light

Have I mentioned lately that the burden of need in the world is too much for me to bear?

I'm unspeakably excited about the house we're closing on in three days, but I caught myself today thinking, "For $100,000 more (not that we have $100,000 more) we could've taken the one down the street, set up a soup kitchen in the basement, and carved out a community garden in the empty lot next door." I know the house we're getting is the one God wants us in, and I love it - but I'm overwhelmed at the same time.

I read this NYT article today. It's long, but read it all the way to the end. When you get to the end, let me know if your heart screams the same thing mine did and we'll go to Haiti together to find that woman. I almost cried.

Then I saw this. I can't tell you how much I want to go. I'm a huge fan of B:WM and I think I heard my bike scream "Amen!" from the apartment across town. I'd give a few toes to go if God said it was okay.

I started to think about which organizations can get more food to more people. Which can dig more wells for the money. Which do what they do in the name of Love. How many children can we afford to adopt tomorrow? How many clicks on Free Rice does it take to feed a nation? How do you go about setting up an orphanage in Africa? Or freeing women who are forced into prostitution in India?

We've determined to stay home this summer and work in the mission field God has planted us in, but $1 can buy clean water for one person for a whole year in Africa. There's too much.

And then I started thinking about the Church in the last days. The earth groans. There will be earthquakes and famines and war. It's not going to get any better. Is the Church going to get any better? We need to. It's nobody's responsibility more than it is ours.

"Feed My sheep."

"Love your neighbor as yourself."

"Bear one another's burdens."

Are we ready for this? Are we lightening our load so we can take on each others? Are we setting up systems for disaster relief the next time it strikes? Are we teaching people? Do we love enough?

Can we love enough? Should we try to love more? There are days when I feel like I can't bear it as it is, and I'm not really bearing anything at all.

I know that His yoke is easy and His burden light and I should just keep doing whatever I can do and not ... what? Not concern myself with the rest of it? Not let it bother me? I'm not trying to let it bother me, but I bump into an article and my heart feels like lead the rest of the day.

I should pray and trust God but I know it's not going away.

I feel like if I could sit somewhere and cry enough it would help somehow.

the assurance of Jesus

I'm reading this book at work called Saving God's Green Earth. It's really good. I'm convicted already. The author constantly refers to Romans 1 - creation testifying of a Creator. He shares the following story. In honor of Earth Day, and because I enjoyed the story myself, I will now, in turn, share it with you:

"While I had come to the realization that there was a Creator, I still struggled to accept that Jesus was the Son of God and that God was the Creator.

"At that time, Nancy and I were living on our family's ranch in California, raising our kids and enjoying life. Nancy came into a relationship with Christ a few years before and was fervently praying for me to come into a full understanding of who Jesus really was (sic).

"Before I found my way to the mountainside that evening, Nancy took me to a musical at a church about an hour away from our ranch. During the musical, there was a multi-media presentation that made a lasting impact on me.

"Now, you must realize that this was in the mid 1970s, and the cutting edge of media in those days were two slide projects that faded in and out simultaneously.

"During the presentation, the choir performed a song taken from Psalm 42 where David was crying out to the Lord, 'As the deer pants for water, so my soul longs for you.' As they were singing this song, the slide projectors would fade in and out images of nature. However, the projector kept returning often to this one picture of a doe with this deep, penetrating gaze.

"For me, the deer represented Jesus - and that image grabbed me like no other. I was so taken by that picture, realizing that the longing in my heart was to come to know God and know for sure that Jesus was God. I wanted to know it was really true.

"Upon returning to our ranch that evening, I was so bothered by that picture that I was unable to sleep. So, I returned to the same knoll on the mountain where I had sat when I was 16. As I approached the knoll, I noticed there was a log there in a clearing. After I sat on the log, I began praying, 'God, if You're real and Jesus is Your Son, would You reveal Yourself to me?'

"As I was sitting on the log praying, I heard footsteps behind me. I was terrified. I had lived in the mountains most of my life and it wasn't unusual for me to take walks in the night and hear strange noises. But on this particular night, I was terrified. I was asking God to come and reveal Himself to me - and in my heart and my mind I felt like God was walking up behind me, so much so that I was afraid to turn around.

