How Long?

I know you are asking today, "How long will it take?" I come to say to you this afternoon however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because truth crushed to earth will rise again.
How long? Not long, because no lie can live forever.
How long? Not long, because you still reap what you sow.
How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.
How long? Not long, because mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword. His truth is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpets that shall never call retreat. He is lifting up the hearts of men before His judgement seat. Oh, be swift, my soul to answer Him. Be jubilant, my feet. Our God is marching on.

-Martin Luther King, Jr speaking after a march from Selma, Alabama to Montgomery, Alabama

Crush of the Week

The first real crush I can remember was on Luke Skywalker. No kidding. I'm more of a Han Solo girl these days, but I can recall the exact place I was seated in my parents living room (on top of the heating vent at my father's feet) the first time I thought "That boy is cute." I could have been no older than four sitting there watching Luke Skywalker crash his X-wing in the into the snow during the opening battle of "The Empire Strikes Back."


The crushes have never really stopped since then ...


I think of a crush as overwhelming feelings of adoration for a person, place or thing, whom for a brief period of time you wonder how on earth you ever lived and breathed without experiencing their presence, and in whom you develop a persistant desire to unfolded every aspect of their being. And then, you get over it.


With this definition in mind, I've had a lot of crushes over the years, and they don't always relate to people.


Here's a list of my current crushes:

• Doug Fabrizio, host of Radio West on KUER. I have no idea what he looks like, nor do I enjoy his show all that much, but each morning when he chimes in during the local news report, I find his voice riveting.
• Coretta Scott King, I'm just shy of finishing a biography of Martin Luther King, Jr and over and over again he explains that his wife and the support she gave him are what allowed him to be the man he was and lean the peaceful revolution that he did. I want to know more about her, and how to be a wife of a man like that.
• Body for Life (I never said it had to be a human being). Um, I never really thought that I would publically admit that I enjoy excerise, but seriously, I've only been doing this program for a week and I can't get enough of it.
• Hazelnut Gelato. Reason alone to go to Provo.

R&R

There's a rainbow and a river outside my door, and the sky is the color I fancy it will be when Jesus comes back. The clouds cover the blue and are so dark they are nearly purple, the living breathing definition of grouchy. But there's light too, coming from somewhere that I can't see, and it's like it's trapped underneath those heavy heavy clouds an it just keeps bouncing and fracturing and shining.

Light never dies, it just goes somewhere else for the time being.

There's a rainbow and river outside my door, and I'm wondering why things are the way they are and why I always wonder why things are the way they are.

We just tried to send my roommates weinerdog down the raging gutter river like baby Moses, but she resisted and flipped us off. It's true, I saw it happen. Then we raced pine cones in the raging gutter river, while our elderly across the street neighbor scowled at us standing at his door in only his short shorts. I waved and he smiled. Sometimes old men aren't angry, their faces just make them look that way. Matt Miller won the pine cone race. Of course.

Mostly, when I think too much or try to withdraw the spiritual symbolism of of standing at my doorstep gazing at a rainbow and a raging river and I remember that God gave Noah a rainbow to show him that He would keep all of His promises after destroying the world, the best thing to do is go run around outside and yell.

Yelling always makes me feel better.

Back in the Saddle Again

I've been a long time gone.


A long time since I wrote anything, let alone bothered to express my thoughts in some way that might make since to another person. Let's see what happens tonight.

I could go through the list of reasons why I haven't written all summer long, that I broke my right wrist and have hardly been able to journal in my moleskine, and if I can't write there, I can't write anywhere else, but that's not precisely true. It's accurate enough that I've been lacking inspiration, but not because nothing exciting has happened.

Lot's exciting things have taken place. Exciting, heart-wrenching, death-defying tales have filled my summer nights (not so much the summer days, still spending those trapped inside an office), but it seems that I still have nothing notable worth reporting.

Mostly, I've been distracted and distractable. I've been looking for any sort of excuse not to engage with my God in a real and meaningful way. If seasons have names, this has been the Summer of the White-Washed Tomb. I am the white-washed tomb, clean on the outside, but filthy on the inside.

I've spent my summer full of my own pride, of my own deceit, of my own ambition and my own ignorance. For most of these days in between then and now, I've been running away from the truth that I've known all along.

I still don't trust God.

I know he's in control. I know that his plan will prevail. I have entrusted my soul, and the remainder of my life into his hands, but I don't trust him. I can't figure out why. I know his character. I know all the Bible verses. I see the creation, I've heard his promises. Hell, I've taught his promises.

This place that I'm in, that I've been for so long but am just now willing to admit, reminds me of a Jeff Buckley lyric (as always, the only thing that I genuinely know how to relate my life to is music) "It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."

Hallelujah means "praise you Lord." That much I know I will do. I will praise Jesus Christ as my Lord. I don't have any other option, for the rest of my life I will praise Him. I've come too far and seen too much to believe there is any other purpose to my life than to follow Him, and it's a bold statement, but there is nothing that will take me away from that. Nothing that will make me give up.

But I still don't trust him. Wierd, huh? Yeah. It doesn't really make sense to me either. There's something in there, deep deep in there, that I can't get out of my heart. And I don't know what it is.

Here's the thing: I did trust God once. (Or did I? When I think back to that time, I often second guess myself). In that time when I trusted him, he betrayed me. But see, that's not even true. God can't lie. He's can't decieve. He can't betray. He can forsake, but he has not forsaken me.

