one of those days

I could survive for 51 seconds
Post your time in the comments. You probably beat me, don't get too excited.

we love India

I do. I missed India this summer. Did you know that flooding is a huge problem in parts of India right now? Did you know you can help in about 30 seconds, for free?

Go to this website.

You will be asked four questions, and each time you get one right the sponsors (who have ads on the sides of each page) will donate a band-aid or a tarp to flood victims in India. It's quick. It's painless. It's easy.

And I'm even going to give you the answers ('cause no one gets a tarp if you get 'em wrong):

1. The capital of Bihar is Patna.
2. The river that has caused havoc in Bihar recently is the Kosi.
3. The number of people affected by recent floods in Bihar is 25 Lakh.
4. The opposite of flood is drought.

That's it. Just four questions, but you can play those four questions over and over and over, and - presumably - donate a ton of band-aids and tarps.

Email your friends the link/answers or copy and paste the info above to your blog. Put a note on Facebook/MySpace. Free tarps for flood victims in India is too good to pass up!

Thanks to Titus for the link/answers.

fighting tired

There are days when I need to remind myself to fight.

Jude 1:3//Dear friends, although I was very eager to write to you about the salvation we share, I felt I had to write and urge you to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints. (Even within myself)

1 Timothy 1:18//Timothy, my son, I give you this instruction in keeping with the prophecies once made about you, so that by following them you may fight the good fight,

1 Timothy 6:12//Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.

2 Timothy 4:7//I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

There are days I have to remind myself to fight because there are days I want nothing more than to roll over and die. I don't think it's any coincidence that Paul writes three times in two letters to a young Christian to "fight the good fight."

It's so daunting because it's so contrary to what the rest of the world spews at me every second - right now I'm being spewed at through the office-friendly radio station. Our society, our culture, doesn't want to fight for anything.

Meals should be quick and easy. Housekeeping should be quick and easy. Technology and car repairs should be quick and easy. Eradicating terror from the face of the planet and restoring peace and sanity to a world torn to pieces by hate should be quick and easy.

Fighting is for violent, dangerous, criminal people. Contending is for stubborn, close-minded, self-righteous jerks. Taking a stand for something is really cool if it's against the U.S. government, but really fanatical if it's against anything else.

Shut up. Keep your head down. Go with the grain. You can have an opinion once every two years in a polling booth, but the rest of the time just listen. Don't speak. Just listen. Listen and watch and internalize and become and you won't even want to fight anymore.

And when the enemy of your soul starts to whisper in your ear, you'll be so accustomed to listening and becoming that you won't feel like fighting that either. Passivity is so much easier. It's easier to believe that there is no God, or if there is He doesn't like you anyway. It's easier to believe that you'll never answer for your life, that the love you're really looking for didn't actually sacrifice Himself for you, and that you don't have a purpose. It's easier to question and doubt than to love and believe, so just listen to the lies and let your spirit glaze over.

Matthew 11:12//The kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force.

bragging

I got to talk to Marianne and Kaitlyn this evening!

I tried to take a screen shot of Kaitlyn doing her "big smile:"


And then Marianne sent me a better one:


How stinkin' cute is that? Ridiculous. You can read all about 'em and their adventures in China on Marianne's blog. I just wanted to brag that I got to talk to them (her - I got to talk to Marianne; Kaitlyn didn't want to talk to me once she saw Timothy. Every time I turned the Mac away from him she'd start signing "more" and say, "moe teem moe teem moe moe ..." but whatever) and show off cutie Kaitlyn

Esther

I've been reading Esther. (I know - shocking. Like me saying, "I was watching Luther ..." I know. You're hilarious.)

I've been reading Esther and really wishing that movie (One Night With The King) had been better. I wish they hadn't butchered the storyline with the silly necklace. I wish they hadn't tried to make it a love story, and I really wish they had better communicated the gravity of her decision to barge into the King's inner court.

