and seek after life itself. The very heart of it.

As I read the essay, I fell more and more in love with the idea of living simply and intentionally. I've never been one who's yearned for a life of luxury. To be completely honest, I'm a little tired of suburbia, of a life in comfort. Don't get me wrong: I appreciate it. I thank God every day for it. But part of me feels that there's an aspect of life that gets lost as you live knowing when your next meal will be. There's not a whole lot of wholly relying on God that goes on there.

In this last year, I've realized that I want to live life on the edge. I know people say that all the time, but I really do. I don't want to have a high-paying job. I don't want to be successful. I want to be forced to trust in God's provision. To be in situations where all I can do is rely on God. It's a little scary saying that. But I think it's what I might need if I'm ever going to come close to catching even the slightest glimpse of who God really is.

I want to live like a weasel. With purpose and with passion. With less "premeditated" decisions and with more reckless abandon. With a "fierce and pointed will". Seeking life, life to the fullest. Seeking God, the real God. Loving others. Loving God. And most of all, working to make his name great - not mine.

the call on the redeemed.

2009-01-07T22:06:00.000-08:00

I seem to have these odd, late-night inspirations. They always come at the wrong time, and bother me. Like right now. I’m in the middle of doing homework. I’ve got some fifteen odd pages to finish in Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice for English and some statistics homework problems. But feeling a prompting to just sit and write, I’ve agreed to set those assignments aside for the present, and try and hash out this post.

One misfortune has come to mind as I write this, however, and that is that I’m breaking my pattern of posting on Tuesdays. For a while there, I thought posting on Tuesdays was pretty sweet and even considered changing the name of this blog to the “Tuesday Post.” But obviously I didn’t go through with that.

I guess I’ll proceed to the real point of what I'm writing, though I’m still not clear of the direction this is taking…

Last week, I read the best book I have ever read: Redeeming Love. It’s written by Francine Rivers who has translated the story of the prophet Hosea into the period of the California Gold Rush. (Oddly, I have been encouraged to read this book over the past several years, and it hasn’t been until now that I finally took their advice. I guess it couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time.) A man named Michael Hosea, a devout follower of God, is compelled by the urging of the Holy Spirit to marry a prostitute, Angel. Despite her initial hesitance and conviction that he is crazy, he convinces her to marry him and begins a life with her. I don’t want to give away the story—though if you’re familiar with the story of Hosea, you can probably figure out what happens—but I do want to at least express the reason why I refer to this novel with the highest regard. (Currently, I’m reading Pride & Prejudice, as I said above, and I the style of writing in the books I read always influences my own writing style, which is why I’m sound slightly odd and old-fashioned here.)

I’ll admit: I’m a hopeless romantic. Nicholas Sparks is brilliant, Jane Austen is sensational, and country music is appealing because of the fairytale endings. But no romance captivated me so much as the one described in this book. Michael’s love for Angel is unwavering, even after she leaves him without excuse time and again. Initially, I found myself wondering where is my Michael? When will I find him? Will I even find him?

But as the book progressed, I came to realize that Rivers didn’t intend for her readers to fall in love with Michael; she hoped they would fall in love with the Almighty. Slowly, as Angel’s own personal barriers begin to collapse, she opens her heart up to love. She finally recognizes and accepts the true power of the Messiah, and her life is redeemed because of it. And as she experienced this change, I felt as if I was right there with her, falling in love with my Savior once again: realizing his power, his sacrifice, his unfailing love. As I thought about it, Michael wasn’t just a man. He functioned as a reflection of Christ: his relationship with Angel is like God’s relationship with us. No matter how messed up we are, no matter how many times we’ve failed him, he’ll always love us. He’ll come running after us. He’ll keep searching until he finds us, the one lost sheep, his prized possession.

I finished this incredible book in the backseat of a six-hour drive home from Mammoth. And embarrassingly, I found myself crying at the novel’s close. (Fortunately, no one saw—though they might as well seeing as I’m admitting it now.) I could feel God’s presence and could feel that he loved me. Amidst the turmoil of life, he would always be there. To avoid the possible discovery of my flooding emotions, I looked out the window and saw the desert. It was so majestic and so beautiful. If you know me, I’m not one to get too excited about deserts. I usually find them somewhat repulsive, but I was persuaded otherwise in these few moments. I wish I had taken a picture, but even then, I don’t think that would do the scene proper justice. The plateaus and sandy hills were striped in varying shades of orange. And the sky was so blue and so vast. It was simply gorgeous. But no wonder? It’s God’s creation after all! And as I’m writing this right now, I’m drawing my own little parallel to life from the scene that was before me: when we are in our own personal desert, God’s glory is still evident. He is still there. There is "beauty in the broken" (as the worship band Starfield says).

