Giving Back

This time tomorrow, I'll be on a plane bound for Africa.

Have you ever been in that place where your deepest passions intersect with opportunity? Where you see, possibly for the first time, a clear connection of events leading you to this precise moment at this precise time?

That's where I am.

For as long as I can remember, I've been passionate about literacy and education. Of course, I didn't know that's what it was called when I was four years old, listening to the PBS commercials promoting reading. But "the more you know" rainbow slogan stuck with me as a powerful reminder that I should never stop learning. My parents sacrificed a great deal to give me the very best education they could afford. In fact, they were founding members of a new school, because they and a handful of others wanted to change the model of Christian education in our community.

While in seminary--glancing at the one, sometimes two other females in the class--I knew I had been afforded an incredible gift. A graduate school education. Admittance to a seminary, as a woman. The freedom to study the Bible.

I received three years of the most intense, powerful, life changing Biblical training that the majority of pastors in the world will never receive. Simply because they can't. Because they can't afford it, or because it's not in their backyard (as it was mine), or because they don't have three years to allocate for such a luxury.

The model for Christian education must change.

And it's happening. In Africa. And by God's grace, I get to be part of the change.

On worry, boots, and iodine tablets

I'm headed to Thailand on Friday and if you've never been to Thailand, you can watch about 37 full length feature films in flight before you land. That's how far away it is. I once asked the Delta agent who I was on the phone with to look at a map and stick one thumb-pin in Atlanta and another thumb-pin in Bangkok and see how far away it is. It's far. That's how long I traveled on Delta without being given any miles.

Right now, Thailand is dealing with pretty severe flooding. I look at this as an ideal opportunity to wear really cute rain boots. There's also a good chance this trip will introduce me to the power combo of iodine tablets and crystal light. Most importantly, I have all of Gilmore Girls, Season 1 queued up on the old iPad. Priorities, you know.

In all seriousness, please do keep the people of Thailand and this trip in your prayers. CNN reports that nearly 400 people have died from the floods and 113,000 people have needed to find refuge (these numbers are for the entire country). Stress levels are quite high in Bangkok simply because people have been waiting day by day wondering if the floods will hit them and how high the water will rise. I have spent this week working many, many long hours and the trip could still be cancelled tomorrow for safety reasons. It's funny how tomorrow is always uncertain because it's the future, and yet when a crisis hits, we are suddenly questioning every decision because we don't know the future, which we never would have known anyways!

This week has been a time for me to put faith into action. There is a way to face uncertainty tomorrow and still not worry about it today. It's doing everything I can in this now and not worrying about the next now. God has it.  Matthew did a fine job of recording what Jesus said about worry. It's basically this: keep living. Work. Do the very best you have with the information you have. Sow and reap. But once you have done all that you can do in the now that you have some control over, then stop. Say "God loves me more than the birds." And settle in on the fact that God so deeply loves you that you can trust Him to be in control of the next now that you have no control over. You don't have to worry because you are trusting in the only One who can do anything about the future. And you are on His mind. Always. He loves you.

remember

Two years later, the words are still true.

09.09.09

It's good to look back. On that date, I never knew what would be around the bend for me. I'll tell you this, it included boots and freedom and authenticity and grace and tears and laughter and funerals and goodbyes and goodbyes where I never said goodbye but it just happened and hellos and opportunities and answers to prayer and disappointments.

But every moment has meaning and hope because of the one who loved me and gave himself for me. I have prayers that may never get answered. I'd be lying to you if I said that doesn't hurt. But here's a prayer I do have that God will answer. It's for you. Consider Jesus. If you never have before or if you've written him off because of experiences in your life, please consider him again. He loves you. He really, really loves you. I can't imagine life without him and I want that for you. And if you feel at little tug in your heart right now, it's him. He's saying I love you. 

Grandaddy

To some he was JohnUnderwood, to many he was Harold, to a few he was Daddy or Pops, but to me, he was Grandaddy.


My granddaddy had a sense of humor. He had me convinced that you had to deflate the air in your tires to go from winter air to summer air. If I was blocking his view of something, he told me I must have been drinking too much mud. And for years I worried about this ailment that plagued him whenever he just wanted to sit and rest. He had this darn “bone in his leg.”

