in pursuit of happiness...

Happiness. Or, if you prefer the Will Smith version: Happyness (and its pursuit therein.)

It's our obsession. Often times a nice one, but an obsession nonetheless. One of our constitutionally declared human rights: of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Sorry, Will, we tend to prefer to use "i" as often as possible.

Webster defines it as "a state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy"). For most people, that correlates to "good times," "pleasure," and "fulfillment of our desires." Happiness always seems to be one acquisition away: a spouse, freedom, a child, more money, a house, a new toy, deeper faith, a few more goats, a bottle of milk, you name it.

Yet, this system of happiness is deeply flawed because it always leaves us searching for more. It is hedonistic in nature and never leads one to a place of contentment. It's the search for contentment which is preceded by the qualifier "If only I had..." or "If only I were" which can be followed by any variation of hedonistic to holy items and adjectives.

And the Christmas/New Years season seems to be the King Kong of all seasons for this pursuit of happiness and self-improvement.

Please don't mistake me: there is plenty of good that can come from constantly seeking to grow or improve or go deeper. There are good growth goals, and good New Years resolutions. I've already made my five or six. But at a root level, we are looking for our happiness in the wrong places.

At a root level (see previous post), we are assuming that we by doing the right things, pursuing the right things, and changing ourselves in the right ways, can bring ourselves happiness. Even in a Christian context: I want to pray more, I want to deepen my faith, I want to be faithful in my QTs or generous with my money. Those are good things. But they start from a position of self-action. And that's flawed. This true "happiness," that deep sense of contentment and intense joy, can only come from surrendering our lives, and our goals to someone who knows better, who has only our best in mind. Otherwise, it's just a constant striving for self-improvement in which we will inevitably fail.

So, here's my suggestion: instead of creating our own New Year's resolutions, instead of attempting to "make" ourselves "happy," why don't we ask God what he would have us do? You see, He seems to have the master plan for our eternal well-being (which may look drastically different than what we think we want), and my guess is, His plan is better than ours. May our words echo Paul's in Philippians 4:12-13

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

Our contentment, our intense joy, even our happiness does not come from our "pursuit" but rather from our rest in a good God who knows better than we, what is best for us.

Symptomatic

While on holiday at my parents home, I am without my trusted steed, my beloved metal box, my small but reliable Honda Civic. This is all well and good because apparently he's sleeping under about 2 feet of snow (probably deserved the rest). But, what that means is, when I want or need to go somewhere here in NC, I have to borrow my Dad's monster... I mean truck. Picture an 18 wheeler, and then downsize it just a teeny little bit...

Now, lest you worry, this truck does come with extra special features. Some might be tempted to refer to them as "door that does not shut all the way," "unusable mirrors," "fuel light that constantly blinks on and off" and a "blind spot the size of a hippopotamus," but I like to think of them as "fresh air rippling through my hair," "an odd form of neck stretching/exercising gear," "built in twinkly lights," and "an excuse for any poor driving decisions that I make."

My favorite feature, however, is the flashing yellow light correlating with a dramatic fuel gauge drop, that warns me in capital letters that I am low on fuel. And best of all, it does so spontaneously, regardless of the actual level of my tank. This results in a moment of panic, until I realize that no no, I just filled up 15 miles ago, and while the tanker does guzzle gas, not even it can guzzle that fast.

When that light flashes, it flashes to warn me that something is wrong, or will go wrong soon in the future. But the flashing, in this case, is merely symptomatic of something else that is wrong in the car. The fuel level may or may not be low. That is not the real issue. The electronics in the truck are the issue. The flashing lights signal a deeper problem than just fuel level.

It struck me tonight, driving home, how true this is of our lives as well. Often times small things cause us to blow up, loose control, run away, hide from a situation or person, or retreat into ourselves. Yet, often times, neither the small things nor our immediate reaction to them is the root problem at hand. Rather, they are symptomatic of a deeper issue, resonating on a heart and soul level.

The best doctors treat the illness, not just the symptoms. They do not prescribe cough drops for tuberculosis, merely because the patient complains of a persistent cough. They do not hand out tissues to a patient with AIDS, simply because they complain of a cold that will not go away.

We too could stand to learn from this lesson: until the roots of our issues are laid bare, we are merely passing out cough drops and tissues or buying gasoline every 15 miles. But far too often, we are content to merely treat the symptoms (sadness, self-hatred, apathy, futility, arrogance, anger, to name a few).

Is it messy to search for the roots? Absolutely. Is it complicated? Certainly. Does it require outside help (a trained mechanic in the case of my father's truck; a counselor or mentor in other situations)? Please, dear Lord, I do not want to see myself under that hood. Yes. Is it painful to prod and dig until the root is laid bare? Most definitely. But, in the end, addressing the root of our issues is the only way by which we are able to deal, to process, to heal, to be made whole.

It is far easier to remain "fine." It is far better to answer the great Physician "Yes, I want to be healed and I am willing to do whatever it takes."

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Nat'l Champions

Today, for the first time in all of school history (all 178 years of it), for the first time in any sport, the University of Richmond won a national athletics title.

Today,Spider Football team defeated the Montana Grizzlies 24-7 in the NCAA Division I finals to claim their first National title!

And I'm Spider-born and Spider-bred and when I die, I'll be spider-dead...
We are.... U...R!

I'm always proud to be a spider, but today, I'm a little extra excited and proud!

Darth Vader, a woman and an Ent

Today, on the bus ride to campus, an older (and by older I mean comparative with my grandfather) man struck up a conversation with me... While it was slightly creepy at times (e.g. when he managed to simultaneously insult and deride Christianity and tell me that he was single, available and looking, all in the same sentence), it was also interesting to see what he had to say about faith and God.

One of the mixed blessing/curses of working in ministry is that upon hearing about your job, people frequently tell you their opinion of God, Christians, faith, the Church, etc. While he began by telling me that he thinks of God as some combination of Darth Vader, a woman, and an Ent (picture that kids), he concluded by telling me about when he was homeless for four years and believed in God because he realized he couldn't get by without that belief. He said he couldn't have kept going, unless there was something outside of himself because he, in and of himself, was unable.

That's profound. Not the Ents part. The concept that we cling to God most tightly, we believe in God most fully, when we understand our need for him. Profound.

Mark 2:17 "Jesus said to them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Perhaps this is why God often seems to give us more than we ourselves can handle... because it is only in our neediest moments that we understand our need for Him, and we take our eyes off of ourselves and honestly and truly look at Him, sometimes for the first time.

Simplicity on the far side of Complexity

"I would not give a fig for the simplicity this side of complexity, But I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity." -- Oliver Wendell Holmes

This quote begins a chapter entitled "On Simplicity and Complexity" in one of my favorite books of all time, entitled "The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace" (John Paul Lederach). The thesis of the chapter is that you have to "complexify before you simplify" (33) because the simplicity that comes before knowing all of the varying in sundry complicating factors in a situation is really worthless, inane and naive. But, often times, the true answer is also remarkably simple: you just have to be on the far side of complexity in order to see it clearly.

- "I love you" said in passing is a joke or a pick-up line. Said sincerely, after two hours of fighting through your issues, both still steaming from anger-felt, it is both moving and profound.

- "Money doesn't matter" said when living with excess money is naive. After years of making ends meet penny by penny, putting children through college, and working three jobs, to be able to say that money does not matter is full of wisdom.

- Peace between nations might be made through a simple conversation between two mundane individuals. But to attempt to arrange that conversation prior to understanding all the actors on the stage would be ludicrous.

- "Don't worry; God is in control" said when your life is spiraling out of control can feel tactless and trite. Is it true? Yes. But does it have deep meaning until you realize it yourself, on the far of side of complexity? No.

My simplicity on the near side of complexity: "Just be yourself! People should like you."
The complexity: they don't always and I don't always.
The simplicity on the far side of complexity: "It's not about me and life works better when I stop focusing on me and how I'm doing, how I'm performing, and start focusing on Jesus, and caring for others."

It's remarkably simple. But it takes wrestling through (and failing in) all of the other options in order to see that simplicity. You could have told me that 3 months ago, and I would have completely agreed that you were correct. But it would not have resonated in the same way that it does now, after 3 months of self-serving, self-examining arrogance, doubt, pride and self-pity.

