Repair.

I read this today and thought I would share. If you're a believer, it will have a very significant meaning:

"Instead of the new earth as our eternal home, we offer an intangible and utterly unfamiliar heaven that's the opposite of home.
When we think of heaven as unearthly, our present lives seem unspiritual, like they don't matter. When we grasp the reality of the new earth, our present lives suddenly matter. Conversations with loved ones matter. Work, leisure, creativity, and intellectual stimulation matter. Laughter matters. Service matters. Why? Because they are eternal. Our present life on earth matters not because it's the only life we have but precisely because it isn't-- it's the beginning of a life that will continue without end.

Jesus said, "I go to prepare a place for you." The carpenter from Nazareth knows how to build. He's built entire worlds, billions of them. He's also an expert at repairing what's been damaged-- whether people or worlds. Romans 8 tells us this damaged universe groans, crying out to be repaired. Jesus is going to repair it, and we're going to live with him on resurrected ground. He's going to repair this earth because he's no more given up on it than he's given up on us."

-Randy Alcorn

.

I beat my eyes till they bleed and fill my ears with noise
i cannot understand
those that bask in your riches
And others that wade in a river of pain

while you fill the sails of those you love
and the ones who love breathe in dead air

but every thought seems unfair
where was i when the stars found their shine
i'm lost in misunderstanding or no understanding at all
my reason crumbles like an avalanche in the shadow of Your grace

but every thought rages against the other
death brings us closer to You
or is it further for some
but it's a bitch all the same.

death is not the end
but it feels like a lie that i tell myself to make it ok.
i can't shake the pain when the truth crashes
with the present.
Truth makes us free… but if freedom feels like this
let me bathe in these lies.

but i don't mean all these things
I live for Hope and I love for Love
and I believe it all works for Good
My heart beats in a transparent box
so I can't hide my demons
But You can cage them 'cause You call them all by name.

so Shepard on, your sheep in the valley
I know nothing of your job
but i will follow blindly
and blindly i go

your words are so foreign,
but you drown out the screams.
so for that I will welcome You
and trust You will lead.

-mp

A Quick Thought.

I am reading Forgotten God "Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit" by Francis Chan, and I wanted to jot down a few thoughts before I continue. I'm just into the first few pages, but something he refers to really struck me as interesting. And I've thought about this before in passing, but could never complete the thought or really piece together the substance of it until now.

Francis begins the book by suggesting how vital it is that we, with effort, read and study scripture as if it were our first time laying eyes on it.

(With some hesitance, he does point out that it is important to note context and the fact that the scriptures were written to a faith based community. Taking an exegetical approach is also important when reading scripture as well... but these are all normal approaches when handling any type of literature).

But his point is that we should leave our "baggage at the

door" when it comes to taking in what the scripture has to say in order to grasp the full meaning. That means all our presuppositions and influences should not interpret the meaning of scripture. His point-- don't allow ourselves to be spoon fed by other sources (ie. pastors, leaders, parents, teachers, friends, strangers, ect.) when the scriptures are here, accessible to all. We are more than capable of reading them ourselves. And for the most part I agree. Further on, we should ask questions and follow up on what we are taught in church, in school, in music, in podcast... or through whatever medium we hear or s

ee the scriptures.

It is this last part that I have chewed on mainly because I have a bruised past with it. In my early teens, I was in a position once where I was being fed a tainted view of the gospel, and was told not to ask hard questions when it came to the parts of scripture that were hard to digest. In fact, I was just suppose to "have faith" and accept what I was being told. And sometimes, my questions would be answered with other questions with an objective to divert from what my original question was... you with me? In other words

, I was receiving a very manipulated fashion of teaching.

Anyway, thankfully, God opened up (through a painful and detrimental event, mind you) a way for me to leave that environment. God placed me in a community where I was free to ask my questions. Some were answered... some were not. Nevertheless, I was free to ask them without being looked upon as "backsliding" or "doubting the faith" or whatever you would call it.

