Christmas in the Room

I can't stop listening to this song. It's by a guy named Sufjan Stevens. These words aren't enough though; you really should listen to it. :)

No travel plans, no shopping malls
No candy canes or Santa Claus
For as the day of rest draws near,
It's just the two of us this year.

No silver bells or mistletoe
We'll kiss and watch our TV shows.

I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.

I'll dance with you
I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room.

No traffic jams, no ice and storm
For in the house, the fire is warm
No Christmas tree, no great parade
It's just an ordinary day.

No parties planned, no place to go.
It's just the two of us alone.
and in the house, we see a light
that comes from what we feel inside.

I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.

I'll dance with you, I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room, 'til it's Christmas in the room.

Oh, I can see the day when we'll die,
But I don't care to think of silence.
For now, I hear you laughing -
the greatest joy is like the sunrise.

No gifts to give; they're all right here,
inside our hearts the glorious cheer
And in the house we see a light
that comes from what we know inside.

I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.

I'll dance with you, I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room.

I'll come to you

I'll sing to you

Like it's Christmas in the room.

Like it's Christmas in the room.

It means a lot to me that Jesus was born among animals. No fanfare, decorations, or even visitors until the shepherds came...for a while, it was just Joseph, the exhausted Mary, and their newborn baby. And perhaps a sheep, a donkey, and a cow. One scene among many in which God honors the low and humble. 

So, to have "Christmas in the room" means, in one word, intimacy. That's what I love about this song - creating "Christmas" means creating deep, deep connection. What was Christmas, after all, but God being intimate with us? He longs for oneness - first between Him and us, then between us and each other. That's why the Nativity is so popular. It draws us in because it is a perfect picture of intimacy. 

I wonder what was going through the heads of those new teenage parents. They didn't have much. All they had was each other and the promises God had given them. And yet that moment they shared, humble as it was, has been recreated millions of times by artists and sculptors...because we "rich" people long for what they had more than anything. Oneness with God and with each other.

Beth Moore: The Hairbrush

My grandmother sent this story to me in an email and I just had to share it. If you would rather watch the video of Beth telling this story herself, it's embedded below. Otherwise, scroll down and read the story. :)

    April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville , waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you.

    You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is your ego.

    I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt.. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones.

    The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man.

I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport.. An impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served up on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him.

Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man..

I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing.

I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. 'Oh, no, God, please, no.' I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, 'Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!'

There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, 'Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane.' Then I heard it...'I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair.'

The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, 'God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man.'

Again, as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. 'That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair.'

I looked up at God and quipped, 'I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?

God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: 'I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works.' (2 Timothy 3:17)

I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, 'Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?'

He looked back at me and said, 'What did you say?'

'May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?'

To which he responded in volume ten, 'Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that.'

At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, 'SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR? At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Long Locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, 'If you really want to.'

Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, 'Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush.'

'I have one in my bag,' he responded.

I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted I don't do many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while.

The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's.

I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knee and said, 'Sir, do you know my Jesus?'

He said, 'Yes, I do'

Well, that figures, I thought.

He explained, 'I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior.' He said, 'You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride..'

Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance.This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.

Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.

I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing.

Why did you do that? What made you do that?"

I said, 'Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!'

And we got to share.

I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!

I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way... all because I didn't want people to think I was strange.

God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.

We Need You.

I think a lot of people have left the church because they have either felt useless or abused. We have corrupted the image of the Body as a group of interlinked, codependent parts, and instead have exalted some parts above others. This is my humble plea as a member of an aching Body in America.

Many people spend years consuming sermon after sermon and song after song without ever knowing the satisfaction of working for the Lord, walking in the good works He has prepared in advance for them to do (Ephesians 2:10). Sometimes this is out of laziness, but I think more often it's because they don't feel needed or equipped. Even though "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness" (2 Peter 1:3), we sometimes believe the lie that we are simply dangling limbs being carried by the preacher rather than active, moving parts of a dynamic Body. We sometimes feel that a seminary degree is a prerequisite for service, even though such a requirement is never found in Scripture. In fact, Paul, even though he proves at the Areopagus that he is certainly knowledgeable about Greek culture and philosophy, deliberately tries to suppress all knowledge not related to the Gospel when preaching because he has "resolved to know nothing while he was with [them] except Jesus Christ and him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2). Wow. So just know that simple fact and you're ready to do some pretty amazing stuff.

The fact is, no single part of the Body is expendable. You are not expendable, and we are depending on you to fulfill the mission Christ has for you specifically. All have infinite value and God promises to use every branch that is connected to the vine of Christ to bear fruit - in other words, to heal souls in the same ways Christ did while He was here (John 15:5). What an incredible mission, and what an terrible tragedy that people connected to Christ forget they have this power! So many have turned away because it's so easy for us to doubt our worth simply because a few other people (who have but a breath in their lungs and wither like the grass, according to God!) make us feel small. Don't believe the lie any longer that you're just a money-spewing consumer at church, because you are in fact a vital part of the mission of expanding the Kingdom of God on earth.

