Where do I go from here?

Today I began reading Thoreau's "Walden."

'Who shall say what prospect life offers to another? Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?'

I often run into the parents of people I went to high school with, and I always get the same look when the conversation inevitably turns to what I'm doing at the moment. I grew up in a very affluent town, and so the vast majority of my peers graduated high school and went off to university where they are now seniors. Yesterday evening as I browsed the library shelves (and came upon Thoreau), I met a father. His daughter will graduate from Tufts this year, and in his eyes my life falls so short of what should be expected. If only he could see it as I do, as my Lord does. His pitying look would vanish instantly and be replaced with awe, excitement, mayhap even envy (though I shouldn't wish this sin on him, of course).

Don't get me wrong: I would love to study full time, immersed in a culture of learning and questioning and expressing. I wrestle with the possibility of diving into that environment again, studying English and writing and languages and heading down a career path toward editing and freelancing. But I'm stopped by the other desire of my heart: to be a wife and mother, a career that will not pay off any accrued debt from going to university, yet that is more valuable and dear to my being than any other.

So I gladly serve at the deli counter, saving as much as I can to take a class here and there (I quite over-estimated my budget a few months ago, but thankfully I'll still be able to take English). I'm teaching myself French and Spanish instead of taking the classes, and getting much use out of my library card. My job is looked down on by those with "higher opportunities," but you've read the testimony of the Lord's working through sliced meat. :) My pride doesn't like the assumtions made about me by some customers and by people who ask what I'm up to lately - I struggle to submit to the Lord, to resist the urging need to prove my competence outside this work. My spirit is thankful for the constant lessons in humility. :) Because this is where God has me at this moment, and the possibilities in serving Him through family far outweigh the enticing glamour of metropolitan singleness.

Perhaps it need not be an either or - maybe my thinking is off, and I'm boxing myself in. It's really hard to want to be une femme au foyer while being very single. Obviously the Lord doesn't want me to sit and wait for that life to begin (nor do I!), but wouldn't it be foolish to embark toward a career that could be interrupted within a couple years, leaving a pile of loans to pay off? Am I trying to plan too much ahead? See, if I knew I would be single for the next ten years, I'd go for it. And it'd be awesome! Really, I have no reason to think I won't be single for the next ten years! Ha! Except that I don't want to be. I want to get married and have a family while I'm young and have lots of energy. I see families at the deli with their little ones and I want that so much. Showing kids the lobsters and seeing their excitement to learn about them is often the highlight of my day. I would never give up being a mom for being a career woman no matter how much I loved my job. Nothing could compare. But then, 32 is still young. Eh, who am I kidding. Ha

What to do, then? Pray. Lord, use me here and direct my steps. You know the desires of my heart because You put them there. I can only rest in the assurance that my life is in Your steady hands, and You will indeed guide me along as You wish. But what is my part in this, Father? How do I know when to step out? Right now I just want it to be clear cut and obvious! Oh, me of little faith. :) sigh. I trust You, Lord.

Life. Such an interesting ride. I can only smile and wonder what will come next - really having no idea what God has in store. Even when the daily occupational things are quite settled, the people that come in and out of those settlings surprise and delight. Sometimes wrench and cause internal bleeding. But how good is it to feel?? To be alive?? To care for another person so deeply, even if just weeks or months ago they were unknown to you.

When I first read the proverb that advises to "guard your heart" I misinterpreted it drastically. I used it as an excuse to build the walls up (you know the cliche). Guard my heart against being hurt, being known, being loved - and keep from knowing and loving others. How I rationalized that perspective in light of the whole of Scripture, I haven't the faintest. Except that I wanted to.

Still I war with the tendency to hide myself. Words flow easily in writing, but somewhere between my heart and my vocal chords they get lost at times. There are few people with whom the level of trust is such that what's speaking inside of me speaks outside, as well. Why is this? It's all the usual lies from my enemy feeding insecurity that has no rational bearing. Get behind me, Satan!

Lord, where is the victory? Why is it so fleeting so often? The victory is in You, I know this. Why can I know something so well, and yet not be transformed by it in a lasting way? I so want to finish the fight and have it be over - kill the flesh and bury it, never to see it rise again. Will this be a battle never ending until the final death and resurrection? A wearying thought.

Lord, fight for me - hold me tightly in Your hand, in the Father's hand that I would have the strength to fight also. And may victory come today, each morning even if not the final one. If it is not finished, let it be closer, I pray.

Quick Update

I'm sleepy and about to go to bed, but for those who wonder...

We had the bon fire on Saturday night. Friends from all different connections came and we had a really good time in the Lord. I can write more later. Heath (my brother) was out with us, and my dad. We were praying, and Heath stopped us to share his thoughts on God. My friend Tim asked him if he'd ever asked God to reveal the truth to him, and Heath said, "Yeah, and it tore me apart." or something like that. He saw his own ruin and ran from it. My brother battles constantly. Much sharing of thoughts and truths fireside... Heath went inside and we all prayed for him. Where else could you turn from there?

Quietly watching and listening, my dad stayed the whole time. Through singing, sharing, praying, discussing with Heath, praying for Heath... Dad was right there. Afterward, Dad, Josh, and I stood aside the fire talking about what Heath had said, about the struggle of the Christian life, about the hugeness of God, my dad listening to Josh and me. I asked my dad for the first time, "What do you think about all this?" and he said, "I'm learning, I guess."

He came to Sunday school and church the next morning.

Continue to pray for my lost family. God is working in them; it's only a matter of time. Thank you for all your prayers already. You can see them being answered, hey?! Our God is an awesome God.

It is Finished! The Abiding Grace of Salvation through the Cross

Grace is given to us freely, but only because Christ paid so much for it. It costs us nothing. It cost Him everything. Our gift in return is to live our lives for Him, living sacrifices, BY GRACE.