Back to Chan, he quotes the verse in Acts 17 where Paul was teaching and the Bereans were eagerly listening AND examining the Scriptures to make sure what Paul was saying was indeed true according to the Scripture. After learning many things about Paul and fully comprehending how awesome he was, a man who was so faithful and full of integrity as well, a man that could be trusted, yet the Bereans still tested his words to the Scriptures. Interesting...

One of the first things I learned in my Hermeneutics was that S

cripture is THE PRIMARY source. You can read credible books, listen to the most intellectual, hip, relevant pastor/speaker/teacher, sing the most theological hymn.... but without YOU actively holding their message side by side to the Scriptures,.. you are just taking them at their word. Spoon-feeding at its best.

My point--If a man like Paul, during his ministry, was tested in the things he said by what the Scriptures proclaimed... then we shouldn't listen to any

message without testing its content in light of what the Bible says. Further more, teachers, pastors, theologians, ect shouldn't feel offended when their audience or congregation dust off their Bibles and open them to test their message with the Scriptures. In fact-- in acts the Bereans are regarded as receiving Paul's message eagerly. I'm imagining them as having a zeal or excitement to hear Paul so that they could hold what he was saying to the content of the Scriptures. I imagine them thinking if what Paul was saying was true, then this made for incredible revelation! A fulfillment of the prophecies of old! (And obviously, Paul was speaking in accordance to the Scriptures).

I recommend:

Here is a list of books that I've indulged over the past few months. It is a vast array from fiction to theology to autobiography... but nevertheless, these are some pretty great books that I have enjoyed. (The books are in no particular order, but I start with the last book I completed.)

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

(In the process of reading now, and so far so good...)

Light on a hill.

I lift my eyes From the depths of despair,

To a light on a hill that casts oppressing shadows and glares.

Where are your hands? Where is your heart?

Your thumbs are in your pockets, and your mind is a whore.

Your deeds amount to little, but your faith is apparently, transparently strong.

And when you finally wake to find me, I'll be gone

Yes... in your Great Awakening, in your greatest charity, you'll find me gone.

What are your prayers but pledges... what is your love but law--

You'll see these chains won't bend for pride, and your status quo won't change me.

Yes, dirt can breath and dirt has life, and this dirt is my soul you see.

And if you can't work the dirt and sow the seed, your labor is in vain to me.

Because this dirt can breath and this dirt has life, and this dirt that you see- it bleeds.

Oh Righteous is the crown you wear, you placed it there yourself,

And if higher ground is what you're after, your ladder will not get you there.

Buildings made by man's due strength can fall and tumble to the ground,

As do hills by salty seas.

So if you dim the fluorescents of your marquee and open a window to my plight,

Lift your body through the window sill and run with all your might,

Place your toes in the mud of my poverty and be a more radient Light.

*Just something I've been working on since this morning. Still a work in progress. It's inspire by Vincent Van Gogh's The Church at Auvers.

In his painting, the church is bleak, and there seems to be no doors. No way for some to find refuge within it's walls, and no way for believers to go out and

be a refuge for others. A true picture of what many have experienced.

"The foreground of The Church at Auvers is brightly lit by the sun, but the church itself sits in its own shadow, and "neither reflects nor emanates any light of its own."

There are many motivations to do ministry and/or missions, but I believe that the main motivation for missions or ministry (and I almost think that these two words can be used interchangeably) should be Love. Because pure love abides in Christ... and 1 John tells us that God is love, and where there is love... there is God (1John 4:16).

Now, for some, the only example of love is what is seen on TV sitcoms or read in a Nicolas Sparks novels... or the Twilight series. Oh, how those examples pale in light of the Love of God. We, humans, try to portray Love the best we can... we want to be captivated and allured. We crave either crave the pursuit or or the act of being pursued, and since the beginning, God has pursued us. Throughout history, we have played the role of ‘hard to get’ while seeking love ‘in all the wrong places’. But- God not only pursues us, but He beckons us to pursue Him- knowing that He is our fulfillment, and we will find peace, joy, love, and forgiveness in HIM alone.