"With this paralyzing fear keeping me firmly seated on the log, I hardly moved when a deer stepped within an arm's reach over the log I was sitting on. She walked over the log, moved around in front of me and turned, looking me square in the eyes, just the same way the deer had stared at me throughout that multi-media presentation.

"It was as if He was saying, 'I'm here and I'm real - and I'm answering your prayer.' I no longer needed any more assurance that Jesus was (sic) God's Son. I knew it deep in my soul."

(no title)

I sat this evening and watched this blank text box for probably 20 minutes. I can't think of anything worth your time, or anything I'm qualified to write. But I wanted you to know I tried.

groaning

I thought this interesting:

"GRANTS PASS, Ore. (AP) - Scientists listening to underwater microphones have detected an unusual swarm of earthquakes off central Oregon, something that often happens before a volcanic eruption - except there are no volcanoes in the area.

"There have been more than 600 quakes over the past 10 days in a basin 150 miles southwest of Newport. The biggest was magnitude 5.4, and two others were more than magnitude 5.0, OSU reported.

"On the hydrophones, the quakes sound like low thunder and are unlike anything scientists have heard in 17 years of listening."

Hmm. You can read the whole article here.

Romans 8:22//For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.

shirking

I'm going to do that thing where I blog about other blogs. Yup, deal with it. My reasoning is two-fold:
1. I've been out-done the past couple days. I can admit it.
2. I only have 9 minutes left of my lunch break.


True Love from FC Post on Vimeo.

That is a song/presentation that Fellowship Church in Texas did this past Resurrection Sunday. I dig the song and I really like how they used motion graphics over the video clips. The painting thing - eh.

Church Marketing Sucks interviewed Mark from Missio Dei church, which is part of the "New Monasticism" movement taking shape. (The interview reminded me of an interesting conversation we've been having at the CMS Lab.) I've not done enough looking into New Monasticism to really comment intelligently on it, but so far I like what I've seen. It seems to be mixing my affinity for DIY punk-house life with Jesus. Dare to dream.

One of their projects is the Jesus Manifesto, which is also right up my proverbial alley.

CMS also quoted an interesting take on some branding research featuring the masters of branding, Apple.

Remember the One Prayer video that was up a couple days ago? The website has been launched. I can't quite describe the feeling I got as I scrolled down the long list of churches who have already signed up to be a part of this. Suffice to say it was warm, and a little fuzzy.

The Plow posted a two-part interview with Matt Gilkerson about porn in our society. It's good ... in a really bad sort of way. Part 1. Part 2.

And Seth Godin, marketing guru, thinks I'm cool 'cause I use Firefox.

That should keep you busy.

our house

We're going to try this whole "closing on a house" thing again! With the same house!

The attorneys couldn't make productive phone calls, so Timothy stopped by the house on Saturday afternoon to chat with the owners and see what's really been going on. Is this really their decision, or is this the realtor? Do they know what their realtor is doing? Why didn't their attorney talk to them?
It turns out everyone was a little irritated at everyone else for strange miscommunications. Timothy and Doug (owner guy) talked for a while, both got to feeling better about each other, and Doug said he'd talk to his wife and give us a call.

Doug called about an hour and a half ago. Closing is April 28th! We're going to sign an "as is" contract for the price we agreed on initially, and they're going to give us the cash we need to fix the concrete at closing!

I feel so much better about the thing just because we actually got to talk to the people selling the house. I know realtor's are good and often necessary, but I think the next time we want to buy a house we're going to stop by one afternoon and talk to the people selling it (assuming they're living in it) first.

And I will say I'm relieved (I feel like I've been holding my breath for a month), but not really excited. The way you naturally develop a kind of innate urge to avoid something that hurt you in the past. I'm sure it will all work out this time since we've been through the inspection and we've talked to the sellers ... it's just this strange, irrational uneasiness. Or maybe I'm nervous because we really are about to buy a house this time. I dunno.

Regardless, save Saturday May 3rd for our closing/house-warming party!

prayer

I talked very (very) briefly this past Friday night about prayer. Christians know they're supposed to pray. We know most of the scripture that urges us to pray. We know most of the clever analogies. Most of us would agree that we need to pray more.