Ever wonder how much God hates sin? Think for a minute about the two ways His wrath is (not "may be." IS) atoned for: 1. Eternal torture of the sinful being. Dishonoring God (sinning) is punishable by ETERNAL TORTURE. His wrath is never appeased. The justice for an unredeemed sinner's life - for one who dishonors God - is death and damnation. Forever. I was thinking, it wasn't the crucifixion that atoned for our sin. Because then you could maybe reason that a sinner could be tortured and crucified as Christ was and atone for their own sin. They could pay that price themselves. But no. They would die on the cross, and then STILL God's wrath would not be appeased. The only way to appease God's wrath yourself is to be tortured in hell with Satan and his beloveds for eternity! (so it's NEVER appeased!)

2. (The second and only other option): The sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. Christ's crucifixion atones for us not because of how he died, but because of Who He was (is). I wonder if this would be easier to understand if I had a deep and complete understanding of the Jewish sacrifices. How do Christ's crucifixion and an eternal outpouring of anger, disgust, and hatred stand as equal punishments? Christ's capture, torture, and murder took place over the span of days, and yet equals punishment, FOREVER, in hell. It more than equals it, even. It ATONES for the sin, finishes God's wrath then and there. Hell is an unending continuation of God's wrath - there is no atonement through it, no finishing. Unredeemed sinners are in hell forever and it's not enough to atone for their sins. Christ was tortured and killed and that was enough. THAT is how much Christ's death meant to the Father. The Lamb's death is worth more than eternity in hell.

That is the cost of the grace which we are freely given. Christ lived the pain of an eternity damned as He died on that cross. His sacrifice was acceptable and atoning because He was the spotless Lamb. Perfect. Holy. Pure and without sin. He was the Son of God (still is). God poured out on His obedient and beloved Son all the wrath of eternal torture deserved of all the sinners who would instead find new life by letting Him die their death.

As a believer, your sin is atoned for. It was atoned for when Christ died. At the cross, He took the punishment of those who believed, and who would believe. Don't cheat Christ by saying your sin is too much for Him to have covered. If you're God's child, He paid for it! God knew before time, and He knew as Jesus was nailed - He knew as Jesus breathed His last and cried,
"It is finished!" exactly who His son was atoning for, and He punished Him for each of those people. Each of those eternities of torture. Christ took them on Himself. Don't say your sin is beyond Him. Don't say you're evil isn't covered. It is! God GIVES saving grace through His Son's death and resurrection, and He doesn't take it away.

You will be completed one day. Perfected. God has begun the good work in you, and He will continue until it is finished. We are called to walk in the light now - to leave behind our old lives, to die to them and be born again in Christ, into God's family and have new lives. This is all by grace. We cannot turn from Satan and sin in our own strength. What does it mean to rely on grace? I've been trying to articulate that recently. Perhaps it is simply the admission before God that we can't do it - that we need Him - and praying each step of the way, asking for His hand to hold us up and walk us through. Is it all in our heart and mind? A submission?

Truly, as the light of God is revealed to us - His holiness - our own corruption and wickedness are also revealed. But we mustn't wallow in them. We mustn't lose hope looking at ourselves! God's grace is sufficient for us! And we must look at the Cross and KNOW that He has taken the punishment, and He took it so that we could have fellowship with the Father. To wallow in our sinfulness with self-pity and despairing is to discount Christ's sacrifice, and defeat the purpose of it by creating a barrier between us and God! That is not what our Lord wants; that is what Satan wants. Yes, we are sinful and wicked and corrupt. Yes, we are called to change and be holy as He is holy. And we do that by grace, by the power of the Holy Spirit as we bow before Him and ask for help - every minute of every day.

By the Spirit, put to death the deeds of the flesh and live! Living by grace, allowing Jesus to take your sin, you can fellowship with the Father - you are His child. You need not fear condemnation because there is none for you. Jesus did not die in vain: if you are His, your sin is atoned for. It is finished.

Given Grace, Living Abundantly

This morning was perfect for running: cool, cloudy, a few drops of rain falling. I passed the field with pine trees lining along the road: my grandfather's field. As a small girl, after the mowing but before bailing, I'd run through the rows and leap over the long piles of hay waiting to be gathered. Now the field is overgrown with wild flowers and weeds.

I continued alongside the woods and the old stone wall that would have separated properties before this street was even carved, let alone paved and well-traveled. I came to another field, this one a working farm with a barn and cows - the hay already mowed, bailed, and stored. This is my great-uncle's farm. Passed to him from my great-grandfather whom I used to visit with my mom. I'd never met my uncle who now devotes himself to keeping it up. I had waved a lot. Jogging by two days ago, his dog decided to come say hello across the street - by way of barking like I was a threat and he would do something about it. I stopped running and squatted to pet him, and hold him as cars passed. So much for scaring me off! :) I'm not afraid of dogs - perhaps I should be more. But I grew up next to a junk yard that kept rottweilers and german shepherds. Dogs as tall as my toddler's frame, and playful as brothers. I remember being hip-checked by one and sent flying sideways. Landing and giggling, getting up and dusting off. (hyper dogs, and puppies, however - I'm never sure what to do with) Anyway, cars gone and dog trotting back, I waved (as usual) to my uncle watching from his front yard, and then contined running.

To my surprise, this great uncle of mine showed up at church yesterday. I rejoiced, obviously! And at the same time felt deep shame that a man who was not only my neighbor, but family, is being drawn to the Lord and I didn't even know. How have I lived with such apathy toward the hearts of my neighbors - even my family? I have prayed for them, certainly, but I have not loved them enough to let them know.

Sometimes I wonder why You even love me,

And why You ever chose to call me 'child'.

Then I remember: it's by Your sacrifice

That I can say that I am Yours and You are mine.