Those who have not necessarily felt expendable have been abused. Abuse can come in many forms - gossip, taking others for granted, or prejudice, to name a few. Some have been taken advantage of because of their willingness to volunteer for the jobs no one else will do. Some have been the victims of people who care more about what they can offer (ex. money and time) than about who they are as beloved children. Others have attended "prayer meetings" only to find that they were really gossip groups, or been looked down upon because of teen pregnancy or family problems. Whatever the cause, many have been wounded. And so many attempt to continue their relationship with God without the Church.

The problem is, we can't live in obedience to God if we do not meet with believers regularly, nor can we be filled up with all the blessings He promises us. Not only does He command that we "not give up meeting together" (Hebrews 10:25), but He has formed us to need each other. You not only need us, but we need you! Solomon, the wisest man in the Old Testament, knew this well as he wrote in Ecclesiastes, "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work; if one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!" Not to mention that we are told God will be in our very midst if we have two or more gathered in His name. Jesus was hurt by many, many people, even his closest friends, and yet He didn't use that as an excuse to wall himself in on all sides.

This doesn't mean that you should fling your burdens on people who can't bear them. Deliberately look for people who are truly following God, who love Him as you do. I promise they do exist. Dare to dream of a group in which each member "considers others better than himself...not looking to [his] own interests, but also to the interests of others" (Philippians 2). I promise you're not the only person who desires this. In fact, talk to just about any Christian, and she longs for a deeper, intimate community of believers that is upheld by trust and purity. We all want this. We all want to be surrounded by "a great cloud of witnesses" so that we can "throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles" (Hebrews 12:1). Forgive those who have hurt you, as Christ has commanded, and dare to allow yourself to be loved again.

We need you back. Unfortunately, churches (because they're made of people, and groups of people in general tend to do this) sometimes act like clubs that require a rite of passage. Take all those reproaches you've heard in the past for not going to church and throw them away. I know this sounds funny because I myself am encouraging you to go to church, but what I mean is that often we invite people to church with an attitude that it's "their obligation" or "their duty," and we take it as an opportunity to demonstrate what good Christians we are by inviting them. BUT our attitude really needs to be one of need, not giving a guilt trip! We NEED you back in the Body. We need more people to encourage us and who will run the race for God with us. God has appointed you to minister to people. There are so many hurting souls who have yet to hear the good news, so many hungry waiting to be fed both physically and spiritually, so many young people who need you to disciple them, so many older people who need you to inject fresh, youthful passion for the Lord into their hearts. So many who would LOVE to have you in their lives and share your struggles and triumphs.

"Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, 'Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,' it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body...The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don't need you!' And the head cannot say to the feet, 'I don't need you!'...But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to those that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other." - 1 Corinthians 12

Jackie Kendall: "How to Forgive the Guy Who is Just Not That Into You"

Cleaning out my email inbox and finding all these awesome old newsletters she sent...thought I would share this one too. Good stuff.

How To Forgive the Guy Who is Just Not That Into You

The new comedy He's Just Not That Into You, reminded me of the painful reality of how many women have been hurt by what I call "bozo" guys. I asked a single gal the other day what she thought of the movie, and she said, "Good but painful." She went on to say, "It was painful to watch women who just don't get it." I have been on the war path for years trying to warn single gals about their pursuit of "bozo" guys. Now I realize that I need to teach singles how to forgive the bozo guy who just broke her heart, to forgive the guy who is "just not that into her"-who used up her attention, time and body and then tossed her like a paper cup. This is my new passion with singles.

How do so many wonderful single gals end up hurt by the guy who is just not that into her? The main reason she gets hurt is she breaks the 11th commandment: "Defraud Not Thyself." Countless women actually lead themselves on through the fantasy that this guy who just chatted so charmingly with them for an hour may actually be interested in pursuing a relationship with them. Consider how often women are angry about a particular guy leading their girlfriend on in a dating relationship. Girls and women alike are angered when a guy defrauds a girl by leading her on-often the result of a guy's agenda to merely play at love to get sex.

Yet how often do single woman get angry with their girlfriends who helped feed her own fantasy about "Mr. Right?" Defrauding oneself is such a masochistic crime against a woman's own heart. To defraud one-self is self harm! When a gal meets a wonderful guy, her immediate response needs to be prayer and not text messaging a friend about the "Mr. Right" she thinks she has just met.

Being offended is inevitable as long as you occupy a place on planet earth-but staying offended is a choice.

After realizing the time and energy you have put into a guy who is "just not that into you," you are likely going to be very disappointed. Inevitably, disappointment is followed by anger or depression. Because you know it is not healthy to stay angry, you will actually give yourself a "gift" when you consider forgiving this guy. The gift is your freedom.

Why forgive the guy who is just not that into you? When I don't forgive I become a prisoner to the resentment of being defrauded by him. One needs to forgive this guy for doing what he does best-being human. People assume that "time heals all wounds," but that is actually not true. Without the freeing choice of forgiving that guy, time simply moves the pain below the surface where it will ferment and poison your heart.

The gift of forgiving allows you to let go of hurt and move on with hope, because when you have hope, you are no one's prisoner! Don't be the gal who is held hostage to yesterday as she refuses to let go of unwanted hurt and move on to a new chapter. It's in that forgiving chapter that you have the prospect of a happy ending-the freedom to hope and love again.


