The epic is my reality. The classic tale of good versus evil, journey and struggle, battles and wars, victory and triumph all resound within my heart as Truth---as eternity written on the hearts of men.
My husband and I have been watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I become so engaged in such films because it registers with something so deep inside. More than once, I have stopped during the movie, looked at Adam, and given my thoughts on a given scene. As Frodo and Sam journey through dangerous worlds to destroy evil once and for all, others elsewhere also wage war against the darkness. Elves and dwarves overcome their hatred, realizing that they are on the same side. Even the trees fight for good! Everything is living, and everyone has a part. Hobbits become key figures in the defeat of the enemy, Gandolf all the while patient with their folly, guiding them with wisdom and truth.
I use Tolkien’s classic story as one example. I am not obsessed with Tolkien, I am obsessed with my God that wrote the story in our reality. We are all a part of the adventure. We are all engaged in war somehow, and our King will one day stand in ultimate victory.
I drove into work this morning listening to worship music, quite honestly for the first time in a long time. My heart was overflowing to lyrics like, “I will not be silent. I will not be quiet anymore. Every ocean, every sea, every river, every stream, every mountain, every tree, every blade of grass will sing!” and, “Shout unto God with a voice of triumph! Shout unto God with a voice of praise! Shout unto God with a voice of triumph! We lift your name up!” Anthems of victory, of honor, of Truth, of praise to a King; our King; My king.
I began following Jesus nearly 6 six years ago. In many ways it seems longer, in many ways it’s gone by faster than I could have ever thought it would. Praise be to God that like Gandolf, He has allowed me to be a part of this journey, but He is ever so patient with my folly. Today, I press on.
Sam sums it all up: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Friday, January 25, 2008
Excerpt From the Journal of Haley Carr
An Actual Journal Entry
Very rarely, if ever, do I post entries on a blog that are also in my personal journal since my personal journal is not composed for an audience. I spent a good amount of time writing in a coffee shop today, and once finished with the entry, thought that is was worthy to share with whoever was interested in reading:
"(Delicious cafe americano accompanied by chocolate/almond biscotti. Fabulous!)
I am learning about freedom. Often Christians talk about 'freedom in Christ,' when really they just reside in a different prison. So what does it REALLY mean to be free? Am I tortured because I still fall flat on my face in sin? I shouldn't be, but I am. Sometimes I feel like a child or an animal that has been abused for so long that even under the care and love of a new parent or master, I cringe with fear when I mess up.
God is love. My new master and Father does not love---HE IS love. I John says that perfect love casts out all fear. There is no fear of punishment, rejection, hatred, or condemnation because of my faith in the work accomplished by Jesus Christ, [not to say that there are not consequences for my actions]. I can walk securely knowing that I am His, and that He is good. This does not give me license to sin and be disrespectful or prideful, for that would reflect the heart of an unrepentant criminal with no concern for the one that paid the judge his bail. Instead, it enables me to be transformed into a loving, respectful child that is secure and confident in the arms of a loving Father.
Another picture, used by Paul in Romans, depicts slaves. I think of the Civil War era, and the thousands of men, women, and children who were considered property--unimaginable to my contemporary western mind. Many, though not all, were the items of abusive masters who raped, beat, and tormented them. However, there were people that would purchase the freedom of slaves. Tragically though, some of those freed slaves would choose to remain in the house of their master because of the fear of a new and unknown life was overwhleming. They would rather be tortured souls than risk trying to fly in the open air. The choice was theirs. It seems ludacris to think that a man would CHOOSE to remain in such conditions, but don't I so often do the same thing? Paul referred to himself as a bondservant of Jesus Christ. A bondservant chooses to remain under the guidance and instruction of a master--usually because the master is good to the servant. It is the choice of the servant to submit, because he is free to choose.
Jesus paid for my freedom from a wicked, cruel, tormenting master who I had n o choice but to serve. Jesus paid for my ability to choose to whom I would pledge allegience. I, in my foolishness, will occassionally knock on the door of my former master and ask if he has any orders for me, knowing that for such service, I am paid in shame and torment in my heart and mind. All the while, my new master patiently teaches me how to trust that He will not hurt me, and that He is faithful, good, loving, and just. [Just. He will redeem once and for all the injustices that we see in our own lives, and throughout the world]. In His home, I am not a slave, but an adopted child--fully His. Oh the thought! Father, please safeguard such Truth in my mind and heart! Teach me to understand the beauty of this!
As a child with a deep love and admiration of her Father, I should seek to be identified as part of His family--bearing the family name well and proudly--not out of fear, but rather a response of love. Not fearing that by breaking a 'house rule' that I will be whipped and beaten, but rather because in the security of my Heavenly Father's love, I desire to please Him."
Very rarely, if ever, do I post entries on a blog that are also in my personal journal since my personal journal is not composed for an audience. I spent a good amount of time writing in a coffee shop today, and once finished with the entry, thought that is was worthy to share with whoever was interested in reading:
"(Delicious cafe americano accompanied by chocolate/almond biscotti. Fabulous!)
I am learning about freedom. Often Christians talk about 'freedom in Christ,' when really they just reside in a different prison. So what does it REALLY mean to be free? Am I tortured because I still fall flat on my face in sin? I shouldn't be, but I am. Sometimes I feel like a child or an animal that has been abused for so long that even under the care and love of a new parent or master, I cringe with fear when I mess up.
God is love. My new master and Father does not love---HE IS love. I John says that perfect love casts out all fear. There is no fear of punishment, rejection, hatred, or condemnation because of my faith in the work accomplished by Jesus Christ, [not to say that there are not consequences for my actions]. I can walk securely knowing that I am His, and that He is good. This does not give me license to sin and be disrespectful or prideful, for that would reflect the heart of an unrepentant criminal with no concern for the one that paid the judge his bail. Instead, it enables me to be transformed into a loving, respectful child that is secure and confident in the arms of a loving Father.
Another picture, used by Paul in Romans, depicts slaves. I think of the Civil War era, and the thousands of men, women, and children who were considered property--unimaginable to my contemporary western mind. Many, though not all, were the items of abusive masters who raped, beat, and tormented them. However, there were people that would purchase the freedom of slaves. Tragically though, some of those freed slaves would choose to remain in the house of their master because of the fear of a new and unknown life was overwhleming. They would rather be tortured souls than risk trying to fly in the open air. The choice was theirs. It seems ludacris to think that a man would CHOOSE to remain in such conditions, but don't I so often do the same thing? Paul referred to himself as a bondservant of Jesus Christ. A bondservant chooses to remain under the guidance and instruction of a master--usually because the master is good to the servant. It is the choice of the servant to submit, because he is free to choose.
