Darkened dance floor
How can I refuse?
Your outreaching hand is too inviting.
A junkie heart like mine will open wide to any fix.
Together but lonely
I'm sorry
I don't want to take any more of your time.
Time. Time.
Dragging on....
We're keeping time
The dim light dances shadows across your face
And mine too, I'm sure
And we can't see.
Not really.
But we feel... yes!
The rhythm below, aching, beating...
The rhythm.
A toast! From one member of the trade to another.
Dizzing, this day to night business
I'm keeping lonely count
Yet my laughter fails to scare away the ghost of sunset past
The grey old-person ache
Of trying so hard to love you
Eyes sparkling, but not for me
Mine turn away.
Spinning, spinning, always spinning...
Head, feet, always spinning.
Leave the dancing to the others
It's the rails for me
Cold new rhythm to help me keep count
Till the end of these merciless days.
Do you see?
Face to the wind...
Do you see?
Not hiding anymore
Do you see me?
See?
See.
~*~*~*~*~*~
I am still falling, love.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
The Chronicles of Pimlico
Tonight I'm walking. Tonight it's Mill Avenue - and the gentle rain has smeared together all the colors and lights and made downtown Tempe one bright, bleeding, exciting, chaotic mess. Surprisingly unlike the sky you've dressed up for the evening... one bright milky eye and her ebony neck adorned with lustrous pearl. Leaning against one particularly carved and beat-up tree and pulling my faded jacket closer to keep out the chill, I fit in nicely with my surroundings. A few dreds later and I could be jamming on an old threadbare guitar with the hobo fellas down the way. Focus, Hannah, focus.
I constitute the prayer team this evening, and am on the Avenue for a reason.... the Gospel. Stationing myself just out of range of suspicion, I plant my two feet firmly into the pavement and do my best to listen in on the girls' conversation with an unlikely couple on the street corner.
15 minutes later were done, and I glance back for a moment at two people who have just heard the news of their lives. There's surprisingly little jumping going on - and it makes me wonder about you sometimes. Why make me free? I'm of no merit and relatively little use to you. Why me?
The girls' eyes are bright, their steps brisk as they pace past me. The reverie breaks and I jog to catch up and catch the moment's conversation.
'He seemed pretty receptive at first, right?'
'I thought so, but she was listening pretty intently...'
'I know, and I loved that verse you quoted... where was that?!'
My personal favorites are next - the hobo slash hippie slash really fun homeless people. Jack is noodling some pensive tune to our left; to the right some slicked-back preppy student is unwisely picking a fight with another particularly feisty one of them. Somehow my ingenious mother remembered a kind and mysterious gift of several Starbucks gift cards someone had left on our doorstep... pretty soon I'm flying back across the street with eager orders from the posse for hot chocolates and straight black coffees, leaving a couple brave girls to befriend them in the meantime.
Twenty long minutes later we're back, bearing gifts... and Meredith is busy listening to some elaborate and highly amusing shpeel that somehow connected Jesus, reincarnation, and the supernatural workings of certain healing "herbs". Finally...
'Thanks,' drawled our verbose preacher friend - 'not many people care to sit and listen to what we have to say. Keep blessing people.' Meredith's confused countenance suddenly brightens. We hug them goodbye.
'Just remember,' Jack calls after us, 'Jesus was a vagabond, too.'
Days like these make me love the world I live in. It's a desperate thing, and wants loving. Its own unloveliness, though, is its own ally... for all who weren't serious about doing so retract their outreach quickly upon contact. Loving something just the way it is; that's no small thing. It takes some time to see things through.
Reminds me of him and reminds me of you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Let us suppose we are confronted with a desperate thing - say Pimlico (a resort in London formerly celebrated for its many pubs, ale, cakes, etc.) It is not enough for a man to disapprove of imlico: in that case he will merely cut his throat or move to Chelsea. Not, certainly, is it enough for a man to approve of Pimlico, for then it will remain Pimlico, which would be awful. The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love Pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. If there arose a man who loved Pimlico, then Pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; Pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. ...
The man will improve the place who loves it without a reason.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It's always good strong night before these moments come. The ancients said that the moon lured the loons outside... when the sun in all its revealing splendor had set and the "common" man - historic regulator of the "normal" - to his safe, normal little abode and safe, normal little bed (simply another form of lunacy)... forth they would flock, dancing upon the well-walked stones that held no place for them in the day, bathing in the dark light of Hanwell. Tonight I carry on the tradition and watch the gibbous moon, drunken and reeling across her canvas of night. She smiles rather understandingly back at me, and sends a few extra rays by way of lightyear to play tricks in my head and across the lawn.
