So It Goes.

My favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, died.

He did not go to heaven.

In alot of ways I do not understand the finality of death. No one close to me has ever died. Both of my grandfathers passed away when I was a young child, I did not know them well, but I recognize the the impact those men had on my family and therefore me. My grandmother died a couple years ago. But the ultimate cause of her death, a major stroke, occurred when I was in high school. It was at that time I mourned the loss of my grandma, after the stroke she was not the women who had shaped so much of my personality as it exists now.

But the true shock of death has never struck my life.
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A list. Chronologically, documenting the last thirty days:

• My co-worker's nephew died of a horrible, unknown immune disorder


• A man in my church died of liver failure after battling the dehabiliating disease for nearly two years.


• Another co-worker's oldest friend died a brutal, but accidental death as a result of years of alcoholism.


• Our office mailman died of a heart attack, he was found in his truck in parking lot in our neighborhood.


• The grandfather of my best friend at home died after a sudden stroke.

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And then came Kurt Vonnegut. You would think some of those other events would have impacted me more, but I am a selfish, selfish girl.

A lot of people might not mourn the loss of a favorite author, but it's a big deal to me. Increasingly, I'm surprised by my own emotions or sometimes my lack of emotions. I felt very little in all of those other death related circumstance. I felt sorrow for my friends, the ones who were still living, and I wanted to share the gospel with them, to give them hope, but everytime I opened my mouth, only air came out. I am ashamed that I cannot give to these people the truth that I believe so thoroughly. If I can't share it with them in a time such as this, what good am I?

It seems in a lot of ways that immediately following the death of someone would be a great opportunity to talk about eternal life, but if I put myself in the shoes of the one who has just been eternally separated from a dear friend or family member, my only response would be "How unfair. I can go to heaven, but my friend can't."

In my mind, I can respond to this thought, I can analyze the truth I know and the character of God and come to a solution: God does not owe us salvation. He gives it freely, but He is not required to save us. Even just writing those words give me peace. My God is truly in control of all things, he desires all to be saved, but he knows that some will perish. This thought does not impact my belief in God, but I'm terrified that it will impact someone else.

I love the gospel, I love sharing the gospel, I love hearing the gospel, I love praying with people in that moment when they accept Christ into there lives. There is no greater calling or purpose in life than to rescue those who are staggering towards death, to hold back those who are being led towards slaughter.

Then, why, now, when it seems there is no better chance to give hope to the hope to the hopeless are the words trapped in my throat?

I keep thinking of this verse:

Romans 1:16 "I am not ashamed of the gospel for it is the power of God for the salvation for everyone who believes first for the Jew, the for the Gentile."

Two things: In that statement alone, it's clear that God extends the offer of salvation, and it's up to us to take it. God does not send anyone to hell. And, the gospel is the power of God. The power of God. The power of God. The power of God.

Kurt Vonnegut went to hell because he did not believe in the power of God. He did not even believe in God.

My friend Micah, who died of liver failure, went to heaven because he did believe in the power of God.

I'm sure Kurt Vonnegut heard the gospel in his life, and I'm sure because of the sort of man he was and because of the sort of mind he possessed he thought about it. And he chose not to believe it. God did not send Kurt Vonnegut to hell. He chose it.

Everytime I consider sharing the gospel, I am afraid that I will say or do something that will be the reason some one chooses not to go to heaven. Everytime. This thought terrifies me, it makes me feel that I will some how be responsible for this person's death. I know the truth is that what I say or do, if done in a loving and kind way cannot overshadow the truth of the gospel. Even if I make a terrible blunder or that person is offended by my statements, they still make the choice.

That doesn't make me feel any better.

I'm still scared.

Father, please give me words.

Now that I'm in my mid-twenties, I find that holidays are a little awkward.

If you get down to it, most holidays center around children. At Christmas the kids dreams of sugar plums, at Halloween they get all dressed up to go trick-or-treating and at Easter they put on their frilliest outfit and go look for hidden eggs. The adults ohh and ahh at all the silly, precocious things their little tykes do, and then everyone eats a whole lot of food.

But as a single twenty-something, who lives far away from her family, my holidays look a little different. Sometimes holidays can be lonely, but often I get the opportunity to choose the family that I spend it with. Like alot of twenty-somethings, I don't have a family that looks anything like the traditional nuclear family. My family, those who I love and long for, are my friends, the amazing people that God has blessed me with and in His divine providence allowed my to walk the straight and narrow beside them.


So I get to do alot of fun, crazy things on holidays, like climb (and by climb I mean ride a tram) to the top of a mountain in the pre-dawn hours to gather and watch the sunrise on Easter morning ...





Shannon the Instigator ... this hair-brained idea was her master plan.

Oh, the enthusiasm that 5 a.m. brings!

Shoved in the tram like cattle ... Even though it was cold and dark and I couldn't see out the window, and we were hanging from a simple pulley system, I didn't get scared, really, not even a little bit, really.

Who goes to the top of a mountain at night in a snow storm?

We do!

The opposite of dusk ...

The sun came up, but we couldn't find it ...

But we did find snow, just what we were hopingfor ...

Penguin Huddle!

Ben the Canadian seeks wisdom and guidance from an Eskimo, sort of ...


All in all sunrise service was amazing, even if the sun did not grace us with its presence. After, we went down to the valley where the sun was shining and it was clear that springtime was on it's way. I won't make the super cheesy Hallmark analogy that life without Jesus is like wintertime, and life with Jesus is like springtime, full of possibilities. Wait, did I just make that analogy? I did, didn't I? Oh well, I stand by it.