clarity

Not sure where I stand tonight. I am so happy that I am headed off to India tomorrow with 9 other amazing people. And I know it will be amazing. But I just wish I had clarity on other things tonight. I think it would make leaving tomorrow for India easier. Oh well, God never promised easy, but He will go with us. And if I can't have clarity, at least I can pray for peace. So, regardless of whether it is easy or bittersweet to leave, I will go with my hand in His, my gaze on Him, and His peace in my heart.

what lies beyond the crimson-gold horizon?

journal entry:

December 27th 2007
Stayed up all night, drove to the airport at 4am, only to have my flight get into Atlanta late, and there I am, probably one minute too late to make it through the gate. My patience tried. I haven't slept, I'm stuck in Atlanta 'til at least 12:30 and the guy at the gate was rude to me. And I wanted to cry, only out of sheer exhaustion/ frustration. I wanted nothing more than to get back to Connecticut as soon as possible.....mostly to sleep. But then I sat, turned on music, and what should I listen to but a song by Derek Webb called "Love is not against the law".

And now I remember laughing at the fog this morning at 4:30 am, I haven't ever found fog that hilarious. It was so thick I could only see maybe fifteen feet around the car. And for some reason that was so amusing I couldn't keep the laughter contained. I remember this morning when the plane left the ground, floating up through the thick blanket of clouds, and we, in one instant, broke free. There was the endless sea of white waves, with a crimson gold horizon. I wanted to know what was beyond that horizon, my mind and eyes, as tired as they were, could not even begin to soak in all the awe. I wanted to know how He did it. I don't mean scientific ways of creating. I want to know how one voice spoke so simply and THAT appeared.

I ponder as I look around this terminal, the people and their faces. Have they seen it? Do they realize? Do they realize He did all that- for them (and even more)? Can they begin to grasp the amount of love that dwells in this room with them this very moment? How can I smile enough to say it? I see the love God has for them-every single one. Do they sit oblivious, or do they know?
I want them to know, I ache for them to know that God, our God, created that sea of clouds for them with the crimson gold horizon, just to make their heart skip a beat at the majesty and wonder of the very outrageous thought of it.


~ The time in the airport reminded me, yet again.... That life is more than what we eat, drink, wear, worry about, our fears, or our needs. And it matters how we live each moment, because moments make up days, and our days make up our lives.

new every morning

Father, forgive for the times we don't fully seek you even though it may seem hard, even though it may take more effort than we want to put forth.
Thank you that you want to take our right hands and you want to guide us, and you want us to be so near that you can lean in and whisper in our ear. Thank you for the snowy wonderland outside, thank you for new breath this morning. Thank you for reminding me that there is much more in life that I don't see or comprehend. For the mornings and times that glisten with snow, that make us gleeful to take our first step out the doorway in the morning and our first intake of fresh, crisp air that dances with joy. Thank you for the beauty you created and the things you gave us to perceive that beauty. Thank you for all our tears that fall into your hand and all of our hearts musings and aches and joys that reach your own heart. Thank you that there is so much more to life than food and clothing, and the things we need. Thank you that you have not left it empty, nor failed to provide. Thank you for the opportunity to live in gratefulness (even though so much of the time we do not). And thank you for this all-encompassing good thing which stretches to depths we cannot comprehend. The thing we search and seek for, the one thing we may always be built up by, always have confidence in, always find our being in, and our joy and capacity to give. The one thing we are born into this world to find: thank you for Your Love.

"what then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? Is it God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died-more than that, who was raised-who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,
'For your sake we are being killed all
the day long,
we are regarded as sheep to be
slaughtered.'

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. " Rom. 8:31-39

I could have continued this morning with my thanks, because the list did not end..... Only the clock would have run out of time.....and all my pens, their ink. God left a list of Grace that cannot be finished.......because it runs out into all eternity.

snowy daydreams

We had India prep time today, realized it was lunch time, and promptly abandoned our seats on the couch, but not for lunch. We went in search of a more productive pursuit: Snowball fights. Kendra and I made it outside before everyone else, and decided on a plan of action. We made good use of the garbage cans. We transformed them into our fort. I always knew those garbage cans weren't living up to their full potential. Well, I'm happy to say that today they did.
Sometimes I am so amazed at the simplicity that people are reduced to when certain things happen. Snow falling would be one of those instances. Suddenly there is nothing better to do than to find some sort of creative thing to use snow for. (unless you don't like snow of course)Throw it, jump in it, build things out of it, lay in it, use it to propel yourself forward at high speeds (sledding).....really the possibilities are endless. I guess one of the most amazing things is how joyful and carefree you can become....age is temporarily forgotten and in one moment everyone involved becomes ageless. It is something you should never grow too old to enjoy.