To add to this perfect moment, the most appropriate Hillsong songs shuffled into my headphones (thanks, iPod): “Inside Out”, “Stronger”, and “At the Cross.” It was as if God was confirming the feelings I was having and enveloping me in his love. He somehow knew the feelings in my heart and told my iPod to play those songs: “I want to love you from the inside out”, “You are stronger, you are stronger/Sin is broken, You have saved me/It is written: Christ is risen/Jesus you are Lord of all”, “At the cross I bow my knee/where your blood was shed for me/there’s no greater love than this/you have overcome the grave/glory fills the highest place/what can separate me now?/you tore the veil/you made a way/when you said that it is done.” Incredible words, right?

I wanted to capture and remember the moment, so I took out my handy journal and scribbled (it’s tough writing in the car) down my thoughts. Here’s part of what I wrote: “At the end, I realized what God was showing me in this book: he wanted me to see him, be humbled by his love, want to be close to him, want to mirror his love.” I think this is true for all of us. God desires us to be his, just as Michael desired that Angel finally, truly, deeply return his love for her.

It’s too easy to forget God. We push him to the last bullet point on our to-do lists. We fall asleep during our quiet times. We would rather hang out with friends than spend an hour of silence with him. But if we can’t live without God, if he’s our source, shouldn’t he have greater priority?

In a video (http://iamsecond.com/#/seconds/Jason_Castro), Jason Castro (American Idol contestant from last year. Rocked the dredlocks and was perceived by some of the harsher critics as a druggie/stoner. For all you among that group, know this: he’s walking the walk.) brilliantly stated, “Servant of all. That’s what Jesus came to be, and I think that’s what we’re all called to be. To give our life for God, to give our life for those around us, to give our life for the good fight.”

I guess this concept somewhat overlaps with an earlier post of mine, but maybe its God’s way of hitting home this idea: if we’re really his, we ought to act as he would. If we’re really his, let’s live as Jesus did. If we’re really his, we should not love only those who love us for “even corrupt tax collectors do that much. If you are only kind to your friends, how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that. But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 4:46-48).

Wait, what? Did Jesus really just say that? Yeah, he did. Heavy stuff, right? So why don’t we listen to it? Because it’s too hard? Because it's too weird? For heaven's sake, what would other people think (God forbid we're shunned for his sake! Oh wait, "who ever loses his life for my sake will find it.")

What would Christianity look like if we all lived like this? How would our world be different if we loved the people who persecuted us? If we loved our enemies?

I told you I had no idea where this post was going, and somehow I ended up here: challenging myself and those of you who are taking time to read this to live lives “worthy of the calling we have received.” Let's be followers of Christ. Let's "love the Lord our God, and love one another. Love one another as he loves. Love with strength, and purpose and passion no matter what comes against you. Don't weaken. Stand in the darkness, and love. That's the way back to Eden. That's the way back to life" (closing lines of Redeeming Love).

Christmas.

2008-12-23T17:06:00.000-08:00

This last week, Mr. Hough commented on the pattern my posts seem to follow: I post on Tuesdays. So to be true to form I guess, here I am, yet again, posting on a Tuesday.

It’s December 23, 2008.

The most anticipated holiday is upon us.

It is a holiday of celebration. It commemorates the birth of the Savior of the Universe, the true Messiah.

It is a holiday of hope. It symbolizes God’s infinite love for his people: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son…” (John 3:16).

It is a holiday of community. It brings families and friends together to exchange gifts and enjoy one another’s company.

At the same time, it has become a holiday of consumption. A season of greed and indulgence advances on our society the moment Thanksgiving turkeys are tossed in the trash and the last slice of pumpkin pie is consumed.

This year, I think we’ve all heard the groans of a society stricken with pain and sadness from this same holiday: several people were trampled by over-eager shoppers in a New Jersey Wal-Mart, and one individual was shot and killed in a Toys-R-Us this last November.

