Resuming blogging

Two years later.... Attempting to resume the blogging process in a new location.

Feel free to follow along [or not] on the new site!

She is Called Beloved

life together

Simple thought:

Running is often times my metaphor for life... it is where God often times meets me, teaches me, hangs out with me, and reminds me of things that he has already taught me. The image of running a race as a metaphor for life has been very powerful for me, in teaching me perseverance, patience, training, endurance, silence, honesty, sacrifice, selflessness, and many other things

And yesterday I remembered, once again, that I run better when I run with others.

Apply as you will.

FINE! I'll make you happy!

Three months later, and many dollars shorter but memories richer, I return to the blogosphere. I could apologize for many paragraphs, but we'll just leave it with, "friend, it's good to be back!"

The other night I went running, as I have many nights this summer [reason #951 to love the cooler northern summers]. As I was running through one of the crowded areas of the city, I passed a woman in her mid-twenties, talking on [and when I say talking on, I mean screaming into] her cell phone. I'm not entirely sure what the conversation was about, but I do know that the average conversation soundbite that I can actually catch while running the opposite direction is about 10 seconds. This one, I caught about 30 seconds of due to high volume of said individual and the language in that 30 second soundbite alone would have required a R rating...

So I'm guessing the conversation wasn't necessarily a happy go-lucky one.

At any rate, the one phrase, screamed into the phone, that most caught my ear was this:

"FINE! I'll make you happy. I won't be [...] happy at all but I'll make you [...] happy. I hope you know how [...] miserable this makes me."

Man. What a picture of love. Truly the self-sacrificing martyr that one... chances are high that she will [and by that I mean, will not] receive a metal of honor for that sacrifice...

Yet, as much as I roll my eyes and am shocked by her angry, loud, ugly response [to an unknown prompt, in an unknown situation], I wonder how often my own heart response is very similar...

"FINE! I know it's the right thing to do, so I'll do it, but I'm not going to like it..."
"FINE! I know I need to be talk to her/him, so I'll do it, but I'm going to hate every minute of it."
"FINE! I'll go, because it matters to you, but I'd really rather be anywhere else."

I might not verbalize those things... in fact, given my semi-southern culture, you might never know what's going on inside. But the ugliness is still just as ugly.

May I be as convicted of my own bent-ness, as I am of hers...

Have mercy.

thank you, mischiveous friend...

Someone out there deserves mega kudos for a fantastic prank against me. Friend, I do not know who you are, but I'm impressed.

Allow me to give you a sampling of the emails and mailings that I've received in the last two months, arriving each and every day:

- Babies R Us Catalogs
- What to Expect When You're Expecting
- Newborn Photo Gallery portrait options
- A 3 day sample pack of Enfamil Newborn Baby Formula (my personal favorite)

- Emails entitled:
"Congratulations, You're now in your 3rd Trimester!"
"Dealing with your postpartum body"
"Your baby is almost here!"
"Delivering your baby naturally"
"The Pro's and Con's of Epidurals"
"How to Avoid Stretch Marks"
"Congratulations on your new arrival!"

So, anonymous friend, thank you for your sass. Your wit. Your class. And apparently my newly-born child, which can be credited to you. That was the most effortless delivery pregnancy and postpartum possible. Thank you. And I applaud your creativity. :)

It is what it is.

"It is what it is."

A phrase of uncertain origin, some say appearing as far back as 1949, is a well-known sports cliche, often used to describe unfavorable outcomes or circumstances in games or competitions. Coach John Fox of the Carolina Panthers, for example, frequently included it in his arsenal to describe his team's performance... sorry Panthers, better luck next season.

Regardless of its origin, it is a phrase that I have heard a lot lately...

... I just lost my job, but... it is what it is.
... My start-up company failed and we lost 11 million dollars in 11 months, but...
... I am really lonely and would love to be in a relationship, but...
... I have a lousy relationship with my family, but...
... I haven't slept in four days, I am completely overwhelmed, but...
... my elephant has a sinus infection, and is lame in three legs, but...

"It is what it is."