When I was little, I had so much fun going to his office supply store, Sikes, and banging away on the cash register (although I don’t think he particularly liked that). He taught his children, who consequently taught me, the importance of orderly and stocked shelves, the ability to pack just about anything with the best use of space, and the value of hard work and making an honest living.


Grandaddy worked hard and took pride in what he did. He even mowed the lawn on his tractor wearing a crisp white button down shirt. For the longest time, he would buy each of his granddaughters a new dress for Easter -- the frillier the better. I think he loved having a house full of people. We would have easter egg hunts in his yard, pool parties in the summer, and piles of presents at Christmas. His mantle eventually got too short to hold a stocking with every person’s name on it. And you could guarantee that you would get a big fat orange and lots of walnuts at the bottom of every stocking. As a kid, there was hardly anything less fun than an orange and some nuts, but that was Grandaddy sharing some of his southern childhood with us.

I’m proud of having a southern grandaddy because I was taught the right way to drink coca-cola: with peanuts. I know not to put sugar in cornbread, that collards will make you strong, and to have a healthy dose of suspicion if you go to Cracker Barrel and the cook is a Yankee.


But as you might imagine because you knew him too, my grandpa is so much more than this. To know Grandaddy is to know his love for Grandma. Not only was he by her side every day of her illness, he longed to see her again every day for fifteen years. Just last week he reminded me he married “the most beautiful girl in the world,” an “angel in the church choir.” His is a love story we don’t see much anymore. He shows us that love really can be eternal.


To know Grandaddy is to know his love for the church. In looking at pictures, I saw a stained glass window and a white church and learned that the pew inside is where he first put his faith in Christ. Grandaddy his given me so much, but his greatest gift is giving me a spiritual legacy. His house has always been filled with the redemptive sounds of gospel music. I think he bought rows of tickets for every show that First Baptist Church of Orlando ever put on for the Singing Christmas Trees and Easter presentations. Faith and music seemed very important to him. It’s no wonder he married  the prettiest girl in the church choir!


To know Grandaddy is to know his love for family. He used to sing to me “A, you’re adorable, B, you’re so beautiful, C, you’re as cute as cute can be...” Only recently did I learn that he didn’t sing that just for me :) He loved all of his girls--daughters and granddaughters. He let us know we were beautiful and taught us the type of man we should wait for: one who would love us, provide for us, protect us. He reminded us never to settle. He loved his son and grandsons. I remember him teasing the boys mercilessly by calling them “girls,” but I think in his own way he was showing them how to be tough, how to fight back, and how to defend. In some way, we have all been shaped by what he taught us.

To know Grandaddy is to know his love for his Savior. I never once heard him grumble against the Lord when life got tough. Honestly from my perspective, it always seemed like he treated it as a blessing to get to care for Grandma and spend so much time with her. I’m sure he would have preferred a different story to have been written, but he responded with diligence and integrity to the circumstances God gave him. He spoke often of “the pearly gates” and rightly reminded us that this world is not his home.


On the day Grandaddy died, I had the honor of reading Psalm 84. The text describes that one day in the presence the Lord in Heaven is better than a thousand days anywhere else.That’s a little hard for me because selfishly I wish the Lord would give me a thousand more days with him...or even one more day. But my great hope--our great hope--is that today is not goodbye. In one week, we will celebrate that Christ conquered death. He faced death alone so that those of us who trust in Him, would never have to. Even in his last breath, Grandaddy was never alone. He went from Jesus by his side to Jesus face to face.

 

The final verse of Psalm 84 states “Blessed is the man who trusts in You.” Grandaddy wasn’t perfect. In fact, he had a lot of flaws. But the funny thing about God is that He doesn’t want the people who have their act together. He wants the people who know they are flawed and yet put their trust in Him -- not in themselves, not in their accomplishments, not even in their family legacy. Our great hope is Jesus Christ. His love is deeper, stronger, and wider than we can even imagine. And one day, we will see Grandaddy, Grandma, and Jesus--face to face.



I love you, Grandaddy.
December 8, 1921 - April 12, 2011


Eulogy given in honor of John Harold Underwood, Sr. on April 16, 2011

Birds, Bibles, and Boys

Because I will unabashedly name-drop when given the chance (and what is personal blog but a platform for notoriety), here is an excerpt from a book that Judy Douglass loaned me. Me personally. Because she follows me on twitter.

