I'd rather hurt...

As of late, me and the other ladies in my office have been singing (and swooning over!) "I Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It captures the aching and the longing women are so susceptible to in romance. There's something truly hot about it.

Aside from the fact that I just love the song, there's one particular line that has captured my attention lately. At one point the music cuts out and the lovers sing to each other:

"I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."

It's an interesting assertion. Definitely counter-intuitive. But there's something about it that rings true.

In his book Behind the Glittering Mask, the former president of Southeastern, Dr. Mark Rutland (one of my personal heroes!), takes on the seven deadly sins in the format of a debate between Michael and Lucifer. As they take on the subject of sloth, the content of Michael's rebuttal is enlightening.

He asserts that the reason that the apathy and even refusal to be moved to fervor that are characteristic of the slothful are counted such a sin is because they are so contrary to the nature of God. He describes God as pure being of ardent passion. When He is delighted all of heaven tremors from the sheer weight of His divine joy. When His wrath is unleashed the mountains melt like wax. He is the antonym of apathy; there is nothing about Him that lends to disengagement. He is Love. He cannot but care. Mere mortals cannot conceive of the absolute passion that is the heart of God. (Paraphrasing here.)

So perhaps the reason that we are so aghast by a person who blithely refuses to engage in the proper manner... a person impervious to passion, unyielding to wonder... is that a refusal to stand in awe, a refusal to care, a refusal to act when action is justly called for are so contradictory to the nature of God: passion in action. The Love that leads to the cross; it's who He is. And sloth is a contradiction.

So perhaps there's something of the image of God in us that speaks through a line like: "I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all." Or perhaps one like: "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Perhaps there's something closer to the heart of God in preferring pain over apathy. Perhaps it's one of the ways that we look like Him.

I'm beginning to understand something like cutting oneself because it's the only thing that provides an escape from perpetual numbness as perhaps a perversion of this aspect of God's image in us.

We are made in the image of a God of passion and action. And there's something truer to who we are in His image about embracing the aching than refusing to feel.

God weeps. He rages. He loves. He redeems. But He never sits enthroned in apathy refusing to be moved by the love or scorn of His beloved.

There is something nigh unholy about the beloved, being made in His image, in exact opposition, refusing to engage, sinking into a state of unnatural anesthetized emotional coma.

To bring it down to earth: there are many painful situations that have arisen in my life lately. And a part of me wants to escape to a hammock in Mexico. And I am not altogether decided against that inner whisper... But calling me back from the salty breeze that promises peace in the back of my mind is one silly lyric: "I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."

Though it seems an easy escape from the pain I cannot check out. I cannot cease to care. God in me is moved. God in me cares. And I cannot pretend to freeze impenetrable to the world around me. In the end, it's better to hurt than to cease to feel. I am, after all, my Father's daughter.

It's just Monopoly money...

"Replace fear of the coming winter with faith in the living God. After all, it's just monopoly money. It all goes back in the box."
- Max Lucado

He moved my soul to seek Him...

"I sought the Lord and afterward I knew
He moved my soul to seek Him, seeking me;
It was not that I found, O Savior true,
No, I was found, was found of Thee.

Thou didst reach forth Thy hand and mine enfold;
I walked and sank not on the storm-vexed sea;
'twas not so much that I on Thee took hold
as Thou, dear Lord, on me.

I find, I walk, I love, but oh, the whole
of love is but my answer, Lord, to Thee;
For Thou wert long beforehand with my soul,
Always, always Thou lovedst me."
- Anonymous hymn

Silly confession #26...

First night 'coming home' to the new house. No company over. Cooking dinner. Doing laundry. Just living... here.

I turned my eyes up to our new house number as I parked tonight and peeled myself out of the car, very tired after a busy weekend.

And it's starting to feel real now.

Again, life is moving. And the whirlwind has continued. I still cannot grasp how very different life was six short months ago. What is this road that we're on? Even having gotten all that we wanted, what sense can we make of these passing moments?

I feel time passing now. I feel the breath pulled from my lips. There's no stopping the moments. And thoughts of nieces and nephews, of other new houses to be met with in the future, of a very different family filling the rooms of my home than the one I now know flood my mind. 'This growing up stuff, man I don't know.' These inevitable changes are pouring through my mind right now and making me want to hang on to those things that are precious to me; those things that fill my current 'now'.

I'm grasping for the wind again, trying to hold what was meant to flow by me. What is life but a vapor? Caught up in a strong wind and swirling by me, it is a vapor that feels particularly elusive tonight.

We got all we wanted. The destination has been reached. And as we stagger up the last few steps, straining for the top of this hill, I lift my eyes to see an endless road laid out before me and so many more mountains to be faced. And my eyes are on my companions who've made me strong and the thought of a change hurts tonight.