But unfortunately, daily we read stories and see media segments on people who claim they are ‘christians’. They pervert scripture to justify murder, sexual/mental/physical abuse, theft, selfish ambition, and gain of power. Unfortunately, this is what most of the world knows of ‘Christianity’. If your skepticism of the Bible and those who claim to follow Jesus is built on such accounts, I beg you to search out the Truth for yourself. Pick up the Bible (preferably, a translation that suits you; I recommend the English Standard Version) and read it. The Bible is not only living and relevant and divinely inspired, but it’s also a work of literature and deserves to be read in context like anything else in print. Not only that, research the culture and time period that the events take place... it will help put much into perspective.

My point, skepticism should cause us to search out Truth- not dismiss something on the account of being burned by ignorance. Those who have done the inexcusable (misusing scripture by adding or taking away) only proves the validity of scripture itself (Mt. 24:9-24; 2 Pt. 2:1; 1 John 4:1-- Jesus said there would be people who would do this).

Don’t be lazy and just write christianity off as tainted and corrupt... pursue God. What do you have to loose? I promise that you would only gain the greatest Love you’ve ever known.

Back to motivation, it’s always good to keep the things that motivate us in check, so that we don’t become blinded by ourselves. In terms of ministry, Love should always be a motivation (it’s awesome to have several things that motivate us to do good i.e. poverty, injustice, ect., but Love should always be one of the motives). Even better-- Love should be a motivation in everything we do: our work, our family, our friendships, and our time/money spent. While I type this, I realize certain situations where I have absolutely failed at this just over the past month. And we all will, so don’t get cheeky and think you’ve got this Love thing down. It’s constant re-examining. Sure, we can be nice and kind and selfless and think we are in the clear by thinking that our good deeds will outweigh the bad, but then your motive is not out of Love. It is out of self satisfaction and guilt. Don’t be fooled. Being motivated by pure Love is saying “I’m going to look into the eyes of the the most rotten and detestable person I know and see that it is me staring back. And I will give my life for that person to live even if it’s just for a day. I love them that much.” That kind of Love is only the precursor of the Father’s Love for us. And that kind of Love is a great motivation!

“How deep the Father’s love for us, How vast beyond all measure, That He should give his only son, And make a wretch His treasure, How great the pain of searing loss, The Father turns His face away, As wounds which mar the Chosen One, Bring many sons to glory...” Stuart Townend

My Valentine- Summer 2007

I opened my car door and stepped out. Immediately I shielded my eyes. "Who would wear such a bright shirt?" I wondered.
I put on a smile and walked in the direction of a tall, limber guy wearing a bright yellow shirt with a cobra printed on the front. "Hey, I'm John." He said. He looked like a walking highlighter in plaid shorts. I gave him a friendly, christian hug and thanked him for deciding to help me out. Then I saw that Max was with him and hugged him too. "A familiar face!" I thought.

We made our way into the church to get set up. I was running on less than 4 hours sleep and had only been back in the country for 14 hours. It was the making for a long week. I had been asked to help put together a youth VBS service, and Petty (as everyone else called him) had agreed to help me out. We had never officially met, and I had no idea if the dude could even play an instrument much less sing. But here I was, desperate for any help I could get.

I showed Petty around the fellowship area.. aka, the gym. We plugged in all the usual: projector, speaker, mixer, mic... all you need for a make-shift one man show! And I was throwing in my little bit of knowledge here and there, not knowing that this guy was and still is a brilliant musician and audio tech engineer. Sometimes I think back and blush with embarrassment. (In case you didn't know... I'm married to the guy now). I frantically ran around for two hours trying to get everything in place before time to start. I barely said a word to him as I busied myself in the details and technicality of how everything was suppose to go.