[note, all real examples except the last one]

What does that even mean?! It is what it is. It's like saying... "See that squirrel over there? That's a squirrel." True. Not helpful. See, the way that I see it, there are three possible things that we could be meaning when we utter this particular cliche:

1. Eh. I don't know what to say, so I'm going to fill air space by not really saying anything.
2. Eh. I don't want to engage with you with the fact that this is horrible, so I'm going to just pretend that I'm in control of the situation and okay with it all.
3. Eh. I am currently trying to persuade myself of an alternative reality and parallel universe theory isn't doing it for me, so instead, I'm just trying to pretend that this current situation isn't lame.

Really folks, we can do better than that.

It's a cliche phrase that attempts to fill a space that would have a far more profound impact if we just said, "it sucks" or were silent. It brushes off things that matter in a frivolous attempt to be cavalier and nonchalant.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of many cliche phrases. Just Manny being Manny. That's the way the cookie crumbles. She's moving slower than molasses in January. That's what she said. Bless her heart. Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle. All's well that ends well. No problems with cliches. But "it is what it is" is a cliche that can go...

Father's Day

I went into CVS the other day, to look for a Father's day card for my dad, which is always interesting. Hallmark cards these days, man. Ridiculous. But what was striking to me this time was the categories into which the cards were broken down, within the "dad" section...

"great dad"
"supportive dad"
"good dad"
"any kind of dad"
"mom's significant-other"
"mom who was strong in dad's absence"
"like a father to me"

This morning my facebook news feed wished me happy Father's Day in many different languages through the words of friends who are profoundly grateful for their fathers, their children's fathers, etc. And it made me smile. I am grateful for my father, and I am delighted that so many friends have extraordinary fathers for whom they are, and should be, profoundly grateful! :)

But, on this day, reminded by Hallmark, I am also deeply aware that there are many, with many different reasons, for whom Father's Day is not a happy celebration... for whom the idea of father brings painful, not joyful, memories, images and thoughts. As my dear friend Alex* pointed out, we are hard wired for good family relationships and, centrally in that, relationship with a good father, of whom God is the original. But, for many of us, that has not been or is not our experience. And so, Father's Day is a complicated, if not grievous, occasion.

And so this Father's Day, I just want to take a moment to acknowledge that fact. It's OK if it's hard. And whether today is hard because your relationship with your dad is strained to non-existent, or because he's no longer present, or never was, because he was your hero and is gone, or because you still bear the wounds of his failures, because you miss him, or because you wish that he'd go away, whatever the reason might be... it's OK for today to be hard.

See I think Father's Day reflects well the fact that we are were created for good family relationships... and within that, we were wired for good relationship with our earthly fathers, who are intended to be a reflection of the character of our good Father in heaven. And when those relationships are absent, or broken, or bent, it reflects a part of life that is not as intended.

So in a strange way, I actually want to encourage you to celebrate today, even if that means allowing yourself to mourn, that Father's Day is hard because even that mourning reflects the fact that you were created for and long for good, whole, and holy relationship with a good Father. And that's a holy longing, which is fulfilled, and satisfied in relationship with your perfect Father. That ache you feel is a longing for things to be as they were intended, and if it leads you to press deeper into trust of your heavenly Father and hope for and anticipation of all things made new when Jesus comes again, it is a holy thing.

So, whatever your circumstance today, I think Father's Day is or can be a celebration for you. Whether it's celebration of the good gift that your earthly father is or was, or a longing and hunger for consummation of all things made new and the restoration of things as they should be, it is a day to celebrate. Either in anticipation or in realization.

So Happy Father's Day, to one and all! May it be a day of complete celebration one day soon!

* Alex also has several other excellent posts on God as Father, found here, here, and here.

[tranquility]

[Baltimore, Inner Harbor, June 6, 2010]

To sit with bare feet dangling over the water and feel the breeze off the shore caressing your face, watching the sunset in the distance.
To hear the jazz ringing gently in the background.
To sense the presence of your best friend beside you, no words necessary, just being.
The cool of evening surrounding you as darkness begins to take possession of the day.

Sometimes life moves too fast.

why I talk to strangers...