Again, we've gotten 'there'. And yet I'm not the 'her' I thought I'd be by now. I'm finding more and more that there are seldom natural mile markers that coincide with spiritual growth. Stature in Christ comes through the journey and cannot be measured by the fence posts. Again I'm at the top. Again there's more ahead. Again I thought I'd be a stronger traveler by now.

'What is this road? What is this journey? And where does time go...'

I'm beginning to think that there is no destination in this life. All we will ever know on this earth are a series of steps forward. We make our peace with the past that we wish we could change. We make our peace with a future that we cannot avoid. And we drink in the moment that we're in and hope not to miss too much.

Soft pajamas. Curled up on my new bedroom floor. With boxes all around me. And my precious family moving about downstairs. And the confession of the moment is that a Miley Cyrus song is speaking to me. Oh well. Take a glance:

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I've gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

Have you ever been in a moment in which every step forward feels like a step away? That's where you'll find me tonight.

But every away is a toward. And 'every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.'

Bittersweet transition.

Onward.

What is this?

'What is this?'

A question I've been asking a lot lately.

A question we're not really used to anymore. It betrays a lack of familiarity; a lack of understanding. It is a question that leaves no room for pretending that we are all-knowing.

'What is this?'

An inquiry as to the very substance, nature and purpose of a thing unknown.

'What is this?'

In confusion, in wonder; confounded, dumbstruck, bewildered... So used to anticipating every detail, to never being amazed, to never being at a loss for mental clarity... And suddenly we are utterly undone.

'God, what is this?'

What is this situation? What is this journey? What is this that You would require of me in this moment? I am unfamiliar with this, I haven't seen this before. What is this?

There is something unnerving about uncharted waters: a trembling as we approach the precipice, trepidation as we near the unknown.

We have been asking for expansion, for increase, for forward movement. We've longed for a shift, a change, an advancement, a way out of the stalemate we've been in with our circumstances. Deeper depths, higher heights, greater realms in God.

We got what we wanted.

But the problem is that anything new, fresh, greater, deeper is, by necessity, outside the realm of our current experience.

We've approached the edge of our own understanding and with a loathing glance back at the mundane, we turned our eyes heavenward and whispered 'forward'.

But as we stand gazing out at the hazy horizon of the unfamiliar... At all the wonder and terror of a grim sea split as easily as a veil, looming on either side of the path we must walk... At a pillar of fire, burning furiously from the dust of a seemingly endless desert to the vast black sky stretched above it... At the terrible and majestic power of Almighty God, smiling slyly as He opens up the new we've been begging for and foolishly believing we were more than ready for...

With dazzled eyes, we stand awestruck and now whisper heavenward (and with far more humility this time): 'God, what is this?'

Courage brothers, for we are soon to know.

Things I love...

Summer rainstorms.
Rainstorms any time.
A good book.
A bed strewn with pillows.
A caramel latte.
Black coffee with dessert.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
Red nail polish.
Wrinkled faces.
Starlight.
3am.
Sunrise. When you haven't slept yet.
A good game of air hockey.
Bon Jovi.
David Cook.
Tattoos.
Travelling by boat.
Attending weddings.
Pictures of Greece.
Great love songs. Like Seabreeze.
Chicken marsala.
Tiramisu.
Tree houses.
A swing in the yard.
Decorating desserts.
Cooking soup.
The children in Haiti.
The Sea of Galillee.
The springs of Ein Gedi.
Saying good morning.
Being called love. And kid. And little one.
Photography that captures perfection in the mundane.
An afternoon at my Nonna's house.
That moment in the Atlanta snow.
Quotes scribbled anywhere.
Handwriting.
Invitations in calligraphy.
Wet ink pens.
Pencil drawings.
Having my secrets discovered.
Letters in the mail.
Firm handshakes, warm hugs, soft kisses.
Fresh kiwi.
Men's cologne.
Summer dresses.
Feeling delighted in.
Christmas time.
Stillettos.
White candles.
The word valor.
Little boys in pillowcase capes.
Little girls in dress up wings.
Real handkerchiefs.
Walking with an umbrella.
Pink hydrangea with cream roses.
Black cherries.
British accents.
Accents in general.
Rooms full of windows.
Walking through gardens.
Being alone with Him in beautiful places.
A kiss on the hand.
Playing Mario Brothers on Super Nintendo.
Beaches at night.
Autumn weather.
Winter coats.
Casablanca, the movie.
Suits, ties and cufflinks.
Pocket watches.
Writing in beautiful places.
Laughing until my ribs ache.
Singing in the car.
Wind in my hair.
Breakfast at night.
Dinner with friends.
Drive-in movies.
Arcades.
Wrinkled hands.
Grand pianos.
Electric guitars.
Anything by C.S. Lewis.
People playing with my hair.
Driving with the windows down.
Antique telephones.
Impressionist paintings.
Getting dressed up. Ballgowns any day.
4 wheelers. Mud tracks.
A ride on a jet ski.
Thai food. And sushi.
The mixed CD he made me.
Going for a hike.
White Christmas lights. Strung up any time.
Banyan trees.
Slow dancing when there is no music.
Dipping my hand into a running stream.
Waves on the ocean.
Driving over bridges.
Stretching.
Riding horses.
Going out barefoot.
Vacationing on an island.
Lying in a hammock.
The smell of the ocean.
A nap in the sun.
Walking into a cold store on a hot day.
Getting drenched in the rain.
Being spontaneous.
The words subtle and seldom.
Praying with teenagers.
Tear-soaked shoulders.
Speaking to leaders.
Dreaming when I'm awake.
You. And not just for reading this lengthy list. <3

