Category: Thoughts

like diamonds

diamonds are attention-getting

Sometimes, it’s the only thing you remember when you walk away from a conversation. Somehow, a diamond can make everything else seem insignificant and dull.

This is the GOSPEL to me. I want to wear it like diamonds, so that everything else is its backdrop. I want the Gospel to be the first and last impression I leave with every conversation. I want the Gospel I’m wearing to sparkle with mystery and throw off a curious reflection.

Last night, in a conversation with a self-proclaimed “agnostic, buddhist, Indian scientist,” I hope he noticed the Gospel above all else.

I hope Truth shone like diamonds, because there is nothing more beautiful.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

the greatest story that ever was

I wrote this entire post yesterday and then cyberspace stole it. It took me awhile to cool off and find time to try it again (because I had a 15 minute window between work and work), but if Vince is right – this should be better anyway.

This morning I woke up remembering. My mind was heavy with it and I didn’t want to shake free. A deep sadness chased after rose-petaled joy in the wide expanse of slight slumber and I soaked it all in with my head smooshed to the pillow. Remembering.

I know the words to a beautiful tale of trial and tragedy and triumph. I know the beginning and ending of the greatest story that ever was. I carry around the chapters in thought bubbles above my head and feel them in the work of my hands. It’s a living kind of story that is both finished and in process. It’s the kind of story that everyone wants to believe is true, but only some have eyes to see.

It’s a story where we are the characters and we live the plot.

This story is the Gospel.
God’s plan for humankind to live as we were designed – for worship.

The Gospel is the greatest story that ever was, penned by the Creator with great care – from the moment the first light broke into the furthest reaches of black void.

In the beginning, God. Forever before and forever after this little blip called human existence, God lives – Perfect, Holy, and Blameless. Our failure to reflect Him (in His perfection) required a hero – a Perfect Savior who would stand in our place to take on everything imperfect, unholy, and blame-filled. Christ is that Savior. 

And today my heart is heavy with the weight of this story – to receive it with joy and to tell it with abandon; to preach it with my feet and to sing it with laughter. This is the story of deliverance from death to life, from lost to found.

This is the story that changes everything. And so deep sadness plays with great joy in my soul as I turn over this blessing in my sleepy mind. This is the story that changes everything.

What have I imagined to be more important than this story? What have I elevated to get more fame than this true tale? What has taken my gaze from the One who redeemed me from the pit and restored my soul?

Today, the act opens on the greatest story that ever was and sets the stage for the greatest party that ever was. 

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

what scene are you making tonight? we are bound to make a scene – like fools in love.

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Posted on by Caroline 0

it’s official

If you weren’t convinced before, this oughta do it. Remember my boot sliding escapade last week? Well, apparently I didn’t.

Here’s how I do the math:

snowstorm overnight + slightly warmer daytime temp + 5:00 pm = ice covered sidewalks

This is the equation that lands me smack dab in the middle of crazy (don’t forget that I’m notoriously unstable in good sidewalk conditions). I had been office-d all day, plugging away in Excel (wishing my brother would have given me the tutorial he promised over Christmas break) and pushing some papers… so I was ready to run.

The snow made my whole body nervous this morning (when I realized I have no idea how to drive in it), so running was going to be my way of snatching back my winter joy. The first five minutes involved a simple, out loud conversation with myself, “This is stupid. You are stupid.” But, I kept going… down the icy stairs, through the icy park, past a cautious walker, and looping around to follow the path toward the university.

I kept thinking, “Why am I doing this?” and then answering, “because this is how to live winter” … and then catching myself from a near fall. I really had very little mental space to process while I ran because I needed to focus singularly on staying upright.

I let a giggle jump out and chase the sky.

Let the winter come! And, oh, let me run in it!

I loved every bit of my run – no matter how official it made my craziness (I’m not sure that was even in question to begin with).

