sadness and love

“sadness reveals the depth of our love”

I spoke these words today at the airport, as I put my friend Heather on a plane bound for Canada. Her kindness has touched so many lives and one of the students at the airport was taking her departure kind of rough. I leaned over and said this bit about sadness and she just looked at my blurry-eyed.
I thought more about it today… about goodbyes and hellos and departures.
I’m still not sure if it makes any sense, but my heart seems to understand the reasoning. God has placed in us the desire to love and be loved because He is Love. When that love inside is stretched, bent, or tested, a certain sadness settles in because the love we can give and receive is not perfect. I don’t think goodbyes were part of the Garden of Eden. I don’t think tears at the airport was ever part of the perfect plan. Our hearts are stretched when the love planted inside of us rebels against the world its constrained to live in. And then words come out like they did today, reminding me that sadness can be beautiful too… even just that the broken pieces reveal the One who can mend.
That is my writing for today.
“sadness reveals the depth of our love”
let LOVE FLY like cRaZY
…even if it leads you to sadness

jam-packed

I’m not sure why they say the phrase, “jam-packed,” but I’m sure that is exactly what this day was!

I woke up super early (after saying goodbye to students at like 11:30 last night) to clean, do laundry, and prepare for cousin ANNA to arrive today. Then Heather and I met up with Jess and Danie for a roommate reunion breakfast, which we left in hot pursuit of the airport, where Anna arrived on a plane full of other well-intentioned, big-hearted people.

We went then to Alvin’s house (pastor of Manos Extendidas) and from there to the feeding center to love, hug, serve, sing, teach, laugh, and smile with the beautiful kids.

We waited out a rain storm before we made our way back down the mountain where we enjoyed some bruschetta at a Honduran hippie coffee shop before going to a free movie sponsored by the European film festival. We were all glad we didn’t pay for it, but after we went out for coffee and redeemed the night.

Finally, we arrived home and I hope Anna isn’t too tucked out!

I wanted to share some creative words – a rap I wrote with a student as tribute to Heather who leaves tomorrow. I have struggled, admittedly, with this “Every Day in May” thing while having visitors and entertaining, but can you blame me? Really?

Rap for Primmer
This is a song for Primmer
for the girl we love
the one who plays wild guitar
and always gives lots of hugs

this is a rhyme for the time
when you found me all low
when I was searching for love
and a safe place to go

I was looking all around
turning over every stone
to find the answers to my questions
and ended up all alone

at the point of my sadness
when all else looked bleak
my exhaustion hit me hard
and made my bones feel weak

with the eyes of Christ
you looked out to find
me sitting there alone
with no reason or no rhyme

Now I just wanna say
thanks for taking the time
for listening and helping me
believe it all will be fine

Girl, this year’s been rough
the battle’s been strong
but we know you got our backs
you’ve been there all along

Up there in Canada
where you say “eh”
we know you remember us
in your prayers everyday

when you go back
remember one thing
it’s a LOVE attack
comin from your family

in Honduras we are
(farther south than you)
tryin’ to get through it’s hard
but we’ll manage, it’s true

because you always said
and we’ll never forget
we should strive for the Hope
that conquers all sin

so we wanna thank you and
leave you this memory
remember you’ve always got a friend
and you’ve found a friend in me
——————-

I know it’s completely cheesy, but Natalie and I are about to sing it tomorrow morning at the airport and I’m sure it’ll bring a smile!
What are you doing to ….
let LOVE FLY like cRaZY

pursuing lower pleasures

After a crazy day, an afternoon filled with charades and catch phrase and laughter, and a typically cheesy serenade for the 11th grade girls… Heather and I went for coffee and finally caught up a bit. I chose the Latte Au-Lait, which means I am now WIDE awake and she’s zonked out (getting the sleep she needs so we can leave at 5:45 am to lead worship tomorrow at staff devotions).