Here's my point: the answer to our dilemmas often times is ridiculously simple. But in order to see and understand the simple answer, often times, we must first walk through the complexity.

Where we often mess up? We want to give a simple answer when we haven't engaged the issues. Dealing with grief and loss is one of these areas. Dealing with sin is another. Dealing with questions or doubts is another.

The answer is always simple. But in order to get there, we sometimes (most of the time) have to get messy first. The take home? Don't be afraid to engage the complexity. But at the same time, don't miss the forest for the trees.

There is beauty in the simplicity on the far side of complexity.

Complexity, defined

As defined by a google images search:

World AIDs Day

This is an AIDs event which some of our students put on on campus this past Monday, December 1 (World Aids Day) to raise awareness. There are four hundred pictures representing children affected by the AIDs pandemic, shown above (event sponsored by World Vision). The pictures covered the entirety of one quad on our campus, and that's just a drop in the bucket compared to the overall statistics:

Every day, nearly 6,000 people die from AIDs.
Every day another 6,000 children are orphaned by AIDs.
That's one person dying every 15 seconds.
Another one orphaned every 15 seconds.

33 million people world-wide live with AIDs.

To learn more, about what you can do, visit World Vision's website.

Family. Culture. Heritage.

I spent Thanksgiving with my family in Virginia... a few things I observed on my heritage and culture:

• My family is very proud of our ethnic heritage. I am 1/8 Norwegian, 1/8 Swedish, 1/8 Scottish, 5/8 German. And I am told repeatedly of our history... the great-grandfather who fought in the Civil War... the great-great-great-something grandfather who fought in the Revolutionary war... the great grandmother and great great grandparents who immigrated and made a life for themselves here, out of nothing. The sketchy great-great grandfather who, at age 50 married a 25 year old and had 8 children. This is my heritage. My family is proud of it; I was raised on these stories. I was raised to be proud of my heritage.

My culture is Southern, American, White, with a lot of German-Scandinavian influences:

• We avoid conflict face-to-face, although talking about it behind someone's back, raising a "concern about someone," happens far too often.
• Sometimes there is a false veneer of "politeness" and "niceness."
  
• Male dominance and superiority, deference to male leadership is assumed. Women are supposed to be the domestic, hospitable, gentle ones. Their place is in the kitchen.
• Race tends to be talked about in a negative light.
• Education is highly, sometimes overly, valued.
  

• We value music highly.
• We hug a lot.
  
• Laughter and tears flow freely, for both men and women.
  
• We show that we care by feeding people and showing hospitality.
  
• Hard work is highly valued, as is frugality and timeliness.
• We are always there for one another, no matter what, even if we don't like the other person, or agree with what they're doing. Why? Because we're family and family is more important than anything.
  
• Money is always shared between family members. We help each other out.

There are parts of my culture which are good and Godly. There are other parts which are distorted by sin. But this is my heritage... and it is my culture. And both affect who I am, and how I relate to and care for others...

Naked and Unashamed

Can I be really honest?

The past few weeks have been pretty hard for me, because my world has felt very out of control. I have seen my own insufficiency in stark reality. I have often felt like I've failed. Fear has been rampant. I have often felt like a disappointment. And my identity has also felt very foreign, as if I am trying to put on a wool sweater, only to find that it has shrunk in the dryer and, like the Grinch's grouchy heart, is now two sizes too small. Five gazillion transitions in a span of 3 months will do that to you occasionally.

"Me" doesn't seem to fit. It's easier to try and "fit in," than to be fully "me." But that too feels uncomfortable, because at the end of the day, I'm only good at being me. Trying to be someone else or something else other than myself feels like wearing a swimsuit in place of panties... which inevitably always ends up wedging itself in very uncomfortable places. Not a good fit either. So, I find myself caught in the middle.

And, I'm realizing more and more, that some of this disconnect (although certainly not all) comes from a very deep inner sense of unhealthy and non-Godly shame. See, "guilt" says, "I've done something wrong," but shame is much more insidious. "Shame" says, "there's something innately wrong with me," "I have failed, I have let people down, I have not lived up to their expectations, they must see me as a failure, I am not enough."

And whenever I relocate to a new place, new culture, new city and feel the disconnect of transition and change, trying to figure out exactly how things fit together, my own shame and sense of deep inadequacy rises the surface. In the awkwardness of trying to find my place in a new environment, I immediately question my "right" to be in that place. And the volume of the lies in my head gets amped up a bit. "Worthless." "Failure." "Without form, without identity, without distinction." "Who are you, anyhow?"

Satan's favorite attack on me is one of shame: "You are a worthless failure and unable to please God. You dishonor his name." And it is highly successful far too often: it is crippling when I buy into that lie.

But friends, here's the truth: Satan's attack is so highly successful because it is built on a basis of partial truth. I am unable to please God. I am inept at what I do. I will fail inevitably. But Satan's attack is thwarted by a simple recognition of the Gospel. Here's the good news for me today...

I have value not because of anything I do or am, but because God has conferred value to me by making me, as a unique daughter, His. I am worthy not because of what I do or am, but because God has made me worthy through Jesus. I cannot, but the Holy Spirit can, and He merely asks that I request his presence and power. My failure does not change my worth because at the end of the day, it's not about me. And friends, that is GOOD NEWS.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is made perfect through weakness."

So friends, here I stand, "naked and unashamed" allowing my "messiness" to hang out, because at the end of the day, shame has no place in the already-but-not-yet kingdom of God. And I need those words of truth to speak louder than the lies that I all too often believe.

Orange and Red

In the fall, the colors are beautiful... if only I stopped to admire them frequently!

Hail to the.... Lord.

You know, as I was doing a quick browse-through of facebook statuses this morning, I was amazed by the bipolarity of emotions represented... everything from "This spells the demise of the world" and "I'm moving to Canada" to "This is the best day of my life" and "For the first time, I'm proud to be an American." Really, it shouldn't have shocked me... but at the same time, it did startle me to see the vehemence of the reactions... allow me to explain:

See, I knew that at the end of the day, we would elect a new president. It might or might not be the one that I wanted (or that you wanted). And, in January, he or she would be officially inaugurated into office. And he or she would enact policies with the attempt of making America a better nation. And he or she would have a combination of successes and failures, really good policies and really lousy ones. These are givens, regardless of which candidate ended up trumping the vote at the end of the day. That's the job of a president.

But, for many people, the election was not merely about electing a president, a political figurehead, who would make decisions through the secular political machinery, through their own human wisdom (and that of their wiser advisers) determining the pivotal next steps for the nation... for many people, this election was about "a hope for the future," "a savior for the nation," "redeeming the American reputation," and finding "the answer to our prayers."

I think President-Elect Obama should paraphrase the words of Coach Herman Boone in the 2000 film, "Remember the Titans,"

"No wait. I’m not the answer to your prayers. I’m not a saviour or Jesus Christ or Martin Luther King or the Easter Bunny. I’m just your [President] that’s all.”

As of November 5, 2008, we have a President-Elect. His name is Barack Obama. And as members of the nation, we should stand behind him, as a bipartisan electorate, committed to bettering the nation through democratic process, which includes disagreement. Hatred and disengagement gets us nowhere.

We also have a Savior for the nation. They are not one and the same. But neither is his name John McCain. And until we look to Jesus for our hope for the future, to be the Savior of the nation, the answer to our prayers, and the redemption of America, we will always be disappointed.

Can we just reassign roles? Here's my suggestion:

Let's call Barack Obama "President" and let's call Jesus "Savior."

Standing in line, to see the show tonight...

... or to vote for our new political leaders... same thing.

So great is our angst to "get out the vote," that Starbucks is giving me free coffee, and Ben and Jerry's is giving me free ice cream, just for voting. News flash, America, I would have done it anyhow. But I appreciate the bribery! :-)

Standing in line this morning, to cast my vote, I was struck by a few things:

1) Like it or not, informed or not, best choices or not, in the US of A, the people do have a voice. The people I was standing in line with may or may not have actually known anything about the candidates that they were voting for except "change" and "experience," but come what may, their votes actually play a role in determining who our next leaders are... and that in and of itself is a beautiful thing that we often neglect to applaud sufficiently.

