Small Stones

The picture currently on the desktop of my computer was taken in Madison, Wisconsin, through the stone banisters of the capitol building. It looks out over the green expanse of the lawn, focusing on one small girl, standing on tiptoe to reach the lowest branch of a small tree. Everything else is so big, so broad, so sturdy, and there she is, reaching upward, unnoticed by the majority of the world. It's a beautiful picture of child-like ambition and desire, stretching and reaching to climb the tree, yet the lowest branch is just out of her reach...

To a certain degree, that image resonates with me because that is how I feel about fundraising and campus staff right now . I feel as if I am standing in the midst of a big crowd, a big space, and a big world. And I am desperately reaching for the lowest branch of my tree. Even so, I cannot reach it. Even on my tiptoes, it's just out of reach. So I stretch and I strain to meet my mark. And in the back of my head, there's a small voice saying... "is it worth it? is it worth it?" And the ground beneath my feet trembles, and I take my eyes off the goal above, focusing on the soil beneath my feet. I feel weak, small, and uncertain. And the world seems to pass by unnoticing.

Yet someone hands me a pebble. "Stand upon it, and you will reach your goal," they say. A pebble, I scoff. That will not enable me to reach my target. It's so small. So insignificant. And then another pebble. And another. And another. Bit by bit, piece by piece, until I am standing on a stone wall; a pile of pebbles, rising up to form a fortress. And then, the branch within my reach, I must face the question I have asked all along: "Is it worth it?" The roar beneath my feet, supporting me, lifting me up, resounds as I draw my breath. "Oh yes," it begins, "it is most certainly worth it." And each rock begins to sing. A story to be told. A truth to affirm. A testimony of strength. Until finally, it is my turn. And I, standing on their strength and stories answer boldly, as I reach out my hand, "Oh yes! It is worth it!" and grasp the branch.

1 Samuel 17:40,47 -> "Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd's bag and, with his sling in his hand, approached the Philistine...All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD's, and he will give all of you into our hands."

Twue Love (what a bwessed occasion!)

Dear Reader, I have a confession to make. Last night, I took a hit. I made a major sacrifice to my bulwark of strength. I cried at a chick-flick. Yes, gentle reader, the girl who does not cry in movies, no matter how sad, not even Braveheart, cried in a movie about a princess, a dream, a throne, and true love. Unfortunately also a movie whose primary audience is 12 years old or younger. Last night, I gave in to my 12-year-old inner-self and watched Princess Diaries 2. I'm sure it would reassure the majority of you to learn that I was babysitting, or that this was my first viewing of such frivolity, but alas, I cannot offer such condolences...

The real question is, however, why did this silly, girlish, mostly pink movie make me cry? It would be simple enough to explain it as tears of laughter (I mean, really, who asks their true love if they have a chicken for the royal table?!?) or tears of boredom (the TV version cuts out all the good parts- don't ask how I know that!) or perhaps just something in my eye. But no, dear friends, I cannot tell a lie. No, in all honesty, there is something in this goofy teenybopper flick which speaks to my heart's true desires, and not just my girlish dreams.

Quick recap for those grown-ups in the audience: the girl (Mia) is a princess, but cannot be queen unless she marries within 30 days according to the centuries old law; she picks eligible bachelor #6 effectively off the royal equivalent of e-harmony, but doesn't love the bloke; she falls in love with her rival for the throne (typical) but plans to marry the other man anyhow (sorry guys, that is how chick-flicks roll); at the last minute, she ditches the marriage plan and gives a rousing neo-feminist plea for a change to the laws; her rival abdicates the throne for her sake; Parliament bends, she becomes Queen without a King; her lover cannot offer her a chicken, but she accepts him anyhow, and the final scene is the coronation of Queen Amelia Mionette Thermopolis Reanaldi. All this plus Julie Andrews... I submit, what could be better?!