I just want to write something quick tonight… maybe it will turn into a poem, but right now it’s just thoughts about pleasure. As I think about the students and this culture and (maybe) popular culture in general, I decide that our greatest sin is pursuing lower pleasures.
I know C.S. Lewis probably illustrated this idea more deeply than my brain can think it right now, but still it seemed a mini-revelation tonight.
God promises in Psalm 16:11 that in His presence there is FULLNESS of JOY and at His right hand there are PLEASURES forevermore. Wow! What a promise!
God promises the kind of joy that bursts out from inside our souls and overflows to uncontrollable laughter… the kind of joy that you can’t keep from showing on your face… the kind of joy you can’t wait to share with everyone you meet… the kind of joy that makes your heart feel like fire and makes you want to dance and shout and play in the rain…
NOT ONLY that, but also pleasures forevermore. God offers us pleasure that never ends – He created us with the desire for pleasures forevermore and He is delighted when we pursue the highest kind. He planted that little seed inside us, in the soil of our humanity, that tries to break the surface and soar toward the sun… all the ways our humanity longs to have pleasure can be traced back to the way we were created in His image to experience pleasures forevermore.
The moment I decide to pursue a less pleasurable pleasure than what I was created for, I am choosing sin. I know, it sounds confusing. Usually we associate pleasure with sin, but right now I am saying that we sin when we pursue less pleasure or lower pleasure. Because I know God created me and placed in me a desire to have infinite joy and pleasure, I know that anything less than a pursuit of THAT means two things:
1. I am not experiencing the most pleasure possible (can only be found in and through God)
2. I am trying to make lower pleasures fulfill my God-given desires for the BEST pleasure (which, of course is a fail from the start)
God created us, knows us, and delights when we are absolutely bursting with joy.
Here’s what I’m praying:
O, that I might be an instrument on which God chooses to boldly play the joyful song of redemption.

.let LOVE FLY like cRaZY.

It’s only Wednesday?

I am exhausted.

I can’t really think right now, but I know I need sleep. My creative writing for the day? I’m working on a rap with a student and we had a fun go of it this afternoon! Writing every day is DIFFICULT!
Lately, I’ve realized how much I read. I read articles, journals, tweets, blogs, posts, books, and more articles that lead me to a little gem that makes me think I know nothing and must keep reading. I realized this when I told a friend today, “Oh, I found this article about guilt by Kevin DeYoung that is really great – you should take a look.” Then he said, “Yeah! You should tell me whenever you find good articles like that worth reading!”
I just stared at him. In my head, I thought, if you are serious then you’ll be getting more emails than you can handle in one day. Between counseling articles, theology, philosophy, and culture, I read a LOT. I take comfort in the piece of advice I remember reading in a C.S. Lewis book – something like a good writer has to be a good reader. So, maybe it’s making me better at the craft, who knows?
Anyway, I wanted to give you a couple things to read or peruse at your leisure… things that I’ve read in the past day or so. My cyber friend (he doesn’t know he is, but we are) Tim Challies does this often and calls it “A La Carte.”
Poison of Quaint Moralism is written by an Acts 29 pastor in Raleigh, NC. He suggests that the South has succumbed to a poison made by their own hands. He says, “Our churches are full of good-looking, upright, moral people. The tragic irony is that our goodness is our poision. A great many Southerners claim Christianity as their religion, mimicking righteousness on the surface while their hearts remain unchanged by the gospel of Jesus.”
Kevin DeYoung gets to the heart of something I struggle with every single day: guilt. How much should I feel and how much is lacking a full view of grace? Read this article and ponder it yourself.
This is not an article, but I hope you will link to discover the musical treasure! I first found Joy when I was looking for all things Philly because my friend Nicole decided to move there. She’s not typical, so don’t expect that.
This isn’t an article as much as it is a new person I am following. I love all the people at the Gospel Coalition (partially because I was there in the beginning – the very first Gospel Coalition conference in Chicago) and I am finding new people to respect, admire, and read every day. His unique perspective and style are sometimes just what I need.
Alright, friends. Enjoy the rest of this crazy Wednesday (and the entire Thursday if you read it in the morning!)
Don’t forget….
.let LOVE FLY like cRaZY.