I have a very clear memory of one particular night in college, when I was babysitting for a particular family with three sons, ages 9, 6, and 3 at the time. The parents and I were talking about traveling... Without thinking about the audience, I inserted honestly, that I really enjoyed having opportunities to have meaningful and real, as well as totally random, conversations with strangers when I travel. The middle son looked startled, and said to me,

"But mommy says that we're not supposed to talk to strangers?!"

Whoops. Case number 5713 in which I need to think before I speak.

For a 6 year old, it's a totally valid question. It's wise. Safe and healthy. Kids, obey your parents in that. And sometimes, it's even super healthy for grown-ups. Not all strangers are nice wonderful warm fuzzy people. And of course, caution is a good thing. Use your head, trust your instincts. But at the same time...

I think sometimes we use that as an excuse. And so we miss out on opportunities to receive from others. And we miss out on opportunities to encourage someone else or even just listen to them.

Not to say that we need to talk to every stranger who winds up next to us on a plane. That could be slightly creepy, not to mention overkill, and let's face it, there are some weirdos out there. Let's covertly side note the woman who poked me with the spork for an 8 hour flight. But at the same time, I think if we're honest, the reason that we don't talk to strangers, 95% of the time, has nothing to do with their creepy factor. If the truth is told, I think 95% of the time, we're just plain lazy. Talking to strangers, taking interest in their lives, takes effort. It takes enough time with our friends, let alone a random plane buddy that we're never going to see again.

But maybe just maybe, there's something you could offer that random stranger who is sitting next to you on the plane. In today's culture, you are hard-pressed to find someone who is willing to listen. That is a gift which we can easily give to any stranger, any day. Or perhaps, there's something that that random stranger has to offer you. Some of the wisest tidbits that I have ever gotten has come from random individuals who I happen to bump into, sit next to, or get stranded with.

My point? Strangers are people too... and it might be that there's something beautiful that you could gain or give by letting your lives collide (if they're also acquiescent). Might take a little bit of work, risk being awkward, and require some conversational/listening skills. But it also might be well worth it! Or we could just pop the ipod back in... choice of the day. :)

running a marathon

When I was about four to six weeks old, I stopped taking naps. Mom always said it was because I was so eager to take on the world at full-speed ahead that I was unwilling to stop for even a 30-minute shut-eye...

As I've aged, this full-speed ahead tendency has not diminished, but continues to be a primary part of my operating system. I'm a runner by blood-line [my father once knocked out a tooth by running into a moving mini-van racing his mother home from college... yes, college]. But even as a runner, I live for the sprints. I love the adrenaline rush of pushing so hard that your muscles begin to burn, you can't breathe, but you can feel the wind rushing by and you're barely touching the ground, and you start to feel like you're flying... yeah, basically my favorite feeling in the whole world!

My sophomore year in high school, I began running cross-country competitively in order to stay in shape for soccer. And when I started running cross-country, 3.11 miles felt super long, just to be able to sprint the last quarter mile. But I learned to pace, because I learned very quickly that I couldn't finish the race unless I learned to run at a sustainable pace. Sprinting is exhilarating... but it does you very little good, unless you can also cross the finish line.

And this lesson has carried over to life as well. While I would love to [and sometimes do] jump into a million different exciting new opportunities and take on thousands of delightful projects simultaneously, that pace tends to be completely devastating to all operating systems. As much as I would like for it to be a sprint, life is not a sprint... it's a distance run.

Now, I find myself at another major crossroads in life, it seems only fitting that I am also running my first marathon. Because life and relationships are not a sprint, but a distance run... and with the exception of the most elite runners, marathons are not a matter of how fast you run, or how beautiful your form is, or if you have to walk for a bit, or even about being better than everyone else... marathons are about going the distance, and finishing the race, not about the sprints... or so I've heard.

So here I find myself, in training. Jumping into the unknown. Building up endurance and preparing to run the race... You just might have to remind me to slow down every now and then... :)

Summer Reading List

Well friends, the summer is fast approaching, and you know what that means: Summer reading lists! [this is exciting to me!] [Perhaps some of you aren't as nerdy as me...] [you would not believe how many books I have on my shelf that I'm "waiting for the right moment" to read.]

As an InterVarsity staff, one of the ways that I utilize my time during the summer is by studying and reading [both Christian and secular sources] to improve my own knowledge, and to enable me to minister more effectively during the school year.