Jesus paid for my freedom from a wicked, cruel, tormenting master who I had n o choice but to serve. Jesus paid for my ability to choose to whom I would pledge allegience. I, in my foolishness, will occassionally knock on the door of my former master and ask if he has any orders for me, knowing that for such service, I am paid in shame and torment in my heart and mind. All the while, my new master patiently teaches me how to trust that He will not hurt me, and that He is faithful, good, loving, and just. [Just. He will redeem once and for all the injustices that we see in our own lives, and throughout the world]. In His home, I am not a slave, but an adopted child--fully His. Oh the thought! Father, please safeguard such Truth in my mind and heart! Teach me to understand the beauty of this!
As a child with a deep love and admiration of her Father, I should seek to be identified as part of His family--bearing the family name well and proudly--not out of fear, but rather a response of love. Not fearing that by breaking a 'house rule' that I will be whipped and beaten, but rather because in the security of my Heavenly Father's love, I desire to please Him."
Saturday, September 29, 2007
State of Desperation
A few facts for you:
“Trafficking in human beings is now the third-largest moneymaking venture in the world, after illegal weapons and drugs. In fact, the United Nations estimates that the trade nets organized crime more than $12 billion a year” (Victor Malarek The Natashas: Inside the New Global Sex Trade).
According to a CIA report, 700,000 to 2 million women and children worldwide are victimized by traffickers each year.
The UN estimates that around 4 million people a year are now traded against their will to work in some form of slavery.
As many as 50,000 women and children from Asia, Latin America, and Eastern Europe are brought to the U.S. under false pretenses each year and forced to work as prostitutes, abused laborers or servants (Joel Brinkley NYT citing CIA report).
While I have only been in Bangkok for four months, the longer I am here, the more I realize how terrified I am to embrace reality. I walk down streets everyday. I see the men, women, and children sitting on the foot bridges, cups held desperately in the air. I walk on, hoping that the lump in my throat will disist, and I can return to the comfort of my own mind.
I am afraid of seeing things as they are. I am afraid of acknowledging the suffering, heartache, brokenness of the people around me. If I pretend that everything is right in the world, then it is. Right?
No. Absolutely not.
Father, I walk around with my hands figuratively covering my own eyes. I refuse to allow myself to see. But I must! I must be willing to get my hands dirty, and my own heart broken that my fellow human beings might be able to even taste love here.
Two years ago, I began reading "A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael." Amy Carmichael started an orphanage in Darfur, India in the nineteenth century. Her mission: to rescue temple prostitutes. Amy Carmichael became a hero of mine.
A year ago, I began working with the Global Missions Outreach Team at Brentwood Church in Lynchburg. We began researching Thailand, and surrounding countries, aiming at starting safehouses for women and children involved in the international sex-trade. A few months after I began working with this team, Jon Dupin spoke on the issue. I was broken. I was floored. I allowed myself to be vulnerable to the feeling of injustice. I allowed myself to see the inhumanity, the perverseness---the pain. Something inside of me determined to not sit by and do nothing about it. The next thing I know, I'm in Bangkok.
Now what? Do I return to apathy? Do I make my life comfortable here? My heart has been guarded, but I don't want it to be anymore. Lord, teach me how to see reality. Teach me how to love how you love.
So now what? It's time to decide.
“Trafficking in human beings is now the third-largest moneymaking venture in the world, after illegal weapons and drugs. In fact, the United Nations estimates that the trade nets organized crime more than $12 billion a year” (Victor Malarek The Natashas: Inside the New Global Sex Trade).
According to a CIA report, 700,000 to 2 million women and children worldwide are victimized by traffickers each year.
The UN estimates that around 4 million people a year are now traded against their will to work in some form of slavery.
As many as 50,000 women and children from Asia, Latin America, and Eastern Europe are brought to the U.S. under false pretenses each year and forced to work as prostitutes, abused laborers or servants (Joel Brinkley NYT citing CIA report).
While I have only been in Bangkok for four months, the longer I am here, the more I realize how terrified I am to embrace reality. I walk down streets everyday. I see the men, women, and children sitting on the foot bridges, cups held desperately in the air. I walk on, hoping that the lump in my throat will disist, and I can return to the comfort of my own mind.
I am afraid of seeing things as they are. I am afraid of acknowledging the suffering, heartache, brokenness of the people around me. If I pretend that everything is right in the world, then it is. Right?
No. Absolutely not.
Father, I walk around with my hands figuratively covering my own eyes. I refuse to allow myself to see. But I must! I must be willing to get my hands dirty, and my own heart broken that my fellow human beings might be able to even taste love here.
Two years ago, I began reading "A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael." Amy Carmichael started an orphanage in Darfur, India in the nineteenth century. Her mission: to rescue temple prostitutes. Amy Carmichael became a hero of mine.
A year ago, I began working with the Global Missions Outreach Team at Brentwood Church in Lynchburg. We began researching Thailand, and surrounding countries, aiming at starting safehouses for women and children involved in the international sex-trade. A few months after I began working with this team, Jon Dupin spoke on the issue. I was broken. I was floored. I allowed myself to be vulnerable to the feeling of injustice. I allowed myself to see the inhumanity, the perverseness---the pain. Something inside of me determined to not sit by and do nothing about it. The next thing I know, I'm in Bangkok.
Now what? Do I return to apathy? Do I make my life comfortable here? My heart has been guarded, but I don't want it to be anymore. Lord, teach me how to see reality. Teach me how to love how you love.
So now what? It's time to decide.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Sing Over Me
The music of my heart---the song that You sing over my life---is a song without words. It is too big, too beautiful, too deep to be restricted by lyrics: a complex symphony of images and scores that opened in March nearly four years ago. Has it only been four years?
I remember sitting in my chair during worship that night, and I felt my heart beat for the first time. I began running toward You on that shoreline. The sun shone over the water, your arms were stretched wide, and my feet pounded against the sand in time with my heartbeat. My race toward You began at that moment, and it continues...
There have been obstacles since that day. The beautiful, driving melody of your song modulated into minor chords of sorrow. Brokenness had its way; but then---hope was restored. Passion was rekindled, and my eyes averted back to You. I began to run again, this time, equipped for battle. No longer is my race a straight-away to your arms. Now, I am running through armies of darkness---sword in hand. The song has become an intense, driving, powerful mantra of war, all in pursuit of Your glory. AND I DO NOT FIGHT ALONE! I STAND BESIDE MY FELLOW SOLDIERS, AND WE WILL WIELD OUR SWORDS AS WE LOOK TO YOU.