This morning I ran along my street and felt an overwhelming burden for these people I live so close to, yet am so far from. The Lord may be drawing them, and He may want to use me - I must be willing and ready. I must be listening and responding without hesitation! To be a child of God is to have Life! To be the Lord's is to be set free and full of joy! I want that for my neighbors. Their salvation is my Father's doing - I cannot save them nor soften their hearts. But I can love them, and I can share the reason I wake up rejoicing everyday; I can serve them with great praise that the Lord has let me be His hands reaching. Should He open their eyes to see Him and break their hearts to love Him... well, what glory to our Sovereign King.

Returning home again, I saw my uncle standing by his garage, building something, and today I crossed the street and introduced myself. I didn't mention seeing him at church - he hadn't seen me there. But I looked into his eyes, grasped his outstretched hand, and truly cared about his life for the first time. We're not strangers anymore - not to each other. I pray for his Life, I pray we might not be family only by our blood, but by Christ's Blood. I pray we may stand on the same ground and sing of the same miracle, having spent most of our lives dead to sin, but now given grace, and made alive.

It seemed like I'd run out of second chances,

And they sentenced me to die.

And I was just like a dead man walking,

I was running out of time.

But You came to me and opened my eyes;

And You gave to me a brand new Life!

song lyrics by Third Day

So many causes for rejoicing and mourning going on constantly and simotaneously

My roommate from college is having a baby!! Yay, Stacy! :) She and Paul were married in May, and praise the Lord, a child is on the way already.

I have two best friends from that semester in British Columbia, and several girls I keep in touch with sporadically. Stacy, my roomie, and Karissa, a dormie. We all came to Trinity Western from very different places, were together for a short time, and are now at very different places again. Geographically and occupationally speaking. Spiritually, we are sisters and walking our journies quite close together.

Before going to British Columbia in the Fall of 2003, I had been living in the Bronx. Stacy had been in Africa with YWAM and Mercy Ships. Karissa had completed a year at Dordt University (College?) in Ohio. I grew up in NH, Stacy in Colorado, Karissa in Oregon. (Interestingly, as if for God's own amusement, Karissa visited NYC and walked Fifth Avenue during the afternoon, quite possibly at the same moment as I would have been walking it on my lunch break, as I did everyday. We could have passed each other and not even know it! ha!) So from the corners of the States, God brought us together to the small campus of TWU in Langley, B.C. What a glorious semester, what relationships and growth in a short period of time.

And now, I am back on the east coast doing all that you read about. Stacy is married and expecting (she actually met Paul the first time on the Mercy Ship, though they were only aquaintances then. They met again for a YWAM reunion on campus - Paul lived close by. And what do you know, God brought them together and eventually they became one.) And Karissa is in Alaska for the summer working to save money with which she will join her brothers and a slew of their friends to backpack through Europe for a few months this Fall. What exciting lives lived with abandon for the Lord. I love my Lord, and I love my friends.

There is a connection between Christians that simply can't be understood by unbelievers. Its depth is beyond comprehension unless you experience it. My brother just a minute ago criticized me for bothering to keep in touch with people via the internet. He says I should forget the people who are far away. Move on. They're not real anymore. Well, maybe I won't see them again on this earth. That's possible. But I will see them in Heaven, and we'll be together for all eternity! How can I forsake the ones I love too deeply to describe it? Simply because they are far away? My Lord does not forsake me when I am far from Him. I ignored His presence, denied it even, for seventeen years. Yet He was right there the whole time, and He still is now.

My brother knows not LOVE. My love is not enough to show him. My love - even in Christ - is not enough. Only God's Love, given directly, will be enough. And then he will understand.

Pray for our brother Matthew in Ohio right now

Matthew has landed in Ohio and is there with his family. My heart leaps at the possibility that is in our Lord! Read on...

Two of my cousins picked me up from the airport just as I stepped off the plane, greeting me warmly and playing with my hair. "It's sooo bee-yoo-ta-fool," they squeal. "Oh don't go on about it," I say with a laugh and a wave of the hand.

We headed to my grandparents house straight-away, talking for the entire drive. I am amazed - for my young cousins have... missed me. 'Tis very touching.

My grandfather met me at the porch and seemed to recoil in amazement at the sight of me, his eyes lit up and laughed heartily as I embraced and lifted his frail form - kissing him on either cheek. My grandmother was next, and I knelt beside the wheelchair to greet her in love and affection.

We sat out on the porch in the cool Ohio afternoon and talked for a good long while, sharing news of the family spread out across the continent. Some have passed on and others have only just entered the world. Our family limps along as so many do, with times of grave trouble and sadness - as well as, with blessed news and gladness.

After a few moments of quiet, my grandmother tells me that it seems that I am surrounded by a great light - that by simply coming into my presence she feels a vigor she has not known for a long time. My grandfather echoes this sentiment in his wry-gruff demeanor.

I smile and lower my head to compose the raging emotion within me. I speak slowly and calmly.

"If there is a light, it can only be a reflected one.

I come in the name of my LORD to love and serve you."

Oh, dear Matthew, praise the Lord for His life that is within You. Thank you for being faithful to Him. Father, glorify Yourself in his family. Save his grandfather, that he may bow before You and confess Your name now, while he is alive and not without hope. In the name of Jesus Christ, AMEN.

Shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the Word of Life...

Brother Matthew is traveling to be with his family and dying grandfather in Ohio, and he blogs these words as he prepares to go:

...I will be about the work of the LORD - serving my family in the most loving way I know: by bearing witness to the Truth, giving reasons for the Hope that I know, and fighting for my grandfather’s Soul with all that I am capable. Though his Salvation is my desire, I know the battle is the LORD's - and it is by the Grace of GOD that one comes to Faith, not my clumsy speech.