2) I was amazed by how many races were un-contended. Having done my research like the educated voter that I am, I knew there were a couple candidates that I could not support, but they were the only ones that were running for that particular office. For all our political passions and enthusiasm, we are personally apathetic... is it really democracy, if the candidate is basically a shoe in? Is it really "voting" if there is no second party? or, heaven forbid, third party?

3) In the course of one five minute session, I got to vote on whether or not MA should abolish the income tax, whether marijuana use should be de-criminalized, and whether dog racing should be banned. There are days in which I love living in this state.

For all the schmooze, "voters" are ordinary people... ordinary people who accidentally lean on the light switches on the wall, casting the entire voting auditorium into darkness, multiple times... ordinary people who live next door to me... ordinary people who care deeply enough to stand in line for 45 minutes to an hour to cast their ballot... ordinary people, who as they walk into the ballot box are still looking for wisdom and "truth." Ordinary people who just want to see our country become a better place, even though they might disagree on the mechanism for getting there... such is a beautiful thing, my friends! And for that reason, I applaud democracy. I applaud election day. And as much as I hate politicians, I applaud the political system, in that it forces us to use our voices to speak in favor of a "better USA."

Go team. Let the games begin...

Irony

This morning at 10:30 am, my doorbell rang, and I opened it with full anticipation of finding early trick-or-treaters ready and raring to go for the candy that I did not have... when lo and behold, to my astonishment and amusement, I found instead two Jehovah's witnesses.

The irony of it does not escape me, so I thought I would share.

Justice for... all?

I like the environment.
I hate driving.
Driving in my city makes me sin.

Ergo, I ride the bus to work every day.

On that particular evening, the bus was only about half to three-quarters full. There was the usual back-drop of chatter and murmured conversation, but nothing significant. The crowd was pretty tame that night... As we pulled up to the T-stop, from my seat near the front of the bus, I could see that there was a decent-sized crowd queued to get on the bus. So I wasn't surprised when all the seats, including the one next to mine, filled up. The aisles were also full.

I smelled my seatmate before I saw him. His best friends were named Jack and Jim (Daniels and Bean, respectively), and he had clearly spent a good deal of time with them earlier that evening. Standing at about 6'2,'' with Rastafarian-style dreads, huge overcoat, and carrying crazy yellow and orange spider flowers, my new friend loudly self-proclaimed to the bus that he was seventy-six and "having a good time."

He then proceeded to loudly announce to me, and the rest of the bus, that he was scary and he knew it, that he intended to give me nightmares. And then told me how he intended to do that. All the while, inching closer and closer, to a point where, if he had gotten any closer, he would have been sitting in my lap. Leering. Yelling. Laughing. And when I refused to respond, he proceeded to lecture the bus (ironically) on the five principles of keeping your woman happy, which would have been highly entertaining, had the situation been different. And the bus sat silently. No one responded. No one moved.

When I got off the bus, my emotions were all over the board: Angry. Terrified. Sad. Furious. Verbally abused. Fearful. Confused. Mostly, however, I was just angry. I had been treated unfairly. I didn't deserve that treatment. I didn't ask for it. It was not right. Period.

Since then, I have ridden the bus a few other times when this man, who calls himself by a wide variety of different names, has been on the bus. And I've learned a few other facts about him (via his monologues). He is a war veteran. He suffered from PTSD. He is homeless. He's mentally a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but has been dismissed from the local mental hospital. He has no family. He sleeps in Central Square. And he always monologues loudly, in similar situations to mine, and no one ever responds.

So now, I see a second layer of injustice. He was medicated early with heavy medications for a disorder which he obtained in service to his country. When the medication ceased, alcohol was the easy second coping mechanism. He sleeps on the streets, having been dismissed as "unaidable" from the mental institution. And he rides the bus because its warmer on the bus than on the streets. It's not right. Period.

So as I have been processing through this, a few thoughts have kind of spilled out for me...

1) Injustice is never one-dimensionally; it is complex, multi-layered, and similar to a spiderweb in that, if you step on the wrong twisty thread, or look for the simple solution before dealing with the complexity, you wind up in a sticky situation.

2) I am much quicker to deal with injustice when it personally affects me. I am quite willing to be apathetic when it isn't my cause of the week, or personally relevant to me. I talk the talk, but "caring" takes on an entirely different tone when it hits close to home.

3) It's ok for injustice to make you angry. In fact, it should. The question is, where does that anger take you? To bitterness, hatred, judgment, and disengagement? Or to fight for justice, to engage in healthy ways, and towards a great understanding of our fallen and broken nature as humans?

What's the right answer? I don't know. But this much I do know:

1) Running away, giving in to fear, is not the answer.
2) Being foolish and foolhearty, ignoring safety, not thinking wisely, also not the answer.
3) We, each and every one, have an intrinsic and undefinable longing for justice. Something in us screams, "I was made for something better!"

Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. (2 Corinthians 5:2-4)

Step out of the Crowd (IV)

BUT here’s the good news for you…

Relationship with Jesus is life transforming

A few weeks ago, we talked about this picture of Jesus coming to restore, to make all things new… and that that is the picture of the kingdom coming! And the truth for us is that the restoration of all things begins with a restoration of our relationship with God.

Jesus, in perfect relationship with God the Father, came to restore our relationship with God by perfectly living in relationship with God, perfectly fulfilling the law (like we talked about last week) and in the last moments, laying himself DOWN, placing God first above all else.

Where we chose narcissism (self-love), at the crucial moment, Jesus chose God-worship, to restore our relationship with God once and for all. And he invites us into that freedom and that restoration, of all things made new, restored to the wholeness that God intended.

And in the same that broken relationship trickled down to every aspect of our existence, relationship renewed also trickles down to every aspect of our existence.

The final picture of the fullness of this, is found in Revelation 21:3-5:

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."

For each individual in the story, when they engage with Jesus, their lives are transformed And the same is true for you today: relationship with Jesus will transform your life! Jesus spoke to each individual in the story… and perhaps his words to them are the same words that you need to hear today.

Jesus speaks to the woman, and says, “Daughter.” Think of gentleness of those words. Daughter. How long it has been since she has heard a voice of compassion and care. “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” My child I know you... I see all of your past, all of your sins, and I say to you, by the power of my name, you are free! Go in peace!

Jesus says Jairus, “Don’t be afraid. Just believe.” You might think that I have forgotten you Jairus, but I am still coming to your house. My timing is not your timing. I am on my way. Will you believe that I am capable of what seems impossible to you?

He says to the little girl, “Talitha, Koum!” (Little girl, I say to you, get up!”) Even though you might think it is too late, I tell you it is not! I have the power to make what was dead, alive again. Get up! Will you trust me? Will you put your feet on the floor, and trust me for the rest?

And to the disciples, Jesus’ call is to come with him: to be his messengers; to invite others into a place of freedom, relationship with him. And Jesus’ message is this: I have to make all things new. Will you trust me? Or merely be observers to my power? Never truly engaging in relationship with me?

And his question to you is the same.

Step out of the Crowd (part III)

Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

So here's take-home number two:

Jesus sees all of us, not just the parts that we want him to see.

I don’t know about you guys, but there are definitely parts of my life that I don’t really want anyone to know about. We all have those… areas of guilt or shame, deeply hidden brokenness… that we don’t want people to see!

But Jesus listens to this woman tell the whole story… the whole truth… ugly and glaring as it might be… hurtful and painful as it might be… He wants to see everything. The whole truth laid bare. And the best part is… even hearing the whole story, his response to her is a response of freedom and transformation. And then he continues, in the story, to give the same gift to Jarius...

While Jesus was still speaking, some men came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler. “Your daughter is dead,” they said, “Why bother the teacher any more?” Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, “Don’t be afraid; just believe…

Have you ever felt like Jesus was so busy taking care of other people that he didn’t have time for you? That your prayers had gone unheard? That Jesus didn’t care about personal relationship with you? My guess is that that's just a little bit of what Jarius is feeling here... but Jesus keeps going...