This Hope Alert will be archived at www.jackiekendall.blogspot.com.

Serving God in Less-than-Ideal Circumstances

I subscribe to Jackie Kendall's newsletter, "Hope Alert." This one really stuck out to me. If you want to subscribe to her, click here: http://www.jackiekendall.com/

What Did Abigail, Obadiah and King Asa Have in Common?

A.O.A.

What did a wife, palace staffer and a king of Judah have in common? What is the common thread between A.O.A.? Here is a brief glimpse of each one-see if you spot the "holy commonality."

Abigail: wife of a very foolish rich man Nabal. Living with a difficult man became f context of instruction in good judgment for Abigail.

"Thank God for your good sense (good judgment)! Bless you for keeping me from murder and from carrying out vengeance with my own hands." (I Sam. 25:33)

Good sense in this passage spoken by David to Abigail refers to: good judgment developed through experience. Difficult marriage was not wasted on Abigail-she grew in discretion and wisdom-and blessed King David through her good judgment.

Obadiah: his name in Hebrew means: servant of Yahweh-worshiper of Yahweh. Now here is a servant of Yahweh whose job was the head staff member in the palace of evil twin rulers-Ahab & Jezebel.

"Ahab had summoned Obadiah who was in charge of his palace. Obadiah was fully devoted to the LORD - hiding 100 prophets from Jezebel who was trying to slaughter the LORD's servants."(I Kings 18:3,4)

Serving under two evil rulers did not keep Obadiah from being fully devoted to the LORD and even risking his life to protect Yahweh's prophets.

Asa (King of Judah): Asa used good judgment when he inherited the throne of Judah, he did not follow in the footsteps of his evil father but chose to follow his ancestor King David-doing what was right in the eyes of the LORD. King Asa not only rid the land of Judah of idols, he also deposed his own grandmother because she had made a heinous Asherah pole.

"He also removed his grandmother Maacah from being queen mother because she had made an obscene image of Asherah." (I Kings 15:13)

Did Abigail, Obadiah or Asa let their difficult situation keep them from doing what is right in the eyes of the LORD?

Abigail difficult marriage

Obadiah difficult work context

Asa difficult family heritage

Abigail, Obadiah and Asa made good choices even though the context of their lives was not always conducive to their devotion to the LORD. A.O. A. J. Can I add your initial to this list? I just added mine. By God's grace I have not allowed a difficult context to determine whether or not I would obey the LORD.

P.S. I am already praying for my granddaughter Emma that she will grow to be so devoted to the LORD that she would even "depose grandma Kendall" if I ever began to treasure anything or anyone more than Yahweh!

Love to you all,
His wildwoman, Jackie

On Heaven and Materialism

From "Transposition" by C.S. Lewis, in the book "The Weight of Glory."

Let us construct a fable. Let us picture a woman thrown into a dungeon. There she bears and rears a son. He grows up seeing nothing but the dungeon walls, the straw on the floor, and a little patch of the sky seen through the grating, which is too high up to show anything except sky. This unfortunate woman was an artist, and when they imprisoned her she managed to bring with her a drawing pad and a box of pencils. As she never loses the hope of deliverance, she is constantly teaching her son about that outer world which he has never seen.

She does it very largely by drawing him pictures. With her pencil she attempts to show him what fields, rivers, mountains, cities, and waves on a beach are like. He is a dutiful boy and he does his best to believe her when she tells him that that outer world is far more interesting and glorious than anything in the dungeon. At times he succeeds. On the whole he gets on tolerably well until, one day, he says something that gives his mother pause. For a minute or two they are at cross-purposes. Finally it dawns on her that he has, all these years, lived under a misconception.

"But," she gasps, "you didn't think that the real world was full of lines drawn in lead pencil?"

"What?" says the boy. "No pencil marks there?" And instantly his whole notion of the outer world becomes a blank. For the lines, by which alone he was imagining it, have now been denied of it. He has no idea of that which will exclude and dispense with the lines, that of which the lines were merely a transposition - the waving treetops, the light dancing on the weir, the coloured three-dimensional realities which are not enclosed in lines but define their own shapes at every moment with a delicacy and multiplicity which no drawing could ever achieve.

The child will get the idea that the real world is somehow less visible than his mother's pictures. In reality it lacks lines because it is incomparably more visible.

So with us. "We know not what we shall be" (1 John 3:2); but we may be sure we shall be more, not less, than we were on earth. Our natural experiences (sensory, emotional, imaginative) are only like the drawing, like pencilled lines on flat paper.

....

You will have noticed that most dogs cannot understand pointing. You point to a bit of food on the floor; the dog, instead of looking at the floor, sniffs at your finger. A finger is a finger to him, and that is all. His world is all fact and no meaning. And in a period when factual realism is dominant we shall find people deliberately inducing upon themselves this doglike mind. A man who has experienced love from within will deliberately go about to inspect it analytically from outside and regard the results of this analysis as truer than his experience.

As long as this deliberate refusal to understand things from above, even where such understanding is possible, continues, it is idle to talk of any final victory over materialism. The critique of every experience from below, the voluntary ignoring of meaning and concentration on fact, will always have the same plausibility. There will always be evidence, and every month fresh evidence, to show that religion is only psychological, justice only self-protection, politics only economics, love only lust, and thought itself only cerebral biochemistry.