Now at his life's twilight, my dear grandfather is clinging so fearfully to his life - under the horrible distress of a great dread that he can scarcely understand in total, but still knows well enough within his heart. Despite a long life lived without knowing Christ, he knows that beyond the veil lays something he does not wish to face.

Even as I write this, my mind is reverberating with the Holy harmonies of the Word of GOD. Verses sing through my mind and my heart throbs heavily within the resonant chamber of my chest. O, may I be strong in the LORD and in the strength of His might - may truth-filled words be given to me in opening my mouth boldly, to proclaim the mystery of the Gospel to they that are without hope. May my words be compassionate and genuine; loving and truthful.

Almighty Father, I am ready to make war - in the hopes that there might be peace for those that I love.

O, that I would live this out everyday in my home. Tonight I am weak and weary from fighting. I weep before my Lord and my brethren asking so much, but not expecting enough. This - my self of little faith - will see no glory. I must ask with HOPE and EXPECTATION - ask believing! Yea, it is hard to believe when I search with human eyes, reasoning with human logic... But my eyes have been opened! My heart knows possibility that defies reasoning except by that of Christ.

Spirit, fill me with a faith and hope that trusts fully in the ability and perfection of my God. Show me again how big You are, Father, that I may laugh at my despairing in light of Your powerful Hand. You are Good. You have been good. You will be good. I trust in Your unfailing love, and in my weakness, I am made strong in Your strength. Uphold me, Father, in Your righteous right hand that I might not doubt and sin against You. Glorify Thy name in all the earth; glorify Thy name in my home. In Christ's name only, I believe.

"...he prowls the earth like a lion, seeking whom he may devour..."

I woke from a dream early this morning and as I lay awake a memory came that I had forgotten, and it frightened me all over again.

Only twice in New York was I truly afraid. The first time for someone else's life, the second my own. It seems I had buried the second; it has risen to be dealt with. So I write.

I worked at a Boutique on Fifth Avenue, a few blocks north of St. Patrick's Cathedral in the company of such as Gucci, Fendi, and countless others, all grossly posh and indulgent. The Boutique certainly wasn't as trendy - our clientele consisted more of aging corporate wives and celebrities of time ago. But it was just as gross. Our "most valued client" spent the equivalent of four years' education on her fall wardrobe. That makes me sick. But I digress....

(even now I procrastinate in telling the story God woke me up to tell. forgive me)

On my way to Midtown Manhattan each morning, I took the train. I had about an hour commute in total from the Bronx (walking to the train - or taking the bus if raining or freezing, catching the D while still running express, transferring to the E at the Fifth Ave station....

Here is where the memory begins. At the Fifth Ave/53rd St. station lived a man with a booming stage voice, strong opinions (often bizarre, as well), playful smile (most days), and not much else. I always looked forward to seeing him and hearing the latest succession of commentary (he would ride the elevator or stand at the top of the stairs proclaiming his thoughts to us commuters.). Sometimes he'd be in debate with business men over politics - the sight always made me smile. A couple of times I joined their conversation, but mostly I have little interest in the topic. He came to recognize me and would smile and nod each morning as I rode up the escalator or passed through the gate. Sometimes he'd stop his proclamation and begin a new one with a sparkle in his eye - as if he'd thought of this with me in mind and wanted to see my reaction. Those ones had to do with women. I wish I could remember to share - quite funny in their cynical scorn. Quite sad in the hurt that would cause such cynical scorn.

Anyway, on this morning he stood just outside the train as the doors opened and shared his musings as we herded off. I laughed and made eye contact for just a split second with another morning traveler laughing - in that flash of an instant I saw in the traveler's eyes something beyond friendliness. His mouth smiled, but his eyes bore into mine and devoured.

Not fully sure what to do, I hung back hoping I'd misinterpreted the interaction, and let him get off and go on in front of me. He did. He rode up the escalator ahead - but he turned around and cast upon me the same disturbing expression. Atop the staircase I slowed my steps, letting him gain in distance. How I wished the second exit was open, but no. I had to follow this man.

Once out of the station I breathed a bit easier - at least there is openness to flee if necessary. The subway leads up to 53rd street. Fifth Ave is maybe 50 feet to the right. Along the sidewalk vendors sell coffee and donuts and fruit. Welcome sights all. But across the street he stood waiting. When he saw that I saw him, he began walking toward the Avenue. I quickened behind the crowd at the donut vender, hoping he would lose me in the traffic.

I waited a long minute - he would have reached the ave and been crossing by then. But he had waited, too. We crossed Fifth Ave together, on opposite sides of 53rd, and thank God my friends Ara (one of my managers) and Ariel (one of the stock guys) were arriving to work at the same time.

"I'm being followed!" I cried, overwhelmed and relieved. The man walked on hurriedly. They only saw his back across the street. Too far to detail or place again. Ariel steadied me and walked me into the building, always the protector. There are dangerous men in the world, but there are protecting men, too.

It is frightening to be preyed upon. But the fear only comes if you KNOW someone's stalking. If you know, and you are unprotected.

Perhaps Satan's greatest advantage is that many don't believe he exists. They believe he is metaphorical, a complete fiction. They are not afraid, but how they should be. If this is you, hear me. I beg you. Because if you don't know that the devil is real, then you can't be protected from him, and he is stalking you. You are his prey, and he will devour you. Insecurity, fear (of anything but himself), depression, hopelessness, pride - in anything but the Lord Christ (his Enemy), addiction, LIES.... these are the evidences of Satan's working. Murder, hatred, strife, abuse, monotony, passionless existence; absorption in power, possession, physical sex appeal - he loves them all because they keep the focus off God, Who transcends them all.