And yet I contend that we (myself included) don't understand the heights and depths of the power of prayer. Case in point:

One of the last teaching sessions of a seminar I attended yesterday was on Effective Ministry. The young lady that led the "class" was, at one point, exhorting people to get involved and do something with their teenagers - whether it involved Global Expeditions or not. She made a comment about how she loves prayer, prayer is invaluable, it's powerful, we need to pray pray pray ... but "if we do nothing, nothing gets done."

And at first I was with her. Christians need to mobilize. We need to get out there and put our money where our mouths are. Yes. "Faith without works is dead."

Later yesterday evening, however, I suddenly couldn't decide if prayer fell into the "faith" category or the "works" category. At best, now, I think it's maybe a little bit of both, but it struck me how low an opinion we - Spirit-filled, prayer-advocating Christians - have of prayer.

We say it's invaluable and it's powerful and there's nothing like it and we need to do it more, but do we secretly believe that spending two weeks on the mission field actually accomplishes more than two weeks in a prayer room would? Do we pray in hope and go in faith, instead of the other way around?

The power of prayer is as limitless as our God who calls us to it. I can pray for people I will never meet. I can pray for people who no Christian may ever meet. I can pray for situations larger than I could ever begin to remedy. What would it be like if a dozen people who wanted to go on a missions trip pooled their resources to send three of them while the other nine got together every day of the trip to pray for those who were sent?

Because prayer is not necessarily easy, but we treat it, sometimes, like the warm-up for the "real" work. In James, the Bible tells us that it's the fervent prayers that "avail much." Webster defines fervent as "exhibiting or marked by great intensity of feeling." The Young's Literal version calls it a supplication, which is "to ask for earnestly and humbly."

That's difficult to do. You can't fake fervency with God. A fervent supplication necessitates genuine intensity, earnestness and humility - all of which also have to be solicited from God. I wonder if we can pray fervently for anything without first petitioning God for His heart on the matter ... and from that place, begin to pray.

I realize that someone has to go. I just thought it strange the way we sometimes very subtly communicate our relatively low opinion of prayer.

expelled

In theaters April 18th.

peter vs. paul

Who do you think would win in a fist fight?

Just kidding (although my money would be on Paul 'cause we know that guy can take a lickin' and keep on ... ya). I am on Peter and Paul, but the "vs." was spontaneous and I suddenly had an image of a boxing ring ... over-explaining myself. Moving on:

I've been reading Galatians over and over again recently. Paul writes about his - um - relationship with Peter. It seems, now a days, like we hear a lot more about Paul than Peter. Back then, though, were people like, "Paul's the Peter to the Gentiles!" 'cause Peter was first?

The thing that really struck me was that they both had very similar, clearly defined ministries, but Paul never actually met Jesus in the flesh. Peter followed him around for three years; Paul only got knocked off his ass (pun intended!) once ... by a bright light and a voice no one else could hear.

Naturally I relate more to Paul in this situation, having never met Jesus in the flesh, but what would that have been like? Maybe this is Christian Musing 101, but I'm just getting to it now and it's amazing. I've fallen asleep for the past several nights thinking about Peter and Jesus.

What was it like to follow Jesus around every day, and every day wonder if today is the day we're going to over-throw the Roman empire? What was it like to sit and eat a casual meal with Jesus? Was there ever a casual meal with Jesus? Did the action ever die down? What was that like? What was it like after Jesus calmed the storm at sea and it was just the 13 of you in a boat together? What did He smell like? How big were His feet? Did He eat fast? What do His eyes look like?

It's hard to think about it and not fall in love.

weird

Better is One Day (a Chris Tomlin song):
How lovely is Your dwelling place, oh Lord Almighty,
For my soul longs and even faints for You
Oh, here my heart is satisfied within Your presence
I sing beneath the shadow of Your wings

Better is one day in Your courts
Better is one day in Your house
Better is one day in Your courts
Than thousands elsewhere

One thing I ask, and I would seek: to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells
One thing I ask and I would seek: to see Your beauty
To find You in the place Your glory dwells

My heart and flesh cry out
For You, the Living God
Your Spirit's water to my soul
I've tasted, and I've seen
Come once again to me
I will draw near to You


I am not a Chris Tomlin fan. I don't really know which songs are Chris Tomlin songs. I don't even really like this song. Because I know - let the record show - that this is a cheesy, old song. It was on it's way out of the hip Christian music scene three years ago when I was on my way in. And that was three years ago. I know that this is not cool.