This year, as I prepare to embark into the summer, I find myself with a rather ambitious looking reading list [which I'm pretty excited about!]. If anyone is interested in reading with me, by all means, let me know!

Summer Reading List 2010

1. A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving
2. The Divine Comedy by Dante
3. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
4. A Beggar in Jerusalem by Elie Wiesel
5. Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
6. Blessed Unrest by Paul Hawken
7. The Great Divorce by CS Lewis
8. The Problem of Pain by CS Lewis
9. He Has Made Me Glad by Ben Patterson
10. Good News About Injustice by Gary Haugen
11. Real Sex by Lauren Winner
12. Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas
13. Stretch Out Your Hand Tilda by Norberg and Robert Webber
14. The Deeper Journey by M. Robert Mulholland
15. The Gift of Being Yourself by David Benner

spring has arrived

Last night, when I went running, I literally had to leap over a pair of ducks in the middle of copulation. We're talking feathers flying, full-out process of be-fruitful-and-multiply.

I was running along the river, minding my own business, engrossed in my own thoughts, enjoying the cooling breeze, right before dusk, when all of a sudden they appeared out of nowhere. Conjoined. Fully engaged. And plopped down in the path, right in front of me.

And I could not just run around them. I did not merely pass them by. Nor was I afforded the luxury of seeing them from a distance. I literally had to jump over them. Jump.Over.Them.

And they were so engrossed en-act that they didn't even blink an eye. Just let me soar over-top like the cow jumping over the moon (and I ask, where were the cat and the fiddle??). Really, birds? REALLY? No shame.

Despite temperatures which might indicate otherwise, spring has in fact arrived in Boston...

Silent Disco

Picture the scene with me: a club full of people, moving and gyrating to music, tapping and spinning to a beat, hot and sweaty, multicolored lights flashing, more bodies than befits the space... typical club. Except for the fact that no music is audible. Every club go-er is outfitted with a pair of wireless headphones, and they and only they can hear the music.

Each one dancing to their own beat. Together, yet not. In the same place, all dancing, yet isolated from one another. How awkward if your dancing buddy is swinging to Celine Dion while you're rocking out to some Black Eyed Peas.

The scene that I am describing is a semi-recent and growing phenomena known as the silent disco. It's more popular in the UK/Europe than in the US, but still present in both.

As I have been thinking about popular culture, specifically within the college and young adult demographic, this image has repeatedly stuck in my mind, and I think it is a somewhat apt descriptor of trends that I see more often than not.

This generation is exceedingly communal. They hunger to be in the same place with others, and are always looking for groups of common interest or a sense of belonging. They gravitate towards "connections" with others, be that through social networking sites, common interest groups, advocacy groups, or even the rise of mobile communications devices. We are a generation of connectors: we want to belong, we want to be in the know, and we do not want to be "loners." See for example: Facebook, Twitter, the blogosphere, texting, websites relating awkward and embarrassing (yet humorous) personal stories, and the party culture on college campuses.

Yet at the same time, there is a degree to which, even in that "together" culture, we want to do so on our terms. We retain the right to choose how much information we share, where and when (c.f. facebook privacy settings and the invisible option for gchat). We select when we want to be "networked in" and when we want to be "invisible." And we seemingly want a "no-strings-attached" sense of relationships. The hook-up, one night stands, and casual sexual encounter culture are prime examples. Or I can "sext" you when I want you, or even just sign into a social networking site like Chat Roulette for a few hours, if I want a seriously string-free "connection." On a platonic level, let's talk about all the facebook friends that we have, but don't really actually talk to or stay in contact with. We want the connections, but we want it on our own terms, to our own tune, to fit with our schedule and our lives.

Silent disco. Together, yet not. Everyone dancing, together, yet each to his own beat on his own ipod. Able to maintain complete individuality, in the context of presumed communality.

I do not mean to appear cynical... I think there are a lot of positives to the culture of this generation. But I think there are also dangers... see in this culture, I think we settle for a placebo of being known. Of belonging. And my contention is that ultimately that is not satisfying. Which is why, above and beyond all else, the deepest hunger of this generation is still to belong. To be known.