/End C.S. Lewis, begin Becky

I'm thinking that while we should avoid a purely hedonistic view of heaven, at the same time there is no shame in picturing it as a place of great earthly pleasures. Not that they will exist there in the same sense that they exist here, but that we must associate heaven with our greatest joy. We can't deprive ourselves of picturing any pleasure in heaven simply because we can't now imagine the form it will take. We can't now imagine the incredible relationship we will have with the King, so we must take our best experiences with earthly relationships and with the Holy Spirit and combine them into a promising shadow of what will be. So the view of heaven provided for us in the Bible, a place of feasting and riches, is not an elementary one, but a way of relating for us the joy we are to obtain. And here is where God is once again so wonderful - on one hand, He tells us things we can't possibly understand and can only speculate on until we die, reminding us of His mystery and highness, but on the other hand He speaks of some of our purest, simplest pleasures being present there - aesthetic beauty and good food.

Posters

In this apartment, our posters like to fall off the walls. Frances and I have lived here for almost a full year now, with many days punctuated by shiny rectangles of inspiration crashing to the floor. Those double-sided Scotch squares never hold, white sticky tack never holds...and we even got that annoying orange Elmer's sticky tack that stains the walls, and it never holds.

I was proud of one poster in my room that had never fallen. It's right above my desk. It's a picture of a serene seascape with clouds up ahead and mountains in the distance. Your point of view is from a beach with a docked boat. The boat is pointing at this awesome jungle-y looking island looming in the distance, like Madagascar. It looks awesome. It's like a giant forested thumb rising out of the ocean. It makes you want to grab that boat and sail to that thumbish island, until you look down at your glowing screen and remember the English paper you're writing and your ears reawaken to the lovely Cain & Abel's soundtrack downstairs.

But then I came home the other day to discover that it had finally fallen.

And you know, the funny thing about these posters is that once they've fallen, they never stay up as well again. No matter how you re-roll the sticky tack and firmly press the shiny sheet against the off-white wall, it's always so much easier for the poster to fall down the second time, and the third time. My beautiful poster had held up almost a whole year before falling, but now that it's fallen off the wall once, it's far more likely to succumb to gravity again. It may take only a few days.

"Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary."

There's probably something you're struggling with, something that keeps tugging at you. Something you've been fighting for years. We all have our temptations, addictions, and rough pasts. You've been consistently practicing self-control and giving your burdens to Him, sharing little daily victories with God. But maybe right now that thing looks really good, or maybe you've hit a rough spot with God and just don't care much about pleasing him right now. Maybe now it's hard for you to have hope that you will reap rewards because it doesn't look like God is taking care of you.

Please don't fall. Don't allow gravity to take hold of you. The thing is, once you've taken one fall after climbing up for so long, it's so easy to fall again...and again...and again. We kinda have a lot in common with thin sheets of paper when it comes to God. I mean, we are that weak compared to His strength. Because we live in a world that is often hostile to Truth and Love, we constantly have to fight, but the gravity pulls and pulls and won't stop until we die. We get tired, and it's understandable. We're flimsy by ourselves, with no foundation and no purpose. No matter how independent we like to pretend we are, we need to be held up by our Mighty Fortress. Day by day by difficult day.

There will be times when we have no idea why we're following Him anymore, when we have no idea why we continue to obey. That kind of obedience is best, the kind that seems to go unrewarded, that pushes through when there appears to be no incentive from God and every possible reward from the world.

In The Screwtape Letters, a demon says,
"Be not deceived, Wormwood, our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but intending to do our Enemy's will, looks round on a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

Keep holding on. Trust. TRUST. Don't fall back into what you were saved from. This could be one of the most important stages of healing - when your temptation is being flung in your face with all its riches, with all its seductive power...and succumbing looks so good, or so easy, or even the only option. Of course the enemy would love to make you fall, right when you're about to reach the top and conquer what he's enslaved you to, right when God is about to do something so great that you would not believe it even if He told you. Remember who is the author of lies and who is the author of Truth.

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."

Hold on, and God will blow you away.

This is the One I love.

I saw heaven standing open

and there before me was a white horse,
whose rider is called Faithful and True.

With justice he judges and makes war.

His eyes are like blazing fire,
and on his head are many crowns.

He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself.

He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood,
and his name is the Word of God.
The armies of heaven were following him,
riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean.

Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations.
"He will rule them with an iron scepter."
He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty.

On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:
KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

- Revelation 19:11-16


Love is as strong as death,
its ardor as unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,

like the very flame of the Lord.

Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,
it would be utterly scorned.

- Song of Songs 8:6-7


Everything you have ever wanted is Him. It all resides in one Person. You don't have to look any longer. You don't have to watch adventurous movies, only to unkindly crash back into the withering, tiresome ordinary. Heaven is open to you. That rider on a white horse who can be nothing but Faithful and True? He exists. Medieval writers didn't make him up, tellers of fairy tales didn't make him up, your parents or your dreams didn't make him up. Your rescuer exists, and He wants you. He is the One before whom all evil things tremble. He is the hero of this story, and you are the one he wants to save. Though you come to know him deeply and intimately, He will always be full of mystery and wonder, bearing a Name only He truly knows, having no equal beside Himself. He will never fail to astonish you and take you to new heights of wonder and new depths of understanding. He will fight for you with a fury unlike anything you've ever seen, and He will destroy those who fight against Him.