I have learned that when we take our hands off the pages of the Bible, read and listen to its words, and enter into its story by faith, something happens.

It renews and continues to renew its powers. It becomes what it was meant to be, something both more intimate than an old pair of jeans and more unusual than alien creatures, something like a familiar stranger or an unpredictable neighbor or a pet lion whose presence invigorates its surroundings.

Something like the glory of the ocean, which on the surface appears gentle and strolling and pleasant to observe, but under that surface there's a vibrant, teeming, swirling, dynamic world full of beauty and wonder.

Or perhaps listening to the Bible is like having the most powerful person in the world sit down with you for coffee and chat with you. --taken from The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight.

Other than the fact that Scot's name is sorely lacking an additional "t," I highly esteem chapters one and two of this book (as that is all I have read). He's punchy (if verbose), challenging, and fair in his critiques.

As far as I can tell, he upholds sola scriptura (Scripture alone is our ultimate authority) but focuses on the manner in which we interpret the Bible. I'm not going to give you a book report. If you really cared, read it for yourself. Then call me and we'll have coffee and talk about it. And if you are a single guy and do this, I will call it a date so that I can feel better about myself. (okay, not really. well, maybe).

quit playing games with my heart

If you walk with God for any amount of time, then a day will come when you will wonder if He is callous or wicked. Sometimes He doesn't answer prayer, but it's easy enough (for me anyways) to convince myself that I didn't pray well enough. But other times -- like today -- He does answer prayer, but in the most backstabbing, spiteful way. It's one thing to feel screwed. It's another thing altogether to feel screwed by God.

Thankfully a pop sensation of my high school days gave me words to express my anger. "God - quit playing games with my heart" (Oh Backstreet Boys, I always knew you loved me).

So I told God that. And He didn't get mad at me and lightening didn't strike. And He didn't use mind-controlling super powers like Jasper (ooh, Twilight) to calm me down either. Instead, He asked me to keep talking to Him. And you know what? I did. Because in that moment -- when a wound that is just starting to heal got ripped open by the only Surgeon who has the power to heal -- I knew God was real. I knew without question that it was God who was wounding me.

We convince ourselves that God doesn't hurt us. And when we do get hurt -- and it's not by our own sin -- we wonder what happened to the good God? What happened to our dearest friend, our healer, our savior?

The answer? He's still there. He's a surgeon. He's cutting deep -- but you can trust Him because He's not reckless. Every pain, every disappointment, every hurt has purpose. And that purpose is far bigger than playing games with your heart. He's making you -- and me -- more like Christ. We're losing us and gaining Him. That's a good thing.

So if you're like me and feeling a little broken, a little shattered--take heart. The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

For the Chynoweths

Last night, one of the most Godly women I know crossed from this life to the next. As her son, my dear friend Jim, so elegantly wrote, "[she] slipped through the veil to the other side of eternity."

Lynn was a prayer warrior. And I mean warrior. Jim served two tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan with the Marine Corps, so you know she understood deeper meanings of readying yourself for battle. When I think of Lynn, I think of prayer. Which, frankly, made me more than a little angry that God did not answer her prayer to win the battle with cancer. He could have. If anyone deserved it, it should have been her.

But then, I realized He did answer her prayer. On February 20th at 9:50 PM, Lynn was healed. And she saw her Savior face to face. The veil was removed.

At a few crossroad moments in my life, the Chynoweths gave me an ancient benediction as a form of prayer and encouragement. It's only fitting that I share this now. May it strengthen you as it as has me.

Go now with God

Be not tempted to stay in the safety of known places

Move from where you are to where God points

Go now with God

Be not tempted to go only in your time

When it suits, when it is sure

For now is God's time

Go now with God

Choose not to go alone

Go in the faith that there is not a wilderness so vast

That God is not already there to show you the way

a rare moment

I keep this blog on the lighter side -- at the very least, self-deprecating. But i've had such a long hiatus and my last entry was on Team Edward for pete's sake, that I feel obligated to share something of the inner me.