The Wednesday Night Worship Duo (I didn't mean for that to sound so rad, but I went back and capitalized it 'cause it did. Now I'm thinking about the cover of their first release ... which would be on colored vinyl, of course.) used this song tonight.

I picked this song for the pre-service worship extravaganza at my wedding (laced with sarcasm ... if you were there, you know) too.

I would like to here reiterate that I know this song is lame. I know. It's an old, boring song. If there are teenagers reading, I promise we will not do this song on a Friday night.

But the worship team at the church I was at the night I received the Holy Spirit and really got slapped upside the head by God, also used this song. And for some reason - musical muscle memory perhaps - it is ingrained in my spirit.

Because I can very clearly remember standing in the third row from the back, just right of the center isle (just in front of the elevated sound booth with the ugly brown fabric), when they did this song. And everyone was really into it, although I'm sure there were a few who knew it was cheesy then too.

A couple hundred people stood around the room in various bodily positions of worship and declared God's glory and I - "Christian" for all of probably five or six days - stood there thinking, "a thousand? Really?" I was sure it was nothing more than (bad) poetry because the "courts" are usually outside the place everyone really wants to be anyway, and one day compared to a thousand ... I mean a thousand. That's almost three years.

Not to mention "elsewhere" is pretty broad - you're telling me that one day outside the pearly gates is better than three years in, say, Grand Camen? Fiji? All expenses paid? Four-star luxury suit? One day in God's yard is better than that?

I suppose I sound sarcastic now, but I wasn't then. I was genuinely wondering if this thing I'd signed up for was that good at the end of the rainbow. And I can very clearly remember the first time the One on the throne spoke clearly to my unassuming, curious heart because all He said was "Yes" and I was there.

cool

The website he mentions. That's Craig. He's the pastor at LifeChurch.tv.

And Rosa Loves is a pretty cool idea.

delayed

I have seen The Passion of the Christ twice in my life.

The first time I was still Saul. It was a corny church out-reach effort and I knew it, but Holy Spirit was stirring something inside of me whether I liked it or not. I went. I squeezed my eyes shut for half of the feature, and wondered at Jesus being such a good-looking guy for the other half. I cried. Not because my Savior died in my place, but just at the inhumanity of what He - as a man - suffered for whatever reason.

I was pretty sure I didn't believe it, but after having seen that, "pretty sure" wasn't enough. I needed to decide if I believed it was real. It just seemed like a lot was at stake: not a lot of me, but a lot of Him. I wasn't frightened of hell in the least, but I was nervous about wasting His sacrifice.

The second time I was already reborn. I squeezed my eyes shut for half of the feature, and wondered at Jesus being such a good-looking guy for the other half. I cried. Then I got up to lead worship with seven people in the room - five of them on stage.

I did a mental survey of all the worship songs in our repertoire and none were enough. None said anything of value. How could I stand behind a mic, under pretty lights, and - after all that - sing, "Thanks, Jesus - Ya, ya?"

We tried, because it was all we could do. We played one song and then we just played those same four chords over and over and over again. All that I could think about was how ridiculous it seemed to stand on a stage and say "Thanks" for that.

"Thanks" is what you say when someone hands you a receipt. "Thanks" is what you say when someone tells you they like your haircut. "Thanks" is what you say when the bank teller dryly instructs you to have a nice day. "Thanks" is not what you say when the King of kings leaves heaven for a manger, is marred more than any other man, and breathes his last breath in your place on a lonely cross.

So we played the same four chords over and over and over again. And eventually all I could sing was all that was in my heart, "What can I say, and what can I do, but take up my cross, and follow after You?"

simon says

This is awesome. Granger Community Church in Indiana played Simon as one big team, as a sermon illustration last Sunday. You can really only see the green team on this, but there's a better version on GCC's website.

worship

I think I worshiped God "in spirit and in truth" for the first time yesterday ... on accident ... in my car. Maybe it was the first time I really worshiped at all. Maybe not. Maybe it was a new depth of worship. Whatever it was I didn't expect it.