It is no coincidence that Love and His Eyes are both described as blazing fire. It's because His eyes behold you with such an intense love that you would die if you fully felt it. His ardor is as unyielding as the grave - unyielding passion, unyielding fervor, unyielding devotion. To you. He sees beauty in you. Even if no one else does, He sees beauty in you, and he longs for you with an unyielding desire. Don't ever think you can give anything to him. Don't ever think you can sacrifice for him or pay him back. It will be scorned, it will be spit out. What is money to love? What is anything we possess to his love? Money, an exchange of power, is damnably offensive to love.

This is the One who has captivated my soul.

Happy Father's Day

Click to see it! Enjoy!

Ripped Off

I have a lovely friend. Her name is PJ. A couple of winter breaks ago, PJ and I went to Disney World.

After a long day of roller coasting, minnie mouse hat buying (you're never too old for that), caricaturing, and show-watching, we meandered among the gift shops on our way out. She saw a cute carrot-shaped clear bag in the candy section, for the purpose of filling with orange M&Ms. It even had little tufts of green at the top. Don't ask me why this Easter-ish thing was on sale in January. I don't know.

PJ said, "I'm going to get this for my friend. He'll love it!" As she began scooping the M&Ms and weighing the bag, I saw that the price came to...well, a lot more than you'd expect for a bag of M&Ms. Even a carrot-shaped one. At Disney World. When I commented on what a rip-off it was, she said,

"It's okay. He's worth it."

I hadn't even thought of it that way. All I'd thought about was that what she was getting wasn't worth what she was paying...but all that mattered to her was her friend's worth. It didn't matter if she got "ripped off", as long as the gift made her friend happy.

I usually don't think of things that way. We are often told to be practical and logical. And those things have their place, of course, but I'm sick of being told that. I'm so sick of it. Love is not practical, and it is certainly not logical. Life demands unconditional love, not unconditional practicality. We would really be in trouble if God valued what made "sense" over what made love.

The desire for carrot-shaped bags of M&Ms to cost less than they do is often excused because we say, "Well, it's not fair" or "I'm being taken advantage of." But things never cost what they're worth. If things always made sense, it would mean we're in control. I often wish that were true, but I'm not in control, and most things in my life don't make sense. For instance, this thing we call love - the sum of patience, kindness, humility, joy, honesty, and forbearance. It can cost us anywhere from absolutely nothing to everything we've ever worked or hoped for. And sometimes, paradoxically, both at once. However, cost matters little as long as the person we love is worth it. If we look at others and see a person of infinite value, we will view NOTHING we do for them as a rip-off.

Others may take advantage of you, others may hurt you, you may have to give a lot for a little in return...but the one that you do these things for, is He worth it? Is anything worth it just to make Him smile?

The world looks at a lot of things we do, or refrain from doing, and thinks we're being ripped off. The problem is when we begin to agree. If you ever feel that you're being ripped off by doing something, take a step back and spend some time with Him. Allow His affection to pour back into you, because your sacrifice is worth nothing without your adoration. He, your eternal lover, is dishonored by anything less than a simple, unhesitating "It's okay...He's worth it."

Spiritual Warfare

Daily, we're fighting against something, whether we realize it or not. If we're going to school, we're fighting ignorance. If we're working, we're fighting poverty. If we're hanging out with friends, we're fighting loneliness. Life is a constant struggle against evil, regardless of our consciousness of that fact. To even LIVE at all is to upset the evil one, as nothing makes him happier than death and destruction (John 10:10).

So Christians who think they can follow God without encountering daily spiritual warfare are simply wrong. We can't coast along and avoid the enemy's attacks, because no matter how weak your faith is, or how nonexistent, he will always try to make it worse. Nothing will ever be "bad enough" for him, just like we can never be "good enough" for God without His grace. So we need to face facts - life is a battle, whether you choose to fight with God or not. You can go through the battle asleep, or you can go through it awake and actively build God's Kingdom here on earth.

It's that activity that I want us to remember. Constantly living FOR GOD, not just abstaining from doing things for Satan. "You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that - and shudder." (James 2:19) Abstaining from "bad" sins is not what our faith is ultimately about; a lot of non-Christians can do that quite easily. At judgment, God will not say, "Well done, my good and faithful teetotaler" or "Well done, my good and faithful virgin." He will be more concerned about whether we loved to fight evil and advance His Cause here on earth, whether His Cross was our all-consuming passion. Going back to education, if you simply abstain from taking books away from little children, you can't say you're fighting ignorance. You have to actually be teaching them. Saying, "Well, at least I don't steal their Speak n Spells!" doesn't mean anything.

When you read the Armor of God in Ephesians 6, think about it this way. No one suits up with armor as heavy as the belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, etc., just so they can walk nonchalantly across the battlefield, whistling all the way and not paying attention to the arrows clanging off of them. (Whew, right? Wriggled my way through another day of life!) You don't suit up unless you're going to be firing some arrows yourself. Otherwise, you're completely useless.