Dealing with disappointment...

Have you ever been deeply frustrated by your own failures? By the fact that, no matter how you try, you just can't seem to get it right?

Perhaps the better question would be, is there anyone out there who hasn't experienced this frustration? If so, please contact me: I'd love to know your secret!

The truth is that we're all too familiar with our own inadequacies. We have an amazing experience that builds in us great expectations. We decide that this time things are going to be different, that we're going to get our act together, be disciplined, have control...

We have so many lofty expectations of ourselves and then all at once, with one stupid choice or one utterly ugly moment, all of our lofty perceptions of ourselves come crashing to the floor. And as we're sweeping up the pieces again, through the tears of frustration that sting our eyes, we're reminded of how many times we've been here before... and begin to dread how many times we'll be here again.

What is the hope with so many broken promises? What is the hope with so many failed attempts?

I'm wrestling with that thought myself today and wondering how God can be so patient with me despite so many shortcomings.

I turn to the Scriptures for relief and find that nagging sense that I've been neglecting my reading of them as a source of additional frustration. But God's mercy breaks upon me as I recall that I am not the only one to have miserably failed:

"We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God - through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin."
Romans 7:14-25

Wow. 'For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing.' I don't know that I've ever felt so understood as I do in hearing one of the great men of church history speaking so plainly the frustration I've always felt. Have I not also cried out on many occasions "what a wretched man I am!"?

But fortunately, Paul points us to the right conclusion. Not of another wave of energy and effort. Not in more misguided hopes in our own righteousness. Pure, humility-inducing rescue. That is the only cure for this sin-sickness that plagues mankind. "Who will rescue me from this body of death?" He will. He has. He still does. He has not forsaken me, nor grown weary of my constant need for redemption.

And once again, I find myself humbled: sinking, drowning and ever in need of a Savior.

But His mercy is new every morning and He knew I would always be in need of Him.

And again to that banner He has purchased for me with His own blood:
"I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!" -Galatians 2:21

His death was not in vain. He did not die to save that which was already secure. God does not indulge an elaborate show in the death of His only begotten.

No, He died because we could not otherwise have lived. He rescued us because we were in need of rescue. And we remain in need today. And whatever made us think that He is intimidated by our persistent need? Who told us that we could continue to be Christians without Christ?

Drink deeply of the grace of God that beckons you today.

All frustrations and failures aside, call upon the Lord who died to save even those who should know better. His love for you has not faded and is the only thing stronger than the sin that has been your cruel and constant companion. Run to redemption even now and live.

Silly confession #25...

I have decided to live deeply. I have decided to live breathing. I have decided to live in a state of perpetual enough-ness.

I believe this is the Lord's will for the life of man.

I've decided to enjoy the sky. I've decided to run the earth. I've decided to dive into cool water. I've decided to scale the mountains. I've decided to stand in the rain. I've decided to drink deeply this adventure.

Whether I journey alone or among many, I've decided to just live the moment and release the rest.

I wish to be marked by gratitude, by valor, by hope, by childlike love.

I wish to live deeply and love freely.

I wish to be a missionary ever.

I hope to always have a song in my heart and the courage to sing it regardless of who hears.

My confession is that I am still in so many ways just a child. A child who inquires with unconcealed delight, "you know my name?!?"

A child who wants to be seen. A girl longing to be loved. A daughter who wants to sing sweet songs and be heard with delight. A dreamer who wants to do something great in this world.

What better way is there to live than with open hands and open heart?

So open me today, Lord. Let me be vulnerable. Let me be foolishly faith-filled. Let me love and be loved fearlessly. Let me touch the world without regard for the wounds proximity can bring.