Yesterday was not my best day. It wasn't even my best Monday. I sat in my car for 10 minutes during lunch and cried. Not my shining moment.

After work I sat in my car outside our apartment. My keys are missing. I think I left them at church, but either way I couldn't get in at 5:16 yesterday when I got home. I sat in the parking lot and waited for Timothy, reclined the driver's seat, and skipped the CD to a slow track.

She started to sing, very quietly, with nothing but a piano. I want to play the strings of Your heart, God, come play the strings of mine. I want to sing straight to Your heart, God, come sing straight to mine.

My goal was not to encounter God in that moment. I did not even intend to "worship," as with singing and the lifting of hands, and I knew the next lines were a declaration of God's ownership of her heart.

And I couldn't relate. I have that problem with a lot of Misty's lyrics. Does He really have my heart, or is it just a nice song I sing? Does He really have my heart, or is it what I'm supposed to say when, really, I give parts of my heart to other things first?

As the song swelled she started to sing again and I sang along almost habitually. You have my heart. Lord, You have my heart. Lord, You have my heart, and I am searching for Yours.

As Condemnation began to whisper about what a liar I was, I gently remembered that my God "gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did," and I sang the rest of the song as a prayer - calling to life the passion, obedience, and desire that lay dead within me.

I'm so in love with You.

I didn't have to try to stuff down memories of the bad day I'd had. I didn't have to strain to temporarily forget the problems I'm facing. I didn't have to concentrate on exalting the name of Jesus above my circumstances because my circumstances were not even an issue.

This moment - this random moment, reclined in the driver's seat of my car - was about aligning my heart with the heart of God. It was about setting my steps to the rhythm of His pulse, chasing the vision reflected in His eyes. Somehow everything else just faded away

like I think it's always supposed to.

religion

The Wildesign staff was having a conversation recently about the role of the Church in our turbulent society. Where is the line between relevant and Biblical? What do we do with the prevailing negative attitudes toward our faith? Vast questions to which there are no established answers.

Of a staff of 10, nine are Christians. One is Hindu. One of the Christians asked the Hindu what she thinks of "all this."

I wish I had a recording that I could now, days later, transcribe word for word because her response was astoundingly depressing.

She talked briefly and awkwardly about how she believes some of the things we believe. And Christians in India? Their religion is influenced by Hinduism. Religion is more about geography and tradition than unraveling the mysteries of the universe. It's more a facet of one's existence - a relatively inconsequential one as long as you're a nice person - than a foundation for one's existence. She believes what we believe, she just believes more. Jesus was probably just one of many times that god manifested on earth ... but whatever, "as long as you don't hurt anyone."

I sat there and three thoughts went through my head in rapid succession:

1. A quote from Seth Godin, "Religion is a tool human beings use to amplify faith ... and eventually we often forget about faith."

2. A statistic from UnChristian: Among young adults outside the Church, 84% say they know someone who is a committed Christian. Only 15%, however, thought the lifestyles of their Christian friends were different from the norm.

3. How do you communicate Christ to someone with that mindset?

Am I living like a disciple? Or is it just a job I do? I'm not a secretary when I go home. Do I leave my religion at church like I leave my inbox at the office? Am I in the 15% or the other 69?

Because it is important to live like a Christian. It is vital to build relationships with unbelievers, but as a pastor I admire once preached, "You build a bridge of love before driving a truckload of confrontational truths over it." Sometimes the bridge is enough - not that the bridge is even easy. Sometimes people will see the bridge and walk across of their own accord.

Sometimes you need the truckload of confrontational truths.

decent

And in the midst of it all I think I'm supposed to be learning how to rest in Him.

Because there may never be rest in anything else. Until He comes back and He is all there is, there will always be turmoil. There will always be unrest. Wars and rumors of wars. Unsatisfied longings and vacant desires. Wars and rumors of wars within me.

Because there is a part of me that seeks harmony.
Between body and spirit, flesh and Blood.
Between me and Love. Wars and rumors of
wars within me, but do not fear, He says.

Rest. Watch and wait and rest.

Because we are to be like men who wait for their Master. We are not to grow weary. And in the midst of anticipation and hesitation, uncertainty and disharmony, I am to rest.