One day soon, the song of war will be stilled, and the sweet, calm melodies of a glorious homecoming will begin:
"...and you'll be here in my arms just sleeping.
And all will turn to silver glass.
The light on the water gracious pass
into the West..."
I am going home soon, but the battle is still raging. Hear my footsteps once again pounding against that sand. I am running to You.
"But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the Gospel of the Grace of God." Acts 20:24
I remember sitting in my chair during worship that night, and I felt my heart beat for the first time. I began running toward You on that shoreline. The sun shone over the water, your arms were stretched wide, and my feet pounded against the sand in time with my heartbeat. My race toward You began at that moment, and it continues...
There have been obstacles since that day. The beautiful, driving melody of your song modulated into minor chords of sorrow. Brokenness had its way; but then---hope was restored. Passion was rekindled, and my eyes averted back to You. I began to run again, this time, equipped for battle. No longer is my race a straight-away to your arms. Now, I am running through armies of darkness---sword in hand. The song has become an intense, driving, powerful mantra of war, all in pursuit of Your glory. AND I DO NOT FIGHT ALONE! I STAND BESIDE MY FELLOW SOLDIERS, AND WE WILL WIELD OUR SWORDS AS WE LOOK TO YOU.
One day soon, the song of war will be stilled, and the sweet, calm melodies of a glorious homecoming will begin:
"...and you'll be here in my arms just sleeping.
And all will turn to silver glass.
The light on the water gracious pass
into the West..."
I am going home soon, but the battle is still raging. Hear my footsteps once again pounding against that sand. I am running to You.
"But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the Gospel of the Grace of God." Acts 20:24
Friday, August 17, 2007
Can't Take It In
I might put my foot into my mouth if I say that I would like to update more often, so reader, know that my desire is to write more regularly, but the execution may not reflect it.
Two and a half months have passed--quickly! The excitement of the exotic has mostly subsided. Each day has new experiences, but I am comfortable in my own skin here. I now have two separate lives: one in America, and one in Thailand. Two lives, two worlds, two identities that will never parallel. Many days, my heart aches and longs to be among my loved ones in America. When I come home, I will have a new niece or nephew, and my two best friends will be getting married. It is difficult to be so detached from their lives right now. It is hard to not be able to conveniently call certain people when days are long and hard. It is hard to not be able to take a weekend trip home to have "Movie Night with the BEHAPS," or go to the park with Macie (my dog that Emily is so graciously taking care of for me.) Friends, know that I miss you very much, and that I long to see you and be with you.
But my life in Thailand is more purposeful and meaningful that I can possibly express. While I miss certain things about home, I feel alive here. Each day, there are moments of utter joy and overflowing love for my children and their parents. It is a love that I never could have imagined feeling---something inside of me that just longs to teach them well, and to work hard to serve them and their families. God is working in this place---even amongst some of the disorganization. Last year at this time, I was restless. I was so restless to move, and do something more. I did not anticipate being overseas. I put in my resume to jobs in Atlanta, NYC, Seattle, Boston, Chicago (I would have been content working in a coffee bar---or at least, I thought I would. I just needed change). But God answered my cries, and moved me here. He stirred my heart, and I followed in faith. He provided everything for me to get here, and each day, His joy far exceeds what has been "left" behind.
Perhaps I am experiencing a "writer's block" of sorts. As much as I desire to fully capture my heart in words, I cannot! I have so many different things to say, but nothing is flowing naturally. I am not usually a stream-of-consciousness type writer, but I am going to just ramble off some lines from songs that have pierced my heart recently, in hopes that you may be able to read between those lines and into the depths:
"He set me on fire, and I am burning alive. With this breath in my lungs, I am coming undone. I cannot hold it in, or remain composed. Love's taken over me, so I propose to letting myself go..."
"Don't close your eyes. This is your life. Are you who you want to be? This is your life. Today is all you've got now. And today is all you'll ever have."
"Sometimes love has to drive a nail into it's own hand."
"When you try your best and you don't succeed. When you get what you want, but not what you need. When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep. Stuck in reverse. Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."
"I can't close my eyes--they're wide awake. Every hair on my body has got a thing for this place. Empty my heart! I've got to make room for this feeling. It's so much bigger than me! It could not be any more beautiful. I can't take it in!"
Two and a half months have passed--quickly! The excitement of the exotic has mostly subsided. Each day has new experiences, but I am comfortable in my own skin here. I now have two separate lives: one in America, and one in Thailand. Two lives, two worlds, two identities that will never parallel. Many days, my heart aches and longs to be among my loved ones in America. When I come home, I will have a new niece or nephew, and my two best friends will be getting married. It is difficult to be so detached from their lives right now. It is hard to not be able to conveniently call certain people when days are long and hard. It is hard to not be able to take a weekend trip home to have "Movie Night with the BEHAPS," or go to the park with Macie (my dog that Emily is so graciously taking care of for me.) Friends, know that I miss you very much, and that I long to see you and be with you.
But my life in Thailand is more purposeful and meaningful that I can possibly express. While I miss certain things about home, I feel alive here. Each day, there are moments of utter joy and overflowing love for my children and their parents. It is a love that I never could have imagined feeling---something inside of me that just longs to teach them well, and to work hard to serve them and their families. God is working in this place---even amongst some of the disorganization. Last year at this time, I was restless. I was so restless to move, and do something more. I did not anticipate being overseas. I put in my resume to jobs in Atlanta, NYC, Seattle, Boston, Chicago (I would have been content working in a coffee bar---or at least, I thought I would. I just needed change). But God answered my cries, and moved me here. He stirred my heart, and I followed in faith. He provided everything for me to get here, and each day, His joy far exceeds what has been "left" behind.
Perhaps I am experiencing a "writer's block" of sorts. As much as I desire to fully capture my heart in words, I cannot! I have so many different things to say, but nothing is flowing naturally. I am not usually a stream-of-consciousness type writer, but I am going to just ramble off some lines from songs that have pierced my heart recently, in hopes that you may be able to read between those lines and into the depths:
"He set me on fire, and I am burning alive. With this breath in my lungs, I am coming undone. I cannot hold it in, or remain composed. Love's taken over me, so I propose to letting myself go..."
"Don't close your eyes. This is your life. Are you who you want to be? This is your life. Today is all you've got now. And today is all you'll ever have."
"Sometimes love has to drive a nail into it's own hand."
"When you try your best and you don't succeed. When you get what you want, but not what you need. When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep. Stuck in reverse. Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you."