It wasn't long until the kids began to arrive and the stressful part was over. All the preparation was done, and now I could just mingle and talk to teenagers. As I walked around, I noticed how Petty introduced himself to the youth and went out of his way to get to know them. He just seemed like an easy person to be around. I stood to the way side watching him, and then I chuckled to myself at how crazy and frazzled I must have appeared to him. "He must think I am a crazy woman with looks to match." I thought. The first night ended up going pretty well, and I told him that He was better than I had thought he'd be. It came out a little weird, and what was meant to be a compliment undoubtedly came out as an insult. I tried to explain what I meant, and I could tell he was getting a kick out of my rambling. He just smiled and said "thanks."

The next four days were great! Petty turned out to be a great musician and singer. We got to know each other pretty well over course of those days, and we continued to hang out even after VBS was over. I could totally tell he was starting to like me... and I must admit that I kinda liked him back.

This all happened coming on 4 years ago. Today is Valentines Day, and honestly, I've never been that big of a fan. But I can't help but reminisce on the first day I met Petty-- my boyfriend, my best friend, my fiance, my husband... my Valentine. I hate being sappy, but I do love this boy with all my heart... always.

Little brother- 1992

He was only 3, and we were best pals. We would play together right before bedtime. One night we were wrestling, and he tickled my feet. I reacted with a kick not knowing his little face was inches away. The jolt of my heel knocked his four front baby teeth loose... a little too loose. He lost them that night. I hid under the bed, out of sight from my mom, while he cried and screamed. I could only imagine how much trouble I was going to be in.

Mom came in and examined the damage. It took 3 more years for his grown-up teeth to replace the gaping hole in his smile. Tonight we had dinner together, and we laughed and reminisced. And I feel guilty when I think about that night... but I'd never let him know that.

God's biscuits- 1990ish

I have always loved singing in the car at the top of my lungs to the radio (a guilty pleasure). I grew up listening to light rock and country (typical of a child raised in the south) simply because that's what my mom listened to in the car. Thankfully i've expanded my horizons when it comes to music, and if you know me at all, you know that I really LOVE music!

I was in the car with my mom and the song "Unanswered Prayers" by Garth Brooks came on the radio. Mom turned up the volume just a tad. She gave me a wink, and I cleared my throat. The song was fairly new at the time, and I loved it. I wanted to impress my mom, so at the chorus where Garth ever-so smoothly sings the lyrics, "Some of God's greatest gifts…" I belted in a proud and confident voice "Some of God's great biscuits!" Until I was about seven, I always assumed that the song was about God making biscuits in Heaven. Go figure.

Kindgergarten (4k) - 1990

I remember my first day of kindergarten. The memory feels so close that it's almost tangible, like an orb of images that I can reach out and hold in my palm. I was four, and it was almost autumn. I stepped out of the car and the laughter and giggles of other children filled my ears. I smiled and looked up at my dad for confirmation that this was the right place. I couldn't believe that I was a big girl now and I'd get to start school. The world was at my feet.

Another grown person approached my parents, and ten stories above my head grown-up conversations were being had about the daily schedule and lunch times and pick up times. Their voices were distant and sounded like giants mumbling above the clouds. My eyes were focused on the kids playing on the playground. Their giggles were infecting me with joy and excitement. I watched in wide-eyed wonderment. I had picked out my favorite outfit: my red and navy blue sweater with the red heart in the middle, my navy blue pants to match, my white laced cuffed socks and shiny black mary-jane style shoes that had a flower on the strap. My long hair was pulled back with a navy blue head band, but still the slight breeze playfully blew thin strands of my hair in my face. With my hand, I quickly brushed my hair back in place. I was ready.

A kind rumble from above broke my concentration, and I looked up, "Are you ready, sweetie?" My dad said smiling big. I smiled back and said "Yeah." My mom and dad took my hand and walked me to the sidewalk and stopped. The other grown lady followed us, then turned and looked at me, "Hey Megon, my name is Mrs. Hall. I'm the teacher, and I'm very glad that you're here." I looked up at her, then at the other kids, then back at her. "Well, we're going to go inside now and learn some neat things. Can you tell mommy and daddy goodbye? You can play for a few minutes on the play ground until we're ready to go in."
"Her name is mama. I call her mama." I stated.
"Ok, well, mama needs to go to work. Can you tell her bye? She'll be back later I promise." With this, she held out her hand to me.

