Where do you call home?

It's funny...for me, it is here. In this city I am just beginning to discover. In my heart, it is already mine. 
I love it. It has so many issues, so many things that need to be reconciled...but it is mine.
I want to be a part of the reconciliation, of bringing justice and equality.
Inequality criss-crosses the city like chasms created by earthquakes. In the light of the richest of the rich, often the poor go unseen.
 
Open my eyes.


 Hopelessness hangs like smog over the parts of town no one wants to remember.


Teach me how to carry Your name there.


The haves and the have-nots. The satisfied and the hungry. The queen size beds and the park benches-or corners of the sidewalk. The forever grasping, who spend their days chasing their latest fix, longing to fill the emptiness that lurks in the recesses of their silent nights- and the forever unsatisfied who are just as empty, only you can see it. We are all here. Together in this city.

Why are we not out there? Why am I not out there?


Because I am afraid. I am afraid. I am afraid of having to face the kind of pain that ravages this city while we turn a blind eye, comfortable in our ignor-ance. If we wanted to, we would see. The haunted eyes. The bone-weary souls. The hunger that is never filled. But I am afraid. I am afraid breaking the status quo too much. I am afraid of how it will hurt. I would rather protect my heart. I keep being reminded recently that it is easy to give of our words (what do they mean without actions, anyway?), our money (because there's more where that came from), our stuff (because we have so much it doesn't matter) our "good intentions" (which are truly nothing at all)- but it is hard to give of ourselves. We only have one heart. And with that heart, we are to live our lives. And so if what we call compassion doesn't hurt-I'm realizing that it's empty. 

I am afraid. And I don't want to be. I wish I was brave, I wish I was strong...but I am not. I am not.  

I am not enough for this. I never will be. I am clueless as to help, what to do, how to deal with the brokenness that surrounds me.

Because the truth is it takes a God to mend broken hearts. It takes a God to love recklessly, give endlessly. It takes a God to reconcile the irreconcilable. 

His name is Yahweh. I am not Him. 


But He is in me. He is with me. And I'm praying that day by day, He will teach me how to lay myself down on His altar and die, so He can be what I am not. So He can change this city through the hands that are here-my hands.

The Value of Music?

It's Tuesday night (errr, early Wednesday morning) and I'm studying for my astronomy final exam in less than 9 hours, listening to Spotify (which I just started using less than 3 days ago, basically) , checkin' Facebook- you know how it goes, college friends. In all of this, I discovered this little article posted by a friend of mine, about the value of music in our culture. I found it quite intriguing. The question is, as a culture: how much do we value art today?
I should go study, but I have a feeling I will be getting back to this. It's certainly sparked some curiosity in my mind.
So-what are your thoughts? How do you feel about art? Is each piece unique and valuable to you personally, or part of the scenery that surrounds us, like wallpaper-pretty but just there? Do you think about often what goes into the making of the art you enjoy? What about the relationship as a consumer/customer with the artist? What should that look like?


I look forward to your thoughts, friends! Until later....surviving 'til noon is the goal.


(And by the way....I might be done with Spotify. Or re-purposing it. Still thinking.)

"Three Things I Know to Be True"

Three Things I Know to Be True | Jeff Goins


I love this. It reminds me that life is hard and it hurts, but it is worth it. Take a look.

Fragrant.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of Him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among  those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God's word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak Christ.

                                                               2 Corinthians 2: 14-17

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

                                                                Ephesians 5:1-2

I have loved you from the start.

Husband-wife duo. Beautiful.
From Dad's heart to ours. He relentlessly pursues.
{Oh love that will not let me go.}


"Hear my song for you-I will not hold my tongue. 
Open your heart, open your heart-for I have loved you from the start."

...and how can I stand here with You, and not be moved by You?

I saw this years ago...and it left me speechless. I can't explain what it is about it. All I know is every time I watch it, I still get teary eyed.
Plus, there aren't words for how I feel about this song.

Even today, I got distracted from Him. My focus turned to my past, and my heart began to ache. Suddenly , I realized I was looking at other things more than Him. Things that never last, never satisfy. {Oh little heart, when will you learn?} I needed to be reminded. I found this song that's helped stir my heart in its coldest season.


There were still tears in my eyes. I love Him. He is beyond faithful. And He is enough. Even when we don't believe it. He is Restorer, Sustainer, Redeemer, Faithful, Loving, Almighty, Beautiful, Worthy. He is hope, love, justice, peace, and joy all in one. He is God. He is Life. He is Good, the only good. He is Faithful. He is Everything.

Redefining the "L" Word

The truth? I don't like 4 letter words.  Not a fan. You know the kind I mean.