"I can't close my eyes--they're wide awake. Every hair on my body has got a thing for this place. Empty my heart! I've got to make room for this feeling. It's so much bigger than me! It could not be any more beautiful. I can't take it in!"
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Beautiful Adventure
I do not believe that today could have been improved upon. It is the first day that I have had nothing to do since I arrived, and I have purposefully kept it so. I stayed awake until I was completely exhausted last night to ensure a good night's sleep. I woke around 8:30am, cleaned our bathroom, spent a good time with the Lord, went to the gym for a good workout, sat in the coffee shop above the gym after showering and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy continuing my reading of Jane Eyre (a beautiful novel), had my hair straightened for 80 baht (a pleasure for which I am grateful. I had forgotten how nice it was to have straight hair), and am now sitting in my cozy bedroom--rain falling outside, and a music-mix comprised of Norah Jones, Sean McConnell, Coldplay, and the Weepies playing. A relaxing day to be sure. I am glad that I chose to stay in Nonthaburi this weekend, rather than going to the beach with Tiffany. I think that I needed nothingness for a day.
I am living a dream here. Since I was a little girl, epic stories have penetrated the core of my being. I have always wanted to be the woman who is part of a grand adventure--a woman who is feminine, and yet is somehow set apart from "the norm." A woman who has found something worth fighting for, and does not simply bask in the simplicity of domestic life. Heroines like Joan of Arc, Elizabeth Swan, Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Eyre, Jo March...women who were somehow different. They each had a restlessness about them that drove them to something bigger. In my own way, I hope to be like that.
Let's consider the epic a little further. We see it all the time: movies about the grand adventure of life. Good versus evil--dangerous romance played out between men and women who fight side-by-side for something heroic. There is pain, hardship, defeat, tears...but ultimately joy, peace, and victory. Can we as believers not see eternity composed on the hearts of men through such things? Is not our desire for something greater?
When I left America, I felt as though I was about to fly or fall, and the former seems to be ringing true. My adventure began. I have embarked on a journey from which there is no turning back. Many of my comrades view their time here as temporary: a year, two, three... While I do not know what life brings, I hesitate to put a time limit on my time and purpose anywhere. Something tells me that a sedentary life is not in the cards for me, and that is exciting! Before I left Lynchburg, I was broken over the international human traffiking issue. Women and children are bought and sold as sex slaves throughout the world--including in America. Thailand is a high-traffic area, and I would like to take the time over the next year to knick the surface of the issue in my own heart. There is a ministry in Bangkok that ministers to prostitutes--trying to teach them new trades for income. I am praying for utter brokenness over this need.
Teaching is going well, though it is very tiring. This past week was very draining and exhausting, and there is no outlet for that. Unlike an office position, a teacher must remain energetic and optimistic in order for her students to be the least bit interested in learning. I desire whole-heartedly for my children to learn and desire to learn this year. I want to put the effort forth to teach them, not just so they can learn academia, but that they might see the true love behind the effort. After only one week in the classroom, I already see the absolute necessity of being re-energized each day by the Lord Himself. I will not be able to energize anyone else without having first been plugged into a power source myself.
There have been lonely days here as well. But that is not unusual for me anywhere really. I have always had lonely times, where I long for deep companionship. I am frequently learning and relearning to find my companionship with the Lord. Going back to the "heroine" topic--each woman that I mentioned dealt with solitude. Many times, going against the current means going alone. I have been blessed in life to have encountered only a few people with which my connection and attachment has been far beyond superficial. I read this morning a bit about David and Jonathan, and was touched by the depth of their relationship. Two women come to mind when I read that--one of which is here in Thailand with me. These women are passionate, adventurous, loving, humble, and willing to fight for something great.
As it pertains to romantic relationships: should the Lord choose to allow me to marry one day, I pray for a man with which I can fight alongside of. A man who is strong, brave, loving, compassionate, passionate, wise, and will allow me to be a part of his adventure. Sometimes the longing for this is great. It is difficult to imagine living the life I crave alone, but I have committed my life to following Jesus, even if I walk the road alone.
Perhaps this entry was mere ranting to the reader, but I ask you to consider its depth. My heart's cry lies between the lines of insufficient words.
I am living a dream here. Since I was a little girl, epic stories have penetrated the core of my being. I have always wanted to be the woman who is part of a grand adventure--a woman who is feminine, and yet is somehow set apart from "the norm." A woman who has found something worth fighting for, and does not simply bask in the simplicity of domestic life. Heroines like Joan of Arc, Elizabeth Swan, Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Eyre, Jo March...women who were somehow different. They each had a restlessness about them that drove them to something bigger. In my own way, I hope to be like that.
Let's consider the epic a little further. We see it all the time: movies about the grand adventure of life. Good versus evil--dangerous romance played out between men and women who fight side-by-side for something heroic. There is pain, hardship, defeat, tears...but ultimately joy, peace, and victory. Can we as believers not see eternity composed on the hearts of men through such things? Is not our desire for something greater?
When I left America, I felt as though I was about to fly or fall, and the former seems to be ringing true. My adventure began. I have embarked on a journey from which there is no turning back. Many of my comrades view their time here as temporary: a year, two, three... While I do not know what life brings, I hesitate to put a time limit on my time and purpose anywhere. Something tells me that a sedentary life is not in the cards for me, and that is exciting! Before I left Lynchburg, I was broken over the international human traffiking issue. Women and children are bought and sold as sex slaves throughout the world--including in America. Thailand is a high-traffic area, and I would like to take the time over the next year to knick the surface of the issue in my own heart. There is a ministry in Bangkok that ministers to prostitutes--trying to teach them new trades for income. I am praying for utter brokenness over this need.
Teaching is going well, though it is very tiring. This past week was very draining and exhausting, and there is no outlet for that. Unlike an office position, a teacher must remain energetic and optimistic in order for her students to be the least bit interested in learning. I desire whole-heartedly for my children to learn and desire to learn this year. I want to put the effort forth to teach them, not just so they can learn academia, but that they might see the true love behind the effort. After only one week in the classroom, I already see the absolute necessity of being re-energized each day by the Lord Himself. I will not be able to energize anyone else without having first been plugged into a power source myself.
There have been lonely days here as well. But that is not unusual for me anywhere really. I have always had lonely times, where I long for deep companionship. I am frequently learning and relearning to find my companionship with the Lord. Going back to the "heroine" topic--each woman that I mentioned dealt with solitude. Many times, going against the current means going alone. I have been blessed in life to have encountered only a few people with which my connection and attachment has been far beyond superficial. I read this morning a bit about David and Jonathan, and was touched by the depth of their relationship. Two women come to mind when I read that--one of which is here in Thailand with me. These women are passionate, adventurous, loving, humble, and willing to fight for something great.