So. Now. I'm sure you're wondering, other than your X-chromosomes, what could this movie possibly speak to? Touche. Let me elaborate. To me, this movie paints a picture of freedom which I think we as grown-ups often dismiss as fairy-tale-esque or child's frivolity. You see, in the character of Mia, there is a certain essence of obligation, duty, and limited love, as she pursues her designated life. She is bound by the law-- the only power or hope of freedom which she has comes from following the law. She pursues the law, all the while her heart is longing for true love. Now, the movie unfortunately sums "true love" up as a "foot-popping-good" kiss and a few moments stolen under a large tree (not to worry, rated PG for the 12-year-old audience). But at the same time, you get a very clear picture of the lack of freedom, under the guise of the law. Mia longs for something more. She longs for freedom, for true love (what a bwessed occasion!) and the ability to be entirely herself. And the beauty is, because this is a fairy tale, her dreams are granted. She becomes fully herself, as the law is abolished. She is free. And, she is loved.

How much greater is the picture of our Father's love for us... can't you hear his passion in his plea for us? "How long, oh my people, will you turn away, pursuing other lovers?" It is only in God's true love that we are free, whole, and satisfied. The law can never satisfy; moreover, we can never satisfy it. Other loves briefly fill, but they never quench our thirst or satisfy our hunger. Only under the mantle of Christ do we find true love and the freedom to be fully whom we were created to be. And THAT, my friends, is why Princess Diaries 2 made me cry. Because when Mia lets go of her false love and takes the risk, she finds more than she hoped-- her dreams, "true love" as defined by Disney, and fullness of herself. I cried because I long for a different freedom, wholeness, and fullness, as defined by God.

But all too often, I am content to believe that freedom, love, and wholeness belong in the fairy tales; that it is fantasy and make-believe for adolescents. Grown-ups know better. Bull. Grown-ups, we long for true and whole love, just as much as the tweens; we long for freedom; we long to be fully ourselves. But WHY, do we turn the gospel into an impossible fairy tale? a chore? a responsibility? We miss the joy. We miss the romance, as our Savior calls us by name; we miss the courage, as he triumphs over evil; and we miss the freedom that he calls us to, as we settle for a love still legalistic in character. We are content to satisfy the requirements without ever knowing the freedom.

Our God loves us with a love which is whole, free, and overflowing. This is not a fairy tale. It is not child's play. It is not a dream. It is on offer. It will cost you everything. But, oh friends, it is worth it. True love? The kind that sets you free? It's not in the personals section of the newspaper, or on e-harmony, or at 1-900-whateva... it's the kind of love that, once you encounter it, you will never be the same again. It's the kind of love story that sent our Savior to the cross, it's the kind of power that made him rise from the dead, and it's the kind of freedom that calls us co-heirs to the throne. Not by the law, that no man may boast. But by the wild, uninhibited love of our Savior... the kind of love story that a fairy tale can only mirror dimly...

The God-Particle

I like clarifications. Ergo, I will begin with two clarifications:

1) Blatant statement of fact: "I am a nerd. I have no problems with admitting this fact."

2) Half of this blog is about physics, so parts of the post may seem to be in a different language. Do not fear gentle reader, it is merely physics. Do not worry, I will translate it. :-)

That being said, the other day, I was reading an article in the New York Times entitled "The Race is on for the 'God Particle'", about an experiment at Fermilab (in Illinois) which potentially has data demonstrating the existence of the Higgs boson, a particle sometimes known as the 'God particle.' In addition to the delightfully non-scientific language of "bumpiness" in the data, prompting a good chuckle from my end, the article made me stop in my tracks, to take a second and think about the colloquialism, labeling this particular particle as the 'God particle.'

For those of you not familiar with the Higgs particle, allow me to be freakishly dorky for a moment and clarify, quoting the article cited above: "According to the Standard Model, a suite of equations that describe all the forces but gravity, elementary particles and forces are born equal and without mass. Some then acquire mass by wading through a sort of cosmic molasses called the Higgs field (named after the physicist Peter Higgs) the way that a VIP acquires an entourage pushing through a cocktail party." In other words, the Higgs boson would theoretically explain why some particles acquire mass and others don't.