I looked over again at two little girls on the see saw and then looked at my mom, "Bye, mama!" At that I broke into a wild run toward the gate. I reached for the handle, and then for some reason I realized that I was going to be here by myself without my mom and dad, and I didn't know when they were coming back. For a four year old, that terrified me. My heart dropped and I whipped around still hoping I'd see my parents there. And they were. I took a few steps toward them and then randomly said with a small quiver in my voice, "What are we having for supper? Are you coming back?" They obviously chuckled a little and my mom, holding her composure, stated kindly, "Your favorite. Hotdogs, and yes, we are coming back. I promise." And to me, that was good enough confirmation so, I hugged them goodbye and ran onto the playground.

The image of what happened next fades into a blurry mess and nothing is really clear after that. But I remember this portion and often confirm it with my mom. She filled in a few fuzzy spots, but in all, the dialogue definitely happened. It's so funny what the mind chooses to hang onto so vividly, and other moments just feel like they never happened. But I like this memory.

The Bridge-2005

For the next couple of weeks I'm going to try to post one memory a day in a blog. I started thinking today about different memories I have from my childhood or even memories I've made over the past year or two. Then I thought that it would be fun to share them... or at least have them written down in some form or fashion. So here's to hoping I can stick with this in a consistent manner. (Disclaimer: I know I'll miss a day or two here and there, but I do hope to do this pretty consistently if possible.)

A Good Place to Start: The Bridge.

It was the Fourth of July in 2005; I was 19 and ready to do crazy things. I had been out of high school for a little over a year, and I was impulsive. A friend from Florida was visiting in the area, so he was hanging out with my brothers and me. The day was hot, long, and a little too tame for it to be a day devoted to celebrating freedom, life, youth, and liberation. Naturally we began to construct some ideas of things to "get into" in hopes to quench our craving for adventure.

We were lounging on my parents front porch when I randomly suggested we jump off a bridge, preferably one that went over water. The idea seemed logical to all of us. The air was spicy and thick, and our clothing had started to cling in areas we thought weren't possible . So we piled into my brothers silver corolla, and road off with the windows down in search of a nice bridge to jump off of. It was a good idea, we thought. (Warning... I do end some sentences with prepositions. I'm not ignorant; it's just really late).

The first bridge we drove to was one that my brother and I use to fish off of it when we were kids. It was a small bridge over a small lake.. if you could even call it a lake. It's location was what you would call "well off the beaten path". We found a small dirt area to park the car. We scanned the area before we got out to make sure there were no people around... we were pretty sure you could get into trouble for jumping off of bridges, which is why it made the idea so much more appealing. We didn't see anyone, so we crossed the road and made our way toward the bridge.

We could feel the heat rising off the pavement, and it only welcomed the desire to plunge into some cool water. From the edge the surface of the water seemed at least 20 feet below us, but it was actually only about 8 feet. It was a small bridge.
So now it was all down to who would go first. I think my brother and my Floridian friend decided to go at the same time. And so they did. I have to admit, I was a little nervous at first. My stomach churned a little at the thought of falling that far... but it was my idea and I couldn't chicken out. I mounted the guard rail, and with a small bit of hesitation I let go of my fear and jumped. I'm pretty sure I let out a high pitch shrill that was almost immediately swallowed up by the cool, silky lake water. I felt bubbles swimming all around me as I kicked my feet and thrusted my body up, up, up. I broke the surface and gasped for air. A smile spread wide across my face, and I stroked my way to the bank to do it again.