I want dirt on my hands and tears on my shoulders. I want to touch a dying and bleeding world in hopes of bringing just a bit of healing.

I want to shine with what small light I have in hopes of dispelling at least some darkness. I cannot do much, but what I can do, I will do.

Living deeply. Is that not the great adventure?

Life abundant. Is that not a very different thing than we often make it?

"Let me know that You hear me. Let me know Your touch. Let me know that You love me. Let that be enough."

Life to pour...

And the echoes of worship are ringing in my soul,
Resounding and lifting;
Condensing upon the walls of my heart,
Dripping down like precious oil
And all I want is more.

So why do I not chase more?
Standing alongside the Great Deep, dying of thirst;
A daughter of the Spring, drinking never.

I hear You, Lord.
Afar off in the distance.
And dare I dream it: nearing.
I hear You.

And I long for You. My heart misses You.
I long to lay upon Your chest,
To be wrapped in Your embrace,
And to bring some joy to Your heart.

But I fear my light has grown dark,
My heart has grown cold
And I wonder if You will find me in this wilderness.

Will You come to me, Lord,
When my stubborn heart will not draw near to You?

Will You come to me, beloved Spring,
When I have perished at Your side
In my foolishness, undrinking?

Revive me, Lord.
Revive me, Lord, again.

That I may pour my life as oil.
As oil upon Your feet.

So many questions...

A busy day and no time for writing really, but sad news has me wondering. And wondering wants writing.

One of our emcees passed away today.

A few short weeks ago, she found out she had terminal cancer. She's in her early forties. She loves Jesus and she lived a beautiful life.

And so we're thinking. And it just seems wrong.

Life is fragile.

A brief flicker of all the burning brilliance of human life flashes upon the canvas of time. And just that quickly is gone.

I'm 22. And it hasn't been that long. Even four times this lifespan seems too brief. How about just two?

And pages keep turning. And the sand in the hour glass pours down. And we're all being chased by the hands of time. And for a moment my heart is saddened. Forty seems far too early to have been caught. And so, so suddenly.

Life is a vapor.

But there is that lovely hope, so sure. When we are caught, we are caught not by emptiness or by life faded to black. We are caught by eternity, where we have always belonged. We are caught by the arms of the Father Who loves us so dearly. I cannot conceive of forever, but Amy is resting there this morning. And one day we will go to meet her.

What trembling is there for the Lord's beloved? Much pain for those who linger on in the world of sand and pages. And a longing for the light we knew in the one we love.

But for that light, only the melting into that eternal radiance, the very presence of God with unveiled face and unhindered soul.

"Love may be the end of us; but why, why should we fear?"

Love Himself is our eternal end. The wind of time blows on. And we can be moved by it, unafraid.

Random thoughts from Philly...

Let me preface this by saying that 1am musings are entirely unreliable and I refuse to be held accountable for anything I say here. But I had to spill a bit before crawling into bed and rapidly awakening to all of the adventure tomorrow.

I'm finally listening to that song from Nina's recital that I've been wanting desperately. It's lovely and perfect writing music which encouraged this absurd endeavor. "Weightless" by Courtney Jones - look it up; it's amazing.

What shall we say of Philly? It's old and urban; it's got a lot of personality and character and I love watching the people here. At night, it's just like New York - especially in downtown. Trendy little shops with beautiful architecture lining the street with illuminated signs. And then there's the crisp cool winds. I adore.

It's busy. Running, running, running. And a different job every moment. And lots of new people to enjoy. I adore. Zig Ziglar. I adore. :)

There have been things less lovely, but they're not worth mentioning here.

Four hours to sleep and I must be about that. But I have enjoyed my adventure thus far and it is only halfway through. So much more to come. And hopefully I'll remember to take pictures tomorrow. But for now, just sleep, dear sleep.

I miss you, my loves. I hope to see you tonight.

"With all the wondering, I'm weightless here in my dreams... mmmmm...."

(Seriously, look it up.)

Silly confession #24...

I absolutely love quotes.

There is something about them, some irresistible charm. They are language distilled into its greatest potency, expressing in a single concise statement a truth that books could be (and likely have been) written about.

Whether humorous, insightful or simply poignant, I delight to read them.

And I delight to copy them - always by hand - onto little scraps of paper and scatter them about any object that frequently meets my gaze (and that will hold still! I think I would permanently affix certain quotes to some of the people in my life if they'd let me...).

At the moment I am immensely annoyed by the fact that my computer at work has been completely covered and I have no more room for new quotes (unless I array them in straight lines, which is utterly unacceptable. Quotes must be scattered, not placed in an orderly fashion. It's true! A scrap of paper on which I have scribbled a favorite quote wants to be taped to something at a haphazard angle. I don't pretend to know why that is their desire, but one must give a quote what it wants...)