Jon Foreman, Andrée Seu, Joan of Arc, Peter, and me

I’m super tired. But, these two articles have been on my mind, so I’m going to crank out some processing about them and call it my creative writing for tonight.

In The Huffington Post, Jon Foreman recently wrote an article and then alerted all his twittlers (tweet followers) about his recent journalistic activity. Like the good twittler I am, I checked it out and found “The Dark Horse: Joan of Arc, Elliot Smith, and me” to be sufficiently thought provoking. Not long after, I read Andrée Seu’s article in WORLD magazine after a more dedicated search for her writing. I can’t find a twitter account for her … or other ways to be creepily connected, so I have to do the old-fashioned thing and just search the WORLD website. It led me to a gem titled, “Falling from steadfastness” that has secured a space as one of my tabs ever since.
So, how could these two articles possibly intersect? Foreman eases us into a history lesson, via the web mecca of knowledge (Wikipedia) about Joan of Arc’s visions as a young girl in an English controlled France. At the age when many young girls are learning to drive a car, Joan of Arc disguised herself as a man, and heroically led the French armies to battle and then victories.
Foreman’s conclusion: Joan of Arc was only a hero because there was adversity.
We see the narrative story all around us, playing out in real-time and real consequences. We are all the underdog against this big, nasty opponent called sin. The odds are stacked entirely in its favor and the most obvious and safe and preserving decision would be to surrender before any battle begins.
Foreman is processing what this means for the way we’re tempted to see the world through cynicism and bitterness. We’re tempted to look at the opponent on the other side of the ring and give up before we begin. But, what better time to display our God-given abilities than in the face of adversity?
Because I am so “this generation,” as I’m reading Jon Foreman’s article I’m also popping over a few tabs to see what Andrée Seu has to say and totally digging it. She’s talking about 2 Peter 3:17, “You, therefore, beloved…. be aware lest you fall from your own steadfastness, being led away by the error of the wicked.” Seu calls steadfastness, “a moment-by-moment believing in God” and says that this fall Peter talks about is pretty serious. Then I get down to this little paragraph describing the error of the wicked,
What is the “error”? It is a slightly skewed view of grace that encourages passivity and discourages a striving for greater faith, since all striving—or any muscular “steadfastness”—is suspected of being works righteousness. Never mind that God says to “grow in grace” (2 Peter 3:18).
I read it and moused over to the Jon Foreman tab at the top of my screen and wondered if the articles were working in cahoots. If the error of the wicked is “a slightly skewed view of grace that encouraged passivity and discourages a striving for great faith,” then turning back from adversity is not only making a statement about your view of the opponent, but also about your view of grace.
Foreman’s article ends pleading with the reader to not approach life with mere cynicism, but to see adversity as an opportunity for heroism. Seu’s article ends portraying this kind of heroism in the everyday grind of life… where our view of grace will carry over onto the kind of co-worker, mother, father, daughter, son, and neighbor we are. Seu writes,

There is a “holding on” that must be part of the Christian’s everyday life (Hebrews 3:6,14). “Steadfastness” is not the staunch maintaining of a theological position but something much more personal and difficult: It is fighting for your very life, using every weapon listed in Ephesians 6. These articles of armor were not meant to be admired on a shelf but scuffed up in battle.

And so, at 11 pm, I’m not sure if this makes sense at all, but I just mashed two articles together and came up with this: adversity is an opportunity for heroism as much as defeat. But, to even hope for heroism, one must be with a right view of grace and armored up to go into battle.