Side note, for the non-physics students, mass is the key word here. What is mass? Mass is roughly a measure of the amount of matter, or "stuff" existing in an object. It's similar to weight, except that it is not affected by gravity. It is not to be confused with a Catholic Eucharist, a large tumor, a play commissioned by Jackie Kennedy, or an Austro-Bavarian unit for measuring beer, as Google.com so helpfully defines it.

But back to the point. Why would a particle that confers mass be called the "God particle"? Physicists would answer that it came from a tongue-in-cheek book about the Standard Model, by Leon Lederman, entitled: "The God Particle: If the Universe is the Answer, What is the Question?" While that title in and of itself would be a blog of its own, allow me to stick to my original topic....

You see, theoretically, if the Higgs boson does exist, when mass-less particles come into contact with a Higgs field, they would acquire mass. In other words, they would contain "stuff." Perhaps inadvertently, physicists have aptly titled the particle. In the same way, when we come into contact with God, we acquire something of meaning. Exodus 2:18-20 tells the story of Moses viewing God's glory... "Then Moses said, "Now show me your glory." And the LORD said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the LORD, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But," he said, "you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live." You see, the Hebrew word which is used in this passage to mean "glory" is the word "Kabod" which literally means the "weightiness" or the "substance" of God. In this passage, Moses could not encounter the glory of God fully, because the weightiness of it, in light of his sin, would be too much for him to bear. He could only see in part. It's like the great example that C.S. Lewis gives in the "Great Divorce" of the shadow people, for whom heaven was too weighty...

But our story does not stop there... 2 Corinthians 3:13,18 tells us, "13We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away....Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." In other words, we can encounter God, with unveiled faces, being transformed into his weightiness. Like a particle that encounters the theoretical Higgs field, we encounter the living God, and that transforms us, gives us substance, mass and meaning.

No longer do we live in the fruitless ways of our pasts, but we are entreated (Eph. 4:1) to "live a life worthy of our calling" and not to be "tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind" (4:14). In other words, encountering God gives us meaning, or "matter" different from the "fruitless" and "empty" ways of sin, which are described in Ephesians 2 as belonging to the spirit of the air.

So, as to whether or not the Higgs boson exists, I don't know. Neither do physicists. But I would say that is quite aptly named... The articles quotes, "Unfortunately, the model (standard model) does not say how heavy the Higgs boson itself... should be." Physicists are trying to figure that out (as well as trying to ascertain its existence)... likewise, we as believers have no idea how glory-full God is, yet we daily delve deeper, seeking to see more of that glory (of the God we know exists). Worthwhile? I think so...

the book that inspired the world...

Before I begin, let me clarify. I am an extrovert (Myers-Briggs "E"). I delight in being in large swarms of people, even if I am not participating in the swarmation. I receive energy from other people, and more specifically, from their enthusiasm. So last night, despite the fact that I am not an avid Harry Potter fan, someone said party, and so I went!

In my defense, I have actually read the books, but my fanaticism is rather controlled, compared to some of the extravagance that I witnessed last night. The best I could do was a half-hearted joke about the "leaky cauldron" when the pot brewing my coffee boiled over due to lack of attention by the barista. Others in my company were fully decked out with purple hair, fake eyes, capes, scarves, and broomsticks galore. And, ne'er let me forget the small child who had actually attempted to elongate his ears, so that he would appear more house-elvish. Some hundreds of people packed into Barnes and Noble to await the release of book number 7. The angst was audible and the enthusiasm contagious.