As it pertains to romantic relationships: should the Lord choose to allow me to marry one day, I pray for a man with which I can fight alongside of. A man who is strong, brave, loving, compassionate, passionate, wise, and will allow me to be a part of his adventure. Sometimes the longing for this is great. It is difficult to imagine living the life I crave alone, but I have committed my life to following Jesus, even if I walk the road alone.
Perhaps this entry was mere ranting to the reader, but I ask you to consider its depth. My heart's cry lies between the lines of insufficient words.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Well...the day is here. I am sitting in the airport Starbucks...heart starting to beat faster. My aunt and cousin just left after we enjoyed a morning cup of coffee together. We have spent the last few days in Orlando, just enjoying Disney world. What a way to leave the states! :-)
I have enjoyed the time here. My cousin, James, and I have always been very close. I hate to use the term "cousin" for him, since he is more like the big brother that the family tree didn't give. He has always looked out for me, and his love is like a shelter for me. I have absolutely loved seeing him.
Ok...confession: I am a nervous flyer. Sure, I like the luxury of it all--movies, music, food...but I never can figure out what is normal turbulence and what is not. I can never calm myself down. My doctor gave me 10 days worth of sleeping pills to start adjusting to a new time change, which I am thankful for. His words: "Take one when you leave New York...you'll wake up in South Korea." Fabulous!
Well, that's all for now really. But here I go.
"So kiss me and smile for me.
Tell me that you'll wait for me.
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
Because I'm leaving on a jet plane.
I don't know when I'll be back again..."
I have enjoyed the time here. My cousin, James, and I have always been very close. I hate to use the term "cousin" for him, since he is more like the big brother that the family tree didn't give. He has always looked out for me, and his love is like a shelter for me. I have absolutely loved seeing him.
Ok...confession: I am a nervous flyer. Sure, I like the luxury of it all--movies, music, food...but I never can figure out what is normal turbulence and what is not. I can never calm myself down. My doctor gave me 10 days worth of sleeping pills to start adjusting to a new time change, which I am thankful for. His words: "Take one when you leave New York...you'll wake up in South Korea." Fabulous!
Well, that's all for now really. But here I go.
"So kiss me and smile for me.
Tell me that you'll wait for me.
Hold me like you'll never let me go.
Because I'm leaving on a jet plane.
I don't know when I'll be back again..."
Monday, May 14, 2007
That Which Costs Me Nothing
I expected that eventually my decision to go to Thailand would be difficult. In all of the excitement and preparations of the past few months, I really did not have any second thoughts or feel any remorse about the decision--I've known that this is where I am supposed to be, and that has been such a joy! But this past weekend I left Tennessee feeling like I had been hit by a bus at 90 mph.
I left work Friday afternoon to visit my mom and my grandparents in Tennessee for one last weekend before I leave the country. My grandparents have always been uniquely special to me. They have been more than the "traditional" grandparents that most people know--they have been the only people in my life that have remained consistent. They have always taken on the persona of parental figures--never taking. Always giving. They are both two of my heroes. Everytime I leave their presence, my heart hurts, but yesterday, I was crushed. Goodbyes were quick. We avoided talking about me leaving all weekend. I cannot stand the thought of either of them hurting in any way, and to think that it was over me is too much. But I know that they understand. They are so strong and willing to encourage me to follow the Lord, even if that means my absence from their home. Shall I offer the Lord that which costs me nothing?
My mother is a different story. She has come so far. There is so much pain and so many memories. I know that she feels remorse and guilt over many things. But I am afraid that she does not see how far she has come! To think where we were just a few years ago, and now the healing that has already begun! The Lord has not only shown me how to forgive her for everything, but yesterday I wept bitterly because I want her to know joy! I sincerely desire for my mom to be at peace, and rest, and to understand that the past is past. It's over. We have so much life in front of us, and our God is bigger than our hurt and pain! Oh, Lord. Please show her the peace of your mercy! Please grant her joy and fill her cup to overflow. Please allow her to forgive herself.
My eyes are still bloodshot, but the Lord's joy was ever present on the drive home. Patrick and Emily were staying in Roanoke last night, so I stopped and stayed with them rather than finishing the drive to Lynchburg.
"He who is not willing to abandon father, mother, brother for the sake of the Gospel is not worthy..."
Father, find me worthy.
I left work Friday afternoon to visit my mom and my grandparents in Tennessee for one last weekend before I leave the country. My grandparents have always been uniquely special to me. They have been more than the "traditional" grandparents that most people know--they have been the only people in my life that have remained consistent. They have always taken on the persona of parental figures--never taking. Always giving. They are both two of my heroes. Everytime I leave their presence, my heart hurts, but yesterday, I was crushed. Goodbyes were quick. We avoided talking about me leaving all weekend. I cannot stand the thought of either of them hurting in any way, and to think that it was over me is too much. But I know that they understand. They are so strong and willing to encourage me to follow the Lord, even if that means my absence from their home. Shall I offer the Lord that which costs me nothing?
My mother is a different story. She has come so far. There is so much pain and so many memories. I know that she feels remorse and guilt over many things. But I am afraid that she does not see how far she has come! To think where we were just a few years ago, and now the healing that has already begun! The Lord has not only shown me how to forgive her for everything, but yesterday I wept bitterly because I want her to know joy! I sincerely desire for my mom to be at peace, and rest, and to understand that the past is past. It's over. We have so much life in front of us, and our God is bigger than our hurt and pain! Oh, Lord. Please show her the peace of your mercy! Please grant her joy and fill her cup to overflow. Please allow her to forgive herself.
My eyes are still bloodshot, but the Lord's joy was ever present on the drive home. Patrick and Emily were staying in Roanoke last night, so I stopped and stayed with them rather than finishing the drive to Lynchburg.
"He who is not willing to abandon father, mother, brother for the sake of the Gospel is not worthy..."
Father, find me worthy.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Tears of the Saints
I never thought that I would be at the place that I am now standing. Mixed emotions fill my heart, and I am preparing to embark on a new adventure. The best way to explain it is to say that I imagine it is something similar to standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, prepared to jump. Terrifying, except that every experience building up to that point was another feather being added to the wings that you did not realize you had been given. It feels like the great crescendo in a piece of music--the bridge that builds to the loudest anthem of the entire song. I feel alive.
In four weeks, I will be on my way to Bangkok, Thailand. While my contract with Global English School is only for one year, I hesitate to say that I will return then. The journey of the past year has taken me from being a young college student to being a woman with a vision. Oh, Lord--grant me your vision and your passion. Your voice to proclaim. Your boldness to stand.