I have frequently toyed with the idea of hanging strings all down an empty area on one of my walls with quotes pinned from top to bottom - a subtle stage for the well-spoken wisdom of the ages to speak. Floating? Dangling? In any case, I love the idea of quotes somehow suspended in my room, unframed by a particular context, just as they are in my thoughts. Perhaps one of these days I will actually attempt this project.

And how I would delight to speak in quotes! To have my every statement be brief, memorable and worthy of immortalizing with that badge of honor: a hyphen followed by my name! Evidence of that lovely fulfillment of purpose - having once said something worth hearing.

All hope is lost, though, when I realize that this would entail people actually knowing how to spell my last name. God certainly does have an interesting sense of humor. Oh well, I suppose there's always marriage. Is there a Mr. Smith out there in need of a wife?

Well, my love to you, darlings. May you all find yourselves inspired to say something quote-worthy today!

Also indeed...

"Give me the splendid silent sun!"

- Walt Whitman

Indeed...

"The cure for everything is salt water: sweat... tears... or the sea."

- Isak Dinesen

Just die already...

It's something that most of us would like to forget. It's something that I believe the enemy works with all his strength to keep out of our minds in the moments when it counts the most: the fact that we're supposed to die.

The self-preservation instinct is an annoying little necessity. It makes men cowardly. It prompts over-caution and can drain much of the spontaneity and daring out of life. Yet it keeps them here to fulfill the years that the Lord has appointed for them.

But self-preservation, when applied to situations in which the supposed "danger" is a mere figment: a risk that threatens only that part of ourselves that is supposed to die; that instinct quickly turns into self-promotion. It is a monster that crouches low in each of us, trying to blend into the scenery, trying not to call attention to its own vile presence, but that lashes out in fierce self-defense whenever it is so much as alluded to. Because of course, our motives in a situation could never be selfish.

The Bible tells us that we are not ignorant of the enemy's schemes. But what of the scheme of prompting us to indulge emotion at the expense of rational thinking in a moment of confrontation? What of the scheme that prompts us to question our every action in a given situation, reevaluating it a hundred times over, without ever considering our motive? Most of all the motive of simple, ghastly selfishness.

I'm selfish. You're selfish. We're all selfish.

I wish I were less selfish. So do you. I bet we all do.

I'm trying to be less selfish. So are you. So are all of us.

I'd appreciate a little mercy while I'm in the process of becoming less selfish.

I bet you'd appreciate that too.

I bet we all would.

These are not complicated facts. We have no problem mentally acquiescing to them as we read them here: calmly stated and unconnected to any particular person or situation.

But why is it such a different matter at the time of an altercation? When faced with a situation in which two parties disagree over how something should be done, why do we never ask the painful question: am I doing this for selfish motives?

Am I doing this to save myself some work? Because I don't feel like it? Because I feel slighted? Because I want more? Because I want better? Because I want to be... whatever.

Why do we never ask the painful question? Because it's painful. Because it hurts. And anything that hurts badly enough can kill. And so self-preservation pretends to have been called for. Because we've forgotten the truth with all of it's sharp edges: some things are supposed to die.

I am supposed to die. Daily, Paul says. By willingly taking up and carrying, one agonizing footstep at a time, the very instrument of my execution. I'm supposed to bear in every step a little bit of death. Sound awful? Talk to Jesus. He said it, not me. "Take up your cross and follow me." Carry the thing that's killing you. Through the crowd of people that are killing you. To the very place where all of this will culminate in the one thing you've spent your whole life resisting: death.

Dylan Thomas says "Do not go gently unto that good night." Jesus disagrees. Walk right up, calmly stare death in the face, realize that you have looked eye-to-eye at something far more powerful and drink the cup that you've spent a lifetime begging the Father to pass from you. Just die already.

Without death, there can be no resurrection. Without death, there can be no Christ-likeness.

"I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me. And this life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me. And I do not lay aside the grace of God. For if righteousness comes through the law then Christ died in vain."

The end of Galatians 2 makes one thing very clear: Christ did not die in vain. His death purchased my righteousness. But that doesn't exempt me from dying. In fact, because He has recovered for me the righteousness of God that I had hopelessly lost, I now have the blessed privilege of finding freedom from the disgusting instinct of self-preservation that, when allowed to have its way in me, yields self-promotion.

I can now again look like God. And selflessly lay my life down for another. "Greater love has no man than this, that he should lay his life down for his friend."

But anyone can jump in front of a bus in a moment of adrenaline-induced heroism. Death to the body is so much easier than death to the ego, death to the will, death to our childish sense of "fair".