snippets, anecdotes, and 7 worst things

Okay, I’m ba-AACK!
Last Saturday, we ventured up the infamous, cloud forest mountain (noteworthy because of my first failed attempt and following lost-on-mountain-adventure). The quaint little cabins welcomed us in the little town of Rosario after the long hike. I was especially glad to reach our destination because we took students with us.
The night was filled with food, conversation, laughter, books, worship, laughter, scorpion spotting, laughter, scorpion killing, worship, and more laughter.
Again, I realized how important it is for laughter to be involved in my life! We woke up early and ventured out to see the sun break through the cloudy haze and then spent quiet time, worship time, reading time, and breakfast time.
We hiked out Sunday morning and we were “sucking the marrow” right out, as Thoreau suggests. I almost collapsed when I got home, if not for the dark chocolate Heather brought from Canada. I took in a Mars Hill sermon, cleaned a bit, and then we made dinner before going to Micah Project. Whew!
So…. I am not making excuses, I just want you all to know that “Every Day in May” took place in my journal for the past two days. Well, that’s not entirely true. On Saturday night, Heather and I wrote a song that will never be sung again or written down. I wrote the words as they fell off my lips and I happily considered it my writing for the day.
Today… well, I decided to go back to the prompts from creativewritingprompts.com and I landed on number 231 which says, “List the 7 worst things to say to a person who just got dumped.”
Hm. It’s not really my cup ‘o tea, but we’ll see how it goes. I do like that it is going to be short, because I am WIPED out! Today after school, we met up with Diana and Maria and played some cards in McDonald’s… then picked up Sara and made some AMAZING orange, mango, ginger chicken with vegetables over long grain rice.
So, maybe 7 things is all I can muster right now, anyway. 🙂
SEVEN worst things you can say to a person who just got dumped (in no particular order)
1. “Oh, don’t worry, that girl I saw him with was probably just his sister.”
2. “Hey, you’ll survive! I mean, I’ve been dumped many times… and you kind of just get used to it, you know?”
3. “What did you do? I thought you guys had such a good thing!”
4. “I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t say I know how you feel, since I got married and everything… but it must be real tough.”
5. “I never told you this, but me and him… we, uh, well, we like each other.”
6. “I guess God doesn’t want you to have a boyfriend.”
7. “I wonder what you’ll do now…”
Hm. I’m a fan of creative writing prompts, but this was completely and unsatisfactorily uninspiring.
Well, I’ll just say it was probably inevitable to have a day where I didn’t love the prompt, the character, or the process. It happens.
Every Day in May Project, day TEN (days eight and nine are in my head or my journal)

Okay, now for that fleeting, precious thing called sleep…

hiking shoes

I just laced up my hiking shoes (courtesy of one of my dad’s successful thrift store expeditions) and I am heading out to conquer La Tigra, infamous cloud forest and puma hangout. We will be hiking to a hostel tonight and then heading back tomorrow.

So…. I am not going to rush my creativity. Today or tonight I’m going to do some very thoughtful writing in my new journal that arrived with Heather and then I’ll post it on here for you to see.
Until then, what are YOU doing this great May day? Please share!

a haiku

I have been struggling these past two days because Heather, my former roommate is here in Honduras visiting. I went from writing fictional short stories to very short poems. But, my commitment was to creative writing every day in May, not lengthy or story or even necessarily good. So, thanks to eHow, I have a haiku to share tonight. I’m not exactly happy with it, but it’s 11:46 and I’m tired. I also had a wonderful day and I think I’m frustrated I can’t be creative enough right now to explain it.
I actually remember very little about haiku poetry, so if you have any brilliant ideas or advice, let me know!
——–
falling drops of rain
each quiet loss slow breaks free
tender, dry earth waits
———
day SEVEN of the Every Day in May Project – to write creatively every day in the month of May!