As the folks lined up to receive their coveted volume, and the countdown to midnight concluded, I separated myself from the mayhem and moved into the fresh air outside to observe people as they exited the store. I find joy contagious, and good golly there was plenty of it last night! People were shouting and jumping as they passed through the wooden gates! YES! FINALLY! MINE! Now, gentle reader, I ask you, when before has a book ever inspired such a wide spread response, from the old, the young, the odd, the cool, the uncool, the avid readers and the non-readers? J.K. Rowling is not perhaps the most eloquent of writers-- in fact her style often leaves something to be desired in terms of grammar and structure. She is not proposing a radical new concept or mindset. She is not out to change the world. What is it about her books that is captivating? Simply put, she tells a story. She draws us in. She woos us, with a tale that speaks to both our dreams (yes, dreams) and reality. Her characters are simple; we can relate to them. Yet at the same time, they possess the ability to do magic and defy reality. J.K.Rowling is a story teller who knows how to speak to an audience, old and young, that has not outgrown their desire for pretend, to imagine, to be an ordinary extraordinary hero. Side, note, how would one address Ms. Rowling? I, for one, would always feel as if I was speaking in www jargon... ::valley girl accent:: "So, JK, tell me about things?" "JK, as I was saying..."

As people left the store, some of them flipped to the final pages, to "see how it all ends." (Side note, this drives me NUTS!) Others plugged their ears so that they would not accidentally hear any spoilers shouting out the secrets of the epic. Still others clutched the book to their chests, as if it would sprout wings and fly away (muttering under their breath "my own, my precious"?). I started thinking, as I giggled at their profundity, how often this is our approach to life. Many of us desperately want to figure out "how it all ends", so that we can live our lives in peace. We are anxious to jump to the conclusion, skipping all the steps along the way, so that we can live in the ending itself. Others plug their ears, not wanting to hear anything about the ending, in the fear that it might not be what they are wanting or hoping for. And others cling so tightly to life, that they are unwilling truly to live it, because merely possessing it is sufficient for their contentment.

As believers, we have the inside glimpse. We know the ending of the story; we have already read the final chapter. In fact, we know the author personally, and it was He who told us the conclusion to the book. Yet, while that part of the tale is partly "already" here, it is also partly "not yet." Thus, we sit down to read the rest of the story... to live our lives... day to day. We have to have all the chapters which come before the ending, in order for the book to be complete. In gospel terms, you cannot have the resurrection without the crucifixion. You cannot jump immediately to heaven from earth, without Jesus in the middle. Nor can we avoid living our lives here on earth in the meantime. We are not quite yet boxed up and waiting for heaven; there is work to be done here on earth. Nor can we ignore the fact that the end is coming; plugging ones ears does no good. Inevitably, while the question of Harry's imminent death is still unanswered, ours is not. We will all die, and ultimately, we all have a faith decision which must be made. Nor can you simply possess life, and not live it; this is to deny the abundant freedom which we have been given! There is so much more to the life that God has given us, that He delights to bless us with. So, dig deeper.

So, what do we do now? We know the ending... now read the book. Live in abundant freedom. Live in the good and the bad. Your true Author will never let you fall. The ending is unchanging. And the tale is fascinating.... so live it out! As for Harry Potter, I continue to plug away...Or, as they say, I just keeps on Rowling Rowling Rowling...

The Long Walk to the... Postbox?

The walk to the mailbox has turned into a journey for me. Each day, I gather my courage, and begin the two-tenths of a mile walk to that little tiny box of metal posted with my address on the front of it: 2544. The road on the way there is idyllic in nature, as the green trees sway overhead, and the small stream runs beside the road. The pond is full of crayfish and crawdads and other creepy crawlies which swim peacefully below its surface. The gravel crunches hard underneath my treads, as I step slowly, one foot after another, heading to my destination. I listen to the birds twitter above and the crickets chirping loudly... there's a chainsaw in the background, but even its rhythmic gestures seem to fit the pristine picture of the North Carolina countryside. A cow lows in the distance, responded to by the sharp barking of the ever fearsome hound-dog protecting its turf from the ever dangerous milk-cow. I have reached my destination.