If you are Satan's prey, you are his slave. We have two options in this life: live for the Triune God (Father, Son - Jesus Christ-, Holy Spirit) and be free! have life abundantly, getting to know the God who knows you because He created you, Who longs for you to know Him and love Him back; or live for Satan and his worldly things, Satan who hates you because you bear the image of the God he hates; Satan who wants to see you fall and perish not just on earth, but eternally.

We cannot choose both - we cannot love our things in this world, love this culture and its false promises, AND love God. They don't work together. God promises so much more! He doesn't promise an easy life or material wealth; he doesn't promise long life or even good health (Satan falsely promises these things) - but He promises Himself. God - the God and Creator of the universe, Who parted the seas for Moses and the Israelites to cross, Who sent Manna from heaven to feed His people every day for forty years in the desert, Who stopped the sun and moon in the sky for Joshua, Who sent His only Son Jesus to die your death on the cross that you might Live! - this God promises He will be with you always. He will provide what you need, He will give you the strength for each day, He will give you peace and joy that none of Satan's promises possibly can.

And when you die He will say to you, "Move to my right. You are one of my sheep," and you will live forevermore in the joyful presence of your King. To the others who choose Satan and the world: "Move to my left, you are a goat," and they will die forevermore in the hateful presence of their king. This is real. THIS IS REAL! Either rejoice or be terrified, but PLEASE do not sit idly by and let your life slip without knowing. There's too much at risk.

“There is power, power wonder working power. In the blood……” from Duke

If you were to walk around this base you would very quickly notice that there is almost an obsession with one’s blood type. Some soldiers have it embroidered on their helmets. It is written on some other’s name tags. It may be on their uniform and their body armor. It is also found on everyone’s dog tags that we all wear faithfully around our necks and some even place an extra one in a boot just in case. Most of what you see are A+ or O+ the two most common blood types. Every once in a while you will see the precious O-. They are called the universal donors. This blood is coveted for its ability to be given to anyone. It is essential in traumas to keep people alive while the lab is still verifying their blood type and to make sure the blood that they are getting even if it is the same type, as theirs, will be compatible. The other envied type is AB+. These people are called the universal recipients. It is very clear that the soldiers walking around this base and elsewhere in harms way want there to be no delay if they ever need blood. They know that there is life in the blood and if they lose too much of this precious fluid their physical body will not survive.

The dog tags are another interesting fact of war. Putting on dog tags to come over to Iraq, has a sobering effect. (Military members typically wear them only when they are deployed) Wearing them admits: I may be in such a condition that I need this tag to speak for me. It has my name, rank, religious preference, social security number and blood type stamped on it. I saw a case that the tag needed to speak for such a man. He had been injured by an improvised explosive device, IED. There were hundreds of small injuries on his face. When the bomb exploded it sent melting pieces of metal everywhere and many had been stopped by his skin, muscle and bone. The injury had caused his whole face to swell. His eyes were closed shut. His lips were three to four times larger than usual. He looked as if someone had beaten his face with a meat tenderizing mallet; the type with the pointed ends. He would not have been recognizable even to his mother. Seeing him reminded me of the verse that foretold what Christ would look like after he had been tortured. “Just as there were many who were appalled at Him- His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and His form marred beyond any human likeness.” Isaiah 52:4. “But He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities.” Isaiah 53:5. It hurt me to look at this man. Seeing him in this injured state reminded me of Christ. It reminded me of what Christ went through for my sins.

So how do the blood types and dog tags come together in my thoughts. It is the issue of the blood and needing something to speak for us. It is Christ whose blood can heal us, “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.” Ephesians 1:7 and it is He who speaks or intercedes in our defense to God the Father in Heaven. “Therefore He [Jesus] is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He lives to intercede for them.” Hebrews 7:25When my dog tag was made, I would have preferred for it to say next to blood type: Christ’s Blood. Since that is the only blood that can truly save me.

Soli Deo Gloria
More thoughts to come

God is Good!

Well, more awesomeness delivered by our great God:

A few months ago I corresponded a bit with a young man in northern NH who had recently accepted the Lord and was looking for a church... but then I didn't hear from him.

UNTIL TONIGHT! He came to prayer meeting at my church and he is ON FIRE for Christ! It's just awesome to see. And - testimony to God's sovereignty and all around totally mind-blowingly crazy goodness - my friend Andy lives in the town over (his family moved up there recently), so they can hang out and even car pool to church! So good! His name's Kyle - keep him in prayer - and I'm psyched to get to know him well.

Not this weekend but the one after I'm having a bon fire at my house with friends from work and church - please lift this up to the LORD. My brother will be home, and my dad, and I pray especially that Heath may get to know some people his age who love Jesus. Kyle's a musician, too - so is Heath. And I'm inviting George from the deli. Pray that we can both have the night off.

Also really awesome: my dear friend and brother Luke is coming to visit in September. We've been corresponding on and off for a year or so, and will meet for the first time on his first visit to the north east in autumn! God's timing is perfect and I'm so excited to talk face to face with this brother in Christ.

God, You blow me away time and again. I love You. Thank You in Christ's name. Amen.

That's correct: we met online.

Since there are a few men coming to visit church that I've met on the internet, specifically on a Christian dating website, I thought I might post a bit of my "profile" on here so if you're curious, you can know what the basis of our getting to know each other is.

givengrace's Profile (that's me)

Introduction

Hi, brothers. :) So what have you been learning lately? What is the Lord doing in your life? I guess that's what I'm looking for, really - to get to know God more through getting to know more of His people. I hope I may be an encouragement to you and a faithful sister despite my short-comings. If you love Jesus, we have one awesome thing in common, and I'd love to talk about it, whether we have anything else in common or not.

Man, it's so awesome to know that the Lord knows us - what we're doing, where we're going, what we're thinking - that He's right here with us, always. His love is manifest in His very presence. I pray you know His presence - even if you can't feel it right now. Emotions come and go, passion can ebb and flow, but Christ remains. He chose to love us, and He is faithful to that choice. Thank You, Jesus!