We were made to share life together, in a way that community has the ability to shape and refine, to influence and impact the ways in which we live. And vice versa, us to our community. But we cannot seek that without also being willing to open ourselves up to the inconvenience and authenticity of really being known. And knowing others. People are messy. You are messy. I am messy. Community is messy.

But the beauty of real community is that we dance this messy dance together, learning together, laughing with one another as we look ridiculously off beat, but learning from one another's mistakes, talents, gifts, and experiences, and maybe just maybe, having a little bit more real and honest fun because we're dancing together.

talking about the m-word

[So, I'm going to talk about sexuality for a little bit, if you feel the need to censor, feel free].

So, in my job, I end up having many conversations about different issues, behaviors, brokenness, and habits, that wouldn't normally come up in a "regular" job. It is a privilege and an honor to hear about people's struggles and depths; one that I do not take lightly.

Among those, often times, conversations about sexuality will come up... we were created as sexual beings, and that is a good thing! To struggle with sexual brokenness, I think, is inherent to the fact our best and most human needs and desires are often those most deeply bent and marred by sin. And so, our sexuality, a good and holy thing, is often twisted and bent in ways that are not holy as a result of sin: lust, abuse, masturbation, idolatry, pornography, fear, shame; just to name a few... And let's be frank, people: this is not just something that men struggle with... let's debunk that myth, here and now. For real.

At any rate, I find often times, as we get into the topics of sexual brokenness, specifically around the issue of masturbation (the dreaded m-word), we, in Christian circles are taught that it is wrong, and we shouldn't do it, but the "why" is often not as clear... "just don't do it." And then the topic is shut down, because heaven forbid that we actually get caught using the m-word [even onomatopoetically, there's a sense of "dirtiness" to the word]. And I think there is a fear and foolishness associated with that, that is ultimately not satisfactory. If it's wrong, there has to be a reason...

And so I share this quote with you, because I have found it particularly helpful in processing this particular issue... in particular, I find it helpful because it gives us a reason why masturbation is less than God's design, even in the absence of lust or pornography. CS Lewis uses gendered language, but feel free to extrapolate the principle. And while you might not agree (that's fine), hopefully it will at least provide some good food for thought.

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For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and even grandchildren) and turns it back; sends the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides.

And this harem, once admitted, works against his ever getting out and really uniting with a real woman. For the harem is always accessible, always subservient, calls for no sacrifices or adjustments, and can be endowed with erotic and psychological attractions which no real woman can rival. Among those shadowy brides he is always adored, always the perfect lover; no demand is ever made on his unselfishness, no mortification ever imposed on his vanity. In the end, they become merely the medium through which he increasingly adores himself...

... After all, almost the main work of this life is to come out of ourselves, out of the little, dark prison we are all born in. Masturbation is to be avoided as all things are to be avoided which retard this process. The danger is that of coming to love the prison.

- CS Lewis, Letter (March 6, 1956) to a Mr. Mason, Wade Collection, Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois. [as quoted in The Broken Image: Restoring Personal Wholeness Through Healing Prayer, by Leanne Payne, Crossway Books, 1981]

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leadership

Yesterday, we had our annual leadership interest brunch, on campus, telling the story of what has happened with InterVarsity in the past year, and casting vision for what could happen, what we long to see happen, and inviting students to dream with us for what God might do!

My co-staff, Kaitlin, gave a great overview of Nehemiah, in inviting students to think about being part of the vision lived out on campus ("rebuilding the wall"), and then talked about how the beauty of Nehemiah wall-builders is that they are all different with different gifts and skills. There are priests working next to the daughters of Shallum son of Hallohesh; there are perfume makers (who knew they had wall-building skills) working next to goldsmiths, next to commoners. The identities of each are radically different, the skills of each are radically different, but they work together for one common vision (rebuilding the wall). And the wall cannot be completed without each and every one of them.

So to it is with campus leadership: leadership looks different for different people. There is no one mold of a "good" leader. Rather, the task of "advancing the kingdom through whole-life conversion to Jesus" requires extroverts, introverts, science majors, English majors, international students, greeks, seekers, techno-geeks, those with great social skills, church-kids and new Christians... rather leadership involves common vision, and a willingness to step out and allow God to use you; to say, "I don't have much, but here's what I do have."