I finished grad school in 2005. It is now the beginning of 2010 and the ache has not gone away. I'd give my right arm to be back in school. It's the last time I've felt alive.

January and August are the hardest months for me because they represent the start of a new semester. I spend hours at night researching grad schools, analyzing every last admission requirement. Eventually I close my laptop, resigned in disappointment.

So why can't I go? What's keeping me? Nothing. Nothing and Everything.

You see, I don't care about fancy cars and diamond rings. I shop at Goodwill. I love cutting coupons. I'm as thrifty as they come. But when it comes to education, I want the Jaguar. I want to make it into Harvard so people will be impressed by me. I want to silence people with my intellect. I want letters behind my name! I may never be a "mrs." but I can work hard and achieve Ph.D behind my name, by golly.

It's ridiculous and humiliating to know that is inside of me, but it is.

So why can't I go? Because I believe achievement is the key to satisfaction. Of course, I don't believe this intellectually. But in my heart? It's the loudest voice. And so I find great comfort in the words of St. Augustine, "our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You."

09.09.09

This date is significant because on September 9th, many years ago (we're talking elementary school and pigtails here), I received Christ as my Savior.

Today we celebrated my friend Luis' birthday, but in a way, it's my birthday too. Because when you decide to put your trust in Christ alone and not in yourself, you get new life. You trust Him for salvation. For acceptance. For value. For love. For significance.

It's not easy. It's hard to trust someone who isn't here in person. It's even harder to trust someone who lets my deepest prayers go unanswered.

But even in that, I can't imagine not having a personal relationship with God. The God who spoke the entire world into existence not only knows my name, but calls my name. I belong to someone. And when my birthday is coming around the corner and I'm pushing an age I never thought I'd face alone, the gift of belonging forever and ever to someone "who sees the depths of my heart and loves me the same" is the greatest gift a girl could ask for. And I didn't even have to ask.

the art of listening

True story: I went to a 2 hour "Art of Listening" seminar by Dr. Larry Crabb and fell soundly asleep. When did Larry get that old?!? Nevertheless, I still managed to take some notes, which I will share here.

Download the audio seminar: Listening: the Spiritual Art of Discernment (Part I) and Listening: the Spiritual Art of Discernment (Part II).

And don't you worry, i'll be back to my short, quippy blogs soon enough.

We tell our stories as:

1. Tragedy--feel sorry for me, i'm a victim
2. Romance--i want to matter
3. Irony--i become a cynic, hungry for meaning
4. Comedy--my identity becomes a clown; i keep everything superficial; i'm scared to death to get real about how life really is

*uhh....why did I have the most notes for comedy?!?!

But here's the more honest way to tell our life story: as a transcendent drama. A grand story is taking place from eternity past to eternity future and I get to be a part of this drama.

And in this art of listening (hey, wake up!) here are 7 categories of thinking which ought to frame how we interact in relationship:

1. Teleological Curiosity
   
• Be curious about the direction God is taking the other person. The Spirit never sleeps. He is always working. In most conversations, we are so self-obsessed that we never ask, "What did you mean by that?"
2. Hidden Terror
• What is this person most afraid of?
3. Denied Desire
• We bear the image of a relational God. We long for relationship but we tend to deny them because they will ultimately only be bet in Christ. This either leads to great disappointment or great hope. We groan. Our desires leaves us empty.
4. Relational Sin
• We don't recognize what our real motivation is. God is committed to another's well-being at any cost to Himself. Yet we fall short of this every day. Jesus wasn't killed--He chose death.
  
5. Genuine Freedom
   
• The freedom to indulge what you most want to do. Christianity is not about restrictions but opportunity. It's about indulging the deepest desire of a God-invading heart. For the Christian the deepest desire is to be love and the deepest need is to be loved.
6. Anchoring Hope
• Anchoring hope from entitlement to expectancy. When God created people, what did He have in mind? He wanted to invite people to a party. Sanctification is dancing. When we say, "I'm sorry....but...." we aren't asking for forgiveness. Rather, we are offering an explanation. We want understanding. But God offers pure forgiveness. No understanding needed.
7. Promised Shalom
• Shalom is "everything the way it is supposed to be." He tells the parable of St. Augustine. Make a list of everything that you really want. Then God says, "I'll give you everything on that list, but on one condition: you will never see My face." The chill you just experienced is your deepest love.
  

a new way to live

On the first session of the first day, I heard from Dr. Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian in New York City. He talked for about 40 minutes and if I didn't hear another message the entire time, I would have had enough to chew on. Download the entire talk: the Gospel in You.