But tonight I realized that the most used/abused 4 letter word is not the one you would expect:

Love.

It is said to friends in passing. People fall into it and out of it on a seemingly constant basis. We love this song and our family and that girl/guy we're interested in and our car and God and so many other things. Personally, I say it too often. I know it. And I am realizing more and more that I have NO idea what it means. Or at least, that our usage of it does not reflect its true purpose. Am I the only one who feels that way? Maybe not.
I don't know what it looks like here in this world of ours...all I know is it is more than most of what I see.

Love is not happy feelings and butterflies. Love is not that electrifying feeling you get when you kiss your significant other, or the warm safeness of holding their hand. It is not even wanting to be with someone every moment.


All of those things die. They do not last forever. They are fleeting and futile, if they are the goal. Because they are only shadows of the true thing, of real love.


I cannot paint a full portrait of it- this thing, this love. It sits just out of  my reach, just beyond my line of sight. I can almost see it, almost grasp it, and then it eludes me.


Here is what I do know, what I can see:


Maybe love can never be fully defined, because it changes day by day, moment by moment. It is constantly re-evaluating and seeking what is the absolute best for the beloved. It is sacrificing. Constantly. Day in and day out. It is most assuredly more than that, but it can never be anything less. Don't cheapen it. Don't water it down so it can be sold for less- so it is easier to handle, to swallow, less painful, less terrifying. It is all of those and more.


Sometimes love means being there when you don't want to. Sometimes love means putting aside your hurt and pain and giving again to that person who has hurt you. Not expecting, not anticipating any kind of repayment down the road. Sometimes love means telling the hard truth. Love is discomfort. Love is willingly choosing to put someone else ahead of myself.


Sometimes love looks like holding them while they cry. Sometimes love looks like holding their hand, not having words, because there just aren't words that do justice to the pain in their hearts, and you don't know words to heal either. Sometimes love looks like whispering in their ear, when they have forgotten who they are, reminding them. Sometimes love looks like sitting in the ashes together when everything has fallen apart. Sometimes it is weeping, because they weep. Love means entering into the pain of another, engaging hard questions that you may not have the answers for-but staying anyway.


Sometimes love is holding on when all you wanna do is give up-when your hands are cramping, tears are rolling down your face, and your heart feels like it might physically be falling apart. Sometimes love is taking a breath, opening your white-knuckle fists, and letting go-because that is what is best for the beloved. Because what is best for them may not be you. Or because they are not, maybe were not ever, yours to hold. Love is not ownership. Nor is it a list of obligations to fulfill.


Love takes courage. Because to love is to die. To willingly give up my rights to better someone else. That's why it has to run both ways to be healthy in this world. Because it is bending, bowing to one another's needs above our own. Love in essence means giving up my rights. My rights to what I need, what I want, how I like things done. It means giving up my plans (and very possibly more-maybe even my hopes and dreams), to be and do what is best for the beloved. It is a constant placing first of their interests, their hearts, their good above my interests, my heart, my own good, my own success. The failure of the beloved is my failure. The success of the beloved is my success.


That list is terrifying. It means giving up your life.

How many kings stepped down from their thrones;
How many lords have abandoned their homes;
How many greats have become the least for me?
How many gods have poured out their hearts,
To romance a world that is torn all apart;
How many Fathers gave up their Sons for me?

It's like He stepped out of the shadows. It is Him! It is Jesus. He is Love. He gave up everything for me, and gave me the freedom to see His love and still walk away. He is the example, the epitome of love. True love.
He died for my benefit, for my freedom from guilt, sin, and shame-from everything that held me, chained. He loved me enough for that. And still is loving me like that. Even now, in giving me questions, in putting me in places to remind me--there is NO love possible outside of him. He is the Author of Life, and of Love.

¹² This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. ¹³Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:12-13)

Whoa. Ummm...but-Jesus, you're You. And I'm...me. There's kind of a big difference in those two. Like, everything. 
"But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."
(2 Corinthians 12:9a)
He reminds us often that He is with us, and for us. His Spirit is in us.

2 Timothy 1:7- For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

He is Love. He is with us; He has given us His Spirit. He calls us to love like Him.


What would life look like if we did? How different would this world be?

I think I needed to be reminded. Of everything. To live love is to live out His life in us. 
*Let me be clear: this is the bar, which I fall SO short of so often. This is what His love looks like, not mine. And what love that is rooted deeply in Him, grown over years and years looks like, though it will always be imperfect too. But with each passing day, week, month, and year, I hope He teaches me more of it. Because as scary as love is, it is beautiful. And worth it.