Our God is so good! I can't get over it. Hope I never do. Anyway, drop me line if you'd like to chat or write - or visit if you happen to be in the northeast. The grace of our Lord be with you now and always! - Amanda


What I'd like to do on a first date...

We're so priviledged to be able to build relationships rooted in Christ with the unity that we can only know as brothers and sisters in the LORD! I'm actually not looking for someone to date... I would like to build friendships without romantic expectations where we can trust each other because we trust God in each other.

To begin that friendship: come to each other's churches, get to know each other's family and faith family; let's worship together and learn together, and serve together. Normal, daily unromantic things. Become friends. Brother and sister in the LORD. That is a relationship that's eternal and so good whether God leads it to more or not.

I've come to believe that before a man and woman are husband and wife, they are brother and sister, and that romance really has no place outside of marriage. Without a permanent commitment, the expression of romantic feelings and promises is deceitful and sets both people up for disappointment, wounded-ness, and lack of trust in the future. As single women, we have one Romancer: God. He shows us His deep passion for and delight in us everyday.

The betrothed woman has two: God and her bridegroom. Her heart then is her man's to pursue. His promises of affection and romance have solid, permanent commitment to stand on.

So... I gladly will get to know you, but as my brother only, and I as your sister. No expectations for anything less. Deal? :)

My past relationships have taught me...

Do not awaken love... until we're committed to sustaining it every day for the rest of our lives. I've learned that I truly desire and need a brother who will lead me in holiness and truth, and I will follow him.

To me, being a Christian means...

Having life! learning; changing; seeking; family and authentic fellowship; serving and helping... all being the fruits of a relationship with God through Christ because of His perfect Life and willful Death. I love my Lord more than anything. I live for Him, I'll die and go to Him. I have nothing - I am nothing - outside of His grace and truth. Thank You, Father for Your Son. Thank You Jesus for Your obedience and gift. Thank You Spirit for interceding and guiding me in the truth. To God be the glory forever. Amen!

In five years, I see myself

This fall I'll be starting course work with no definite end date or direction, really. The Lord provided my deli job which will pay for a few classes per semester, and we'll see where it goes from there. My goals are to become fluent in Spanish and French, to write something more substantial than a blog entry every couple of days (and this profile), and to build relationships with people I meet in classes and hallways, cafeterias, libraries, etc. I just want to learn and serve the Lord where He places me.

I'm passionate about guiding girls in understanding their worth as daughters of the King, and if a few more girls join the youth group this year, I'll step in as a small group leader. I'm praying the Lord brings them!

Also really excited about a discipleship course that my church started last year. A small group of people went through the program and now they're discipling the next group. I'm being discipled this fall, and then I'll be discipling someone else after, which is a humbling thought, and very special to me.

So much is happening soon - it's awesome. This summer has been a time of deep searching and growth with the Lord, and now He's sending me out. I feel so blessed.

Growing up, I was a dancer (until about four years ago) so I'm quite knowledgeable about the human body as far as physical conditioning goes. Also this fall, if ok'd by pastor and the elders, I'm going to teach a free, weekly Pilates class for ladies using the church facility. I'm really excited about bringing an eclectic group of women together and sharing about Beauty in Christ, getting to know each one and minister to her heart. I'd love to all swap names each week and pray for one another. Simply to bond and grow deeper as sisters - and perhaps some will come who don't know the Lord! Ladies from around town. We'll see what the Lord does!

Missions work is always tugging at my heart there. The Lord hasn't sent me, yet, but I think He will. Something in me aches for other cultures and lands and PEOPLE. I love children - worked at a preschool with 1-4 yr olds for a year and a half before my deli gig and I just love them. Their excitement and honesty, their humor and generosity with love. I would LOVE to go work at an orphanage.

Speaking of kiddos, I also would love to be a mommy. Married to a man of God who loves being a daddy, having children that we're both joyfully passionate about raising in the Lord. At least while they're small, I'd love to homeschool and have our home open to travelers, studiers, small groups: LOTS of fellowship. We could be a family immersed and serving in the body of Christ and the community and learning... travel as a family and learn first hand about cultures, the outdoors, adventure, history, music, art, sports, science... and of course we have the privilege of teaching them the Truth and Awesome Joy of who God is, what He has done, how He loves them, and how they can be in relationship with Him; how to live as Christ did and love others!

We can learn together and teach our little ones what it means to have life, and have it abundantly! What could be greater than that?!

And I pray I may see my brother, father, and nominally-Catholic extended family bow before Jesus as their Savior and life-source.

In all things, Thy will be done, Father. To You be all glory.

My favorite Bible passage is...

The LORD God is a sun and a shield,
The LORD will give grace and glory;
No good thing will He withhold
From those who walk uprightly.
- Psalm 84:11

Everything is given from and made possible by the Lord God. We taste that He is gracious and good because He makes us taste Him as so! We see because He is our sun; we're guarded because he is our shield; we cling to Him because He's given us grace; we walk boldly with Him hoping in His glory; He provides for our hearts abundantly with Himself; we walk beside Him because He upholds us in His righteous right hand! We shall not be moved, and we shall give thanks to the One who is so worthy! Thank You, Lord.

One final thing I'd like to mention...

"What matters is not that we do all we might have done or all we dreamed of doing, but that, while we live, we live by faith in future grace and walk in the path of love. The times are in God’s hands, not ours.