I loved the way the man stared at me when I said, “Should have brought my ice skates”
and the way I ran by the university campanile at exactly 5:30, approaching an ice patch (and the way I jolted when the bells chimed)
and the way people stared at me like I was some luny freshman, trying to resolve off 15 pounds
and the way the Cadillac slid to a halt to let me pass in front of it
and the way I only slipped once and another time saved a fall with bowling-like form
and the way the footsteps in the snow revealed other crazy people
and the way the wind whipped at my back on Lincoln Way, encouraging me on in my ridiculous endeavor
and the way the wind slapped my face on University, reminding me of my ridiculous endeavor
and the way that my stride grew every time I hit iceless pavement
and the way that winter is a muscle doctor – it’s like running inside an ice pack
and the way my lungs burned and my sweat froze

Let the winter come! And let me run in it.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 1

handwriting

Whatever happened to all that penmanship our elementary teachers hounded us about with dotted lines? All those rewrites and all that time spent with my tongue hanging out to get the curve just right. Whatever happened to handwriting?

A few days ago, I got a letter in the mail. Well, not technically in the mailbox, but in my email inbox. I glanced at the message from a dear Honduran friend, but didn’t stop to click on the attachment. I knew it needed more time, so I postponed until today.

I found this letter after clicking on the “document.pdf” file and I’ve probably read it a zillion times since.

There’s something about pen to paper that can’t be imitated in typed script. No number of fonts can capture the haphazard curve of the “s” or the way the “i” doesn’t have a dot hovering over it’s rigid line.

There’s something very special about handwriting and about the kindred spirits who use it to communicate a stronger emotion than can get lost on the keyboard.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

blessings are sojourners

It took awhile, but Vince is finally on board with this idea (although he’s still skeptical) of blessings as sojourners. In church this morning, I was scribbling and doodling and arrowing and marking on my journal pages (taking bullet notes is so overrated). Right when the service ended, I leaned over and said, “I figured it out!” pause, “Hoarders!” Vince, not surprised in the slightest, just waited for me to flesh it out. “Quarters?”

“No… You know, blessings are meant to be always transferred, always moving, always given… but we love the blessing so much we keep it. We hoard it!”

He chuckled a little bit, “Oh… hoarders! Alright… I can see that.”

I’m so thankful to have a cousin/friend who equally loves processing through ideas, asking questions, and challenging assumptions. This afternoon, I had to stop myself in other company and ask, “Is this too much?” Because sometimes I forget how spoiled I am to have such a friend around.

So, this idea that blessings are sojourners and we are hoarders has been rolling like a snowball and gaining serious speed and mass in my mind. This is week two of Perspectives class and the first several lessons focus almost exclusively on God’s blessing – what it means for Christians and for the world. Pair that with a series in Ephesians at church and my personal obsession with the a la orden philosophy and I’ve got a dump truck of blessing on my hands. I’ll let you in on the processing side of things, if you promise you won’t reject it right away or laugh. Sometimes it’s fun to throw something up on here that I don’t think is finished quite yet. The thoughts still need punctuation and perhaps a more obvious thesis, but so do most of my posts I suppose.

_______________________

Blessings are sojourners.

They tread crowded roads and lonely trails to visit million dollar homes and corrugated metal shacks. They knock on expectant doors and ring doorbells of disinterested tenants. They dance with the leopards and race the rivers to the sea.

Blessings are sojourners.

They pack light. They carry purpose and reflect sunshine, but they are not weighed down. Their shoulders bear the weight of inheritance, but never long enough to slow their pace. They have no suitcase, no cargo pocket, no oversized handbag.

They are at home in motion.

Blessings are sojourners.

__________________________

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

postcards

I wrote this post after a couple hard days during my time in Honduras, talking with girl after girl after girl who has been battered and bruised by an unforgiving world. Today I am realizing that I will always collect these “postcards.”

… the stories are piling up like postcards from similar destinations: despair, loneliness, anger, betrayal, pain, and sometimes hope. Those are the ones I like best – the hope ones. The others are ones that make my heart hurt. Those destinations are hard to explain, but they seem to keep arriving at my doorstep.

Last night a few more postcards arrived at my doorstep, all busted up and barely legible from the journey. The stories seemed tucked under the furrow of the girls’ brow or their dimpled giggles, but soon it all came out. These girls, too young to experience what their stories exposed, too beautiful to be found in such a mess.

We talked and questioned and fumed a bit. I strained to make my face say what my heart felt – pain. I didn’t want to say, “It’s okay,” because too many people say that.

