Remember This, Israel.

Isaiah 44:21-22

“Remember these things, O Jacob, and Israel, for you are my servant;

I formed you;

you are my servant;

O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me.

I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud, and your sins like mist.

Return to me, for I have redeemed you.”

Do you see these things, child? I made you. Your form was made precious and beautiful by my hands, and because I love you. You are my servant. You are here to work in my vineyard, and to bring others home with you at the end of the day. O Israel, lovely, you will never be forgotten no matter how many people lose track of you. I will always remember you. Your life and faith are always on my mind. Your sins have been hidden as surely as a billowing white cloud hides the blue sky in summertime. When you feel blinded on a misty morning, remember that I am that blind to your sins. And when you get lost in that mist, return your soul to me, because I have purchased you from wandering and all that follows lostness.

It’s the simplest of lessons. I formed you. You are my servant. You will not be forgotten by me. I blotted out your transgressions. Return. I have redeemed you. The words are short and simple! It takes seconds to read through them and continue on to the next verses. The truths, though. Can such beautiful truth be so simple? It’s practically a complete compilation of answers to those questions life smears tauntingly in our faces

Where in this universe DID we come from?

I formed you.

Why does that matter?

You are my servant.

Who cares about that? Nobody pays attention to your servants.

I will never stop paying attention to you.

Well we messed it up. Sorry. No can do.

I am as blind to your forgiven sin as you are to the sun at night.

Oh…

Return! I have redeemed you. Come back.

And that return is the most glorious return of all.

“Sing, O heavens, for the LORD has done it;

Shout, O depths of the earth;

Break forth into singing, O mountains,

O forest, an every tree in it!

For the Lord has redeemed Jacob

and will be glorified in Israel.”

Freedom Run: Fighting Darkness One Step at a Time.

Yet another day of school. I promised myself I'd study in five minutes. First, facebook. JUST five minutes.

M had posted something that had a big red X logo. I scanned it for anything interesting. "We're in to end it" the post said. End what? *Scroll* Ahh. Human trafficking. Good cause, I thought. Good cause indeed. *Scroll*

S had posted something that had a big red X logo. I did a double take. The same post! I'm  proud of you, S. I nodded silently to myself. Perhaps I should re-post this. It's a good cause. It'd be good to raise awareness about human trafficking.

I moved the mouse over to the "share" button.

NO.

What?

NO. This isn't what you were trained to do. This is not how your parents, your youth leader and your time at Summit Ministries trained you to think.

Oh, ok. What, then?

Check it out.

I shifted the mouse just in time and clicked on the link.

The website was mostly black and red, with the big X logo etched in flashy places. I scrolled through, taking it in. Statistics barreled at me. And estimated 27 million people are enslaved worldwide. Over 100,000 thousand people are enslaved in AMERICA alone. Two children are sold every minute. 

Every MINUTE? The bloody logo stared at me, daring me to believe these outrageous facts.

I can't just ignore this.

I looked at the top of the page and found the "Action" tab. There must be something I could do, some way I could support this movement besides re-posting it onto my social media network. A list of fundraiser ideas came up. Host a bake sale, have a car wash, do a dodge ball tournament, on and on. My hometown does dozens of these a year. They looked way to ordinary. HOST A MARATHON. I jumped. The words flashed at me. I laughed. I don't run! And I'm supposed to host a marathon? That's comical, really.

School tickled my brain and I closed the tab. Homework doesn't wait well.

But I couldn't get the idea out of my mind. I tried not to think about it as an obligation, but in the back of my brain I boiled down the marathon to a more workable portion: a 5k run. A day passed, then a few days, and a week. I couldn't forget about the horrible things I'd read about girls deceived into sex trafficking, and children who didn't recognize pimps until it was too late.

I presented the idea of a 5k to raise awareness about human trafficking - especially sex trafficking - to my college Bible study and my youth leader. They fanned the idea into a plan and volunteered to help see it carried out.

We are hosting a Freedom Run.

Together we have organized a 5k run/walk for June 22nd. Check in begins at 7 AM and the race begins at 8 AM. There is a kids run starting at 9 AM and a silent auction during the races. Strollers are welcome! No skateboards, bikes, wheely-shoes, etc.

Register early for the run to ensure a t-shirt! The deadline for early registration is June 8th. Registration info and the registration form can be found at www.stayclassy.org/1corinth926. Registration after the deadline costs $35. The kids run is only $5 but I still need a registration for each entrant.

There is even a place for people to volunteer NOT to run! We'll need some to point the way for the runners, some to keep track of timing to determine first place winners, some to manage check in, somebody to help with water tables, etc. There will be plenty of work for people who would love to help in a way that doesn't involve a lot of sweat.