Tomorrow, I am hiking La Tigra (the mountaintop/cloud forest) and staying a hostel with Heather, Jess, and some students… where we plan to have amazing deep conversations, beautiful laughter, worship, and lots of love!

arrival

a rush bursts out,
stretched across my face
a year’s pain and delight
hold it firmly in place
words tumble like children
down a soft, solemn hill
and the laughter comes quickly
until all content with their fill
the paragraphs crowd stories
and the words in between
are collections of memories
and run swiftly like dreams
the lights linger,
late into the night
cool midnight breezes,
clothe conversations tight
for what have I waited
and for what do I bring
all the days in this year
woven like love on a string
arrival.
———–
This post was written yesterday, day SIX, but I didn’t have any electricity.
Oh, and my friend/ex-roommate Heather arrived. 🙂

the story of a boy and a satchel

This is a fictional story to put human flesh on the boy who gave up his fish and loaves for the five thousand. I completely made up everything, but maybe it will help us see this boy as a person and not just a name in typeface. Enjoy!
——-
Theo’s eyes refused to open. Sleep had sealed them shut and even the obnoxious chickens in the front yard couldn’t rouse him.

“THEEE-O!”
The scream breezed in and halted right next to his ear drums and seemed to reverberate in between his ears. Theo wrapped the scratchy threads of his blanket closer around him and tried to tune out the sound.
“THEEEEE-O!”
In moments like this, Theo downright despised his name for being two syllables. Why couldn’t he be like the other kids, who had good-sounding, tongue-twisting names like Abinadab or Bizjothjah or Gath-rimmon. No one ran around screaming out those boys’ names.
Theo’s two-syllable name made the dull, gray morning even less desirable as he swung his bare feet to the cold, dirt floor. He rested his hands on the side of the cot and took a deep breath with half-open eyes and then slid his feet into leather sandals and laced them up his dusty calves.
“THEEEEEEEEE–“
“Yes! I’m here!” Theo grumbled, just as his sister Hannah appeared with mid-screaming mouth in the open doorway. Theo grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder, barely hearing his sister’s endless chatter.
“…and because of that, I am still not ready to leave to get water for the well and you have to feed the animals because they have been bellowing all morning and you know I also woke up extra early to help Mama because Father set off for the Sea and don’t you remember that today you are going to the Sea of Galilee to be with Father? And–“
“Wait, what did you say?” Theo was extremely adept at tuning out his three sisters, but it sometimes kept him from important information, like today. “Did you say I’m to go to the Sea of Galilee to be with Father?”
“Yes, Theo, of course! Now, feed the animals so they will quit bellowing and ask Mama to pack your satchel with food for the meal. You don’t know how long you will be away today.” With that, Hannah smoothed her long mantle and tucked some stray, wind-swept strands into her chocolate braid.
Theo, with the news of his day’s agenda, startled himself into wakefulness and went about the morning chores all the time thinking about the gathering at the Sea of Galilee. His strong, calloused hands worked the burlap bags easily and before his sister could return to pester him, he had already finished. He rushed back inside, sending a cloud of smoke to cover him head to toe, and went in search of Mama.
“Mama! I’m to meet Father today at the gathering over at the Sea of Galilee. What have you to send with me for food? …But, I must hurry!” Theo had only heard rumors about all the commotion about prophets in the region lately, but he knew enough to know that the gathering at the Sea would be more interesting than a day working at home. A day at home would be filled to the brim with mundane chores and errands and two-syllables screams.
“Okay, okay. Calm down, Theo,” as she spoke Mama moved toward the kitchen to retrieve two fish from the ice drawer and loaves of barley bread from the pantry. “Take these to your father and bring back a full report. Even if your father doesn’t return tonight, I want you to be back before twilight, do you hear?”
“Mama, do I really bring fish? I am walking and you know how they will begin to stink on the way!!” Though almost 12, Theo still whined like a small child… especially about fish. “I don’t even like fish, Mama!”
“These fish are all I have to send, okay? Please, just take them to your father and refresh him with this food and your presence,” Mama now wrapped the fish in paper and carefully placed them in Theo’s satchel with five barley loaves.
Reluctant, Theo resigned to his duty, happy for the reprieve from chores but unsure about the prospect of smelling fish for the two-hour-long journey to the Sea.
“Okay, Mama.” His hazel cinnamon eyes smiled ever-so-slightly before he turned and started walking along the path.