If we're not actively fighting evil daily, we are not Christ's disciples. Jesus did not save us just so we could walk across the battlefield and not get hit, he gave us that armor so that we can join him in his daily struggle against a very real enemy. The fact is, there is no such thing as walking across the battlefield and not getting hit, and your pretending won't make it true. Just try it. Get your nice house, your nice family, your 401(k); go to your all-white middle-class church, ignore the poor and the depressed around you, and just see if you can avoid spiritual attacks.

We shouldn't be cowering, waiting for the enemy to come get us. We should be actively seeking darkness and turning it into light. Jesus didn't leave his mark by hanging out with the holy people and avoiding the world; He confronted darkness with the Father's light and the darkness FLED. And that same power lives in us.

Proverbs 8

Proverbs 8 or Proverbs 8 (Amplified)

Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice?

The world makes such a clamor sometimes that it clouds over the truth. We have to constantly ask Father for understanding and wisdom, and for ears to hear the Holy Spirit. The truth we seek will become clear if only we have the right ears to listen.

Recently I was desperately seeking God on whether to do the English Honors thesis. I really don't want to waste my senior year in the library. So many students I talk to spend their college years studying (serving school as their god) and hating it, and then drinking to forget how much they hate it until Monday.

But if Christ is my God, school cannot be. I cannot serve two masters.

At the same time, I knew the thesis would be an awesome experience if I could do it in a way that honors the Lord...if I could be passionate about it, enjoy it, and not view it as a worthless chore...if I would still allow my schedule to be controlled by the Holy Spirit. So I was begging him for guidance, going back and forth on a seesaw of doing it or not.

I was asking the wrong question.

See, what I was asking for was an answer as to whether or not I should do the thesis, but the answer the Holy Spirit was giving was to dedicate everything I do to the Lord, and then my plans will succeed (Prov. 16:3), and also that I can do everything through Him who gives me strength (Phil. 4:13). I tend to overlook those verses because they're so popular and often used as an excuse for following our own plans instead of God's...but they're in His Word. Meaning they're important and they will speak wisdom and truth to me if I let them. God was reminding me how much He loves me, and that since I want to please Him above all else, he won't let me make a decision that does not please Him.

On the heights along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand.

The heights. That is where wisdom lives. Any path that climbs upward, towards God, will meet wisdom as well. Therefore, whatever guidance you seek, keep looking up, toward Him, and not around you. Don't listen to the clamor of the world, even when it seems right.

To fear the Lord is to hate evil; I hate pride and arrogance, evil behavior and perverse speech.

It's interesting that the first two evils mentioned are pride and arrogance. Fear of the Lord leads to humility, and yet we are constantly taught to be prideful. This also means that pride and arrogance lead one away from wisdom, because wisdom HATES these things. If you want the Lord's wisdom, you have to demolish all the walls that keep God from leading you to change. Because that's what God does - He changes us, constantly, and a prideful person believes such changes are unnecessary.

What's amazing to me is how much wisdom loves humans, though we have constantly spurned her:

The Lord brought me forth as the first of his works, before his deeds of old; I was fashioned from eternity, from the beginning, before the world began.... I was there when he set the heavens in place, when he marked out the horizon on the face of the deep, when he established the clouds above.... Then I was the craftsman at his side. I was filled with delight day after day, rejoicing always in his presence, rejoicing in his whole world and delighting in mankind.

Wow. I can't believe how beautiful that is. Can you imagine being by God's side, watching as he creates things day after day? Isn't it humbling to hear that Wisdom rejoiced in us?

"Fashioned from eternity." So wisdom is literally the stuff of eternity; it was made from permanence. Truth is forever. Literally. What a blessing that we have so much of eternity here in this transient world, and yet how little we value the stuff of eternity compared to that which is temporary. How little we value the truth and how highly we prize shallow happiness when we could have eternal joy. I said the other day, "I don't worry about my friends who are seeking the truth, because I know their search will eventually lead them to Jesus. I worry about my friends who are seeking happiness." Jesus says that if we seek, we will find, and in the Old Testament Wisdom says,

Blessed is the man who listens to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway. For whoever finds me finds life and receives favor from the Lord. But whoever fails to find me harms himself;
all who hate me love death.

How much more meaningful that last line is in light of wisdom being made from eternity. Wisdom is life - eternal life. Death is made of lies, of deceit. It's what first brought death into the world.

And yet do we sit at Wisdom's doorstep, patiently waiting for her to open the door and give us life? Or do we pound on it for a minute, cry if she doesn't give an immediate or satisfactory answer, and then run off and do our own thing?

How often do we do that to God?

I truly love summer.

So I picked out some favorite summery poems.

Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.


Sonnet XVIII: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


Exhortation: Summer 1919 by Claude McKay

Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder,
And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break,
Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder:
Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake!

In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking,
And its golden glory fills the western skies.
O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise!
For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking,
Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise,
And the foolish, even children, are made wise;
For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making--
O my brothers, dreaming for dim centuries,
Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!