We jumped a few more times, my two brothers, the Floridian, and even my little sister who had tagged along as a potential lookout in case we were spotted. After a few more times, the leap didn't seem exciting anymore, so we decided to take my little sister and younger brother back home and then venture off in search of a bigger bridge with a higher jump.

And we found one.

The drop was an actual 20 feet this time, and it was on a busier road. The adrenaline was pumping, and I began to feel a little unsure. My brother and the Floridian decided they'd try it out first, and I decided I would just drive up and down the busy road in a patrolling fashion just incase we had to make a quick getaway. They immediately started ragging on me for chicken-ing out. And I blushed a little. But I patrolled as they made the first jump. Once they disappeared over the side, I parked and raced to the edge to make sure they were ok. I heard eruptions of laugher and screams of triumph... the bantering of kings.

They raced up the steep bank towards the shoulder of the road with smiles so wide it was contagious. I decided it was now or never. We waited till traffic cleared. We ran to the center of the bridge and mounted the railing. My head began to spin as I glanced down. My grip tightened and I wasn't sure anymore. My brother looked at me and saw my sudden hesitation and fear.
"Don't look down and don't think," he said. Then I blinked and he had disappeared over the egde, splitting the water's surface, and milliseconds later he bobbed happily 20 feet below. I took a deep breath. I didn't jump... it was more like a graceful fall. I felt as if I was suspended in nothingness. A lifetime seemed to pass by before I felt the initial contact of murky lake water.

The force of contact drove me deeper into the water. I felt the temperature of the water gradually drop by a few degrees as I sunk lower and lower into the depths of the lake. The dark cool embraced me and I let my body go limp. I decided not to fight the laws of gravity and let my body rest suspended in the coolness of the deep. It wasn't until the slimy seaweed tickled the bottom of my feet that I made my first attempts to resurface. Only 5 or 10 seconds had passed, but it felt like a few minutes. I sprayed water from my mouth and struggled to wipe away the hair that was glued to my face. I swam to the bank feeling accomplished and free. I smiled big and boasted a little about how awesome we were.

After that last jump, we decided to call it quits and figured we were lucky not to have gotten caught. It was time to make our way home. The ride home was different. The wind ripping through the windows left braille messages across our skin . The summer heat seemed inviting to our newly cooled bodies. We welcomed it a little more.

That night we ate homemade ice cream and shot fireworks in the back yard. We sat on the front porch sipping cola and talking about the day. We watched as the night slowly consumed us. We continued talking even when we couldn't see each other anymore. We didn't care that our eyes never seemed to adjust to the night.
Nothing persuaded us to leave this communal atmosphere. I sometimes think back to this day and become jealous. This is one of my favorite memories of my fleeting teen years.

The First.

I was hoping that my first post would be a little sooner than now, but of course, better late than never, right?!

So far this year, I have finished the Harry Potter series! Now I must admit, I skipped books 5 and 6 simply because I've seen the movies, and I became too impatient. I anxiously desired to know how the whole conflict between Harry and he-who-must-not- be-named resolved itself. Needless to say, I was very pleased with the ending.

Over the past couple of days I've been wondering to myself what my plans are for this year. While I began conjuring up a list of resolutions and ambitious tasks, I was reminded of how foolish and arrogant it was of me to plan in a manner expecting these days ahead. So after each mindful goal I quickly inserted a "good Lord willing" to reassure myself that each day is not promised to me, obviously depends on the perfect will of the Father.

But as much as I'm reminded of how fragile life can be and how my sight of the near future is limited, I can't help but feel excited at what this year may hold.
John will be graduating in a few months, and our plans of serving Jesus overseas fills me up with anticipation and joy. What adventures await this scrappy couple, I do not know! But I trust that Christ will be by our side the entire way.

John and I just celebrated year 2 of being married, and I have to say that I love that we get to start each year celebrating our love for one another and the joining of our lives. Marriage has been a wild adventure, but gosh, I love my husband!

I plan to blog more over this year, mainly because of the amazing changes that will be taking place in our lives over the next months.
Let the journey begin...