After 15 minutes, Theo quickly realized that walking in the heat of the day was easily as horrible as doing chores at home. He spent the next 15 minutes arguing with himself which he would rather do. The argument ended without conclusion, except that both were undesirable and he had another hour and 30 minutes before he reached his destination. He could feel the sweat pooling on his back underneath his tunic and he shifted uncomfortably. The heat was unbearable.
Finally, he came upon the Sea and saw a great crowd assembling at the base of a mountain. He maneuvered his way (the benefits of his still-small frame) through the people to find his father. His eyes accustomed to the search for the broad-shouldered man, Theo found him quickly and they exchanged stories from the morning. Theo listened carefully as his father explained that the man, Jesus, had been speaking. The great mass of people had gathered abruptly, leaving work and daily agendas to hear the famed “healer” talk about authority and judgment and the glory of God.
Theo strained to see the man who had caused all the disruption, but could only see shoulders and beards. He raised his hand to feel his smooth jaw-line, silently wishing for the day he would have a full, man’s beard and strong, broad shoulders like his father. He brought his attention back to his father’s description,
“…and there’s nothing really unique about him. That’s the strange thing – everyone is drawn to him and his message, but no one exactly knows why. He talks about heaven and life and maybe we are desperate to hear about some hope. I don’t know, Theo, this man is either really dangerous or…. or…. well, I don’t know.”
Theo nodded along at his father’s words as he looked at the people around him. They all stood transfixed and in hushed conversation about the “healer” and his ways.
Suddenly, a small group seem to be conferring just above the crowd. Several in the group seemed agitated, but one man lifted his hands and placed them on their shoulders. He motioned out to the crowd and spoke a few more words before the men dispersed.
“That’s the one – the man in the center who just settled that dispute. That’s Jesus,” Theo’s father said.
Soon, the two men from the dispute were circling around the crowd and asking if anyone had any food. They walked amongst the crowd, searching (quite desperately) for someone who had food with them.
Without thinking, Theo approached one of the men and opened his satchel, “I have two fish and five barley loaves.” He looked up at the men and searched their eyes. A quiet burning pushed him to say again, “Did you hear? I have some fish and some barley loaves here in my satchel.” Theo lifted it up for their inspection.
The men nodded at one another and then, thanking Theo, swooped into his satchel and left it limp at his side. They wove back through the crowd, asking the same question, “Does anyone have any food?”
Theo returned to his father who stood with an unpleasant, furrowed brow. “And now, son, what do you expect us to eat?”
“Uh, I… I don’t know father. I just, well, I don’t know what happened. I saw they needed food and remembered I had some. I couldn’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t give it to them…. I….”
Before Theo could finish, the man named Jesus was holding the loaves and the fish and blessing them. Theo looked twice and a third time to make sure the man was the “healer” and that what he had in his hands were the very stinky fish he had carried in his satchel. Having confirmed these things, he began to squirm through the crowd to get a closer look. Within minutes he was at the very front, watching Jesus motion for the men to bring him the baskets.
Theo realized that his food was the sole contribution to the questions from the men earlier. And now, Theo watched as the man named Jesus blessed and broke his bread and filled baskets with it. The five barley loaves seemed never to grow smaller, only breaking off into more pieces. Now, Jesus was telling the men to pass the bread around so everyone would eat and be full. Theo thought for sure the fish would be a personal meal for the healer, but it was not so. The man named Jesus took the fish next and broke it and filled baskets for the men to pass around.
Theo stood incredulous as the baskets passed by him and he took from the bounty. He could have filled his whole satchel several times with what he saw in front of him. Then the basket passed with the fish and again Theo marveled at the way the food had multiplied right in front of his eyes. Even the long journey with smelly fish seemed a small thing compared to this crowd enjoying a full meal.
He came only with two fish and five loaves and gave it away without knowing why. Now, he saw that all he gave was multiplied for thousands of people. Twelve baskets stacked up around the edges of the crowd because the people couldn’t eat another bite!
This was no ordinary day and no ordinary adventure and no ordinary healer. Theo silently declared he would be willing to give much more to a man like this.
————–