When they came to the home of the synagogue ruler, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. He went in and said to them, "Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep." But they laughed at him.

After he put them all out, he took the child's father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum!" (which means, "Little girl, I say to you, get up!" ).

Immediately the girl stood up and walked around (she was twelve years old). At this they were completely astonished. (Adapted from Mark 5:21-42)

Jesus intimately sees each character in this story. Not only that, but he speaks to the heart of who they are and what they need. In the same way, he wants to personally speak to and address your need and your heart. So my question for you is, which character would you be?

The bleeding woman: burdened by guilt or shame, feels ostracized because of her uncleanness. Her “dirtiness” affects the way that she views herself and the ways that she interacts with others.

Jarius: the guy who has always been religious, who knows the right answers, always has believed in God, and is asking Jesus for healing, but Jesus doesn’t seem to be coming fast enough. Maybe deep down, you struggle to believe that God cares about you. Maybe you’re angry because it seems like God is not answering your prayers.

Jarius’ daughter: desperately in need of healing, but it seems like Jesus is un-concerned. In fact, now it feels like it’s too late for you. You no longer think that Jesus has anything to offer you and you’ve become apathetic.

Peter, James, John: You are observers to Jesus’ power, you seen personally how Jesus cares for individuals, and now you are beginning to wonder about his calling for you to do as he does and care for others in the ways that he does…

…or perhaps you have become so accustomed to Jesus’ message, his personal pursuit and his power, that they no longer amaze you. You use the words “personal relationship with Jesus” so often that they have lost meaning for you.

Often times, I think I identify most with the bleeding woman. I feel like the ways that I have messed up, the hurts in my past should keep me away from real relationship with Jesus or with others. And I hide as a result. But this is not a new theme...

Way back in time, in the Garden of Eden, God created man and woman. He created them to be in relationship with one another and with Himself. And he said it was good. YOU were designed to be fully known and fully loved. And that’s deeply ingrained in our own personal, human longing for relationship.

But Adam and Eve chose to place themselves above God, to value their own desires above his plan. Ironically, this is the root of narcissism, in the absence of truly being known and cared for as an individual.

Christians sometimes like to use heavy-hitting words, such as “sin” to describe Adam and Eve’s actions. But, sin, at its most basic level, means “broken relationship.” And by disobeying him, choosing themselves over him, they broke relationship with God. They felt the shame of that, and a result, they hid. In the same way that I hide my brokenness from others, they hid by covering themselves with fig leaves.

It wasn’t just a “oh cool, fig leaves! new fashion trend!” move, but an attempt to hide from their shame. To flee from intimacy with God and with one another. To cover themselves. And that sin, or broken relationship is still present in our lives today. We still bear the marks of that damage.

We see it in… broken families… broken relationships… broken racial relationships… abuse and assault… broken relationship with the environment… injustice in the world… broken body image and view of others… eating disorders… wars… hatred... social injustice.

And we hide as a result. Sure, our hiding places don’t look very fig-leafy… but they are hiding places none-the-less. And the truth is, Jesus sees all of that junk… just like he sees each character in this story… not just the parts of us that we want him to see…

Step out of the Crowd (part II)

I'd love to share a story with you, that I heard not so long ago...

There was woman named Maria living in Queens who had a health condition called menorrhagia. This just meant that she had bled continuously for over a decade…and there was nothing that doctors could do. She should know, she had spent every penny that she had trying to finance her medical treatments. All were unsuccessful. Now she had nothing.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the treatments, she thought due to with a dirty needle, she had obtained HIV-AIDS. Her reputation preceded her now. She didn’t have the money to hide her condition. It was not a luxury afforded to her. She described it, saying that in her worst days, there was blood caked and crusted on her clothes and skin.

No one wanted to help her. She slept in a cardboard box on 52nd street. Even among the other homeless, she felt a certain taboo. Everyone maintained a healthy distance. It had been years since she had felt a kind human touch. No one even wanted to allow her a bed at night, because were she to bleed on any sheet, towel, or article of furniture, the other tenants would risk being infected. And she would most certainly bleed.

It wasn’t that people were necessarily unkind, but they had to protect their own health and cleanliness. Certainly some were unkind. She had the remaining bruises to prove it. People stared; there were always whispers about her on the street. How she had gotten that way. What she must have done. Fear was always present in their eyes, even among the most well-intentioned, when they saw the blood caked on her body. All she wanted was to be invisible. She had given up hope of health.

Then one day, everything changed. A great doctor named was coming to town… even she had read about him. He was being urgently shuttled-in, on the mayor’s personal request; apparently the mayor’s daughter was unexpectedly dying of a mysterious disease, and it was urgent that this doctor reach her in time. His train arrived in Penn Station at 5pm, at the height of rush hour traffic.

The Gospel of Mark, chapter 5, continues this story, which I have begun to re-tell...

When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed. Immediately, her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. At once, Jesus realized that power had gone out from him.

He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?”

“You see the people crowding against you,” His disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, “Who touched me?” But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it.

The woman would be content to be near him, to experience some of his power, anonymously. But Jesus is not satisfied with a casual encounter in a crowd. He wanted to know her in the same way that he wants to know you. He longs for relationship with you. So, here's take home #1 from the passage:

Jesus sees us even when no one else does

The woman in this story is just one of the crowd. It’s like the end of a winning Red Sox game … everyone is pushing to get out, traffic is crazy. Bodies slamming against one another. If you fall, you’ll get trampled.

And she makes it up behind Jesus. Touches his robe. And he stops and asks “who touched me??” What the heck?? Come on Jesus? You’re in a crowd! Everyone is touching you! But Jesus stops, because he cares intimately about the person, the individual, who has sought him out.

Step out of the Crowd (part I)

In our culture and our time, it is relatively easy to be swept up in the beauty of the kingdom, of seeing shalom, seeing wholeness and restoration. Right? We’re a social justice culture! We like the idea of the kingdom coming. But it is easier to hold ourselves to a standard of legalism of “do’s and don’ts”, to model our lives after Jesus, to try to transform our own lives, than it is to actually follow Jesus and let him do the transforming. We are fascinated by Jesus, but we don't want to give him any authority in our lives...

There were always crowds surrounding Jesus, and often, we are content to be members of those crowds. Observing, but never interacting on a personal level.

My senior year in college, I had a cat named Marusia... She was a cute, 3-5 pounds of gray fluff. She looked like a sweet-heart. WRONG. She was MEAN. She had had abusive previous owners, and she had some serious trust issues. She took great delight out of biting, scratching, and climbing you like a tree. But at nights, when I was sleeping… she would slink up onto my bed, doing her little cat turn-around thing, meow meow, and then climb up onto my face. And she would sleep with her belly across my nose and mouth.

So of course, I would wake up unable to breath, choking on large hairballs of Marusia… or would have dreams about suffocating in rooms full of green shag carpets that had suddenly grown arms and were strangling me. It was great.

But here’s the deal: Marusia was not interested in relationship with me. Her trust issues were too big. But she wanted to be as close to me as possible …

The sad thing is, often times, our interactions with God are very similar: we want to get as close as possible, without actually having relationship.

And here’s the punch-line:

Jesus is not satisfied with a casual interaction in a crowd. He wants to know you. He longs for relationship with you. And you, on an intimate level, were made for relationship with him.

In fact, if you look at all of the times in which Jesus heals people or interacts with people, you will not find a single example of a time when he claps his hands, turns around three times or taps his red sparkly magic slippers together, and whole crowds of people are healed anonymously. When Jesus interacts with people, he does so intimately, personally, and relationally.

Make no mistake: this is not the same thing as our culture’s narcissism which says, “It’s all about me, yay! Jesus is my own personal God! My own personal Savior!" But rather, as we seek the kingdom, the restoration of all things, it has to begin with restored relationship between us and God.

Apple Cinnamon

This past weekend, some friends and I went apple picking in Vermont because we had a hankering (that's right folks, I did just use the word "hankering!" Look it up; it is in fact in the dictionary) for homemade apple pie... it was a fantastic time; I even took the time to perfect my apple pitching ability... and no, we did not eat any worms!