Anyone can jump in front of a bus. Far fewer people can get up and take out the trash when they're dead tired, every day, year after year, without scowling at their spouse as though said spouse were the entire reason there were such a thing as garbage in the universe and a sanitation system in this nation.

Anyone can jump in front of a bus. Far fewer people can show mercy when another selfish-brat-in-recovery rudely insists on an arrangement that leaves them with more work or fewer benefits and do it as unto the Lord with all the might they possess while still recognizing that person as in-recovery and on their way to selflessness.

It takes the mighty to die daily.

Some men die once. Others die daily. And it is the daily deaths that really hurt.

Self-promotion crouches within, screaming "it hurts; I'm tired; it's not fair; I'm getting the worse end of the deal; they're not taking care of me the way they should; I'm not living the life I could; I'm not as happy as I should be; this is killing me!" And truly it is. Killing that heinous little monster within that insists on special treatment. Killing the part of us that is supposed to die. With little blows day by day, with splinters in the shoulder... that carries the cross...

But remember, beloved, though your body is burdened and breaking, though your feet ache and your mind wrestles with a thousand cries from your little monster. Though you are weary and broken and bleeding. Though you bear in every step a little bit of death...

Forget not, as you carry the thing that's killing you... through the crowd of people that are killing you... and as you are painfully aware of the cost in obeying when He said "take up your cross..."

That He also said "and follow me." Forget not that you are not the first to pay the painful price.

Lift your eyes but a little bit, beloved, and you will see Jesus laboring on ahead of you. Bearing on His own shoulder a million, million crosses; your own included and none His own. Dying that you may live. That you may live truly: a life not of self-preservation or self-promotion, but of self-sacrifice. Just like Jesus.

As you wind up that terrible hill, with the agonizing steps of death that your interactions today will doubtless bring, remember that Jesus has gone on ahead of you and that you look more like Him every time that monster dies.

Take up your cross. And follow Him.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:2-4

Today, I look into myself and say without a shred of mercy: just die already.

How do you defend a lion? You get out of His way...

A verse contributed...

"My candle burns at both its ends;
It will not last the night;
But oh, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay

--:--

"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

--:--

"The powerful play goes on,
And you will contribute a verse."
-Walt Whitman

Resisting the gray twilight...

"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat." -Theodore Roosevelt

Why do we shrink back? What is it about normality and numbness that charms us so? Why do we linger in the gray twilight?

The sun is brilliant and glorious but can sear and scorch. The night is mysterious and dazzling but can chill the bones and blind the eyes. But isn't it better to be seared and scorched than never to stand in the sun? Isn't it better to be cold and blinded than never to have gazed into the black of the sky and chanced to see the stars?

Isn't it far better to dare mighty things? To win glorious triumphs? To fail miserably and be broken to pieces than to live a numb, safe, comfortable half-life untouched by the aching beauty of adventure?

Isn't it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I'd rather lose tragically than never love deeply. I'd rather be made the fool than never care enough about anything to live with foolish passion.

Why do we shrink back at the proposition of pain? Have we not endured being beaten and broken under it before and yet survived? I've hurt. And yet I'm still here. So why is the avoidance of hurt a defining reality in my life?

I think I'd prefer the throws of agony to the dim mediocrity of those who never dare.

I'd rather bleed than endure the unbearable pangs of remorse induced by wasted moments and thus wasted life.

I would rather live deeply, love with reckless abandon, dare with unbridled bravery, dream without a trace of cynicism and die with the rare honor of having actually lived.

It is an honor that can be purchased with nothing other than moments embraced, whatever that entails. The heroes of the earth who blaze through the gray twilight like shooting stars, burning with brief brilliance, are those who have taken in a lovers' embrace joy and sorrow, triumph and defeat, unspeakable pleasure and unbearable pain each in their turn. They are the noble, valiant few who do not merely exist, but rather do the unthinkable and actually live.

I'd rather stand in the sun and crawl in the midnight hour than linger in the gray twilight.

I'd rather drink to the last dregs the cup of violent joy and suffering than sip idly at the sleep-inducing potion of comfort poisoned with regret.

C. S. Lewis once said "we fear failure more than we love life, so we refuse the great adventures."

Apologies, Jack, but that's not a "we" I want to be a part of anymore.

Some quotes about life and God...

Taken from a book the lovely Ms. Lederle gave me for graduation...