Because what greater faith is there than this? That the wind and the seas roar around me and I stand in the midst of it because my eyes are focused on Him. All He requires is my unwavering gaze and He makes the waves firm beneath me.

pause

It's that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when a roller coaster just barely makes it over a peak. Not the first one, because that one you slowly clunk up to. The second one. The one that's designed to get as high as it can get and the cars get slower as they get higher and with just a moment to really capitalize on the anticipation

it dives.

And you know the dive is coming, that's why you don't freak out.

Or when you think you're at the bottom of a set of stairs but there's really one more waiting. You probably pull a funny face because it catches you off guard but you don't scream because it doesn't last that long. By the time you've inhaled you've also arrived so it's not a big deal. But there's that feeling.

Or when someone who calls himself a friend but who really wants to see you dead finds himself on one of those big trampolines with you. You're bouncing along, minding your own business: up and down and up and down. You know how long it will take to hit the mat again until your foe manages to time a jump just right and send you flying. You flail like an idiot and hopefully don't scream like a little girl, but you come back down. There's a moment, though, when you're as high as you're going to get and you just

stop

midair as gravity finally overcomes velocity and pulls you back down. And it's in that moment that you get that feeling.

The feeling is fun because it ends quickly. It's like a single hiccup, or the build-up to a really good sneeze.

But what's really awful is when the sneeze doesn't come. When you can feel it in your nose and you sniff and squint and rub your nose in all directions but it doesn't come.

The feeling is fun because it ends quickly.

Usually.

I've been living in that feeling for the past few days. Every moment I have to sit still I'm suddenly aware that the roller coaster never dropped, the last step never came, and I'm still - somehow- suspended parallel to the roof of the house. I can feel it in my stomach. That obnoxious anticipation.

It's everything. Yes it's the house, but it's so many other things - none of which I can or want to publish. I feel like my entire life got flung into the air and someone hit Pause.

house update

We're not down for the count just yet. Our realtor is a very smart lady, and our God is a very big God. There is hope yet for the house we thought was lost, and in the meantime we've decided to be like Joshua and Caleb who gave a report based on the promises of God and not what they saw with their eyes.

i'm okay to talk about it now

Without crying at you. I know how awkward it is when I cry at you.

We're not getting the house.

The inspector found a bunch of problems. Many were little, two were big.

1. There's water in the basement. The back, cement patio is slanted toward the house, so water builds up and leaks in. The drywall going into the basement is as saturated as it can be. Fixing the problem means pouring concrete under the existing patio to slant it the other way, replacing the drywall by the back door, and removing the mold in the basement.

2. The bathroom is in similar condition. Grout was not maintained between the bathroom tiles, so the drywall around the shower is soaked as well. If you push the tiles, the wall caves in a bit. It's bad. It means tearing it all out and replacing the drywall and tile (which is all over the bathroom).

We said we'd take care of the little stuff if the sellers can lower the price so we can get the big stuff fixed when the weather permits. They refused. (And I just found out their realtor made a comment to ours about how they can't understand why we can't "work out" this stuff.)

So we canceled the appraisal this morning, canceled the insurance quote, and informed the landlord that we probably won't be moving out at the end of the month. And I just signed a form to cancel our contract with the sellers. We'll get our earnest money back, but we're out several hundred for the inspection and the attorney review.

And we're going to look at a couple new ones tomorrow.

I'm okay. I cried for about a minute, but I've been more confused about it than anything else - trying to figure out where God was in all this. We thought we were hearing from Him. Were we wrong? Were we robbed via free will? Is there a miracle coming still? I wish I knew, but I figure:

If we were wrong, His mercies are new every morning and He turns all things to good.
If we were robbed, our enemy must repay seven-fold.
If there's a miracle still on the horizon, we're reminded it's not by our strength.

I can say all this and sound really spiritual now because my husband deterred me from calling down plagues Moses-style on 118 Wisconsin last night. Everything's cool.

the rumors are true

I haven't been here as much and, yes, I've disabled the comments. Why? Because I don't value your opinion.

Just kidding.

I cut off comments for purposes of my own spiritual growth. Please don't email me about my blog. You can email each other about it, you can twit it, digg it, link it to your own blog ... just please leave me out of it.

Thanks. I'll post some real content perhaps tomorrow.