As a result of said apple picking, however, I have found myself up to the elbows in apples for the last day and a half... apple pie, apple butter, apple sauce, raw apples, etc etc... and yesterday, as I was pealing roughly ten gazillion apples, I had a moment of waxing nostalgia to the scent of apples and cinnamon. My mom would always flavor our house with apple cinnamon before company came over. It was her way of providing a welcoming atmosphere...

In fact, I was telling my roommate, one of the things that I really value about my mom is her attention to and appreciation for the little things in life. So, in honor of her, I wanted to take a moment to comment on a few of the little things in life that I appreciate, or that mean something to me...

• I am grateful for the mornings when my roommate makes the coffee for us...
• I love it when my house smells good when I walk in...
• I love it when students ask how I'm doing and wait for an answer
• I love it when strangers smile at me in non-creepy ways
• I love it when people put up quotes in their bathrooms, so you have something to read while taking care of business
• I love watching my dying plants perk up when I actually remember to water them
• I love the smell of apple cinnamon... or lavender and vanilla
• I love seeing my breath when I walk outside on a cold morning
• I love love love the moment when you realize that a stranger has become a friend!

What do you appreciate in life? What makes you smile?

into the depths

My mom always used to say that "the eyes are windows into the soul" (a statement stemming from an old Yiddish proverb) and that "looking directly into people's eyes is one of the most intimate interactions that you can have, without physically touching."

I think there is some truth to that statement. There is an intimacy in eye-contact that one rarely ever finds outside of physical contact. It is a naked and beautiful depth and warmth, that almost makes you uncomfortable, if you maintain it for too long.

It is also one of the things missing in most casual encounters. Passing on the streets. Walking in the park. Driving in the city. People do not look you directly in the eyes. In fact, at times, it more comfortable to look anywhere and everywhere else.

Intimacy lost. Depth compromised. Anonymity preferred. Life is too fast and too busy for intimacy. We prefer "git her done and moving along." So here's the challenge: take the time today to look someone in the eyes. To see them. To take back, to honor, the depths. To acknowledge, once again, that they do in fact have a soul.

I am now getting off my soap box...

Stretching...

A few weeks ago, a few friends re-introduced me to rock walls.

For someone terrified of heights and falling, these are perhaps a very bad idea. But, for someone who likes a challenge, who likes being physically and mentally stretched, they're quite a lot of fun! For me, the one who falls into both camps (terrified and liking a challenge), they are quite terrifyingly intriguing.

But the interesting thing about rock walls is that as you are climbing, you often times have to move a foot from a secure pivot, through a moment of uncertainty, and stretch to reach a new foothold. Often times this feels incredibly dangerous, risky, and well, if you hate heights, terrifying.

But here's the catch: unless you stretch, take risks, and move from security through the uncertainty, you will never reach the top of the wall.

I think the same thing is true in life as well. Often times, we are more comfortable on our secure pivots and grips, and unwilling to continue to stretch. And we might achieve mediocre views, relatively good heights, and the safety and security of our comfort zones. We will temporarily have a strong grip on life: it will feel manageable, even under control. But eventually, our arms and legs strength will give out, and we will fall from that mediocre height because we will have never truly reached the "safe place" at the end of the climb.

In the end, settling half-way, even though it seems less risky and less dangerous at the time, is never truly a place of safety or security.

With liberty and... uh... justice?

This past Sunday, Dr. Um made a statement which I thought was fascinating. He said,

"The survival of the fittest mentality fosters injustice not justice because survival of the fittest is not about fairness or equality for all, but rather, a pragmatic system in which the strongest survive." In other words, the individual is dispensable; the system must be upheld. This idea of "justice" goes to pot, figuratively speaking.

He went on to say, "There has to be a moral framework outside of ourselves for there to be any real sense of right and wrong, justice or injustice." In other words, a competitive system of survival mechanisms does not in and of itself produce an understanding of and longing for a just world.

I hear the words "social justice," "just cause," "justice being served," "striving for justice" and others, all the time, working on a college campus. They are, in a sense, the buzzwords of the day for those savvy and in the know. But maybe its time to take a step back and ask ourselves a few really important questions:

1) What is justice? What does it look like?
2) Where does it come from? How is it attained?

And may I preemptively state that if you think justice comes from education... take a look at how some of the most educated societies in the world have historically handled justice. Might I suggest looking at the Babylonians and Assyrians, the Romans, the United States, the Russians, the Germans, the Japanese, and the Chinese?

Or if we go by statistics, check out some of the most literate nations in the world and consider how literacy correlates to standards of justice. I find countries one and two particularly interesting.

How about the education level? Take a look at the "most educated nations" ... are they upholding justice yet? Yes, maybe their justice doesn't look as bloody and violent; their forms of injustice are more sophisticated, more surreptitious, and more insidious. If you look at statistics like corruption rate, and total crime level, we see some repeats of countries from the most educated list... it doesn't appear that education level radically transforms a society from an unjust one to a just one.

So, we come back to the original question... where does justice come from? And what is justice, at its root level? Thoughts? Questions? Observations?

I'll post on this further in the near future. But for now, the floor is yours!

Gradual ripening

Sometimes, life is marked by gradual and ordinary changes...

These are fresh tomatoes, sitting on our windowsill, ripening day-by-day. When we initially placed them on the windowsill, they were entirely green, and rather unappetizing. Now, they are a pleasant shade of orangish-red. The transformation was not momentary, nor instantaneous, but it happened none-the-less. We didn't see the change happen, but over time, we saw the "fruit" of the change.

Sometimes life is like that... we pray and ask for change. We long to be transformed. But transformation doesn't happen over night. None-the-less, God is at work, gradually transforming us into more and more of his likeness. In some time (sometimes days, weeks, months, years even), we will look back and be able to see the results of that change, even if we couldn't actually see the change as it was happening.

Within :: Without

in the desert
springs
a bruised reed,
a wilting flower,
a thorn with no rose.
from such great heights
none can dare imagine.
yet life within
overcomes
death without.
barren wastelands
give birth to beauty.
from the ashes,
arise prosperity.
from the desert,
springs anew.
the misshapen stone
becomes the cornerstone.
majesty in mystery:
darkness, stripped off,
light shines forth;
thorns renounced,
beauty unveiled;
in the desert,
springs
life anew.

Ordering the Chaos

In the course of the past few weeks, I think the word that I have most often used to describe my life has been "chaotic" or "disorganized."

I have been living out of a suitcase for the last two months.
A month ago, I moved 14 hours north of my hometown.
Three weeks ago, I started work on a new campus.
Two days ago, I moved into a new apartment, sans furniture of any form.

Yet today, suddenly, I feel a tad bit calmer and more settled. What changed, you might ask? Well, friends, that's quite simple:

I installed a rod in my closet for hanging clothes and I built my own dresser (save the applause; I already know that you're impressed!).

And, lest you be thinking... "uhhhh, KG, are you sure that you haven't been dipping into the wacky tobaccy? Cuz that doesn't sound particularly logical to me..."

Before you write this off as a sappy and irrelevant rambling, allow me to make my point: I think there is something in all of us that longs for order. Systems. Guidelines. Parameters. Some semblance of expectations. There is something indescribable about feeling like you have a "place," even tangibly a "place" to put your stuff. Even the free-spirits among us seem to thrive more when given a system to rebel against.

For those of you who know me well, you know that I am not a stickler for order. Just look in my closet for proof. I thrive on not conforming to social norms. I enjoy being unexpected. And I have never been particularly organized. Myers-Briggs, I am almost entirely a "P." But at the same time, there is something in me that longs for things to "fit together," "to feel right," "to belong," "to be understandable." In other words, to have some semblance of order.

Maybe, just maybe, this is because we were created for one system, wherein everything had its place, there was beauty in the disarray and in the meticulous arrangement, and each part of creation belonged. Each part knew its role, its place, and its individual and communal beauty.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something in us that knows we were made for something better: a place not of inexplicable chaos, but a place of "belonging."

And maybe for me, that is reflected in my longing to unpack.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go place my shoes in their proper place: haphazardly strewn on the floor.