Growing up, I used to play Monopoly (always wanted to be the banker so I could organize the colored money). In Monopoly, you can get these cards called a "Get out of jail free" card. Unfortunately for us, that's how we tend to the view the gospel. You were supposed to go to jail (hell). But then you believe that Jesus Christ paid the penalty for you and now you have a get out of jail free card. That's great for eternity, but it doesn't leave you with much in the here and now. A convict who has been pardoned has no money, no job, no home--but at least he doesn't have a jail cell.

You see, if all Christ did was forgive sinners, our future would look bright but our days would look dim. The pardoned convict has to prove time and time again that he is no longer the way he was, that he can be trusted, that he can do a job well, that he can be a full-fledged member of society with all its rights and privileges.

Sound familiar? It's exhausting to feel like you have to constantly prove yourself. Believe me. I know. You see, where I work, the majority of people raise their own financial support to get paid. And because we are sinful people, our tendency is to look at that as a litmus test of--let's just be honest here--holiness. The holier you are, the more you will trust God with your mortgage payment. And when you're a paid staff in a sea of supported, there's a lot of proving that goes on. (If I had a nickel for every time I was asked, "why are you here?") It's a fair question, to be sure, but one that immediately triggers a resigned emotional response--"you're right. I don't belong. there's a clearly defined circle and I'm not in it."

I don't say this to point fingers and I certainly don't say this for pity. But that's the framework I entered with for my fourth staff training experience. And on the first session of the first day, God had this message for me: the Gospel is not about you proving yourself. You don't have to justify your existence for being here. You are here because of My Son. And that's more than enough.

Here's the thing. I live my life as if the Gospel means I'm forgiven. Period. But if Christ only forgave me, I would be like that poor convict with a get-out-of-jail-free card. No prison cell, but no money, no job, no honor. Rather, He forgives and He justifies. He validates who I am and it's not based on what I do, where I work, or how I get paid, but it's based entirely on the finished work of Jesus Christ. Every good work that Christ did gets applied to me. It's going from being a convict to receiving the Congressional Medal of Honor--and doing absolutely nothing for it.

Free justification.

I get the honor, the robes, the crown, the cross and the nails. And then I live for Him. Not the other way around.

on grief and love

I went to a funeral today. I used to think death was easier if it was expected (with a 1.5 yr battle with cancer, we knew this day was coming). But it's not easier. I suppose it's because we were never meant to die.

I went to a friend's party right after. We had a do-over birthday because last year was the big 3-0 and it was lame. But in God's extravagant love, on this year's birthday, she got engaged.

Naturally, this dichotomy couldn't escape me. On the one hand, a life cut short. On the other, a dream-come-true do-over. But we all know that real life doesn't give do-overs. She didn't actually turn 30 again. Real life gives one shot. And that road to blessing is often wrought with thorns.

You know how at weddings most people look at the bride walking down the aisle? Well i'm the girl who looks at the groom. And in this funeral, I didn't look at the guy in the casket at the end of the aisle. But I looked at his wife. She didn't wear black. In fact, she wore a beautiful turquoise dress. And I don't know this for certain, but my hunch is that this was his favorite dress on her.

You see, this guy who died, he lived like a champ. And he loved his wife. Not in the newspaper obituary "he is survived by his wife, whom he loved" kind of way, but in the you can see it in his eyes on every slideshow picture, kind of way. And she loved him too. Through every inch of those covenant vows. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.

So through the funeral and the party and the swing dancing tonight, that's what i've been thinking about. I want to love and be loved just like that. That's my far-fetched wish. Don't get me wrong--I also thought about Christ and how all of this is only possible through Him--but that's another post of its own. For now, this is my raw, unfiltered emotion. I should be grieving a friend. Instead, I find myself hoping for a future. Not hopeful, mind you. Just hoping. It's a jaded hope, but hope nonetheless.