Oh the night is sweet for sleeping, but the shining day's for working;
Sons of the seductive night, for your children's children's sake,
From the deep primeval forests where the crouching leopard's lurking,
Lift your heavy-lidded eyes, Ethiopia! awake!

In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking,
And its golden glory fills the western skies.
O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise!
For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking,
Ghosts have turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise,
And the foolish, even children, are made wise;
For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making--
O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries,
Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!


Summer Morn in New Hampshire by Claude McKay

All yesterday it poured, and all night long
I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
Upon the grass like running children's feet.
And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,
Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
And nestled soft against the earth's wet breast.

But lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,
The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.
And all things were transfigured in the day,
But me whom radiant beauty could not move;
For you, more wonderful, were far away,
And I was blind with hunger for your love.


The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?


Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith by Mary Oliver

Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun's brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can't hear

anything, I can't see anything --
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green
stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker --
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing --
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet --
all of it
happening
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body
is sure to be there.


Birches by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
(Now am I free to be poetical?)
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


Tryin' On Clothes by Shel Silverstein

I tried on the farmer's hat,
Didn't fit...
A little too small -- just a bit
Too floppy.
Couldn't get used to it,
Took it off.
Tried on the dancer's shoes,
A little too loose.
Not the kind you could use
For walkin'.
Didn't feel right in 'em,
Kicked 'em off.
I tried on the summer sun,
Felt good.
Nice and warm -- knew it would.
Tried the grass beneath bare feet,
Felt neat.
Finally, finally felt well dressed,

Nature's clothes fit me best.

My Portion

I read The Taming of the Shrew this week. It was really funny, probably one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. Alongside it, I read chapter 8 of this “companion to Shakespeare” guide to help us understand the times better. 

“The bride’s family promised to give to the married couple a dowry made up of property, valuables (silver and jewelry, for example), and cash. This was also called the bride’s portion…”

Portion. I’ve heard this word before (I mean, other than in the context of a meal). I thought of a line in “Amazing Grace” - The Lord has promised good to me; His Word my hope secures. He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures.

If Christ is my portion…if Christ is my portion…that means everything. The church does not deserve to be the bride of Christ. Not one bit. Has there ever been a more uneven match? Has any husband (even the husband of a “shrew”) ever had such work cut out for him? Of purification, of reconciliation, of unfailing love towards a continually adulterous bride? 

In the Renaissance, a portion was a promise. It secured a husband for the bride (her primary goal in life) and ensured that the young couple would survive as they began their lives together. But once there was a bride that was so unsuited for her would-be husband, so far beneath him, that no dowry her family could possibly give would appease her fiance’s Father. However, as unattainable as this perfect husband was, he was the bride’s only hope. Without him her life would be meaningless. Without him she was nothing.

What if, instead of rejecting the bride, telling her there was no hope, that she would never have this husband, the fiance's Father allowed the marriage? Of course, before doing so, he set up plenty of ground rules to make her a better match for his Son and to save her from herself. You would think the bride, in her thankfulness, would be the best wife possible, with a constant heart and a thankful soul. But it was quite the opposite; the son did everything he could for his bride, serving her though he was infinitely above her, coming to her rescue when enemies threatened her, listening to her though he was infinitely wiser, and treasuring her as a jewel though she was far uglier than he. She, on the other hand, desired another man – charming but insincere, deceitful and selfish, alluring and dangerous, who seduced her but said she could not have him until she murdered her husband. 

So she killed her only hope.

After her hope was dead, she ran into her new lover’s arms, only to be repulsed, beaten and laughed at. He left her completely alone in despair. Of course, now and then he would come back, promising that this time he would be faithful, that this time she would find the hope and joy anew that she had killed…but she would always be left alone, scorned, in a frightening and solitary darkness. 

But the Father…the Father, though it would have been just to avenge his son, though it would have been completely fair to leave the bride to die in her hopelessness with her deceitful lover, had pity. He saw this shamed creature, saw what she could be, not the ugly thing she was, and offered her a new identity if she would only leave her unconstant lover behind. Once again, she needed no portion – only to acknowledge the sacrifice the Son had made for her and exchange her ways for his ways. And so, upon her acceptance, the Father took her to a new place, gave her a new name, gave her a new face. He made the ugly beautiful. He made the old new. He gave her the most complete love she had ever known – an eternal security and yet also an eternal adventure. And best of all, she learned that her husband had never and could never die, though he was no longer physically with her. He would forever live on to battle her deceitful enemy, who had wooed her and thrown her away, and worse, who had mocked and attacked him and his Father, until that enemy was no more. And, once recreated, once she had abandoned her old self, she was fit to join him in that battle for Good, to war against all things untrue. And fit to share in the victory when He triumphed.

Nothing less than a perfect Life was a sufficient dowry for this woman. Nothing less than complete recreation could make her see the truth and stop believing lies. And yet the Father, who is in the business of creation, gave it all willingly, for he forever gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were.  

Perfect love casts out all fear.

I see a lot of fear in dating.

Does this person like me? What if they don’t? What if there’s someone better out there for me? Maybe I should keep “talking” to someone else, just in case this person doesn’t work out. Maybe I’ll keep dating this guy a little longer even though I know he isn’t right for me, just to see if I can make him right.