"It takes a long time to become young." -Pablo Picasso

"Life has meaning only as one barters it day by day for something other than itself." - Antoine de Saint Exupery

"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it." -W.M. Lewis

"We never live so intensely as when we love strongly. We never realize ourselves so vividly as when we are in the full glow of love for others." -Walter Racschenbusch

"Fear not that your life shall come to an end, but rather fear that it shall never have a beginning." -J.H. Newman

"Our love for God is best tested by the question of whether we seek him or his gifts." -Ralph Sockman

"God doesn't care so much about being analyzed. Mainly, he wants to be loved." -Philip Yancey

"Life's greatest tragedy is to lose God and not to miss Him." -F.W. Norwood

"I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how he could look up into the heavens and say there is no God." -Abraham Lincoln

"We are not human beings trying to be spiritual. We are spiritual beings trying to be human." -Jacquelyn Small

Silly confession #23...

My delight at what an amazing and anointed man of God he is...

is only heightened by the fact that his latest spiritual scribbling included the word "trepidation".

*Enamored sigh*

Breathe...

What a feeling. I just sealed the envelope and the last assignment is done.

Two weeks from now the ceremony will be over, the celebration will be over and life will be mine again.

I'm excited to draw near to Jesus. I'm excited to reorganize the house. I'm excited to take shifts cooking dinner. I'm excited to wake up early and go running at dawn.

I'm excited to live without limits.

I'm excited that one of the loudest ticking clocks in my head has quieted.

I'm ready to read what I want, rule my time according to His will and not a list of urgent demands. To write, to draw, to mentor teenagers, to help at church like I've never been able to before, to watch a movie with my family or to spend time with him without a trace of guilt.

I know that I'm not suddenly sinking back into another century in which hurried schedules are a thing unheard of. But after seventeen years of school dominating the horizon, I have the most delicious sense of freedom.

Life.

And a long-awaited deep breath in. A moment to breathe. What a feeling!

Silly confession #22...

Maybe I shouldn't say it, but I really do wonder if anything in heaven could really be more beautiful than the sunlight on a thousand green leaves.

Maybe there will just be a lot of trees in heaven. And a lot of sunlight.

But it's like glory distilled. And I cannot imagine anything more lovely.

A thing of beauty...

That's what the Starbucks cup on my desk is.

I stripped the little sleeve off and realized it's been awhile since I actually looked at that little white and green cup with the odd little siren on the side. Lovely.

Ok, maybe it's more the caramel latte deliciousness that it contains that pleases me... but still.
Lovely.

Mix in Bon Jovi on YouTube... and a great lyric toward the end that's the whole reason I wanted to hear that song... "alarm clock rings, 6:45, I like waking up with you on my mind..."

Good call.

Good morning.

Silly confession #21...

I absolutely love driving across the Howard Frankland and getting ocean spray on my windshield.

I love that bridge in general but much more so when it's windy and you can look out at the waves raging. It's like the ocean is churning and they have that pre-storm greyish green color, breaking in white foam. There's something wild and free and furious about it that I love. Storms and waves and wind... some of my favorite things in the world...

This is heightened still when the wind is forceful enough to carry the spray to my windshield. It makes me feel as though I've been drawn into what's happening on the water. Not just that I'm driving past it, but that I'm passing through it.

I imagine I should be annoyed by it. I waste a lot of wiper fluid on such days. But that's just another example of the way that practicality can drain the life out of things.

All warnings of ring worms or catching cold or having to peel off soaking wet clothes aside, I want to stand and be saturated in summer storms.

And all wasted wiper fluid out of mind, I love making even the slightest point of connection with the raging sea.

Silly confession #20...

So apparently I use Italian-American slang. And I never realized it until today.

Having a talk with Stephanie, Summer and Suzie - just tossing around creative ideas to improve our company - I repeatedly introduced my thoughts with "forget about it..."

As in, Stephanie finishes making her point. I agree and want to add another concept that is related to it. So I say, "Well forget about it..." and then proceed to explain why we should have a YouTube channel for advertising or why we should be conducting online market research to eliminate wasted time in data collection and data entry.

An otherwise intelligent conversation...

And what's even more fun is that I had no idea I was doing it until Summer said something at the end. "I love how passionate you are... you keep using that phrase, it's so cute."

So apparently I'm a paison. Or at least talk like one at ridiculously inappropriate moments.

Nice.

Sweet collision...

Arguably my favorite song ever...

Collide (Howie Day)
The dawn is breaking
A light shining through
You're barely waking
And I'm tangled up in you
Yeah

I'm open, you're closed
Where I follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide

I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the dark you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide

Don't stop here
I've lost my place
I'm close behind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find
You and I collide

You finally find
You and I collide
You finally find
You and I collide

A glad heart kind of morning...

Traffic jams are usually enough to wreck the day...

But thank God for Florida.