With a sigh, and a feeling of anticipation, I stretch out my hand to grasp the metal door of the mailbox. Squeamishly expecting the contents to empty themselves at my face, I draw back. What will I find, when the door is open? Will there be a sheaf of intention cards, answering my fund-raising fears? Or will the box be empty, as usual, displaying only the cursory benefits of advertising papers and free razor blades? Empty again. I bow my head, and turn back towards the house. Maybe tomorrow... :-)

Surprising, what little things have had to become acts of faith through the fund-raising journey. Each time the mailbox is empty, I am reminded of my need, and my need to trust God for my every means. Every time the mailbox is fruitful, I am reminded to praise God for his provision. Perhaps it is a good thing that there are often days which are empty, specifically so that I realize the blessings when they do come. A life of luxury and fullness is a blessing, but often it makes us callous and hard to the fact that we do have to rely on God for our every need. We expect luxury, and then it loses its wonder. Then, when dryness comes, we wonder, where is God? God is still there. He has never left. He is merely asking us to trust Him more; to lean on him; even, to need him. Do I need God? Absolutely. When do I learn that lesson? Mostly when I see my need of Him.

So today, I thank God for the empty mailbox. I expect His fullness. But I am content to wait and work until that day. Today, I praise God because I am needy. Blessings come in many sizes and shapes. One of the biggest mistakes we can make is to think that blessings come only in the form of fullness and good gifts. Sometimes God's blessings shine through the most in times of emptiness and want. Today, I praise God because he is blessing me with need.

Straight from the horse's mouth..

So, as I am settling back into the US, I've been noticing language idioms a lot (possibly because they are in English, not Czech, and I can actually understand them!). Allow me to digress briefly... Where I am from, we call people "honey" or "darlin'." Apparently this is odd in the north. The word y'all (which, think about it, is absolutely necessary in terms of having a second person plural pronoun) is a Southernism, and is rarely used effectively in the north. Also, I just learned five minutes ago that it is no longer cool to call someone a goober. Who would have known?

Deeper than that though, there are idioms used in the States, which don't really translate effectively. Literally consider the phrases: "I smell a rat" "Jump the gun" "Cat got your tongue" "Making ends meet" and "Jump down someone's throat." Anyone know where those came from or how they acquired their cultural meaning? Now, pop quiz of the day, take the following phrases, literally translated, and tell me what they mean: "To walk around hot porridge" (Czech) or "He took you on his arm" or "I only understood 'railway station'" (German), or "To lick windows" (French). Get the point? They don't really translate (but they are fun!)

So, the point is... there are some phrases which don't really translate; rather, they require somewhat of a cultural understanding, or a contextual grasp of the situation in order to make any sense at all. Same thing is true with people. There are parts of each of us that cannot be understood on first meeting. They require context and truly listening, before they can be grasped. Reason for relating this? I'm in the process of learning that skill of listening well and listening deeply. To "tie up all the loose ends," often times I (we) are going too fast to really listen. We brush by, breeze through, or skim the surface on a mad rush through town, without really finding the content of anything. We "lick the windows" but don't really buy anything. We "walk around hot porridge" but never get to the point. So what is my point? Dig deeper. Slow down. "Smell the roses." "There's more than meets the eye." I'm learning this lesson slowly, over a long period of time. Join me. I'm not "taking you over my arm." It's worth while.

hometown days...

Ok, geography lesson 101, entitled: Yadkinville. Just for kicks and giggles, I decided to look up Yadkinville, my hometown, on UrbanDictionary.com:

A town that could also be called Nowhere, North Carolina. The biggest event of the past ten years was the addition of Bojangles. This small rural town is characterized by the simple youth hanging out in the parking lots of various establishments on weekends, mainly after dark. But don't worry, they won't hurt you. For the most part they are gentle creatures known to most of the world as "rednecks." Centered in one of the last remaining dry counties it is amazing that you can find the more troubled youth of the area drinking their problems away. Yadkinville, a place that isn't even known to people who live ten minutes away.
Yadkinville is extremly small.

Welcome home, kids, welcome home. Surprisingly accurate. The scariest part? I knew the kid who wrote the definition. Other than that, all that is missing is: population 2,826; number of stoplights: three; number of last names: five; largest export: tobacco; language: Yadkinvillese, distinctly different from pure Southern.