I guess sometimes I forget to really see this wonderland all around me, but one thing that always brings me back to reality is snow. I can never look at it and question what kind of miraculous world I am a part of. I think God gave us just enough things to be completely at home with, and just enough things to completely marvel at. We can never quite lose the sense of being at home....and yet a foreigner in our own country. Maybe tonight my words are cut short, I don't have anything profound to write, and most of the time my words don't come out sounding eloquent anyway. I just know there is something good, something simple in enjoying the snow God gave us that makes Him smile. We are His children, and I think He loves to see us act like it.

van scribblings of the grey days

This week has been a learning experience for me. What do my lessons consist of? Finding out how adventurous it is to attempt and write in a journal while sitting in a large blue van hurtling at high speeds down the highway. My writing from the last three days looks about as intelligible as a two year olds scribbling. ...It's a good thing I haven't completely lost my skills in deciphering.
Monday morning I stared out the window of our van into the greyness, and thought about sheer randomness. Then I read Deuteronomy 5 and 6. Does anyone besides me find it absolutely amazing to think the Israelites could ever try and escape God? Especially in chapter six where He is telling them they should teach their kids the commandments, they should talk about them when they sit, walk, lie down, or rise. That seriously covers just about everything. He even goes to the extent of telling them to write them on their door posts and their gates. Did these people seriously have the memory span of a fish? ( I have stories....fish aren't very intelligent in my experiences....) I guess when considered in the context, it makes more sense. They were really wayward, and they did seem to be apt at forgetting quickly who had rescued them from Egypt. Very apt, incredibly forgetful, actually. But it does always remind me how near God wanted them to stay to Himself. He wanted them to always be aware of His presence, and to always be living in that awareness. They had to continually come back to Him. They couldn't help it and couldn't avoid it when His words were written and talked about everywhere.
Tuesday. Oh, tuesday.
More van writing adventures, in large doses. I remember wondering on Monday about the simplest of questions, at least it would seem that way if it came from the mouth of a five year old. I was stocking pencils, boxes of them, thousands of pencils with the names Rebecca, Renee, and Rachel on them. Companies had overstocked them and been kind enough to donate their excess to World Vision so that they could re-distribute them to school kids in the Bronx who couldn't afford them. And I envision in my mind a five year old articulating this question: "If there is so much extra stuff then why do some people still not have anything?" It seems like such an easy question. Once they are grown up they will understand. Well, I am twenty-two and I don't understand. If we have such a large amount of excess, then why are there still people with practically nothing? You can tell me it's greed, you can quote to me as many statistics as you want, blame it on as many societies, or governments as you want. In the end, it still makes no sense. I am not saying it would be easy to fix, I am only saying the problem should not exist. And if it does exist, we have to do something about it.
I also found out yesterday how much fun it is to give away other people's excess. I never knew packing boxes, figuring out how to arrange them on a pallet in the most 'packable' stacks, and then plastic wrapping them could be one of the best games I have played in ages. Actually, I think it could have been even more interesting if we had decided to plastic wrap someone, unfortunately I didn't think of that until now, which quite obviously is too late.

'Would you walk with me and hold my right hand, and whisper in my ear?'
More van writing on the way back from the Bronx. ....and this time it really doesn't look like anything an adult would write. I think the van was shaking so much it almost fell apart a few times. At the soup kitchen today while we were getting things ready, I glanced up at one of the mirrors that line the walls and saw in it's reflection a plain wooden cross with a red cloth draped across. And honestly, I smiled; I knew we weren't there alone. Jesus dwelt in that place, and He loved it. He loved being among those people, He loved what they were doing there. He was among them, the desperate, the homeless, the lonely, the poor- it was His home. But He was just as much in the Aids home in New Haven that we painted in, and among us when we worked in The Space. And I wonder how often we walk around, blindly seeking Jesus when He is right in front of our face. God help us, what is wrong with our eyes, what is wrong with our hearts when we can't see you in these places? If we can't see you in those in desperation, in the 'stranger' walking down the street, in our neighbor or the person we despise (which we shouldn't, by the way) as much as we see you in the eyes of other christians, what is wrong? Have we elevated ourselves to look from such lofty heights that we miss where God's eyes see, because He, in His love, stoops low?
I don't have any wise answers. All I know is I see Jesus more in the places most people don't want to be at, than in my own comfort. I asked God to walk with me, to take my hand, and to whisper to me, and He did. He whispered Joy, Grace, Peace, Love. .....and His whisper was louder than all the turmoil that surrounded me.

Faith Progressions

"Thus says the LORD:
'The people who survived the sword
found grace in the wilderness,
when Israel sought for rest,
the LORD appeared to him from far away."