"With this common conviction we will, God willing, embrace [life] with all the might that God inspires in us... May the Lord establish the plans of our hearts."
- John Piper, A Godward Life, part two

The Lobster Diaries: Ode to Betsy

It was a sad day in Seafood. Betty/Betsy, our yet largest lobster, died. Well, she was cooked. We had Betty for at least a week, I think two maybe. She came to us weighing four pounds and left a half pound heavier. This day was hardest for George who loves all animals and particularly loved Betsy. He named her, took her out and held her every day, weighed her and celebrated her growth every day. Betsy was a $50 lobster, but to George she was priceless (hence, he could not buy her). While the other lobsters ate each other, Betty stood alone - the biggest and strongest in the tank. And George was working Seafood when a man came. He asked the sobering question: "Ya got any big ones?"

Ah, Betsy, today your journey reached its destination. After all, a lobster in the tank at Shaw's has an inescapable fate. Like us, they must die. Some perish in the tank - perhaps they understand their coming steaming and lose their will to live. Some are eaten by the other lobsters (yes, these are cannibalistic creatures when in a tank starving to death. Like the climbers in the movie "Alive," they too reach a last resort. Which begs the question, Is there a such thing as 'mad lobster disease'?) And some are killed by us.

It's a very strange experience, cooking a lobster. The customer points to the chosen one (or two or more) and we plunge into the tank after it/them. They swim away in vain - it is a tank afterall, not the ocean. Then they are weighed, one at a time. Some attempt suicide off the edge of the scale, but we're ready and none have been successful. They are then transferred onto the cutting board on the counter. No, we do not torture them, cutting their legs off or anything. It's just a transition point. On the counter they are watched carefully - second suicide attempts are made there. The steaming dish is filled with a bit of water and placed in the oven. Then it's swim time. Or wading time - the water's not very deep. In go the lobsters, and a lid is placed on the dish. The oven door closes. The heat is turned on. The lobsters go from their natural brownish color to a bright red. A very bright red. Blood red. No, brighter.

Betsy weighed 4.5 pounds. She didn't fight her destiny. Her usual feistiness showed itself not. Stoically, she staid the scale. She held her head high as George carried her to the cutting board. She moved not as he filled the water dish, and placed her inside. He closed the lid. Closed the oven door. And Betsy's lovely eyes froze still, her shell became neon. She left us --- in the way only a steamed lobster can: hidden behind the thick paper of a "cooked foods" carrybag.

She is dead and by now digested, but not forgotten. Betsy, you lived a good life, you fought the fight, you finished well. Rest in peace, in pieces below.

Brother Duke in Iraq - July 30

Great questions from the Cradle:

I was asked to see a 10 year old Iraqi girl the other day. She had beautiful olive skin, a very delicately thin body, very pretty brown hair and a hole in her chest from a bullet. I was called because she needed an echocardiogram to verify that her heart was not damaged by a bullet from an insurgent’s gun that violated her chest. To see an injured child brings out emotions in all of us working in the hospital that day. What does a situation like this make me think of?

A lot of things!!! Bear with me while I set up some background.

The latest polls state that 61% of Iraqis believe the country is going in the right direction. 58% of US citizens do not believe there will ever be a democratic Iraq. There are a couple of disconnects in the poll results. One is Iraqis are eye witnesses and the US is reacting to the news media, which is consistently showcasing the work of the insurgency. The other is that what the US population and what the Iraqis consider the right direction may not be the same thing.

I think what is discouraging the US population is the daily attacks of the insurgents and claims that we are making little head way in improving Iraq. There are some facts surrounding the current conditions in Iraq that are rarely discussed by the media. First of all, there is steady progress in the rebuilding of Iraq: power, water, education, sewage are all improving. There are two reasons why the improvements are not occurring more quickly:

1) Insurgents are purposely targeting projects that improve the quality of the Iraqi’s lives e.g., blowing up a water pumping station

2) Most of the reconstruction plans the US had counted on, included the work of non-governmental organizations or NGOs.

Many NGOs had lined up to work on everything from medical care to education and were anxious to see the condition of the Iraqi people improve after years of neglect due to war and the greed and corruption of the leaders. As I have flown over Iraq I have seen probably a hundred palaces which are juxtaposed with slums. So what happened to the NGOs? Many have left due to the efforts of the insurgents targeting aid workers. I hope people can see how the insurgents are directly responsible for the lack of the Iraqi’s lives improving more quickly. What does the media report? The most recent report I saw was quoting the Council for Foreign Relations said the US failed to plan for the reconstruction of Iraq. I disagree. What has happened is that the insurgents have been very effective at slowing the reconstruction either directly or indirectly. It appears that they would rather have the Iraqi people poor, sick, uneducated, and under bondage, than free.

I once again ask why aren’t the Arab nations condemning the actions of the insurgents? The toll on the US Military is really quite small but the effect on the Iraqis is profound. It is clear to those of us here that innocent civilians are getting most of the insurgent’s wrath. Where are all of the “peace loving Muslims”? A recent poll in Britain showed that 25% of the Muslims living in Britain supported the work of the terrorist’s efforts in London on 7/7/2005. I do not hear very much from the other 75%. I would imagine that the number supporting the terrorists would be much higher in predominantly Islamic nations.

Why aren’t the rich Arab nations working harder to improve the plight of their fellow Arabs; since, it seems they do not want the US or NGOs to do it? The Palestinians in the Gaza strip are a great example of their failure. The living conditions have been described as deplorable. Instead of holding the Arab nations accountable, Israel is often blamed for the living conditions of the Palestinians. The failure of the Arabs to take care of their own has been repeatedly demonstrated since the 1940’s and they have been blaming Israel for their failure.

The reason I bring this issue up is because it is part of the history and culture that I believe is driving the current situation. With oil above 50 dollars a barrel many of the Arab nations have had a dramatic increase in their profits. Where do those profits go? In part to Palaces and lifestyles that are inconceivable to 99% of the population and obviously some make their way to financing the weapons of insurgents, everything from make shift bombs to bullets. Bullets like the one that ripped through the little Iraqi girl’s chest and severely damaged her left lung. It is clear that the US cares for the lives of the children of Iraq. We received this girl after the Iraqi hospital didn’t feel they could care for her. They knew we would and we could. The Coalition has hospitals that care for US soldiers, insurgents, and innocent civilians just like this precious little girl. I consider it an honor to be allowed to be a part of this girls care.