Window wide open, staring out at green waves and jamming to old music on the radio... Enough to make me not even care about being late. And that's miraculous!

Not to mention a random run-in with Pastor and Paul and Tracy...

What a clever morning.

Then a soul-satisfying kind of breakfast... an English muffin with peanut butter and honey... some cherry yogurt and hazelnut coffee...

And Howie Day... "sweet is the sight of her room, windows open by candlelight..."

And then, courtesy the magic of related YouTube videos, Tal Bachman and "She's So High" - "she comes to speak to me, I freeze immediately because what she says sounds so unreal..."

And then, thanks to the same magic and this silly, glad heart moment, maybe we'll actually listen to the Police sing "every little thing she does is magic..." or maybe just a few seconds of it, because it's already getting a bit unenjoyable.

In any case, I think we'll finally wind up at Mat Kearney and "All I Need" - "you touch my lips and grab the back of my hand..."

Ah. Today is delightful.

Good morning, dear world.

Silly confession #19...

There's something about saying "good morning." It is by far my favorite greeting.

Perhaps this is a bit odd, considering the fact that I am by no means a morning person...

But especially when it is not exchanged with a stranger on the street and is rather exchanged with a family member or loved one...

"Good morning, sunshine." Said sincerely. And my day is brighter.

I guess there's something intimate about sharing the very first part of the day.

Exchanging sweet greetings while all of the edges are still soft and gentle in sleepy eyes and voices.

It makes me wish I had time to make breakfast for all of us - a huge, ridiculously indulgent feast eaten by an open window while we read and sip coffee.

That's what "good morning" feels like. Like having time for what I love best. Like sweet, soft moments.

Yes, by far my favorite greeting.

A little charm...

I think I'm beginning to realize...

that life needs conversations with strangers through open windows at stop lights.

life needs open windows. and sunglasses. and hair blowing. and that halfway smile of delicious sun-kissed moments.

life needs Mat Kearney on Pandora. and that line I love on repeat.

life needs corn pops at 12am. just because.

it needs robin hood. or beauty and the beast. or a children's book on the floor.

life needs long stretches. and sleeping in and too many pillows.

life needs sitting by the pool in the middle of the night for no reason. life needs to look at the stars. life needs that spot on his shoulder that makes everything else melt away.

life needs a smile and a little moment to think in.

I am happiest in very small things. and they've been saving me lately.

life needs a little charm and God's been sending it my way lately.

12:30 now. should be sleeping. early morning coming.

i want to put my things in the back of a car and drive, california maybe. it's not that i mind my life or even want to change it. quite the contrary, i am quite content.

but i want to feel the wheels turning. and the wind blowing. and pour myself out onto the highway. and hear them singing my heart on the radio.

i just want the adventure and endless hours of the beauty of a car on open highway.

charming.

Enjoying sweet moments...

Call me a Florida girl if you want to, but Ft. Desoto beach is one of the greatest places in the world.

After a busy night of paper-writing on Friday, it was glorious to sleep in and then jump in the car with some of my dearest friends. Windows open and music on is where I live always... but it's even sweeter when the car is aimed for open skies and blue water.

Laying there in the sun and a breather from the insanity that has been life lately was amazing. But even better was waking up to sweetness.

Drifting off (in my usual manner) only to awake to Tom Petty or the Counting Crows or Hootie or Elton John... called out of brief, gentle naps by different joyful sounds.. each time to a slightly different flavor of my favorite musical sweetness... to a quick glance at the waves crashing in... or at my sister, functioning as amazingly as ever in that one-on-one relational ministry that is her signature... or at the amazing guy resting beside me... or at the other amazing guys, doing the relational ministry thing and digging a random canal.

It was a beautiful moment.

And, now that it has dulled a little, I don't even mind the slight sting of summer on my shoulders because it take me right back to resting in the sun and enjoying the beautiful in life.

It was a perfect moment.

And I am so thankful.

Silly confession #17...

This morning while we were picking up Lauren, my Bible fell out and landed at the edge of a little mud puddle.

One of the lower corners of the back cover slipped in and had water around the edge when I picked it up, which I then wiped off gently.

I hopped in the car, we started some music and laughed the rest of the way to work.

But the book moment was surprisingly charming... and it wasn't until just now that I figured out why.

It reminded me of that scene in Beauty and the Beast where Gaston throws Belle's book in the puddle and she wipes it off with her apron. The way that the water gathered on the edge looked just the same. It added a specific moment to the generic qualities that I relate to in her character. And it pleased me.

Admittedly silly. But, hey, in my defense, I never claimed to be serious...

I wish you wonderful Disney moments today.

P.S. - Silly confession #18 is that I just picked a random number to start with because it seemed odd to start with #1.