Date with Jesus

John Stott once said that people generally have three reactions when they really encounter Jesus, both in the Bible and now:

1) They hate him and want to kill him
2) They are afraid and run away
3) They fall in love with him, and follow him

Why? Because when they encounter Jesus as he is, they realize that their lives, their worlds, and their ways of doing things have to radically change. Jesus, as he was and is, does not allow room for apathetic acceptance or religious tolerance. He is not merely a good teacher. Jesus demands that lives change.

... and in other thoughts from the sermon (Mark 2:18-3:6) this morning:

-- "Real" Christianity is not measured by the amount of suffering in your life (the gospel is NOT "hit me God, one more time"). It does not exclude suffering, and often trials and sufferings are a large part of the Christian life. But our center should be on the joy for which we suffer. The joy of knowing and loving Jesus. The joy which we look forward to at the wedding feast in heaven. We should always be looking towards the joy, not dreading the next sorrow (Mark 2:19-20). Christianity is not a relationship of pessimism, but of hope, life, and joy. I think as Christians we could certainly learn to live that out on earth a little bit more...

-- The Sabbath is not a list of to-do's with God. Mark 2:27, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." Kevin compared Sabbath rest to having a date with God... taking time to enjoy relationship with him. If we were to go on dates with lists of rules (pick me up at 7:05, wearing only earth tones, drive down main street 7:10, walk for precisely 20 minutes, drive to restaurant at 7:32, talk only about the Met's sloppy performance for 7 minutes, drink half glass of water, use restroom once for five minutes... you get the point) the date would not be fun at all, and certainly would not result in meaningful relationship. Same thing with the Sabbath. Sabbath is about relationship with God, and time spent with God to honor and enjoy his presence. The question we need to be asking ourselves is not, "what can I or can't I do on Sabbath?" but rather "why does a day in quiet with God seem so unappealing to me?"

My House?

Haggai 1:7-10

7 This is what the LORD Almighty says: "Give careful thought to your ways. 8 Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build the house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored," says the LORD. 9 "You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?" declares the LORD Almighty. " Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house.

Whose house am I building? Whose support am I fundraising? Whose campus am I going to?

On whom am I relying?

back on the farm

So the other night, I had the distinct pleasure of helping my mom with a task which everyone loves... "nipping" the goat's hooves. For those of you not from the farm, let me explain... Essentially it involves wrestling the goat to the ground, physically pinning her on her back, and cutting her toenails with a large set of plier-like clippers. Let me be clear: Goats hate this; mine in particular! However, the process is entirely necessary.

If the hooves are not nipped, they grow over the soft pads of the foot, and often allow dirt and gunk to accumulate on the foot, leading to infection, rot, and in general, bad things. But sometimes the process of cutting the hooves feels more painful than necessary. The goat ends up on her back, sometimes the hoof bleeds if you get too close to the foot itself, and often times, there is an uncomfortable pressure, as the hoof is cleaned out.

As I was sitting on top of my goat, holding her down, and listening to her moan, I started to think about how often times when God has to clean out my heart, my reaction is very similar to my goat's. While God is merely cutting off dead skin, and cleaning out areas which have grown hard, calloused, or infectious, I often moan and cry as if he were purposefully hurting me. He has to prune our hearts, so that they too do not grow infectious or harmful, and sometimes this is a painful process. But ultimately, it is done for our good. And if it is not done, then like my goat, when her hooves are not nipped, we start to limp in our walk. We too begin to suffer the consequences of a life and a heart which are not properly maintained. Sometimes the pruning process comes close to our hearts, and sometimes it's painful. But ultimately, God has our best in mind. And if he doesn't clean out the JUNK in my heart, then I too will not be able to walk the walk that he has planned for me...

twirls...

I really think this is a little girl phenomena, but I love to twirl and be twirled... there is something about the freedom of running and dancing, unabashed, that is beautiful (and fun!)