If you have questions about donations, donating items for the silent auction, sponsoring our race, registration or volunteering, please contact me! My email is gianna.freedomrun@gmail.com.

Thank you so much for your support and prayers.

May God bless our humble event and use each dollar for precious people caught in trafficking and for his glory.

Amen.

Vessel

I do not understand the living water.

I cannot comprehend what lot I play.

I struggle, stagnant, sorry day by day,

And meekly pray my life might please my Father.

I know my soul’s seen ransom: I’m his daughter.

Yet my influence is but molded clay.

His light must sparkle, dance inside each day,

Instead it stales; and dies; this living water.

Live not upright, instead I must pour out!

The living water thrives when it is spilled.

His life, his light I’m giv’n to write about –

I write: my tarnish is restored to gild.

In silence naught but usefulness goes out.

In pouring – suddenly room to be filled.

2013: Make it Meaningful

The new calendar hands me a snazzy empty grid to fill with life. Is it opportunity, or is it intimidating? 

I begin to plan for the new year; I pick out meaningful things from the endless list of opportunities and drop them onto that handy sectioned cardstock. But the word meaningful catches me. Meaningful. It’s used so often to describe the old year that I feel it’s a mandate: Find thou something meaningful in this year!

I can’t.

I’m not going to look back and point to 2012 and tell you that my character took great strides, and that I 

gained a sense of direction.

It wasn't like that.

My definition of meaningful changed.

In June I went to New York City with my choir. I would describe it to you in the varying hues of the markets we visited, or the audiences we sang for, or the places we ate. But all that comes to mind is “We had so much fun!” It was a pleasurable and empty trip. We went. We sang. We came home.

In September I went to Colorado with Katie. I won’t try to describe it to you. I can only try to clarify the meaning it taught me.

There was fellowship. There is a fellowship in a choir, just as there is a fellowship in God. But a choir needs a purpose. God is purpose. And to fellowship in Christ then, is meaningful as nothing else can be.

Things came of this fellowship. Study. We came together every morning, afternoon and evening for lectures. We studied the solidness of the truths of God. Desire to study. We took notes, bought books, took time to meditate and pray about what we learned. Close fellowship. We were divided into small groups to pray for, lean on and support each other. Joy. Maybe we just looked like another group of volleyball players at the park, but our smiles didn't end with our physical exertion. We served joyfully – taking plates after meals or helping Mat with his sprained ankle. We took joy in learning, in praising, in prayer, in fellowship and in sleep. More fellowship. We now worship together by posting verses on Facebook. We study by posting and responding to articles and listening to the wise voices of our new friends.  

In June I came back from New York with the choir exhausted, ready to sleep.

In September I came back from back from Colorado with Katie; Katie-bug; My Katie, exhausted and eager to fellowship.

That gridded wall hanging beckons me again. I smile.

Opportunity.

For Meaning. 

Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving. Not Easter. Yes, I’m grateful for over-stuffed turkeys and aromatic pies, time with my family, laughs shared with friends, and another blessed year. Yes, I’m rejoicing that I live a life of plenty, that God has blessed us with a bounteous abode, abundant land, and canine adorers. My stereotypical little life is a thing I have great thanks for. But that which my heart sings the loudest for, that for which I can find no words but I must express, is my gratitude for the spiritual blessing that begat all spiritual blessings. I thank God for Christ.

I praise God for his peace in my confusion, his joy when I’m discouraged, and his love when I want to be angry; I praise God for his death for my life.

Lately I have been studying the book of Esther. I’ve read it before, and it’s a good story. Esther becomes queen in time to save her people from annihilation. But the question has been hounding me: why is this story in the Bible?  And in the few nights I prayed for revelation and truly studied, the Holy Spirit whispered. I could suddenly see the fantastic way this story pictures in a human romance God’s heart and mind.

Esther was not perfect, as a lamb must be. But she was submissive to her cousin-turned-father, and showed honor to the husband she was not allowed to choose. She invited Haman to feast with her, and endured the realness of evil without Mordecai’s protective presence. Xerxes in turn renounced his closest counselor and trusted friend for the love of his endangered bride. The Jews were empowered and overcame their assailants on that fateful day ever after entitled Purim, a day of salvation.

The parallels astounded me. Each element seemed to point to Christ’s perfect offering, with a human spin. Esther released her life without dying. Xerxes granted life to the nation he first sold into destruction, all with eyes for one woman and ears for whomever spoke.