I know that the book is about intercession. Esther 101. But for the past couple days I've been noticing the details. It's about intercession on a personal scale, and about Christ's intercession on the cross. It's cool. My new favorite part is the beginning of Chapter 5:

Verse 1: Now it happened on the third day that Esther put on her royal robes and stood in the inner court of the king’s palace, across from the king’s house, while the king sat on his royal throne in the royal house, facing the entrance of the house.

Everybody knows that if you go into the inner court of the king's palace without being called for, you are killed. Instantly and without a fair trial before a jury of your peers (because it's a picture of the Old Testament temple where only the high priest could go into the inner court and only if he was without sin else he drop dead). Everybody knows, and yet here's the king, facing the entrance of the house as though he's waiting for someone to try it anyway.

What I noticed for the first time the other day, and what makes me love this, is the italics. I often forget, and so don't really notice, that italics in the Bible means those words were added to make the translation sensible where there is no direct, word-for-word translation. Usually, you can go back and re-read a verse without the italic words, and get a deeper understanding of what's going on.

For whatever reason (HS), I remembered that when I got to Esther 5:1 a couple days ago and I re-read. "Now it happened on the third day that Esther put on royal and stood ..."

She put on royal(ty). I double-checked:

The Young's Literal Translation says, "And it cometh to pass on the third day, that Esther putteth on royalty, and standeth ..."

Esther prepared to stand in the inner court of the king and make a request of him, intercede on behalf of her people, by putting on royalty. (Jesus prepared to come to earth, to live and die in intercession for His people, by disrobing Himself of divine glory/royalty.) When I prepare to stand in the inner court of the King of kings, I put on the royalty that Jesus made available to me because I go wearing His Name and His sacrifice.

Fun. Mind the italics.

videos 'cause I don't like Thursdays

And maybe you don't either.

This won't make you feel better, but I have to. This is VP-hopeful Biden being all "Biden-y," which I think means Communist:



Seriously? That's Marxism 101. I learned that in my first semester of poly sci.


This is just really cool. Saw this on Collide's blog this morning:


Benched from Brandon McCormick on Vimeo.


Another one from Collide. I know no one likes cats (personally, I don't mind 'em, but ...), but this cat is a ninja.




Caleb sent me this one last week. I replayed it at least 20 times and laughed out loud every time:




And if you haven't seen this one yet, you live under a rock. Also if you haven't seen it yet, consider whether or not you really want to before you click Play. It's awful and it will be stuck in your head for the rest of eternity. Seriously. You and Jesus will rock out to it for the duration of the millennial reign because you won't be able to shake that funky beat.



That's all. Happy Thursday.

Bound4Life ... rain or shine

My Facebook message late Friday night read, "I assume we stand rain or shine, right?"
Johnnie's reply simply said, "we do =]"

At 8:30 the following morning, despite days of intimidating forecasts, Sara, Connor, Leah, Kendra and I piled into my car. I flipped on the windshield wipers and headed for Route 90.

By the time we got to the "Family Planning Center" on Elston, the rain had gloriously let up. We got out of the Bound4Life-mobile with just hoodies on, and the Catholics who are always there before us, realized they could close their umbrellas for a while. We were small in number - our five, two from the Prayer Furnace, and one other woman from Elgin - but steadfast. As I suited up I dared to wonder how long the rain would hold off, knowing that at the same time the students with me were peppering their prayers for the unborn with prayers for a downpour.

Red corners secured to my cheeks, I banished thoughts about the weather and turned to meet my now familiar adversary: the chain link fence surrounding the clinic's parking lot. Randy encouraged us, prayed over each of us, and asked us to spend the first half-hour praying for the mothers inside. I closed my eyes and forgot about the weekend outlook.

A moment later, eyes closed, I felt Holy Spirit just over my right shoulder. At first I thought it might be someone standing behind me, but the force of His presence was too strong to be anyone who was there with us - or any random stranger passing by on a Chicago sidewalk. I looked anyway, and grinned behind my red tape when I saw no one there.

It wasn't long until the rain returned. It was gentle at first, but quickly became a steady shower. We had a couple umbrellas in the van, but no one moved for them. It wasn't that bad. We were wet, but it wasn't all that cold out anyway.