During the months of waiting to hear from GES regarding my possible employment, I began to get involved with Brentwood Church's Global Mission Outreach Team. I was one of a few girls prayerfully researching parts of the world to minister to women and children involved in the sex trafficking industry. Thailand was of key importance. The short time that I was working with the teams I had the opportunity to begin some basic research on the issue at hand. My heart has slowly been stripped of callousses regarding the matter, and this past Sunday, I was broken. The images of women brought me to tears and my knees. Oh, Father. This is too big for me to handle. Jesus, your salvation cries out to these people. I offer my feeble hands to you to do what you will.
I never thought that I would go--that I would be one to leave home, and material luxury for something that I believed in. Terribly honest. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that this is not my home. Oh, Lord. Do not allow me to grasp for this world.
Everything seems to have culminated to this point. Every broken moment, every tear, every change. They were all reasons to run after something greater than myself. Now, as I say good bye to my quaint apartment and current locale, I look ahead to a work that I cannot accomplish, but hope to be a part of.
I pray that I become less and less comfortable living a "comfortable" life. I pray for courage to fight, and not merely stand with weapons loosely girded to my belt.
And so here we go.
In four weeks, I will be on my way to Bangkok, Thailand. While my contract with Global English School is only for one year, I hesitate to say that I will return then. The journey of the past year has taken me from being a young college student to being a woman with a vision. Oh, Lord--grant me your vision and your passion. Your voice to proclaim. Your boldness to stand.
During the months of waiting to hear from GES regarding my possible employment, I began to get involved with Brentwood Church's Global Mission Outreach Team. I was one of a few girls prayerfully researching parts of the world to minister to women and children involved in the sex trafficking industry. Thailand was of key importance. The short time that I was working with the teams I had the opportunity to begin some basic research on the issue at hand. My heart has slowly been stripped of callousses regarding the matter, and this past Sunday, I was broken. The images of women brought me to tears and my knees. Oh, Father. This is too big for me to handle. Jesus, your salvation cries out to these people. I offer my feeble hands to you to do what you will.
I never thought that I would go--that I would be one to leave home, and material luxury for something that I believed in. Terribly honest. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that this is not my home. Oh, Lord. Do not allow me to grasp for this world.
Everything seems to have culminated to this point. Every broken moment, every tear, every change. They were all reasons to run after something greater than myself. Now, as I say good bye to my quaint apartment and current locale, I look ahead to a work that I cannot accomplish, but hope to be a part of.
I pray that I become less and less comfortable living a "comfortable" life. I pray for courage to fight, and not merely stand with weapons loosely girded to my belt.
And so here we go.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
So that others may live
January 31, 2007
There are times when I must be reminded why I chose this way of life—why I gave my life to Christ. Sometimes it seems so painfully lonely. I say seems, because I have to believe that I am not truly alone, no matter how deep the space seems to go. There are days when the hardest thing for me to do is to wait—to hold on, and just keep believing. I have to press on, not because I feel like it, but because I refuse to give up. Something tells me that there is a purpose. Something inside of me says that there’s more to it.
I got into my bed last night with my eyes aching and my cheeks still damp from tears. I was reminded why through one sentence: So others may live.
I say why to cover a few degrees of questions:
Lord, why is this life worth it?
Lord, why do you require dying to ourselves?
Lord, why did you die?
I will begin with the latter.
I cannot fathom the work done on the cross. As hard as I have tried, I still do not comprehend either the absolute necessity for a blood atonement to absolve an entire world’s sin, nor the love that would compel a perfect God-man to remain still for the nails to be driven through his hands and feet. Someone once told me, or maybe I read it, that Christ’s love and passion was for the Father’s glory to be shone through His obedience. That is the passion that I desire.
The Father had a reason for his son’s death also: So that others may live.
I truly believe that the human heart has a desire for heroism. Throughout history, there have been men and women that have discovered the meaning of self-sacrifice for the life of another. That is heroism, and our Father knew that when He said that the last would be first. His word is always for His glory, and our good.
My life has not been given to Christ solely for my own benefit. His glory and people’s lives are at stake. I want to take this responsibility very seriously. There has been a lot of pain in the past. My past has made me afraid of so many things. But I don’t want to look back anymore. I want to move forward, chin up in absolute strength of will to do as my commander has ordered.
Father, please provide the strength and heart to lay my life down for your Glory, and for the lives of others..
Can you lay your life down
So a stranger can live
Can you take what you need
But take less than you give
Could you close every day
Without the glory and fame
Could you hold your head high
When no one knows your name
That’s how legends are made
At least that’s what they say
We say goodbye
But never let go
We live, we die
Because you can’t save every soul
Gotta take every chance to
Show that you’re the kind of man who
Will never look back, never look down
And never let go
Can you lose everything
You ever had planned
Can you sit down again
And play another hand
Could you risk everything
For the chance to be alone
Under pressure find the grace
once you come undone
That’s how legends are made
At least that’s what they say
-Bryan Adams-
There are times when I must be reminded why I chose this way of life—why I gave my life to Christ. Sometimes it seems so painfully lonely. I say seems, because I have to believe that I am not truly alone, no matter how deep the space seems to go. There are days when the hardest thing for me to do is to wait—to hold on, and just keep believing. I have to press on, not because I feel like it, but because I refuse to give up. Something tells me that there is a purpose. Something inside of me says that there’s more to it.
I got into my bed last night with my eyes aching and my cheeks still damp from tears. I was reminded why through one sentence: So others may live.
I say why to cover a few degrees of questions:
Lord, why is this life worth it?
Lord, why do you require dying to ourselves?
Lord, why did you die?
I will begin with the latter.
I cannot fathom the work done on the cross. As hard as I have tried, I still do not comprehend either the absolute necessity for a blood atonement to absolve an entire world’s sin, nor the love that would compel a perfect God-man to remain still for the nails to be driven through his hands and feet. Someone once told me, or maybe I read it, that Christ’s love and passion was for the Father’s glory to be shone through His obedience. That is the passion that I desire.
The Father had a reason for his son’s death also: So that others may live.
I truly believe that the human heart has a desire for heroism. Throughout history, there have been men and women that have discovered the meaning of self-sacrifice for the life of another. That is heroism, and our Father knew that when He said that the last would be first. His word is always for His glory, and our good.
My life has not been given to Christ solely for my own benefit. His glory and people’s lives are at stake. I want to take this responsibility very seriously. There has been a lot of pain in the past. My past has made me afraid of so many things. But I don’t want to look back anymore. I want to move forward, chin up in absolute strength of will to do as my commander has ordered.