Unplugging

Ah, blog world, it has been a while since I have last visited you.

I've been in New Hampshire for the last few weeks (there and back again multiple times)... I apologize for my delinquency. I promise, I do still love you.

But, at the same time, this past week in New Hampshire, without internet connection, without really having cell phone service, and being unable to watch television or even really listen to the news, I was struck by one simple fact:

I survived. Not even just survived, but I thrived.

I had real conversations, played games with live people, and spent a whole heck of a lot more time relationally than I do when I'm "back in civilization." Sure, I might have missed out on a couple important emails. I might have missed a few key phone calls. And, heavens to mergatroit, I might have actually missed a few facebook status updates. But, at the end of the day, was I really any worse off, having taken a week virtually unplugged?!

Here's my thought: what if we unplugged a little more often?

What if we were to invest in real relationships instead of virtual ones? What if we controlled our relationships with our technology rather than letting it control us? Not to say that we should never use technology. Not to say that we need to give up facebook, email, or cell phones. But what if we limited our relationship with it to perhaps the "open relationship" status, perhaps also engaging in real relationships?

And if you really really need another reason, my guess is that your number of facebook friends would also increase, as you spend more time with "real" friends.

Holy weeping

I haven't really cried in a few weeks now. The last time was in my kitchen in Carrboro, a few days before I was set to move. I'm not too big on the tear shedding business, unless I'm tired, angry, truly sad, or hormonal. Occasionally truly moving scenes in movies or books will get me as well. Case in point: I ALWAYS cry when Maximus dies in "Gladiator" and when Sarah returns home in "Redeeming Love." But, as a general rule, I rarely water the earth with my own in-house produced salty droplets.

But this morning, I was reading Nehemiah 1, and I started thinking about shedding tears on a different level. In Nehemiah 1, Nehemiah inquires about the fate of his people and hears (1:3) that

"Those who survived the exile and are back in the province are in great trouble and disgrace. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been burned with fire."

Upon hearing this, Nehemiah's first reaction (1:4) is, "... I sat down and wept. For some days, I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven."

In other words, Nehemiah sees the brokenness and disarray of his people, and his first reaction is mourning and prayer. He recognizes that things are not as they should be and he weeps. His face gets streaked with tears and dirt and nasty snot, his dignity is gone, he might even have gotten hiccups. His heart breaks for the fate of his people, and that drives him to his knees before God. He recognizes that his people were made for something better, and he weeps out of holy longing for restoration and a deep sadness for their brokenness.

And my question is: What makes our hearts break? Do we weep for the brokenness that we see? Or is our dignity more valuable? Our apathy greater? Our self-centered nature blinding? Our expectation of wholeness insufficient?

Do we weep for brokenness, or just sigh and say, "That's just the way it is"?

God gave us tear ducts for a reason: there is such a thing as holy weeping, holy mourning.

Catechism of cross-gendered relations

When we hit our early to mid-twenties, the Heidelberg Catechism seems to be put aside for a new book of catechisms. It must be mandatory reading for everyone older than the mid-twenties, as everyone older than me seems to be asking them.

First, we begin with modified versions of "what do you want to be when you grow up?" which mount in intensity the longer it takes for you to pick a major, job, source of income. Once you've settled on a source of financial prosperity, then the questions move into "Are you dating anyone?" which, when answered in the affirmative, proceeds into "So, do you think you'll get married?" or, if answered with a negative, then the statement, "Oh, well I know this great girl/guy who I think you would really like!" spontaneously ushers forth from the mouth of the caring and well-intentioned individual. If you are already married, then the questions tend to center around procreation... and how soon you intend to do it.

And these questions drive me crazier than a blind cat with catnip tied to its tail. Allow me to explain.

See, I think there are some good solid Biblical roots to these questions... for example:

• Genesis 2:18, God says, "...It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." and then God does just that, creating woman.
• Genesis 1:28, God tells man, "... Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it." A few chapters later, Adam and Eve get jiggy and comply with this command.

The focus on marriage, job, and procreation is ultimately from a well-intentioned source. As humans, we were made for companionship. We were given work in the garden, and that was a good thing. Being fruitful and multiplying certainly keeps the human race in business a little bit longer. Good things.

But, unfortunately, I think it also has an unhealthy and unintentional side-effect: it leads to unhealthy cross-gender relationships, because we are so focused on what "could be" as opposed to the friendship that is now. We are constantly sizing the other up, constantly wondering, "could this be..." As a result, friendships stagnate over the potential of more. Questions such as "does she like me" or "yikes, I think he's into me" cause real relationships to falter.

And yes, I understand the need to be cautious about appearances. Yes, I know that you don't want to lead anyone on. But my suggestion to you is... could we not potentially address all of those concerns by just being honest? real? open? Seriously. Wow. Such a radical concept.

But let me press this a little bit further and actually get to my point. News flash: men and women are different. Shocker. But, not only are men and women different, but they are different in complimentary ways. Meaning, men and women, we need each other.

But here's where the church often gets tripped up: complementarity does not necessarily mean that we need to get married right away. While marriage is a great thing, and I thoroughly intend to enjoy it one of these days, we are also given the blessing of complementarity in non-sexual relationships. And I'll even be bold enough to say:

Men, you need female friends. Women, you need male friends.

And by focusing so entirely on the sexual complementarity, and future complementarity, we often miss out on real relationships, real friendships here and now.

So here's my challenge: can we take off the lens of the future? Committed to honesty and straightforward dialogue, can we begin to engage in healthy cross-gendered relationships, which don't rule out the option of future relationships, but aren't so focused on them that we cut off our noses to spite our faces?

And the first thing to go has got to be the catechism...

Basking in Being Small

Just got back from 5 days at New England regional staff conference and am attempting to process all my thoughts on vision, direction, mission, core conglomerates, definitions, theories, structures, remembering the names of the 10 gazillion people that I meet, and oh yeah, what figuring out what I'm supposed to do next... And, at times, it can feel a tad bit overwhelming. Okay, a lot overwhelming. There is so much that needs to be done and so little time to do it all. The perfectionist, achievementalist, realist in me is attempting to bungee jump off of the precipice that it feels like I am quickly approaching...

After regionals, some new friends and I went on a hike up Mount Monadnock, the most hiked mountain in the USA... this is one of the pictures that we took:



But as I looked at this gorgeous picture, what struck me most was how incredibly small we appeared (I'm the dot on the left). Next to the mountains, we were nothing. Scripture says similar things about the mountains' size compared to God:

The mountains quaked before the LORD, the One of Sinai, before the LORD, the God of Israel. (Judges 5:5)

Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:2)

And in that moment, I realized, it's ok to be small. It's ok to be weak. It's ok to be inept. Because God is a big God. And He is bigger, stronger, and much more able than anything else that I will ever face. And when he is with us, there is nothing to fear.

Lessons from the Road

Well, dear friends, I have arrived.

After 1000 miles in the car, 14 hours spent talking to myself (or other drivers), more of interstate 95 than I ever hoped to experience, and unthinkably many cups of coffee, I pulled into Boston, Massachusetts. I'm still working on learning how to spell Massachusetts without the aid of spell-check, so please forgive me if the full-drawn-out-version appears multiple times in this post. Regardless. Hi. Welcome to my life. Lessons from the road?

You are more like to get stared at if you wear sunglasses: people somehow think that if they cannot see your eyes, then you cannot see them, ergo it is perfectly a-okay to stare for as long as they like. This principle applies on-road and off.

In Connecticut (yay, spelled it correctly!), littering costs $219 dollars. Not $215, not $220: $219. Please don't ask me why, I'm not quite sure.

A seeing-eye parrot? Really now? I was hanging out in a rest stop on the border of Maryland and Delaware when a lady strolls out of the rest-stop with a full-sized parrot on her shoulder. And by full-sized, I mean at least 2 feet from tail to beak. And bright blue. And alive and talking. Like whoa. And since the rest stop had pretty strict animal policies, as in, limited to aid-animals, I can only deduce that this must have in fact been a seeing-eye parrot. Or perhaps a member of the missing-link family?