We took a break for communion inside the van. I realize this is a useful break and that sometimes people need to share what's on their hearts, but - honestly - I always get a little antsy here. I don't want to talk in that moment, I want to pray. Randy asked if we wanted to cut the day short because of the weather, but no one agreed.

It was raining harder now, but we took up our places just the same. One person was brave enough to roll down his window and shout obscenities at us, but that was all. Just one.

And that is why, when the rain really started to assault our team, we just got wetter. The curb was flooding onto the strip of grass just before the sidewalk. The abortion clinic's parking lot was a small pond. It was starting to get cold, but I knew that our standing through the storm was a witness. Our God uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise.

He also sends subtle encouragement. Randy decided that we'd wrap it up about 20 minutes early because of the monsoon. He set us on a 15-minute count down and almost immediately a minivan pulled up next to the parked cars on the side of the road. A man got out of the driver's side and ran around to meet Randy. "You guys are amazing," he said, and handed Randy a plastic bag. Randy shook his hand and thanked him; the rest of us were smiling as much as you can smile with duct tape over your mouth at the two boxes of Dunkin Donuts munchkins.

Back in the Bound4Life-mobile 10 minutes later, soaked to the bone, we tore through those donut holes on the way back to the Prayer Furnace.

(There are more pictures here.)

remember

Seven years ago I was riding my bike across Kirksville, Missouri to my dorm room. It was a Tuesday morning. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, and the town was just waking up.

I was 17. I had been a college student and celebrity waitress for about three weeks. I was settling in to this phase of life, and starting to really like it.

I leashed my chariot to the bike rack outside the dorm building: through the frame, through the front wheel, and through the metal bars of the rack. After a 30-minute ride, my legs were a little shaky as I turned my attention to three flights of stairs.

Just inside the building, at the bottom of the cold, cement stairwell, it was quiet. It's always quiet at the bottom of a stairwell in a college dorm early in the morning. I leaned over and glanced up, through the gap in the handrail. Clear. I shrugged my messenger bag to a more secure place on my shoulder, took a deep breath, and sprinted, two steps at a time, up to the third floor.

I was pretty early that morning. I'd have about 45 minutes to kill before I needed to be at Music Theory, and it was a short walk across campus. I'd found out too late that Music Performance is one of the two most curriculum-intense majors, but what else was I going to do? I had no idea, so I just kept playing piano.

After catching my breath and reviving my thighs, I pulled open the door to the south wing of the third floor of the my dorm, and something wafted out at me. It wasn't loud, but it certainly wasn't quiet. Not like the stairwell had been quiet. It was still, but not like the stillness of the early morning outside.

Doors to almost every room were standing open, which wouldn't have been uncommon except for the early hour. Doors were open, but no one was in the hallway. No one was hanging out of doorways. No one was yelling between rooms. A deafening hush clogged the hallway.

Mine was the fourth door on the right. As I walked, I peered. The first room was empty. In the second room, a half-dozen people were gathered around a television. The third room was empty.

My door was not open, but it wasn't locked either. I pushed it open, hesitant without knowing why. My roommate, Donna, was not there. She and the two girls we shared a bathroom with were sitting in silence in the next room, facing me as I walked through the suite, glued to their television.

I stood for a moment, trying to read their faces. Considering a question, or a greeting. Instead, I took a few steps forward and turned to see what they were watching.


What about you? Where were you?

loving?

Back to Jesse's comment from two weeks ago (I need to make time to blog more).

We're not loving people. What do you think is causing this? What's the solution?

Dozens, if not hundreds, of things are causing Christians to fail to love people. UnChristian was one of the first sources to really blow this thing open. Much to my surprise, researchers also pointed out that most people's bad opinions of Christians are not based on national news stories of pastors fallen from glory, or obnoxious people protesting funerals. Most of the bad opinions people have about Christians comes from personal interactions with Christians or local churches that hurt them.