What has happened to our world that this joyous holiday is now a monster? Under the guise of the “spirit of giving” we justify our right to consume and receive.

And worst of all, our gifts are all too often trivial attempts to just purchase something. They don’t represent something larger, something eternal. They are just items to be used and discarded.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer puts it well:

Look up you whose eyes are fixed on this earth, you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth… “Look up, your redemption is drawing near.” Something different than you see daily, something more important, something infinitely greater and more powerful is taking place. Become aware of it, be on guard, wait a short while longer, wait and something new will overtake you! God will come, Jesus will take possession of you and you will be redeemed people.

With such hope and glory and eternal blessing at our fingertips, why don’t we look up? Why are we focused on the temporary that’s here and now? Why don’t we give with eternal purpose or reward in mind? Instead of purchasing that scarf for a friend living in sunny Southern California, why not purchase a cow through World Vision for an impoverished village in her name?

If the only way to find our life is to lose it, why aren’t we living differently? Why do we continue to seek meaning in worldly things?

May you live with purpose and acknowledge the heavenly hope in and awesome glory of our Father this Christmas.

My Dear Generation...

2008-12-16T22:36:00.000-08:00

Here's an essay that I'm submitting to one of the colleges I'm applying to. I found it rather appropriate to post on my blog that is full of my opinions on life as a Christian in this crazy world:

As an individual growing up in a highly commercialized, highly globalized, and highly consumer-ridden nation, I have found that much pressure for success and personal gain is placed on young people. Older generations have seen and experienced the devastation and missed opportunities that result from inaction and wasted time, and in turn, they emphasize to my generation the necessity to strive for achievement, to reach for the ideal, and to seek victory. While this behavior has the potential to produce very accomplished individuals, I fear that, more often, it will generate a population of over-achieving, over-worked, attention-seeking characters.

I myself would be one to identify with these over-achievers. My pursuit thus far in the realm of academia, and life in general, has been consumed with a focus on being the best. I, like the rest of this country, recognize that hard work alongside commitment will eventually get me someplace. In recent months, however, I have realized that this essentially endless yearning will never create a sense of satisfaction in my life. I will constantly be seeking for more, for bigger, for better. I will always have a desire to succeed once more, to be honored once more, to be the best once more. This incessant pining will bring me the neither rest I need nor the opportunity to reflect on my achievements nor, arguably, true success.

So the challenge that results is gruesomely countercultural: to pause, to stop yearning, to live for something higher, and to allow oneself to experience life as it was intended—before light bulbs, automobiles, cell phones, computers, or the Internet. Perhaps it is not necessary for humans to obsess over advancement—after all, a significant percentage of the world’s population lives on less than a single dollar per day. Perhaps, greater initiative should be taken on behalf of the oppressed, the malnourished, the suffering, the victimized. Perhaps, the abandonment of advancement and a diverted focus oriented towards helping one another in a real, hands-on fashion could indeed change the world. Perhaps, wealth and achievement are not the only ends to strive for. Perhaps, true success is simply a life lived on behalf of others.

The injustice that has plagued societies for centuries continues, and thus far, the enacted remedies have failed to eradicate crises like AIDs, starvation, slavery, and poverty. With popular slogans of change permeating our society, maybe it is time to reconsider the ways in which we approach and address international issues. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said, “We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, but we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.” So maybe the answer to the plight of millions across our globe is different from our current solutions; maybe we ought to teach people how to fish and give them one too.

I believe it is time for this globalized generation of mine to rise up and be real leaders; to discard expectations that we must reach fulfillment through our own success; to live with purpose; to strive for harmony and justice rather than personal gain. With this mindset, I have chosen to direct my own leadership commitments and academic achievements in such a way that will bring me comprehensive experience and vision for a career of “world changing.” While instructed by law to remain in school, I plan to succeed in the present to prepare for myself to be a lawyer in a third world country in the future. In such a role, I intend to expend myself on behalf of others and use my foundation in fair justice to seek out and present cases of oppression and corruption to governments, in hopes that they too will join me in promoting integrity and prosecuting dishonesty, discrimination, and fraud. If this world is going to change, we need individuals to set aside their own agendas, advocate fairness, and brave new avenues for delivering hope and transformation to a hurting world.

*The end portion on my "intended role" gets a little preachy and boastful. But it's a college essay. So if it annoys you, just ignore that part.

what ever happened to prophecies?