"Now, let's rebuild that wall..."

in a spacious place..

So, as I have engaged with a semester of slowing down and pressing in to those areas of vulnerability and weakness, learning how to be a woman on my knees... one of the things that has become very clear to me (was previously clear to my supervisors and friends, but I'm a lil slow) is that I am very performance-driven.

My greatest temptation is to define myself based on what I can do. If I'm succeeding, then I am worthwhile, I am a success. If I fail, then I am a failure. The insidious part of this flawed operating system, is that it perfectly correlates to the American dream... pulling yourself up by your bootstraps (physically impossible, by the way), "Just do it," hard working, innovative, success-driven, climber mentality. So often times, rather than being recognized for the unhealthy mode of operation that it is, I am applauded for it, encouraged in it, and even positively reinforced in that pattern.

And don't mistake me, there is nothing wrong with wanting to succeed. There is nothing wrong with being hard-working. In fact, those are both really positive things! But when our identities are so wrapped up in what we do, that we're afraid to cease doing, we're afraid to fail, because we're not sure that there's anything to us, other than what we do, then there's a problem. And that was me, at the end of last semester.

I would not do things, unless I thought could succeed, because my fear of failure was all-consuming. I was afraid of taking risks. And most crucially, I didn't know how to stop working-- I would work 60-70 hour weeks-- because I didn't want to slow down and actually have to face myself, to figure out who I was in the absence of doing. It was not a place of freedom... and all too often, fear and anxiety were the governing motivators.

Yes, yes, I know, I'm a campus minister, we're supposed to have things together. Wrong. We're often times the most messed up of all people, because we press into our unhealthy patterns in the name of serving God; we run away from facing ourselves by doing "holy" work... and our souls, my soul, become atrophied in the process. Because at the end of the day, under this mode of operation, who we are depends on our ability to meet a standard, to perform well, which looks a lot like a living under the law, yet again.

And friends, that is not living in freedom. You were not set free for the sake of becoming a working machine, defined by what you do. You were set free for the sake of freedom, to serve in freedom, out of delight, not out of a desperate search to define yourself. We, I, you, have an identity already, given by the Father. And any identity that we try to manufacture for ourselves will only a poor reflection of the one intended for us.

So this semester, thanks to the wisdom of my supervisors, has been a semester of slowing... of facing myself, my images of myself, my ways of defining my identity, and in that weakness, falling to my knees, and asking the Father, "Who do you say that I am?"

His answer? "You are my daughter in whom I delight."

Not an identity based in doing, but an identity of belonging and being. A child, a little girl, is loved not because of what she can do, but because of who she is... whether she's Michelangelo or a 5 year old finger-painter... whether she's singing Vivaldi or Veggie Tales... whether she makes Creme Brulee or homemade oatmeal with baking soda instead of sugar... she is loved and delighted in because of who she is.

So too is my identity. Delighted in because I belong to the Father. I am his daughter, known by him, created by him, and loved by him. And in that place, my performance has no weight on my identity. There is freedom to fail. To take risks. To try things that I might not be good at. To acknowledge places in which I am weak. Don't get me wrong, I still want to succeed. I still want to do well, but I want to do so to delight the Father, not to define myself.

That, friends, is a place of freedom. :)

not on mighty steeds..

I had a long conversation with a good friend of mine a few days ago, and in passing, she utterly these profound and eloquent words. It was striking to me, and has stuck with me for a few days since because it was so radically different from our typical mode of operation.

"the battle is won, not on mighty steeds, but on our knees... not in our greatest strengths, but by acknowledging our greatest vulnerabilities. and pressing in, in our weaknesses, clinging even, to the One who possesses the strength we lack." A.E.W.

Her point was this: our greatest moral and spiritual triumphs in life occur when we finally see ourselves in our true vulnerability and weakness, and press into God more fully. The battle is not won through demonstrations of our profound strength and courage or mighty weapon wielding, but in those moments when we fall to our knees before God and say, "here I am; I need you."

This semester has been an interesting one for me, because I have been required to slow down and re-examine my modes of operation... my past brokenness'... my fears... my false self... and my unhealthy habits.