What I did say, at the end of both conversations was this, “I don’t know what kind of messes you’ve got… I don’t want to pretend I know you at all. What I do know is that there is abundance that can overwhelm the pain. There is a way to make sad eyes smile.”

It was probably too much, but I said it anyway. I can only keep receiving these postcards if  I drop off mail of much lighter weight. I wanted what they received from me to be Christ – a FULL, abundant, joyful image of freedom and grace.

This song by Zerbin is the motion of this desire. We are not stuck in this ground, this skin. We are bound for a land free from messes and weights and sin. The headlights of this glory-bound train will one day meet a sunrise that will make earth mornings seem quaint.

This is the message I want to leave when I gather the stories from all these girls. This is the only JOY that can walk through pain and survive.

 

Posted on by Caroline 3

still singing

“Be still and know that I am God” Psalm 46:10

This verse has wrapped itself around my soul several times and given comfort when all else seems crazy.

Today, I remembered this Truth is half-way. I’ve allowed the imprint on my heart to only sink to surface level. I forgot to memorize the rest of the verse from Psalm 46:10, “…I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

God invites us into stillness and knowledge of Him while He is inviting us into world-sized worship; He is inviting us into mission with Him that can only and will only result in an international song.

The excitement of Christmas seems like a vague memory now that we’ve hit our January stride. We’re already knee-deep in next things and we’ll be lucky to get thank you cards sent out for the gifts we received.

But, every once awhile – on a day like today – I’ll sing a song that gets unfortunately confined to a small winter season, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”

On a day like today, I’ll let the rhythm beat with my feet and the wind carry the words,

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Emmanuel – God with us – the story of the Gospel. The story from Genesis to Revelation of God’s Holiness, our sin and His overwhelming grace to bridge the gap. Stories are never, ever meant to be secret. Stories, especially great stories, are meant to be shared.

And so I am still singing.

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

I am still singing with great joy that Christ came – God came to be with us, to wear skin, and to become our pardon. Christ came to live Love and I am still singing this song of tragedy turned redemption.

I am still singing the song that anticipates Christ’s return, because the story isn’t finished. We are not only meant to be still and know God is God. We are not called to walk out on Christmas being reassured of our future eternal home.

We are called to join with God to haste the day of Christ’s second coming. We are commissioned to share the greatest story ever told.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.

Rejoice, rejoice – because God came to dwell with us and to be our righteousness. Also rejoice because we carry around a story that will bring the nations into stillness and knowledge of Him.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

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Posted on by Caroline 4

chosen for holiness, predestined for love

I climbed through jello in my dreams this morning, with clouds as my sneakers. I felt like I was still climbing through comforters even after I was out of bed. Strange.

After I shook off sleep with extra ferocity, I grabbed my morning brew and dug into my new Bible Reading Plan (3650 Challenge). I’m really surprised at how much I love digesting 10 chapters a day. It sounds like a lot because it is, but I am very hopeful that I will make me a better intentioned, purposeful reader. I’m oh-so-prone to let my mind wander!

Today had definite high jitters potential – speaking for the first time at church – but the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

And I am daily rejoicing in this Truth. The Gospel needs no help from me – it stands sufficient alone.

We are going through Ephesians in church and this phrase stuck with me, “chosen for holiness, predestined for love.” How can we not burst with joy and run after God with delight?

I’m climbing back into jello dreams and cloud sneakers.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

Occupy Life: copy shop and pancake batter

This is another in a series of posts called Occupy Life. Each day you and I occupy physical time and space and we make our statement big and bold, whether we’ve got picket signs or not. Read here or here or here or here or the original post here for more.

“And this machine – whoa. I gotta take a minute.” Pause to breathe, “This machine is so amazing. It could probably cut through… a whole body (which would never happen because this protective plastic part has to be down). Seriously.”
Ryan stares at me, midway through my “training” at the copy shop, so that the magnificence of this cutting machine sinks in.
“Yeah?”
“It’s just that, well, I think this is my favorite machine in this whole place.” Pause. “Look at this huge stack of cardstock… we’re gonna cut it.” Pause for effect, “Are you ready?” Pause, “Oh, this is so great!”
He pushes green buttons, the guide moves, then the blade, and then … slice.
“Ah! Wasn’t that amazing? Whew! I could like go run laps that was such a rush!”