One woman was rejected by a local church because she's unmarried and has a young daughter. One young man was rejected by a Christian friend when he confided his homosexuality. The stories go on and on, and each is unique. You can't point at a handful of events, or a few bad publicity stunts and say, "This is why people hate us" because it's not the case.

And, of course, the only solution is to love people. I agree that we need to identify our lack of love, face our own brokenness, and ask Christ for His heart for people. What I don't agree with is the idea that we need to air our dirty laundry before the world, talk about other Christians as though they are failing us all, and feed the "Christians are jerks" flame.

1 Corinthians 6 tell us to judge ourselves. We don't take our issues before "the ungodly;" we deal with it within the body.

It happens, but I do not believe it's the norm. Most local churches, and most Christians - even in the west - are good, normal people. Most local churches are feeding their communities, and partnering with international aid organizations. Unless its a big deal, however, you don't generally hear about it because it's not a captivating news story.

For example, did anyone in Elgin - or even at Church in the Word - hear about the woman who found the Benevolence room last Sunday very late after the service? She had several children with her and explained that because of her husband's struggles, they don't have any food in the house. Our wonderful Benevolence ministry sent them home with bags of groceries, but did you hear about it?

It's the same in our daily lives. Most Christians are nice people quietly going about their lives: working hard, maintaining their families, and being good neighbors. People don't notice nice and quiet - Christian or not. People notice obnoxious and offensive. People ask "Who do you think you are?" and "Why?" when you irritate them, not when you drag their garbage can out of the street for them.

We need to just love people - and of course we can always love people more - and get used to the fact that the world is not going to recognize it most of the time. We don't need to flaunt it, because our good works are not done primarily before men. At the same time, though, we don't need to tell the people who wrongly assume that all Christians are horrible hypocrites that they're right. Because they're not.

I'm not saying we should fight it, get all riled up about the false accusations, etc. because sometimes it's true and because God is our defense. Turn the other cheek, keep loving people better, apologize when you need to apologize, and move forward in humility.

that's me

I'm frustrated.

I'm frustrated that I don't fast like I used to and I'm frustrated to find that it has become difficult in the meantime. I remember when it was easy. I remember when Holy Spirit could interrupt me in the middle of making breakfast and I'd just go, "Oh, okay" and not eat for days instead. So now I'm on one of those not-so-spiritual, "I hate you, flesh" fasts.

Part of me likes these fasts because ... well I don't know why. It feels like there's more at stake, maybe. Maybe it just feels like more of a battle and less of a death, so I can get excited about it. It's a battle of wills, though, (mine vs. mine) so there's no telling how long it could take.

I'm frustrated at my own disobedience. Maybe it's not even disobedience. Most of the time it's apathy, which - I suppose - is not what I'm called to, so it is disobedience. I had an experience about a week and a half ago that is probably a little too personal for the world wide web, but it brought light to a dark corner of my soul. Moral of the story is that if you break rank, you'll get picked off by a sniper pretty easily.

Obedience is better than sacrifice because God's the one with the master plan.

I'm frustrated by my rough edges. Pastor made a comment last Sunday about knowing people who are anointed, but rude - and that's not the Spirit-led life. I don't think I'm rude, usually, but there are things in there that I've been noticing more and I can't wait to get them worked out.

And I'm frustrated because I see myself becoming religious. I do a lot of the work, but struggle to maintain a relationship with the Man who died in my place and to wage war on behalf of (i.e. pray for) those I love. That's ridiculous. And that brings us back to fasting and disobedience...

chime in, here

Jesse Phillips left a comment on the last post (ya, a week ago ... I know):

"Interesting thoughts. I'm bummed b/c I think this stuff is totally true - I love that I'm seeing it more, I want the rest of the body to catch-up to this idea, they don't seem to realize it. We're not loving people, Lex. What do you think is causing this? What is the solution?"

I agree that a lot of it is true, and that Christians should see it. Not arguing that at all.

As for the solution. I know what I think is the solution, but what do you people think? I know you're out there. Hit counters don't lie, and I'm interested to hear what you think is going on and what the body of Christ should do about it. I'll tell you what I think in a day or two.