These are the things that I most seek to hide. To avoid. To pretend are not there.

And yet, in acknowledging these and pressing more fully into God's strength, therein lies my greatest strength.

Here's what I've learned in my last 25 years: the greatest testimonies... the greatest transformation... the people who have been most influential in my life... are the ones who are unafraid to speak of their own brokenness and utter need for God with absolute freedom. And the moments when I have understood my own absolute need for God, and fallen to my knees in honesty and desire, are the moments in which I have seen the most transformation in me, and through my retelling of those stories.

It is completely counter cultural. But oh so true.

Lord, help me to be a woman on my knees...

Grown-Up

Today, as I was walking down to the river, I passed a father with his two young daughters, each tugging at a hand and chattering oh so exuberantly about this and that... nothing important, but to look at the father, you would have thought that he was listening not to the aimless chatter of young children but to the most scintillating and captivating of all performances or speeches.

Among other topics, the two small ones were discussing being grown-up versus being a little girl. One was of the opinion that being small was the way to go (she was the smaller one); the other ardently claimed that she was advantaged in being "all grown-up" (she was the older one at a ripe old age of six).

Their childish banter and gleeful delight gave me pause, and made me stop and consider this idea of being "grown-up." It's such a silly phrase: "grown-up." What does that even mean? Certainly it does not refer to reaching maximum height capacity, as an indicator of completeness... if that is the case, then I am sorry to say, I think maturity might need to be redefined.

Yet, even as I pondered these thoughts, I was struck by another thought: I can barely remember a time when I did not consider myself "grown-up" and "mature." For as long as I can remember, I have acted as a small adult. Even now, I see out my window a small child, hopping around for no apparent reason, simply because it is delightful to her. I long for those days, but they are foreign to me. Surely this is not what it means to be mature. Surely there is more to maturity than putting off or losing childlike delight and freedom and becoming "sensible" and "realistic" and "businesslike." This is a "maturity" that often is stuffy, and certainly lacks joy and freedom.

Yet in converse, as I watch and interact with 20 somethings who act as though they had no cares in the world, resisting adult responsibility, depending on others to sustain them, and avoiding anything not fun--childlike freedom, if you will-- my gut reaction tells me that they do not understand maturity any more deeply than the rest of us. This is a "maturity" that lacks an understanding of purpose or meaning beyond self gratification and satisfaction; it is shallow in nature.

See, I don't think maturity, or being grown up, is about losing childlike freedom or delight. Nor do I think that it is falsely clinging to childish ways. And decidedly, it is not about arriving at the pinnacle of maximum height capacity... otherwise, you would presume that professional athletes would act decidedly more responsibly!

So what does it mean, to be mature or "grown-up"?

Here's my alternative thought: what if being mature had less to do with gaining or losing something (stuffiness/responsibility/childishness/freedoms et al), and more to do with coming into fullness? In that sense, maturity, or being grown-up has less to do with leaving behind childish ways, and more to do with coming into the fullness of who you were created to be- with the fullness of childlike delight and freedom, full participants in the work of the Kingdom, the fullness of your gifts and calling seen and lived into, yourself fully known, and your purpose and role fully identified.

Under this definition, none us is ever fully mature or "grown-up." We're never done growing, changing, or coming fully into our created identity, until we are made full and whole in consummate relationship with our Creator, which we long for with all of our being. And with each passing year, we will certainly understand how little we understand more fully.

But I would argue that this is actually a maturity that has some meat on it, some life in it, and some worth in pursuing it. This is a maturity that is lifelong, holistic, purposeful, and life-giving.

In that sense, perhaps being "grown-up" or "mature" is something to be longed for...

Ah, Holy Jesus, How Hast Thou Offended

I had never heard this hymn before, but we sang it tonight at the Good Friday services and the words have stuck with me... aside from a great melody, the words are just really powerful, so I thought I would share them with you, fitting for the solemnity of Good Friday:

Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.

For me, kind Jesus, was Thy incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.

[Ah, Holy Jesus, How Hast Thou Offended. Words: Jo­hann Heer­man, 1630, Herz­lieb­ster Je­su; trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Ro­bert S. Bridg­es, 1899]

What's your story, friend?