Meet my new friend and co-worker Ryan. A more delightful first day of training I have never had – his excitment oozed about everything from invoices to the newest printer – the 9000. I was immediately swept up into the banter and decided that we would be friends.

I typed my last email at my first job at about 2:55, rushed to pick up the obligatory black polo shirt for my second job at the copy shop and in between let the dog out for a quick romp, cleaned up the kitchen, and grabbed an apple for the road. Always moving, always learning, and always occupying this space called life.

As I was learning my way around the computer stations and printers, my friendly new co-workers shook off any first day nerves I had. And, I’m going to be honest, Ryan gave my awkward identity a run for its money. I’m not sure how this works, but awkward fits really well for him. I didn’t think his excitement about the cutting machine weird at all – instead, I kept trying to find reasons why he might need to show me again.

At one point, during the the explanation of all the paper types, he stepped up onto a cardboard box. From his perch, he continued without pause until I said, “Um, are you on your own little platform, there?”
“Yeah, I kind of like it.”

And that was that. I didn’t mind.

When Ryan thought I’d had enough training, I left for the night. I didn’t need to turn on the radio on the way home, I was still amused by the copy shop goings-on when I pulled into the driveway.

Then, round 3 of amusement began. My cousin Vince is always ready to hash out philosophy or politics or religion – pretty much all the topics that people are supposed to stay away from we hit head on. And I love it.

Tonight, we tackled the Christian message of “don’t,” country music, and pancake batter, amongst other things. The pancake batter is for tomorrow morning, but he thought we’d pull out Aunt Shirley’s recipe and save some morning rush. Well, turns out our approach to conversation is like our approach to cooking: completely different. Vince is super methodical and I’m a loose canon. I under-melted the butter and only partially measured the baking powder. Every time I turned around he was gesturing wildly and sighing about my lack of precision.
“There are recipes for a reason, Caroline.”
Well, I’m not saying that any of my recipes can ever be replicated, but just to test things out I suggested we make a pancake tonight (chunky butter and mysterious baking powder and all). It worked.
I could be making it up, but I think Vince even said with an approving nod, “It’s good.”

Today happened, every minute of it. I wouldn’t subtract a moment and that’s good because, well, I can’t.

I’m occupying life.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 3

does God giggle?

Apparently, Iowa has a high tolerance for awkward as well.
My state made caucus a verb (it was a strange enough noun).

Yesterday, after my very gauche post, my best friend from college sent me an email with this little inspired nugget to capture the lengthier explanation. I love it.

Oh, goodness. I love how a friend can still know you so well, but live so far.

Today I laughed with gumption and it felt spectacular. I’m not sure what to hold responsible, but if I figure it out I’m going back to say thank you. In fact, I wouldn’t mind doing some gratitude back-tracking right now before hitting the books and my sweet pillow.

here’s some blessings as I counted them today:

the early morning moments when I sit with my coffee and my 3650 Challenge, soaking deep in Truth.
the acoustic guitar in the office singing bon iver, adele, and hanson.
dreaming about an office space where inspiration happens and stories unfold.
the office printer, when it does and doesn’t work, is a magical machine.
check marks – oh heavens! I am ever-so-thankful for checkmarks in even slightly important places to make me feel legitimate and productive.
finding a remote control car in a co-worker’s office; laughing like a child.
forgetting my lunch and then getting invited to hang with the cool kids.
wearing my thrifted boots (thanks, Dad) that make my feet feel like snuggly eskimos.
chasing around my cousins and hearing their laughter unleashed.
the balance of cousin cate, who loves make believe and cousin charlie, who loves to cuddle.

mischief.

I know it sounds weird, but I can get riled up (in a good way) about some good-old fashioned mischief, the same way I get excited about mystery. I kind of think they are related. And, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I think both are, um… holy.

If you’ve read Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday, then you’ve at least thought about how God must have a perfect sense of humor and maybe you’ve wondered (with me) a little bit about what that humor looks like.

I mean, have you ever wondered why we have armpits or why every blade of grass is distinct or why things like treehouses are places where children play, but where insects probably reign?

Do you wonder what His laughter sounds like? I often do.

What did God think of the caucuses in Iowa tonight? Does He giggle at that funny word?

I don’t know, but I’m sure excited to find out one day.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0