2008-12-09T22:18:00.000-08:00

the other day, i was reading in isaiah 40. to be honest, i've really come to enjoy reading the prophets. i think it's largely because i find their warnings relevant to our society today, but that's another issue in itself, i guess.

anyway, as i was reading my brain took me on a little side-track and got me thinking about spiritual gifts. we've been talking a lot about spiritual gifts in my pastoral theology class at school: we've discussed their importance, how they're revealed, how they can be implemented, etc. but i felt like we could've delved more into the topic - i, for one, would have found discussing it further quite riveting. regardless, they were brought to the forefront of my mind while i was reading this passage of scripture.

as i was reading, what i began to wonder was the reason why the "crazy" spiritual gifts seem to have "disappeared" from mainstream christianity. like seriously, where did they go? 1 corinthians 12:8-10 names all these different gifts that the spirit gives: wisdom, knowledge, healing, miraculous powers, prophecy, speaking in tongues, etc. paul seems to imply that such gifts are normal, not unusual, but typical of believers back then. and yet, here i am, having grown up in the church my whole life having never truly witnessed a miracle nor heard a prophecy nor witnessed someone speaking in tongues, and so on.

this makes me sad. i wonder if people suppress these gifts in shame? or has god possibly "repealed" them knowing we won't use them properly? or are people using them but not being heard because others suppress them?

if we take a look at our society, things seem to be progressing in a downward spiral: christmas has become all about consumerism, thanksgiving is reduced to a day of indulgence, and capitalism pushes us to justify exploitation overseas. and i wonder if these gifts were being exercised in a more public, less secret fashion, would our society be different? if people were receiving and sharing prophecies from god, would our society accept it and heed the warning? could we be brought closer to god? maybe the power of these gifts could revive and restore christianity?

i hate not having answers and being uncertain and confused and leaving you uncertain and confused, but this is all i have for now: questions.

liberty and justice for all?

2008-12-02T18:28:00.001-08:00

so i just finished this book called SOLD by patricia mccormick. and besides les miserables, i have to admit it's the only book i'll ever thank a teacher for making me read. (for those of you who haven't read les mis, please do before you die.) i guess i was prone to liking it before i started reading it, but that's besides the point. basically, it's a group of vignette-like writings (similar to house on mango street) that detail the life of a young nepali girl named lakshmi who at the age of 12 or 13 is sold by her stepfather into sexual slavery.

tears came to my eyes as i felt the confusion she must have been experiencing. this poor young girl had not even the slightest notion of what she was getting into - up until this point, the least of her worries had been her cucumber garden. and now here she is being lugged across india, crossing borders illegally, and is finally landed in a brothel. in the beginning you can almost hear her innocence and naivete screaming out. but by the end, you start to get a sense of the effects this abuse has on her. you begin to understand her pain and why she and the other girls have become numb to their work. at one point, she admits to simply bearing it and wholeheartedly trusting in the (false) hope that one day, she will pay off the debt she owes. it's horrific.

what's crazy is that stopping human trafficking is my passion. it's what i feel god is showing me i'm here on this earth for. so i've read several books about this issue. i'm even in the process of researching sex slavery for my "senior project". but i have to admit, that nothing has hit me so hard as this. people always say that meeting these girls face-to-face brings the statistics to life. but here i am - having never even left the continent of north america nor experienced or witnessed true human suffering - completely humbled after reading this novel, which for all purposes is fictional (though it's based on factual evidence and real experiences that girls across the world continue to undergo).

i'm in shock. i'm in disbelief.

it boggles my mind that human beings can be so sick and so cruel.

it makes me want to stop it even more.

it makes me wonder why more people aren't as enraged about this as i am. all throughout my involvement with this in the last year, people have essentially asked me: to what extent does slavery exist in the world? teenagers and adults alike seem to doubt the presence of this basic violation of human rights. and now, all i want to do is buy copies of this book for all of those doubters. i wish so badly that they will come to see that this thing is real: people are suffering. people are being held against their will. literally. it's not made up. it's not a joke.

so i guess my hope is that more people will be thankful for the freedom we have. and maybe, just maybe, a few might go as far as actually using that freedom to bring freedom, to rescue, to deliver, to restore hope.

whatever happened to "liberty and justice for all"?