The record of this small segment in time is a breath-taking panorama of heavenly design. It emphasized God’s zealous protection of his chosen in the past. Even Zeresh realized that “’If Mordecai, before whom you have begun to fall, is of the Jewish people, you will not overcome him but will surely fall before him.’” Medes and Persians understood God’s reputation. Yet this epic, like a glass of water, also magnified Christ’s coming story. Ever so clearly, this type of Christ fit together piece by piece and pictured salvation.

Esther was afraid to offer herself, and prayed for three days. Christ wept and endured agony at the thought of his suffering. Xerxes killed his advisor rather than lose his wife. God turned away from Christ to win us.

It is for all this I feel gratitude this Thanksgiving. “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing…even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him…to the praise of his glorious grace with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.” Ephesians 1:3,4 and 6.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Praise him all creatures here below.

Praise him above ye heavenly hosts.

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

 

Amen.

Revitalizing Leadership: Live to change lives.

My generation needs to see believers living out Biblical faith. In Titus 2:7 it says “…in all respects be a model of good works, in your teaching show integrity, dignity and sound speech…” In today’s world many people say one thing and do another. They live a double standard. Transformational leadership starts with believers leading as a way of life. This necessitates involvement in scriptures, family, church, work and government.

Believers need to be rooted in the word. There is great poverty of biblical knowledge among believers today. We delve into commentaries and short studies about the Bible, grateful for man’s perspiration, but we are malnourished of God’s inspiration. For us to lead, we need to be in the word and know the word.

Our most important sphere of leadership needs to be our family. The Bible states in 1^st Timothy 3: 4-5 that if we can’t lead our own family we can’t lead in church. I believe familial leadership encompasses loving, valuing and respecting our spouse and modeling love and integrity to our kids.

Leadership at church is multifaceted. Plug into a small group, triad or other Bible study. Participating in a group in which we lead others and are led as we study scripture is necessary to our growth. Be held accountable. Be involved in service; find your area of excellence and be a leader. Lead AWANA games, a Bible study, worship etc.

Work; no matter how big or small the corporation, even the Christian intern can lead! Be the best employee that you can. Show up on time, work hard, be a person of integrity. This will give you a platform with which to bring up Christ.

Christians need to lead in government. One of the biggest ways is staying informed of what different candidates and elected officials believe. Take the time to vote and encourage others to vote. If you feel called to run for an office, pray about it, then jump in and be courageous.

My generation needs to be believers who are purposeful in living out their faith. Individuals don’t turn away from Christianity because they have tried it and it doesn’t work. They turn away because they see hypocrisy in people who claim to be believers but don’t live by the book.

The Last Lesson - Summit Ministries

I can't seem to get the hang of retreats.

Basic recipe: laugh, listen, pray, take notes, fellowship, talk to God.

I can do most of that, no problem. But in the midst of such strong fellowship, in the center of Biblical learning, surrounded by stories of God's grace and truth is where I lose sight of God.

It seems to happen every time.

At home, I can sit on my bed with my Bible on my lap and pray God's grace over my family, my friends, my tomorrow, my sins and never lose that sense of communication. But then when I'm surrounded by people who lovingly expect me to be so strong spiritually my faith gets lost in the shuffle. I know God's there. I know he hears me when we're singing our worship, when we're hiking on faith, or when we're serving with his love. I know God is listening when we're praying, that the Holy Spirit is interpreting when we're learning, that he's inspiring the teachers.
But my heart wonders, and feels empty.
And so my mind begins to wonder.

Colorado was great! We went hiking three mornings, and got to see the sunrise over the hills in the east from the top of Red Mountain. The puns they put on the kitchen walls every lunch were hilarious! We'd sit and laugh about them through our meal. Pikes peak united us in fascinated misery as we hiked 8 oxygen-deprived miles to the most breathtaking view in Colorado. We were encouraged to chat amongst ourselves before and after lectures, and by the end of two weeks, everybody had met everybody, I believe.

But I still felt alone. Until they brought David into the last Foundation session, the last morning.
"Does doubting mean you've lost faith?" Our speaker searched our faces, letting the question settle into us.
"Divide into your small groups and read Psalm 42."

In Psalm 42, David is in agony. He reveals his very soul as downcast, says his tears have been his food. And in the next breath he tells himself "Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." (Psalm 42:5b)

He doubts, and he cries out. But he will praise still.
He questions, but he reminds himself that the One he questions is faithful.
He is downcast and disturbed, yet he will praise.

"Alright. Who wants to answer the question? What did you find as you studied this in your groups?"

"Um...What was the question?" Nolan asked quickly. His group chuckled, embarrassed, and gave him the answer quietly.