Never, ever, ever, and by that I mean never, drive into New York City. Especially not during rush hour. Especially not through the Lincoln Tunnel. Enough said. Three hours, three miles later, I realized my mistake.

The value of the turn signal. When one is driving in the south, often times the turn-signal is an unneeded-extra. There are turn lanes, guarded left-turn lights, and frankly, just not that many cars on the road. Here, however, where drivers multiply by the millions, aggressiveness quadruples, and driving prowess also increases, turn signals become quite dear friends. This, you will note, is also the difference between NYC drivers and Boston drivers: Boston drivers signal, and then cut you off; NYC drivers just cut you off.

But all that aside, the drive was fairly smooth, and I arrived in Boston in one piece!

M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U-S-E-T-T-S.

Next stop, Beantown.

Well, at long last the count-down draws to its conclusion… in less than 14 hours, I will get in my little green car (affectionately known as Oscar, although he is at all not grouchy) and begin my 14 hour trek northwards towards my new home, Boston, MA!

Many years ago, I used to sign all of my emails, “Pray boldly, because God delights to astonish us.” Friends, that was true then, and it is true now. All too often, I think we are tempted to pray human-sized prayers. And our God is so much bigger than we are… and his plans, his ways, and his understanding are so much bigger than ours. So, as I head to Boston, out of my comfort zone, into a “strange land,” that is what I would ask you to pray… pray boldly that God would astonish us with and delight to use us in his plan of redemption for his people, his cities, his campuses, his world.

... I'll see you on the other side. Next stop, Boston!

American Savior... er, President?

For those of you who might find yourselves in a comatose state, temporarily stationed on Antarctica, or on holiday 300 leagues below the sea, let me give you startling news: it is an American Presidential election year! For everyone else, well, you already knew that.

And the political science major in me rejoices greatly.

Simultaneously, I both love and abhor politics: I think it's fascinating how our political systems work. I think politicians are full of hot air (and I don't mean the helium kind). I think the idea of real change is beautiful. I think reform is far too often just a code word for "I want your vote" with no more meat than a skinny squirrel during a famine. I think Republicans and Democrats (or at least their policies) are far more similar than they admit. I love the ridiculousness of third-party candidates. But at the same time, I find them strangely refreshing because they run with true heart and real agenda for change, even if they have less hope of surviving than a NC snowball in July.

But the one thing that repeatedly gets me in American politics is that, despite official "separation of church and state," both sides arrogantly seem to think that they can claim that God uniquely stands on their side. Gott mit uns, no? And, simultaneously, the church, or many of its phalanges, are attempting to see which party will create the most "theocratic" governing body. In other words, which president will be the most Christian? Which will come the closest to establishing a godly government? And while these are noteworthy and noble goals, and a moral government is certainly to be desired, may I politely suggest that I think that the idea of a Christian government misses the point of government?

But, before I'm burned at the stake, defenestrated, or led to the gallows, allow me to explain.

Most of us think that the separation of church and state came from the first amendment, coined into a phrase in 1802 by Thomas Jefferson, established by the Supreme Court in subsequent cases. The truth, however, is that that separation came much earlier.

1 Samuel 8 begins with Samuel and his sons, the appointed religious leaders of the day. At that time, the nation of Israel had no separation between religious institution and governing political body. The priests, the judges, and the prophets ruled, with God as the recognized king. The rulers, as religious authorities, had political power, because they recognized God as their king (modern equivalent, president, cabinet, etc). But the people begin to get antsy, and they beseech Samuel to give them a king "because everyone else is doing it." (Don't believe me? Read the text.) God's response?

And the LORD told him: "Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. As they have done from the day I brought them up out of Egypt until this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so they are doing to you." (1 Samuel 8:7-8)

And from that day forward, we had separation (sometimes partial, but yes separation) between the religious authorities and the governing body. And all the bloody mess that followed.

Here's my point: Until God is recognized as King, we cannot have a unity between religion and politics. We can try (certainly the nation of Israel tried many times, Iran is trying now with Sharia law, England bloody well tried numerous times), but we will not succeed until the king or ruling authority is no longer man, but God. And, like it or not, we are not a nation which recognizes God as King, regardless of our origins. Religion, or godliness, cannot be just another weapon in the politician's arsenal.

Please don't mistake my meaning: I am all for having a president who believes in God, who loves Jesus, and who seeks to lead from Christian values. I think those are good things. But I do not expect the political headship of our nation to bring about the redemption of mankind. And, I think, when we attempt to reunite the church and state, we mistakenly assume that reinstating "God's men (or women)" into office will reinstate God as King.

Politics, or the existence of an elected or appointed ruler, is by definition to claim an authority other than God. Can we recognize politics for what it is, and elect good men or women into power... but recognize that true change, and the coming of the kingdom, will not come through the political office, but has to come through recognition of God as King, and Jesus as Lord and Savior?

Feel free to explain to me why I'm wrong. :-)

Cup o Joe

caffeinated morning crowd,
not so many morning people.
awkward, suave, cool;
old and young,
families and single folks,
rich and not so much.
all united to a common life-line.

by evening, divided they will fall,
split by preference and extravagance;
youth and marital status.
but in the mornings,
bleary-eyed and yawning,
all members stand untied
in their common need
for Joe
and a little cream and sugar.

Breath

Monday night, I took a belly-dancing, yoga, Pilate's class with some friends, further substantiating my already well-established belief that my stomach core muscles were not intended to oscillate, flex, or move whatsoever, except in the natural in-out of breathing for walking and running... ah, well. You will note, when the teachers were asking for volunteers to perform, they did not nominate me. My childhood dreams were crushed. Regardless...

As with most yoga and Pilate's classes, it was rather new age-y and somewhat positive-happy-whatevery-energyish... But, as our instructor cooled us down by teaching us good breathing patterns and inviting us to think of good and positive thoughts, she said something that I thought was interesting:

"Breathe deeply, because the spirit is in the breath."

Isn't that interesting, when God also says, "then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature." (Genesis 2:7).

God, by breathing into us, set us apart from the animals. God, forming us out of soil, brought us into our humanity, by a simple breath not an seismographic kablooey.

Truth is all around us. We just have to have the eyes to see it with proper vision.

No one wants to be on the B-team

Eight days until I move northwards.

So, dear friends, I have a confession to make: I am arrogant.

While this might shock you (I know, I know, who would have guessed?), I assure you that it is true. I think I am right most of the time. If I appear humble, most likely it's because I feel that I am the most humble person around, and am quite proud of that fact (ah, the irony).

A few weeks ago, I sat down with a wise mentor and friend to talk through some of my feelings (ah, the dreaded word) with regard to the huge transitions coming up in my life. I was expressing fears, doubts, and frustrations about following a direction outside of my well-orchestrated plans. And my friend quite honestly said to me:

"You haven't been told 'no' to your big life-plans very often, have you?"
::ouch:: ::sigh, well, no, really just twice before this::
"And so, since your "A-plan" was rejected, now you feel like you're getting second best?"
::enter sinking feeling in pit of stomach as truth sinks in:: ::sigh:: ::yes::

and after a pause, "Do you really think you're getting God's second best? Are you that arrogant, to assume that your plans are better than God's?"
::why, yes, now that you mention it, I am that arrogant:: ::sigh::

And friends, here's the deal: at the root of my exaltation of my own wisdom, is the ugly doubt that God is not who He says He is (... good... good father... sovereign... loving... powerful... faithful...sufficient...). Ergo, I think I understand better than He does what I need/want.

It's truly humbling to realize that you're ridiculously self-centered and arrogant. But it has the good sting of truth settling in with cleansing power. Truth, spoken in love, is kind of like alcohol in a wound. It burns. It hurts. But it keeps infection and arrogance out. And being humbled or broken, is a hard place to be. But it's strangely freeing, as you let go, remove yourself from the divine driver's seat, and let God be God. In the words of Y&T:

I thought I did what's right
I thought I had the answers
I thought I chose the surest road
But that road brought me here
So I put up a fight
And told you how to help me
Now just when I have given up
The truth is coming clear

You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

God's plan is the A-plan. Sometimes that coincides with my A-plan. But when it doesn't, that does not imply second-best, B-team material. God's best is always the best. Period.