Grief and hope. Mourning and dancing. Love lost and love found. These were the themes of my day. (Which means if you asked me how I was doing and I said "fine", I lied).

holy week

I can't get enough of this song.

http://us.dada.net/music/mattmaher/empty-and-beautiful_275510m.html

You fought the fight in me
You chased me down and finished the race
I was blind but now I see
Jesus You kept the faith in me

More often than I care to admit, I believe in a do better gospel. You know, the gospel characterized by hard work, determination, charity, even a little compassion and forgiveness mixed in--and oh yes, plenty of guilt, shame, and futility. It never ends well. I ought to know. I'm trying all the time.

The do better gospel is futile because it's a false gospel. The true gospel is not about how hard I work. It's about the finished work of Christ. It's His obedience unto the cross. His conquer of death. His permanent reign. His very presence, working in me.

Christ in me fought the fight
Christ in me finished the race
Christ in me kept the faith

the hurt in heart

I tend to keep this blog a safe distance from all things internal. It's not that I don't want you to know what I'm thinking......okay, it is. But ever since a casual artistic rendition of my personal life revealed that I have no metaphorical windows and doors open to my heart (stupid Freud!), I've come to realize that baby steps of authenticity just might be a healthy start to the new year.

So here it is. My heart hurts. I keep believing I have successfully numbed myself to the dreams and hopes of my heart, and then--out of the blue--I'm stung. The novocaine has worn off and I'm pierced.

Tonight was an ordinary night. But this time, all it took was the intro music to the John Adams mini-series dvd (amazing, by the way!) to dredge up every hope and dream I have. Dreams for Harvard, Princeton, or Yale. Desires to be a wife like Abigail was to John. And the hope to one day understand why my passion for history and education runs so deep.

And then there's the God card.

I've come to terms with the fact that even the most noble of desires may never get met. Truth be told, they probably won't. I'm even satisfied with the results of my intellectual wrestling match with the Lord--He gives us these desires. He makes them remain unmet longings for our entire life, yet He is not evil or vindictive in so doing.

And yet, I simply do not know my role in the matter. I've tried pursuing the dreams, but the sovereignty of God has kept them from fulfillment. And I've tried the route of avoidance--a perfect mixture of zero hope plus zero expectation--and wouldn't you know, the needle of pain still pricked.

And so this is me picking up the pieces and trying a new tactic. A tactic of trusting you with my story. I'll be honest--this hurts too. But God never promised a lack of pain. And so I trust and hope again.

On freedom and matters of the heart

Six years ago I set foot on the campus of RTS, not knowing where I was headed or what I was intending to do. Who am I kidding? I didn't even know what Reformed theology was. But (I'm not even joking here), they had a great slogan, good marketing campaign, and I was hooked.

Since graduating, I have traveled to 11 countries, can articulate the doctrines of Reformed theology in a succinct and compelling way, and I use bigger words. By now, I thought I would know where I'm headed or what I'm intending to do, but I don't. And that is precisely what is so freeing about being a student again.

You see, today was my first day back in the same chair, in the same classroom, as relatively the same person. But for the first time, the pressure was off--the pressure to perform; the pressure to prove that I belong even though I am a directionless girl; the pressure to discover God's unique calling on my life.

Granted, those struggles didn't magically go away this go 'round. I still found myself questioning if I belonged, and even though I have nothing to prove academically, in my heart I believe I do. What changed is the radical freedom that comes from knowing--deep down in my knower--that God sees that heart and still loves me. No amount of Bible study, mission trips, or career decisions will make Him love me more and absolutely nothing I can do will make Him love me less. If that's not freedom, I don't know what is.

"You see the depths of my heart and You love me the same."

Here's to living authentic lives.

No small thing

In the Old Testament, Moses says, "Does it seem a small thing to you that the God of Israel has chosen you from among all the people of Israel to be near him?" (Numbers 16:9a)

Does it seem a small thing? Six words can pack a punch.

There's a framed sheet of paper hanging on my wall that essentially says when I look at the world, I'll see it through the lens of reformed theology. And guess what? I trivialize the sovereignty of God all the time. Does it seem a small thing? To trivialize the extravagant and costly love of God. To trivialize the reality that I am a daughter of the King. To trivialize the nearness of Jesus Christ. That is no small matter.