We don’t know each other well enough. We think that by drinking and pressing up against each other, we can somehow get into each other’s souls. When it comes down to it, I think that’s the motivation of getting drunk, anyway. It makes us more open, it casts out our fear…until morning, when we’re afraid about what we did or who saw us behave a certain way, afraid of who we opened our hearts to…so then we drink again to suppress our fear. It doesn’t matter how closely your chest is pressed against another person’s back, how much of their sweat ends up on you; you’ll never get to know their heart that way. Not that dancing isn’t fun, and not that dating isn’t fun, but where is the reality that we long for in life? How much of what we say to others is real, and how often do we hold things back that we want to say because we’re so afraid the other person will hurt us, or even worse, that we’ll hurt them?

Sometimes I just want to be at the next stage of life. I want to skip all this tiresome, fearful searching and just be married already. I’m afraid of being open with someone because I’m afraid they’ll be the wrong person, and I’m afraid of what they’ll think of my heart. I shouldn’t be afraid of that, but I am because we’re not delicate with other people’s hearts. Sometimes we don’t even realize that we cradle them in our arms, and we don’t treat each person’s heart as the precious, fragile gift that it is. We want to be honest, but honesty hurts. And honesty isn't always comfortable.

You know why we love the climaxes of movies? Because in those moments, people finally say what they mean. The hero rushes into the church just as the minister says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” At that point, is he even thinking, “What if she just stares at me blankly and says she loves the other guy more, or that I’m being stupid, and all my dreams evaporate into humiliation?” Is he afraid? No, because his love is so perfect that it has cast out all his fear. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, he’s not afraid of the future, he only knows that right now he must speak because the other guy doesn’t love her like he does, or because the hero did something to hurt her and wants one last chance to show her how much he cares for her. This girl means so much more to him than his own pride, and not just his pride, but his entire self.

Lately I’ve been praying that God will make me perfect in love, so I can say what I feel and do what I know is right without fear of being wrong or being shamed or being friendless. How often have we wanted to say things like, “I really want to get to know you better,” or “I came here just so I could talk to you,” or “It made my day to see you,” or "You're the kindest person I know," but haven’t because we are afraid that the other person will misinterpret us or run from us, that our cradled heart will be thrown away? 

And of course you may be thinking, well, Becky, that all sounds great, but the fact remains that my heart CAN be thrown away. If that person misinterprets me, how will I repair the relationship? I think, however, that this stems from a misunderstanding of what perfect love is. Perfect love does not need reciprocation; it always hopes and always perseveres because it knows that hearts do exist that will reciprocate, that won’t misunderstand, that won’t run away. Perfect love is not about being loved, it is about valuing others so highly that you don’t care what they do to you or what they think of you, as long as you can serve them. I want this kind of love so badly, this truly Christ-like love. I think some of us cradle broken hearts, or even potentially broken hearts, or hide unbroken ones with shields on all sides, not because “we’ve been hurt and we’re just fragile” or anything silly like that. We hide our hearts because we do not have perfect love. Our hearts do not have enough love to withstand rejection…our hearts, in fact, contain more pride than love. And how can we ever love someone the way Christ has loved us if we have a heart full of pride?

Unveiled Faces

From The Four Loves:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the perturbations of love is Hell."


Some days, I look at my life with its "hobbies and little luxuries," its meaningless laughter and diversions, its imitations of love, and see an environment hostile to reality...the fragile creation of a person trying desperately to pretend ownership of my own life. It's on those days that I realize the surest path to hell is not to do evil things, but to never awaken to reality...which is why, in some ways, I'm far more worried about my rich, "good people" American friends than starving children overseas or people who have done terrible things. What do a starving child, a murderer, and a victim of the sex trade have in common? They all know there is such a thing as evil and that we by ourselves are too weak to conquer it.

A distracted environment is far more hostile to the Truth than an evil one.

It's on these days when I realize the current trappings of my life mean nothing, nor are they what I rejoice in. But what I love - that matters. And what I love is Jesus Christ, because He is the only thing that is real in a world full of unrealities, diversions, and deceit. And even when life is dark, I see His Love everywhere! In His Word, in books, in conversations, in people's eyes, in animals, in growing green things. The Creator can be seen in all of His creations, and with the new eyes He has given me, I can see beauty where before I could only see ugliness.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable." My life's goal is to have a vulnerable heart before Christ. To allow Him to hurt me so I can change for the better, to clean me up when I'm dirty and pick me up when I've fallen. To allow Him to bless me when I don't deserve it, love me when I hate others, and lead me when I want to walk in the other direction.

You can't know the Truth if you refuse to be vulnerable, nor can you know Love.


From 2 Corinthians:

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

My dream is for reality...not the ugly reality of this world that will pass away, but the truth of my everlasting God who will one day destroy everything that has caused pain, anger, jealousy, or hatred. That is how I try to live every day, seeking reality. I won't always write things as heavy as this, but it's important that you know why I do everything I do. Why I want to know you for who you are. Why I want us to stop pretending. Why I want you to know this Mediator between God and Man, Jesus Christ.

So that one day, we can all stand with unveiled faces before Him, finally free...and fully loved.