Now, can I (can we) live like I (we) believe it?

Who do you say that I am?

Earlier this week, I spent time with some colleagues, dwelling in Matthew 16:13-23, where Jesus first begins to talk of his death. He asks his disciples the pivotal question: "Who do you say I am?" We were challenged to answer that question ourselves, not in the "good, true" answers that we intellectually knew to be correct, but rather, on a heart level.

And the question which I kept coming back to was, "Do I believe that God is sufficient?" Enough for my students; enough for my housing and funding; enough for me in a new location; enough so that I can be weak and messy and He can still work? And the answer to that question, on a heart level, is that I often struggle to believe that God is enough. But that struggle is a good one, because it continually drives me to my knees in repentance and dependence, as I realize more fully my own need, and ask God to show me himself more fully. And, I think that God delights to show us how big he is, if we are willing to ask him.

A wise colleague advised me to read Abram's story, as I prepare to make the move to Boston, and even as I struggle with this idea of God's sufficiency. Genesis 12:1 begins,

"The Lord had said to Abram, 'Leave your country, your people, and your father's household and go to the land I will show you.'"

It is then followed by God's promised blessing to Abraham in verses 2-3. But the key thing to note is that God does not give Abram the details of the blessing: it is enough that He is called by the Lord. God does not always explain his provision, nor does he always show us the means by which he intends to bless us. Rather, he asks us to step out in faith, trusting in nothing more and nothing less than than the fact that he is sufficient. And then, as we turn to him in faith, he delights to show us himself. Let us pray boldly, therefore, because He delights to astonish us!

matthew 16:15

how do i define someone
Who is bigger than i?

uncontainable,
unexplainable.
knows fully;
but, of yet, cannot be fully known.
i know his presence
yet words, oft too small to define.

quiet voice,
yet penetrates so deeply.
center to my definition, existence.
does not need affirmation or belief
for existence or presence.
so much bigger than i.

historical, promised, real, flesh and blood,
yet not bound
but by, to
His Father.
aroma. essence. source.
not to be confused with soft nor fuzzy;
but decidedly good, sweet, true.

held by justice.
willing to give it all: mercy by definition.
inexplicable.
but not a contradiction.
reason for my actions, all.

standard to which i'm held.
charged. judged. fall.
by which redeemed. pardoned. whole.

set free to follow.

Love and Power

I've heard this quote a few times in the last week, and, as it typically does, repetition makes me think:

"And one of the great problems of history is that the concepts of love and power have usually been contrasted as opposites, polar opposites, so that love is identified with a resignation of power, and power with a denial of love. What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best, power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love."

(Martin Luther King, Jr., 1967, 11th Convention of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in Atlanta, Georgia. )

Read it again. It's worth two times through at least... now what does that mean for you and me?

understanding, angst.

red. white. blue.
still black and white divided too?

ignorance and arrogance
privilege of an unknowing elite?
when i look into the mirror,
stand in the grocery store,
walk through a park,
or drive my new car,
do i have to notice first that i'm white?
indo-european, to be precise.

buying beauty products,
hair conditioner and shampoo,
do i see, understand, know,
that it's made for people just like me?
or, friends, is my white privilege
putting blinders on?
ignorance and arrogance,
privileges of the unknowing elite?

frustration, anger, come with knowledge.
what do i do? how can i act?
hands tied behind my back
in a harness of my own crafting.
realization, wisdom dawning:
there are no simple solutions
and that is half the problems' source:
anger and misplaced hate,
shallow understanding,
and simplicity on the near side of complexity.

with deepening understanding
comes fear. anger. frustration.
but sharing in the shackles of knowledge,
even if that means remaining bound,
unable to act,
lands greater understanding
to be applied with right power
when the time to act
is rightly granted.

Church Angst

Yesterday morning, I set foot in my home church in Winston-Salem for the first time in about six months. Yet no matter how long I have been gone, how many things have changed, it still feels like home. And it is. It was in this church that I truly began to grasp on a heart level what I always known intellectually: that is, that the church is more than just a building. Bound together, we are the body of Christ.

A few days ago, I was talking with someone who was expressing a lot of frustration at the Church (capital "c"). Honestly, this is not an uncommon sentiment for many college students. And to be completely honest, it's not a sentiment entirely without justification. There's a lot of sin in the church. The church as an organization and individuals claiming faith have been responsible for some pretty heinous acts and horrible decisions over the past few centuries. If you need more help on that one, check out some of the main protagonists and justifications for the crusades, colonization, ethnic cleansing, slavery, witch trials, the KKK, etc.

But here's the truth: there's a reason that there's a lot of sin in the church.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for us, the church is made up of sinners. Whom, I might add, look remarkably like you and me. And all to often, when we rely on our own judgment and abilities, rather than God's wisdom, we mess up. We sin often. We judge others as flawed or sinful, rejecting them, when we ourselves share the same status. And this is not a new thing; for centuries, people of faith have felt the divide between our redeemed self and the sin and wickedness which remains in our DNA. But the beauty of the gospel, friends, is that God didn't call perfect people. He came to us while we were yet sinners, and called us, as sinners, to follow him. He redeemed us. He made us clean. And it is by His grace, not our own merit, that we are able to stand in His presence. And this does not merely extend to individuals, but must likewise extend to the church body: it is only by grace that we stand.

And here's the part that struck me yesterday morning: not only did He call us, as sinners, to follow Him, but He called us as sinners to follow Him together. This is what is known as the church. It is not a perfect organization; it is a body constantly being perfected, refined and redeemed by the Lord.

Interestingly enough, you can scour Scripture, but you will never find the phrase "personal relationship with Jesus." This is not to say that Christ does not individually redeem each and every one of us. But rather, every time Christ's relationship to us is mentioned, it is with regard to the body, or the church. We, as a bunch of sinners, are bound together as the bride of Christ. And that is not a choice that we get to make. As believers, followers of Christ, we are part of the body, inextricably linked to one another, for better or for worse.

And so, as believers, we have a choice to make: when we see each other's sins, within the body, does that drive us together to repentance, seeking and depending on God's grace? Or are we going to go back to the garden, playing the blame game once again?

"It's not my fault... it's the church's fault."

Friends, as believers, we are the church. Can we, as sinners, stand together, reliant on grace?

Casting Vision: get out of the boat!

This summer, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about vision, or calling students and ministry partners to a bigger picture than just “well, we are a group of students and staff that love Jesus and want to share him with others.”

And the vision is really simple: that students would follow Jesus. But what does it mean to really follow Jesus? It’s equally simple in theory: it means to care about what Jesus cared about, to see people (including yourself) like Jesus would, and to act accordingly. To follow Jesus means caring for the poor and feeding the hungry; it means loving justice, and valuing mercy; and it means living out what we say we believe. Jesus directly cared for the poor, hungry, and sick, but he also trained and equipped his disciples to plant the church in the same pattern. To follow Jesus means not only to individually act on our faith; but also to train and equip the next generation to live out their faith. It means letting your life be transformed by the gospel. Friends, that is radical! And were we as Christians to actually live in such a way, it would not only transform our lives, it would also transform and bless the campus and the world.

As I thought about casting vision, I was reminded of the story in Luke 5:1-11, when Jesus crashes an early morning fishermen gathering, gets in their boat, putting out from shore for his morning sermon, and then giving them an unexpected bumper-crop of sun-warmed fish, so heavy that their nets were bursting and their boats couldn’t hold the bounty. Then Jesus gets out of the boat, and he says (vs. 10), “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.” And then something even more extraordinary (vs. 11) occurs: the fishermen “pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.”

So what does this have to do with campus ministry?! Friends, my job is to call students to follow Jesus: to be in their environment, to get in their boat, to speak their language, and to entreat them to get out of the boat and follow Jesus. Jesus calls the fisherman to something bigger than they’ve known before, and their lives are transformed by it. Those twelve men would go on to plant the church and carry Christ to the nations. The power of the gospel is that it not only transforms the lives of students, but students equipped to live kingdom lives will renew the campus and change the world. That's the big picture, or the vision, that gets me out of my boat and onto the campus: I believe in the power of the gospel to transform lives and change the world.