"Oh! Ok," Nolan recovered nonchalantly. "Well-"

But I've already tuned out. I realized I'm wasn't losing faith. I hadn't lost track of God through all the noise of the camp. Even through the pain of wondering where God has gone, we can worship and fellowship and trust, and praise.

And God is there.

Love Story

I have a gift for you.

It was like gravel, dumped before her on an ebony backdrop. But diamonds made magnificent gravel.

Do you like it?

The largest gemstones caught her eyes first, crudely boasting in their irresistible purity. Each one swelled under her awestruck scrutiny, stretching out its glorious rays without letting an ounce of power escape from its diamond-hard core.

The smaller stones melded themselves into patterns and constellations, bending their iron-points of light to bring her eyes pleasure. Each pin-tip throbbed with white fire, lending life to the mental pictures that impressed themselves but momentarily over the living star-points. Then.

Look at this side too. On the edge.

Scattered in the folds and corners, the lesser star-gems made themselves brilliant, like glistening dew-drops on the points of a web, gloriously and humbly avoiding the center of the arrangement.

There’s still more.

Her eyes probed the center of the amassed diamonds again, searching for anything that might signal the end of these depths of stars. Only the beautified points of light stared back at her. Their thickness hazed the night-shades of their resting place in a deep and wide band across that velvet contrast and only the few stars resting on the backs of the others twinkled enticingly.

It’s all for you.

She strained her eyes, trying to capture all the beauty in the eroding permanence of memory.

I love you.

Me?

Yes.

I … love stars.

I know.

Do you love me?

I … yes.

The stars are yours. But there’s more.

There’s Me.

I am yours.

I haven't Got a Prayer

There were a few times this week when I came questioning before the throne of God.

Each time, I was kneeling after an enjoyable day. I had received blessings in the weather, in my company, through my family and friends, through my time and blessings in the form of opportunity;  I had nothing to pray for.

I didn't understand.

Every night I ask God for something. More of his character manifested in my life. A second chance to not yell at my brother. One day to be cooler than the rest. It is typical for me to find something that has gone wrong and pray God to put his blessing over it. I try to cover it with prayer at the end of the day for the next morning.

But those days, I came up empty. It seemed as if all those days had already been perfectly blessed. I had to wonder what I was supposed to improve upon. It was insanity to me that God would give me a day without poking my character in another direction (or again, in the same direction.)

So the first day I just thanked him.

The second day I started praising! I remembered David and turned hastily to Psalms, hoping his prescribed words would suit the helium-like joy that insisted on rising beyond me.

More perfect days followed. Sunburn, slivers, swallowing half the lake while skiing and sticking to inside of my sleeping bag ruined each evening, morning and afternoon. And I couldn't get anything out of myself but more Psalms!

Today I still can't think of anything to pray for. I am so grateful to God for the moments our church spent together worshipping and learning. I thank him for time this afternoon to work on projects and to blog. I am still excited by eating supper outside and throwing a hotdog bun over the edge of the porch to my dog. I look forward to the evening.

I see now that God is poking my character. Towards praise. Is that not a glorious thing? We were created to praise and worship! Shouldn't it be a repetitive part of our twenty-four hour lives?

And what a lovely and perfect repetition!

Psalm 21:1-5
"O Lord, in your strengh the kind rejoices,
and in your salvation how greatly he exults!
You have given him his heart's desire
and have not witheld the request of his lips.
For you met him with rich blessings;
you set a crown of fine gold upon his head.
He asked life of you; you gave it to him,
length of days forever and ever.
His glory is great through your salvation;
splendor and majesty you bestow on him.
For you make him most blessed forever,
you make him glad with the joy of your presence."

The Unsung Anthem

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

what so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.

O say, does that Star-spangled Banner still wave

O're the land of the free and the home of the brave?

We correctly remove our hats and place our right hands over our hearts. We look at our flag and remember the freedoms that those colors symbolize.

Then twenty-five percent of the way through this tribute, we place each cap back on its head and walk away.

How many have heard these words sung at sporting events, at a funeral, or in church?

On the shore dimly seen, thro' the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines in the stream;

'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner, Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

For the sake of each fallen soldier from 1776 until now, follow the story of the song. 

In 1814, Francis Scott Key boarded a British ship to negotiate the release of his friend, the Dr. William Beanes. He was forced to wait on the ship and watch the British attack Fort McHenry through the night. Through the first verse, Key has wondered, desperately, whether that flag still waves. Now his breath catches and he stiffens slightly - defiantly. There on the shore, scarcely discernable in the predawn gloom, crowded as it is with the smoky atmosphere of bloodshed, there were glimpses of red, white and blue.

But it wasn't morning yet.