Wednesday night, I was on a night flight out of Boston, significantly delayed because of wind somewhere elsewhere, like Chicago, keeping our plane from making it to us. As we 60+ slightly peeved passengers sat waiting at the small gate, with the squalky child and two yappy puppies, we were soon distracted by a different hullabaloo.

About 20 feet to my left, our offender was easier to smell or hear than to see. Camouflaged behind a pillar, he was heatedly debating health care policy with anyone within a 10 foot radius, welding insults and opinions as if it they were life or death matters. His scent betrayed the fact that he had in fact been indulging at at least one neighborhood bar rather liberally... multiple times.

While he seemed to think that he was well-beloved by his neighbors at the gate, they seemed to wish for a slightly higher fence between them... especially when he asked "do you want to fight about it?" (I think "it" was Nancy Pelosi's attractiveness, if anyone cares) and took off his jacket, albeit rather clumsily (navigating sleeves becomes exceedingly complicated with double vision), as if to start said fight... finally, the flight attendants in residence intervened and he left the gate briefly, hypothetically to cool down. Within about five minutes, he returned to the gate, beer in hand, and happily plopped down next to the same neighbors, greeting them as if they were dearly loved friends, completely befuddled by their less than warm welcome. Short term memory seemed to fade quickly for this one.

Long story short, when given the option of choosing between his beer or taking the flight, he chose to fight the matter over the moral liberties and rights of having his beer and flying too, and the state police arrived shortly thereafter to inform him of his rights therein and escort him from the premises. Needless to say, he did not fly the friendly skies with us that night...

Regardless, the story gets more interesting to me because, as I flew home this morning, on an exceedingly early and very on-time flight back into Boston, this same gentleman was sitting across the aisle from me, on the flight this time. This time, much subdued, red-faced, and looked tear-stained, as if many a tear had been shed very recently. He slept most of the way and otherwise stared aimlessly into space, not talking to anyone...

And it just made me wonder... what happened between Wednesday and Sunday? What's your story, friend?

How did you make it down to Virginia?
What happened while you were there?
What's the tragedy behind your bravado?
Why were you drinking?
Why were you crying?

See often times, I'm tempted to release these narratives as merely humorous escapades demonstrating how I tend to encounter the craziest people (which is a true fact). But I forget to ask the question "why"? Or, I miss the fact that these narratives are about real people with real stories and real stuff going on below the surface. And I think in some ways, I realized this week that that's actually very arrogant and self-centered of me. I use someone else's story for my own repertoire. And I neglect them in the process. Not that I'm going to stop relating humorous anecdotes (that feels wasteful). But perhaps I should learn to look at them from more angles than just my own...

And ask the question, "What's your story, friend?" Why were you drinking? Why were you crying?

Turning

So I suppose that I should follow up on my last post by telling the rest of the story... you need not fret dear reader, God is the ultimate lover, and he pursues his children, even when they very much do not want to be pursued...

On Friday afternoon, still very much angry, I decided to go for a walk... as I began to walk, I felt like God's presence was walking with me, and what ensued thereafter felt very much like a dialogue between me and God... this is how it felt like it went:

Me: God, I don't really want to talk to you right now. I'm pretty angry. Please go away.

God: That's ok. We don't have to talk. I just want to walk with you.

Me: I don't want to think about these questions that are making me angry any more. And I definitely don't want to talk about them.

God: That's ok. Let's just walk together.

[so I continued walking. not talking, not thinking, just walking]. [a little bit later]:

Me: God, I'm sorry, I feel really ugly right now, both inside and out, in the midst of my anger.

God: Do you know that my delight in you is every bit the same now, when you are ugly, angry, and closed off, as it is when you delight in me. I love you and delight in you.

And that was the end of our conversation... but that gentle love and steady presence was what I needed at that time. I still don't have answers. I still don't like my options. And the questions are still frustrating to me when I think about them for too long. But what has changed is that I've decided to turn and bring my hurts, questions, and frustration to God, rather than running away from him in my anger. To wrestle with him, rather than against him.

I am still in the painful process of dying to self. But I am also being pursued, carried, and led by a God who loves perfectly, and deeply, even in the times that are painful.

And I am choosing to turn toward Him, rather than run away.