The chorus of an ancient hymn best summarizes my thoughts:

My Lord, I did not choose you, for that could never be
My heart would still refuse you, had you not chosen me

To be chosen by God is no small thing. It means He loved you first. It means He still does. It means He always will.

And if you don't know if you are chosen by God and if your heart is in any way inclined toward Him, it means He's running after you right now with a love unlike anything you have every known. It's no small thing to say 'yes' to God. But when you encounter the real Jesus, you will never look back.

still waters

I went sailing this weekend in Winter Park, the second greatest spot in Florida (the first being Windermere). Now Jim, since I know you are reading, you will be pleased to know that I did not ask if there was enough gas. However, my first safety check was to ensure we had a good solid oar. (It was used).

The thing about sailing is that you have to want it. Every screw, every knot, every mast--you have to tighten, pull, and hoist those suckers. And when you're on the water, there's no falling asleep. Nope, you've got to be on top of your game, otherwise someone might switch the sail on you and knock you in the head. But the beauty of sailing is that it's worth it. Every last concussion. Because when you're on the water and its rhythmic lapping lulls you into forgetting that underneath you are thousands of alligators, every single care in the world goes away.

I also learned a valuable lesson. Sailing is a lot more fun with wind. Don't get me wrong--floating along with the current is amazing and restorative and relaxing. But once you catch the wind, once you feel its power carry you across the water, it's a moment that can only be experienced.

I don't often feel my faith. But Saturday afternoon was different. The magic hour of 4:45 when the winds picked up, all I could think about were the lyrics Jesus, be my center. Be the wind in these sails, be the reason that I live, be my source, be my guide, Jesus. He carries you. There were a few times I got scared (I scare easily), but the fear was always followed by a cool breeze. It's a poor analogy, but I'm learning that walking with Jesus is a lot like sailing. You have to want it, sometimes the still waters restore your soul and sometimes the winds kick when you least expect them, but He is always the guide. Always.

introspective

It's late. I'm not funny. My best friend is thousands of miles away which leaves me to process the meaning of life with a computer. We are about to enter dangerous territory.

I want to arrive.

One of my hardest experiences in seminary was that I exposed to so much wisdom and insight, but I didn't have a box to put any of it
in. I hadn't experienced life or ministry in such a way that I could relate. But I continued on, in the hope that one day I too would have a calling.

Nearly three years later, I'm still waiting. Compared to the 40 years the people of God wandered in the wilderness, my journey is nothing. But I'm so tired of the repetition. I just want to arrive. I want to get there.

The worse part is that I don't even know what there is. I have a hunch (or maybe it's just a hope). My hunch is that living out your calling is living in the sweet spot--in that place where what you do is simultaneously the most challenging and easiest thing you've ever done--the perfect mix of blood, sweat, and tears--because you are doing what you were made for.

I want to do the things I was made to do. I want to feel alive. I want to act. I want to write. I want to teach. I want to think deeply and challenge the status quo. I want to face life with someone. I just want to get there. I want to arrive.

But at the end of the day, my theology has to trump my experience.

My experience tells me my calling is elusive; my theology tells me my calling is to glorify God. To be his image. To know him.

My experience tells me I'm not there yet; my theology tells me if I've arrived, I'm dead.

My experience tells me I've been forgotten; my theology tells me I'm the apple of God's eye.

I've always said I don't know what I think until I write. I guess John Bunyan had it right all along. This pilgrim is still on the journey.

3 posts and I hope you are happy

Because I get harassed for not sharing that oh-so-private deeper side, I just blogged on my church website and you'd better pay attention because i'm letting you know. What can I say? Tuesday night Bible study just brings out the spiritual in me.

That, or it's some sort of penance for my please-don't-come-to-Biblestudy-tonight prayer.

Oh yes. The goods. Check out Let's Talk about Gasp!, Baby!. (Rated PG-13).

If you feel so inclined.....

What can I say, I'm feeling wordy today.

For the more serious goings-on in my life, check out a post I just wrote called Discovering the Gospel on a Tuesday Morning. Not a compelling title, I know, but it's the best I can do. It's not like I get paid for this stuff.

As always, I love your comments. Feel free to leave them here or there (or anywhere! Wasn't that a Dr. Seuss rhyme?)