Father, please provide the strength and heart to lay my life down for your Glory, and for the lives of others..
Can you lay your life down
So a stranger can live
Can you take what you need
But take less than you give
Could you close every day
Without the glory and fame
Could you hold your head high
When no one knows your name
That’s how legends are made
At least that’s what they say
We say goodbye
But never let go
We live, we die
Because you can’t save every soul
Gotta take every chance to
Show that you’re the kind of man who
Will never look back, never look down
And never let go
Can you lose everything
You ever had planned
Can you sit down again
And play another hand
Could you risk everything
For the chance to be alone
Under pressure find the grace
once you come undone
That’s how legends are made
At least that’s what they say
-Bryan Adams-
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Coffee Culture
What is it about a cup of coffee that illuminates the soul? A haunting aroma reunites old friends, and inspires the writer--as some intellectual aphrodisiac seducing the imagination. It is a phenomenon that has preserved conversation in the face of modern complication, and yet somehow, no cosmopolitan is complete without it. For many, it is the local "Cheers," where everybody knows your name. For me, it is a haven--a sanctuary of sorts. I slow down, and savor, and contemplate...and perhaps that is the lure.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Frozen Smiles to Chase Love Away
I, like most people, have been known to plaster a smile and personality on--pretending that I do not want someone to love me. Sometimes the performance is so convincing, that I believe it myself. I want to make a confession to all of you: I need love, and cannot make it on my own.
Neither can you.
I have caught myself looking for something real in people. Sitting in any random place, I might look at a certain person and try to imagine what their life has been like--try to recognize their humanity. There is such beauty in reality.
"Rise before me the signs implore me, 'Help the needy, and show them the way.' Human kindness is overflowing, and I think it's going to rain today."
God is the rain, and I am but a raindrop sent to fall on barren land. He will arise for the sighing of the needy, and set us all in the safety for which we all yearn. (see Psalm 12:5).
Neither can you.
I have caught myself looking for something real in people. Sitting in any random place, I might look at a certain person and try to imagine what their life has been like--try to recognize their humanity. There is such beauty in reality.
"Rise before me the signs implore me, 'Help the needy, and show them the way.' Human kindness is overflowing, and I think it's going to rain today."
God is the rain, and I am but a raindrop sent to fall on barren land. He will arise for the sighing of the needy, and set us all in the safety for which we all yearn. (see Psalm 12:5).
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Under the influence of serenity
I watched the movie "Crash" a few nights ago. Beyond the foul language, and one lewd scene that was skipped, the movie was enlightening. I appreciated its raw honesty.
Real life was depicted in all its brashness and audacity.
I found myself curled up on the couch, grateful for the hope that I have in Christ--that there is hope. There IS hope. For those pained families that experience that same harsh reality everyday, there is hope. There is healing. Tragically, the prejudices depicted on film are the daily struggles faced by so many.
The longer I live, the more I long for the Lord.
Just this morning, I was overwhelmed by various situations, and all I could think to do was "run" home and be with Him.
"Come here and cry on my shoulder, I'll hold you until it's over. I'll rescue you tonight..."
Real life was depicted in all its brashness and audacity.
I found myself curled up on the couch, grateful for the hope that I have in Christ--that there is hope. There IS hope. For those pained families that experience that same harsh reality everyday, there is hope. There is healing. Tragically, the prejudices depicted on film are the daily struggles faced by so many.
The longer I live, the more I long for the Lord.
Just this morning, I was overwhelmed by various situations, and all I could think to do was "run" home and be with Him.
"Come here and cry on my shoulder, I'll hold you until it's over. I'll rescue you tonight..."
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Dancing under an oak tree
I don't know who wrote this, but I really like it:
"the woman i desire to be
is only part grown not all
i still want to fly above the clouds
breathe under the sea
wish upon shooting stars
and live in my dreams
the woman i stand for
is strong and meek
finds purpose in a daily cup of coffee
puts a childs tears before money
sings at the top of her lungs
finds the little mistakes in life to be funny the woman i choose to be is only part grown not all she still wants to fly above the clouds breathe under the sea wish upon shooting stars and live in her dreams"
"the woman i desire to be
is only part grown not all
i still want to fly above the clouds
breathe under the sea
wish upon shooting stars
and live in my dreams
the woman i stand for
is strong and meek
finds purpose in a daily cup of coffee
puts a childs tears before money
sings at the top of her lungs
finds the little mistakes in life to be funny the woman i choose to be is only part grown not all she still wants to fly above the clouds breathe under the sea wish upon shooting stars and live in her dreams"
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Though Prostrate in the Dust
Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel
But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?
No still the ear of sovereign grace,
Attends the mourner's prayer
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet,
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel
But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?
No still the ear of sovereign grace,
Attends the mourner's prayer
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet,
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
This is a plea. This is a plea to any believer that knows that there is more—more than what we’ve seen. This is to those who want the power of God to overwhelm their hearts. This is to those who believe that God is greater than we’ve made Him out to be. This is to the ones who desire to be a part of the generation that seeks His face—not because He offers the good life, but because He Himself is good.
This is a call. This is a call to the individual trapped in a pew once a week wondering why corporate Christianity is dead. This is a call to be more than a church member, and to enlist in the army. This is a call to passion and vibrancy and exuberant life that can only be found by plugging into the power source. When has a lamp ever shone without first being connected to a source of light?
This is a challenge. This is a challenge to be brave, to be bold, to be dangerous. This is an invitation to stand on the ragged edge of dangerous faith—to leave behind numbers and titles and material and recklessly abandon self for the cause of something greater. This is a challenge to cast off that weight which we have all fell victim to at one point or another—that weight of complacency, fear, hedonism, mediocrity. This is a challenge to let go and truly live what we believe.
I pity my former self—the being that once thought that belief was sufficient. I too once thought that morality was enough to experience the full life God had promised.
My heart still beats for more.
My heart still pounds for more.
More than belief.
More than morality.
More than corporation.
More than a song.
More than clichés.
More than casual prayer.
More than obligation.
More than what we are, because we still somehow missed the mark: God Himself.
He is life.
He is passion.
He is reality—more real than you or me.
He is whole and satisfying.
He is the one we have longed for-- ached for. Not morality or some claim to spirituality—God alone.
Let us now go and seek Him for all He is worth, and move beyond experience and emotion and feeling into the reality of a God, Creator, Savior, Lover, Friend, and Judge who is greater than our own perception.
Let us stand against complacency and shout, “Your face, O God, we will seek.”
Let us charge Hell and allow the Spirit to move among us—to move us.
Let us pursue the passion for which we long.