I'm thinking in circles again, my favorite thing to do. I think it's time for me to read what I've written thus far, maybe figure out what the hell is going on with the words that come pouring out my fingertips. Whelp, this all makes alot of sense to me. Probably not to you. My apologies. You can stop reading now if you'd like (Sierra, I know you're the only one who reads this ... ).

Okay. I think I have a thought that might explain where all of this insanity came from.

LOVE KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS

All I've been doing lately is keeping a record of wrongs. A lot of the things I've been keeping record of aren't even wrongs, mostly they are annoyances and inconviences, and affronts to my own supposed wisdom. And this long long list I've been keeping in my mind has been puffing and puffing me up with my own self-righteousness, my own vanity, and my own -----

And it's true what my best friend said from across the kitchen table, that the weight of this realization is crushing, that I am completely and totally insuffiecient in the way that I love. My love is not unconditional. (Funny that not many days before I shouted to this same friend over the phone that I of all people knew how to love unconditionally. I'm so full of shit.)

I know I'm supposed to end this with some sort of moral. Some sort of analogy about how God always wins, and even the worst kinds of pain are bearable because someday, I'll get to heaven and all this will be over. That's true. But don't have it in me to try to package all this up in a lovely little metaphor about life or trees or dreams or anything like that.

Maybe it's not that I don't trust God right now. (But secretly, deep down I think that might be it, and it scares me that I don't know how to fix it.) Maybe it's the fact that I don't have any hope right now. Maybe it's that I don't have hope that God will come through on his promises for ME, that one day I will stop treading water and be able to rest. Because that's all I really want. Is just a little rest.

It seems that's not what God wants for me though.

I am a spoiled selfish child. I always have been. I pray to God that I won't always will be.

Sorry for the ramble. My sincere apologies to to whoever made it this far (Sierra ... ).

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.

Some Pretty Remarkable Statistics

These are from an article on Burnside Writers Collective, which has recently been rocking my world. The four of you who read this, should go read that. Particularly you.

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Pretty Remarkable Statistic #1: 1.1 billion people are without safe drinking water, while Americans consume 26 billion liters of BOTTLED water annually.

Pretty Remarkable Statistic #2: Every 16 seconds somewhere in the world someone dies of hunger, while 2 out of 3 Americans are considered overweight.

Pretty Remarkable Statistic #3: Americans spend more annually on trash bags than nearly half the world does on ALL goods.

Pretty Remarkable Statistic #4: An estimated 22 million people died from preventable disease in 2001; 10 million were children.

Pretty Remarkable Statistic #5: 1 in 16 women in sub-Saharan African dies in childbirth.

Pretty Remarkable Statistic #6: 40% of the world lacks basic sanitation facilities.

Consider the costs of eradicating some of these needs:

The cost of basic education for all: $6 billion.

The cost of water and sanitation for all: $10 billion.

The cost of reproductive health for all women: $12 billion.

Basic health and nutrition for all: $13 billion.

To put this in perspective, consider that Americans spent just over $18 billion on consumer products (largely for Christmas gifts) during the weekend of November 24-26, 2006, which is the largest shopping weekend of the year.

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Sometimes numbers and statistics screw with my head, and quite honestly they can be manipulated. I think these are from a pretty legitimate source. But like my pastor says, numbers equal lives.

I believe that these numbers reflect the most crucial issue of our time. Bigger than the war in Iraq, bigger than global warming, bigger than what Paris Hilton did last night, or when the next Pirates of the Caribbean flick comes to a theater near you. These numbers, aside from the gospel, are the most important information you will see today, or tomorrow or the day after that, because the numbers reflect the status in which our world exists.

Yes, they maybe disheartening, and even heartbreaking, when I actually choose to think about what these numbers mean (millions of people dying without knowing the love of the God who created them) I am nearly paralyzed with sorrow. It seems like too big of a problem to even try.

But more than that, these numbers reflect an opportunity. An opportunity to be used as an instrument of God's grace to extend healing, justice and mercy to those widows and orphans who are the very closest to the heart of God. An opportunity to let your (my) mind and your (my) heart be transformed by the Holy Spirit, because it is only when God renews us from within that any of our outward actions will matter at all. This is not about me making myself feel good because I gave some money to the poor and needy. This is about coming into a deeper understanding of who my God is and what is of value to him.


James 1:27
Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Proverbs 24:11-12
Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, "But we knew nothing about this," does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?

I'm not saying that we all have to quit our jobs at this very moment to go to Africa or India or China, but thanks be to God that we have jobs! And jobs equal paychecks. Paychecks equal dollar bills and no matter the ethics of it, dollar bills equal the beginning of the end of this problem. I do believe that no matter how much money the United States and Europe throws at Africa that the problem will not be completely solved.

All of these crisises are more than just a lack of money or infrastructure or education. These problems are all indicative of the most basic problem that any human being has: SIN. Our world is devastated because of sin and the consequences our own flesh has ravished upon us for generations. Because we at our core are the problem, there is nothing we can do with our own hands that will solve it.

The solution can only come from outside of ourselves. The only solution is the love and grace the Jesus Christ offers us. The only solution is a relationship with the One who made us, and who rescues us from of all these problems that we have gotten ourselves into.