As of yet I have not heard of the insurgents opening a hospital to care for the all of the innocent people their bombs and bullets have injured.

Soli Deo Gloria
More thoughts to come

Bronx Nostalgia

Julie and I moved into our Bronx apartment mid-August, 2002. Three years ago - hard to believe it's been that long. Reflecting back alerts the realization that time passes quickly, yet holds so many moments. Like the dreams you have during the seven minutes between hitting "snooze" and actually getting up: behind closed eyes for a brief rest, a lifetime may course.

Here are some snipets of memories:

Move in day. August 16th. It was a steamer. And not clean, backwoods New Hampshire steam. New York City sweat. Bronx sweat. Garbage in the street, urine in the stairwell sweat. The apartment was nice: newly renovated and we were the first to move in with brand new appliances. Tiny, but nice. Fresh paint, new cabinets and linoleum. New bathtub and toilet and little white tiles on the bottom half of the bath walls: as new and naive as we were.

Julie drove out from Oregon with her boyfriend James (from CA) who would be starting at Fordham University in September. Their car broke down somewhere in the midwest and so mom and I moved in solo duo. Man, that was a day. We were in apt. 5D: fourth floor with no elevator. I imagine we were quite the spectacle to the neighbors sitting on the steps at the corner store. Two women hauling mattresses, bureaus, chairs, a table, boxes and boxes and boxes... So many trips up and down, but we managed to finish before sundown. Strong women, we are. Strong and determined. :) J and J made it a couple days later and settled in.

One memory-scent sticks with me, in particular. Julie and I called it the "almost home smell." Walking up Hoffman Street from Fordham Rd, this aroma was always there waiting right at 188th. Maybe it was a combination of the laundromat and the Chinese restaurant, both on that block. In NH, I inhale and smile as I jog past the hay field (especially after a rain or mowing); in NY, I inhaled and smiled walking past 188th. It was a sweet smell. A cozy, fresh-baked bread kind of smell. We loved it, and hopping off the bus or walking back from the train, looked forward to being almost home and smiling.

Our apartment truly became home - a restful place from an often unrestful city. In December Julie found a miniature Christmas tree at the dollar store with white lights built right in. With "A Deep Still Christmas" in the player (lovely Celtic hymns and holiday tunes), I strung a garland of fresh cranberries, and dried clementine slices in the oven. We couldn't afford fancy ornaments, but nature provided just perfectly. We made a small batch of gingerbread to make mini-men ornaments, but ended up eating the dough instead. Our tree would have been crowded by them, anyway, and we both enjoyed the molasses yumminess. I wish I had borrowed a video recorder to capture our little oasis, but it's only in my mind.

Climbing out onto the fire escape easily claims the favorite-wake-up-method award. Originally Julie moved into the room with the escape, but when my dancer friend Megan came to live with us, we traded so that Meg and I could share the larger room. Incidentally, Megan moved to Queens shortly, but anyway, I ended up with the escape and Jules with the cozy nook. Once spring came, the mornings were welcoming, and I would sometimes crawl out the window onto the platform with a pillow to sit on and an afghan to wrap in. There, I'd find an early quietness to rest in before the children woke for school and parents got off to work.

Finding quietness was a definite priority for my sanity in NY. I did grow to love the many people, the rhythms of their movements (particularly of the subway flow: subway rolls, slows, stops; ding, doors open, people walk off, people walk on, ding, doors close; subway rolls), the lights at night, the buildings and architecture, the availability of art and culture, the sound of the cars and voices and music. But I needed quiet moments to just be. In the city you cannot just walk outside and be. Not if you're from the country, anyway. Perhaps city-born folk are so accustomed that they can. But for me the constant presence of others exhausted me. I couldn't walk outside barefoot and do my stretches in the morning air. I couldn't throw on sweats and sneakers and jog along the field.

I went for a run in the Bronx once - carefully dressing so as not to invite anyone, and heading for the paved path along the Zoo and parkway. I was honked at, stared at, whistled at, yelled at, glared at in those few miles more than anyone needs to be in their whole lifetime. (Julie is braver and tougher than I in this regard. A marathoner, she ran the parkway and various other paths several days a week. For me, once was too much.) I quickly learned that it didn't matter how I dressed (whether in sweats, jeans, a dress, or a suit), I was going to be stared at and hollered at. I would be eyed up and down by some, invisible to others. I would be pursued and I'd be avoided.

One group of men brightened my morning walk to the train, actually. They were painters, freshening the facade of an apartment building on 189th, and as I walked toward them one began singing, "Heaven..." the others joined in, "...must be missin' an angel..." and I had to laugh and say good morning. They asked my opinion of the choice of color, and I complimented their work and chatted a moment before walking on. Their attention was gentle. So far from the usual.

Julie and I were the only white girls in our area not affiliated with the university (except through James). We were always met with a, "You mean you just live here?" when we said, "No, we're not Fordham students." Most of the college kids stayed on campus, or took the Fordham van to the train station. Constantly standing out could be tiring, but it also proved useful in getting to know people. They always recognized us. One day I happened to catch the same bus coming home from the train and going to the "big" grocery store later with Julie, and on the second time the driver said, "Hey sweetheart! You're out again?" A tip for getting to know your drivers: greet them with genuine hello and smile, and always say thank you when you get off. Being polite goes a long way. (as a deli server, I know how much a simple please and thank you mean. I truly appreciate customers who have respectful manners.)

There's so much I could share, and I'll write more later because it's good to remember. Let me know if you're curious about anything specific.