I feel like I have been walking through this for a few months now, only the wilderness no longer looks like a wilderness.....the further into it I walk, the more it looks like a thick forest.....life springing up before my eyes. Really it seems like it was there the entire time, but now I've been given eyes to see it.

the flowing of sand

"But as for me, the nearness of God is my good." -Ps. 73:28

I get weary of being safe. It's too contained. There isn't any real room to breathe........ It always seems so enticing- this false security we box ourselves into. There isn't any real excitement in living that way.....why build up the walls so high that even you can't climb out to see what lies around you? Without the path blanketed in fog, you miss the mystery. Without entering the realm of what seems unsure, you can never be certain of what you think sure.
Walking with God never quite seems safe. Good, yes, but safe.....questionable. There's this deep voice yearning inside, and it lets me know that 'safe' isn't what I really long for. I long for something much larger, something that can't quite be held in my fist, something so beautiful I can't fully comprehend, nor the depths to which it stretches. If I could, I might burst into innumerable bits of brightness that reflected what is incomprehensible.
When I lived in Oregon, I used to take walks on the beach all the time. I loved how the wind whipped around my hair.... how the strong trees had grown bent according to it's rhythm, how it designed patterns in the sand. I used to stand out there and watch as the sand blew in rivulets around me. And every time I looked, I didn't see the streams of sand blowing. I saw God calling people to Himself. I saw them all treading their paths, walking wherever it lead, wherever they were guided. From the beginning of ages until the end, all of them walking out their journeys. And I was aware of how unalone I truly was. I saw the story flowing from the beginning, continuing in one endless thread of faithfulness. I saw the story of who we all are being sketched in the sand, and I heard the song of our story being blown on the wind. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, those rivers of sand.
I've been thinking about the nearness of God quite literally being our good. If all good flows from Him alone, it would only follow that His very nearness is our good, our only good, but our infinite good. I want to walk in those rivers of sand.... I want to journey outside the realm of 'safe' and into the realm of real, of beautiful. I want to know what it means to walk the same path that has been trodden down through the ages.........

when words awaken

When you literally watch as words turn into something you can see, it is a spectacular thing. Something resounds inside you. Something has just been transformed into truth, into reality before your very eyes.

It is like watching a wilderness blossom. To have something that desolate oozing life.... How could we have been so blind as to not see its transformation earlier? It is interesting how few expectations I came here with, I thought I was coming here for more faith.... for more- I don't even think I knew or tried to lay claim that I knew all the lessons God would be teaching me. Funny how the lessons never look quite the way you think they should. Faith is lived out in the practicalities of life. For all the knowledge gained from books, I sometimes think the conversations and relationships we have with others reach much more profound depths than they do.

I am sitting on a couch, listening to Christmas music, wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket....with practically no motivation to do anything besides take a nap. Deep thinking is not within my realm of possibilities nor wants at the moment. Which is why I am going to elaborate on thoughts later. Right now I am perfectly happy and content with a couch and a warm fuzzy blanket and peace.
The joys of simplicity.

Searching for a face

"Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words." A glib saying. When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"
'til we have faces' -C.S. Lewis

I suffer from wanting to hide. Maybe we all do. We all want to have faces and we all want to know what they look like. Regardless of how ugly they may be, at least they would be real. And it is typical to see the beautiful masks we are all so apt at painting....or the veils we drape over our faces to hide our own dusty reflections.
Seems we are always hiding from some form of reality if we are honest. Sometimes we just hide from being honest. It is brutal and it doesn't make us look good. Honesty isn't the eloquence we would like to promote to others. We want to be seen for the best costume we can put on. We have disguised ourselves so well that even we are fooled. Then comes the piercing light.....the kind that makes everything transparent. The 'beautiful' masks are really hideous.... the veil hides emptiness.... and we don't have a face until we find the one that has been given to us, and until we have something to show us a proper reflection.... not a dim and dying one.
I am writing again in the hopes of digging out that word. I am searching for a face that more fully reflects the one I was given, that reflects light from the one who gave it. And I am searching for honesty, however brutal it may be, however ugly or inconceivable it may appear through my half-awakened eyes, so that I may see more clearly the one I have been seeking out since this life began. It seems true, that if we aren't willing to have a face, to find our face, that we cannot expect to ever speak face to face with our God. And in finding ourselves we get lost in Him. The paradox continues. This journey seems to have no end, and I am never sure where the next footfall will take me. Let the search continue.....

Why do I write on here as if someone is reading this ridiculousness? I don't even know. I think I'll just turn it into a verbal processing page for all of my thoughts. I need to go clean.