And then innocent, beautiful light twisted the dark horizon into a rainbow. The flag stood.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash'd out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Key gives us the foundation suitably placed at the end. A country defended itself before his eyes. He lived and breathed the struggle of keeping America free. And he must forcibly remind us of the Help that aided each one in that struggle.

Oh, thus be it ever when free men shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust"
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

God bless America.

Run(-)On Praise

When I sat down at my desk, I just wanted to see how long I could make a sentence. Like a challenge. This is where it led me.

It’s not a normal day but I treat it like any other and lie there and watch the effects of the sunrise on my eyelids and listen to my family doing morning things; they’re nice morning things, like getting ready for Easter and feeding our dogs and going in to church early to help the kitchen crew get ready for the fundraiser breakfast which is between the ambitious-bird service and the head-screwed-on-straight service, which are identical, and I take up the wish I wished the night before that our family would screw their heads on straight but no, enough of us are ambitious that my vote doesn’t count, and “besides, the family is coming for lunch, and they’ll be here before we’d get home from the late service,” and so my vote really doesn’t count, and I decide that I probably never had a vote to cast anyway, so I put my wishing aside and go back to telling myself to get up and telling myself I’ll get up in just a few minutes, but I’m so comfortable right now, I can’t and so it will be ok if I get up in a minute – it is, but those minutes must have counted against me, because now we have to “really hurry” to get the dressing ready for the family who are coming and I don’t have much time to do any make-up or anything, but then I do it anyway, as fast as I can because if I’m going to be late to church, I at least want to look good, and it makes very little difference in minutes because I move quickly; and there is my brother telling us all we’ll be late, and then that we are late, and then that he can’t wait to live on his own because we’re always late and he never would be except for us, and he doesn’t ever seem to stop, so for the longest time on the way to our Easter morning service, it is so hard to think of the peace and the joy that are just waiting to be taken up and taken advantage of, and then we walk in and I didn’t see any heads turn, and then my heart turns and everything stops, because nothing matters except what we are singing about, and the glorious way God has loved us and chosen us and suffered for us, and purchased us, and given us to Christ, that – unless my heart were deaf – I cannot avoid falling on my heart’s knees and raising my hands and shouting that my God is alive and he loves me, and he is reigning so everything will be ok! and I just want to look at his face and know, and then I do know, and I want to keep looking in his face; and after church each moment seems holy and beautiful, as if I can do no wrong, and we all file slowly and talking into a huge herd pretending to be in line and talk our way through heaven-sent sausage and French toast and sanctifying syrup gluing your silverware to your fingers and your fingers to each other, and your hair to your forehead, and for breakfast the pastor has included grace in his benediction so the only words spoken are conversations about what they did last night and how that worked out, and how much she got done, and what was he working on again? and did it turn out and is it worth trying for myself? and then I call Happy Easter and suddenly the sun and the wind and the blue sky and the green grass are infinitely more beautiful than they were  when I walked from my house to my car before church and I know the afternoon ahead is going to be wonderful, even though something inside me knows it’s not and I can’t really pretend it will be much longer, so when we come home I am less happy, and I do not try to cheer up but I do wish I could be the same person all of the time and how much nicer I would be if that were the case, because if I just got stuck being the right person of the many who are inside of me, I know I could be perfect – but the perfect one is Christ Jesus, and he is not the only one living in me, because I am like every other human on this planet in one way, and that is that I’m human, and it means that even though Christ has the victory over sin, my sin still fights to often, so even though I side with Christ as much as I … can? I lose so often and then I know I’ve failed and I go on failing because failing has made me moody and I think that winning is impossible, even though I’m failing with the very people who gathered to celebrate that Christ won, so there is no more failure, and I become meditative and unhappy in my meditation, so I write it so that I can understand it, and when I write it I find that I can’t understand it so I give up and make an excuse for writing, and say that I was just trying writing to see how much I can cram into one sentence, and it turns out that a lot fits, even if not a lot should, and I wonder where my writing has taken me, and I find that I’m happy again; writing has taken me to a place where I feel the joy of creation and the satisfaction of having achieved something I’ve never done before – perhaps even that I’ve done it well for it being a first time around – and I decide to contemplate, but this time I’m contemplating cheerily and it takes me back to praise; praise for that glorious morning when Christ stopped the people’s contemplating his death and did something about it…basically reverse it so that they’d have something new to contemplate – the indescribable glory of the God who raised him, and unfathomable love which inspired the planning of this action before the planning of the people that necessitated this action, and the inescapable beauty that surrounds this entire day and it’s glorious celebration.

 (I tried reading this out loud. Now each short sentence feels like a needed revival. Gives me time to breathe.)