Oh, God, turn up the heat. Cause our hearts to throb and ache and long for more. Turn us inside out for who you are. Remove the scales from our eyes, and open us up to the world of awe and beauty that you reside in. Forgive our complacency. Forgive our routine. Restore us to the joy and life that You are.
This is a call. This is a call to the individual trapped in a pew once a week wondering why corporate Christianity is dead. This is a call to be more than a church member, and to enlist in the army. This is a call to passion and vibrancy and exuberant life that can only be found by plugging into the power source. When has a lamp ever shone without first being connected to a source of light?
This is a challenge. This is a challenge to be brave, to be bold, to be dangerous. This is an invitation to stand on the ragged edge of dangerous faith—to leave behind numbers and titles and material and recklessly abandon self for the cause of something greater. This is a challenge to cast off that weight which we have all fell victim to at one point or another—that weight of complacency, fear, hedonism, mediocrity. This is a challenge to let go and truly live what we believe.
I pity my former self—the being that once thought that belief was sufficient. I too once thought that morality was enough to experience the full life God had promised.
My heart still beats for more.
My heart still pounds for more.
More than belief.
More than morality.
More than corporation.
More than a song.
More than clichés.
More than casual prayer.
More than obligation.
More than what we are, because we still somehow missed the mark: God Himself.
He is life.
He is passion.
He is reality—more real than you or me.
He is whole and satisfying.
He is the one we have longed for-- ached for. Not morality or some claim to spirituality—God alone.
Let us now go and seek Him for all He is worth, and move beyond experience and emotion and feeling into the reality of a God, Creator, Savior, Lover, Friend, and Judge who is greater than our own perception.
Let us stand against complacency and shout, “Your face, O God, we will seek.”
Let us charge Hell and allow the Spirit to move among us—to move us.
Let us pursue the passion for which we long.
Oh, God, turn up the heat. Cause our hearts to throb and ache and long for more. Turn us inside out for who you are. Remove the scales from our eyes, and open us up to the world of awe and beauty that you reside in. Forgive our complacency. Forgive our routine. Restore us to the joy and life that You are.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I somehow find that you and I collide...
Life is stable right now. I hesitate to say "mundane" simply because the implication is negative, but nothing out-of-the-ordinary is really going on. I wake up every morning, go to work at 8, leave at 5, and hope to make it to the gym...go home, make dinner, watch DLP videos, maybe go out with friends...
I have been craving some independent endeavor: go to a local Bed and Breakfast, go to New York City for a few days in the winter, go on a cruise, go to Italy and study photography in Tuscany for a month, go to Spain for Spring Break... lots of ideas have passed through my head lately. I must get settled into my new townhouse first...one thing at a time. I need to wait for bills to regulate.
I am hungry for passionate existence... to live, laugh, love (a great mantre!)
Sometimes I wonder if I am too independent...too self-reliant. It is perhaps my greatest flaw; I writhe at the thought of asking anyone for help. But by the same token, I adore the freedom to explore and do and see and experience.
I want to absolutely inebriated by this life.
Oh, Lord, please teach me what it means to be alive. Show me yourself in a way that is deeper and bigger than I ever imagined. Thank you for being Life. Thank you for being Energy, and passion, and all that is glorious!!!!
I have been craving some independent endeavor: go to a local Bed and Breakfast, go to New York City for a few days in the winter, go on a cruise, go to Italy and study photography in Tuscany for a month, go to Spain for Spring Break... lots of ideas have passed through my head lately. I must get settled into my new townhouse first...one thing at a time. I need to wait for bills to regulate.
I am hungry for passionate existence... to live, laugh, love (a great mantre!)
Sometimes I wonder if I am too independent...too self-reliant. It is perhaps my greatest flaw; I writhe at the thought of asking anyone for help. But by the same token, I adore the freedom to explore and do and see and experience.
I want to absolutely inebriated by this life.
Oh, Lord, please teach me what it means to be alive. Show me yourself in a way that is deeper and bigger than I ever imagined. Thank you for being Life. Thank you for being Energy, and passion, and all that is glorious!!!!
Sunday, February 12, 2006
This Porcelain Heart
I had a realization about myself this morning: I do not know how to enter situations without expectation. I do not know how to simply go into the unknown without having my own thoughts of what the outcome should be, what should happen, what should be said, etc. I suppose this comes from my ever present desire for control that the Lord has slowly been stripping me of...or rather showing me that He's in control. It really should be a relief to me that I can release control to the omniscient God that I love and serve, so why is it so hard?
Lord, teach me how to trust you with the outcomes of the mundane events in life. I have entrusted the entirety of my life to you, and now I surrender the everyday encounters, desires, and events of my life to you, deliberately trusting that I don't have to anticipate specific outcomes because you are in charge. Guard my heart against disappointment from my expectations, knowing that you are in control and your will is far better than my expectations could ever be. Protect my heart from jealousy when things don't go "my way" and help me to cling to the hope which is mine through you.
Lord, teach me how to trust you with the outcomes of the mundane events in life. I have entrusted the entirety of my life to you, and now I surrender the everyday encounters, desires, and events of my life to you, deliberately trusting that I don't have to anticipate specific outcomes because you are in charge. Guard my heart against disappointment from my expectations, knowing that you are in control and your will is far better than my expectations could ever be. Protect my heart from jealousy when things don't go "my way" and help me to cling to the hope which is mine through you.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Mother India
Father God, You have shed Your tears for Mother India
They have fallen to water ancient seeds
That will grow into hands to touch the untouchable
How blessed are the poor, the sick, the weak
Father, forgive me, for I have not believed
Like Mother India, I have groaned and grieved
Father, forgive me, I forgot Your grace
Your Spirit falls on India and captures me in Your embrace
The serpent spoke and the world believed its venom
Now we're ten to a room or compared with magazines
There's a land where our shackles turn to diamonds
Where we trade in our rags for a royal crown
In that place, our oppressors hold no power
And the doors of the King are thrown wide
I looked through a team member's pictures and came across this picture while I was listening to Caedmon Call's "Mother India." I was brought to tears at the memory of this old woman.
Our team had gone about two hours away from Calcutta, and we were at the Christ Mission Ashram seminary. A small group of girls stood near the seminary on a dirt road, when an elderly woman walked with a cane in our direction. We stopped to talk to her, as well as the young women around her. The language barrier made communication difficult, but then the woman took my hand. I hugged her. She held me so tightly and began to weep. I do not know if she was weeping because someone lovingly embraced her freely, or if she was merely overjoyed. The memory of her is haunting. What a joyful, powerful moment in my life.
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