The busy tempo of swing music wafts out from the dance hall just across the patio; from my picnic table bench a few strains greet me, mixing with the little breezes, tugging on wisps of hair and scarf and adding to the general otherworldliness of the moment. Distracting from the tone are the pair of couples situated in the grass - both intent on showing the other up in a playful competition of aerial dance moves. Oh! She's in his arms, now she's down.. did he really just throw her? Down again, her feet planted - the next routine begins. Any other day I'd be in the thick of it - laughing and jumping, allowing one or two gentlemen to inadvertently drop me on occasion, and adding to the racket.
In my head now I'm everywhere else. (I shouldn't make a habit of prolonging my stay there.) Running. Running. I can't get the picture out of my head... head to the sky, legs coursing, arms flailing, gloriously breathless. I know something's waiting at the finish line, 'cause there's a knowing smile across my face and fire in my veins.
Tonight my reason drives me mad. The heavens and their intricacies refuse to bend themselves into my head, or organize themselves in the lines I have drawn for them... and what's more, my actual, practical, for-real life isn't either. More irritating still.
'Every man must choose his world.' How can I when I am so uncomfortably suspended between the two given me?
I stand forever between the dreaming and the coming true.
Someone grabs my hand and pulls me up off my bench and towards the dance floor. My eyes stray back to the rays of moonshine behind me. She laughs at me the age-old laugh. My old Spanish professor would say 'Mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.' (The devil knows more for being old than for being the devil.) She knows I'll never quite make sense of it, and grins quite knowledgeably at the "troubles" of youth. Perhaps that is the magical and frustrating glory of living.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed and then cried:
"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land that I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till know. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"
He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop - a Unicorn's gallop, which in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But now a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and they found, to their astonishment that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and Poggin the dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a wind screen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath.
If one could run without getting tired, I don't think one would often want to do anything else.
I constitute the prayer team this evening, and am on the Avenue for a reason.... the Gospel. Stationing myself just out of range of suspicion, I plant my two feet firmly into the pavement and do my best to listen in on the girls' conversation with an unlikely couple on the street corner.
15 minutes later were done, and I glance back for a moment at two people who have just heard the news of their lives. There's surprisingly little jumping going on - and it makes me wonder about you sometimes. Why make me free? I'm of no merit and relatively little use to you. Why me?
The girls' eyes are bright, their steps brisk as they pace past me. The reverie breaks and I jog to catch up and catch the moment's conversation.
'He seemed pretty receptive at first, right?'
'I thought so, but she was listening pretty intently...'
'I know, and I loved that verse you quoted... where was that?!'
My personal favorites are next - the hobo slash hippie slash really fun homeless people. Jack is noodling some pensive tune to our left; to the right some slicked-back preppy student is unwisely picking a fight with another particularly feisty one of them. Somehow my ingenious mother remembered a kind and mysterious gift of several Starbucks gift cards someone had left on our doorstep... pretty soon I'm flying back across the street with eager orders from the posse for hot chocolates and straight black coffees, leaving a couple brave girls to befriend them in the meantime.
Twenty long minutes later we're back, bearing gifts... and Meredith is busy listening to some elaborate and highly amusing shpeel that somehow connected Jesus, reincarnation, and the supernatural workings of certain healing "herbs". Finally...
'Thanks,' drawled our verbose preacher friend - 'not many people care to sit and listen to what we have to say. Keep blessing people.' Meredith's confused countenance suddenly brightens. We hug them goodbye.
'Just remember,' Jack calls after us, 'Jesus was a vagabond, too.'
Days like these make me love the world I live in. It's a desperate thing, and wants loving. Its own unloveliness, though, is its own ally... for all who weren't serious about doing so retract their outreach quickly upon contact. Loving something just the way it is; that's no small thing. It takes some time to see things through.
Reminds me of him and reminds me of you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Let us suppose we are confronted with a desperate thing - say Pimlico (a resort in London formerly celebrated for its many pubs, ale, cakes, etc.) It is not enough for a man to disapprove of imlico: in that case he will merely cut his throat or move to Chelsea. Not, certainly, is it enough for a man to approve of Pimlico, for then it will remain Pimlico, which would be awful. The only way out of it seems to be for somebody to love Pimlico: to love it with a transcendental tie and without any earthly reason. If there arose a man who loved Pimlico, then Pimlico would rise into ivory towers and golden pinnacles; Pimlico would attire herself as a woman does when she is loved. ...
The man will improve the place who loves it without a reason.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It's always good strong night before these moments come. The ancients said that the moon lured the loons outside... when the sun in all its revealing splendor had set and the "common" man - historic regulator of the "normal" - to his safe, normal little abode and safe, normal little bed (simply another form of lunacy)... forth they would flock, dancing upon the well-walked stones that held no place for them in the day, bathing in the dark light of Hanwell. Tonight I carry on the tradition and watch the gibbous moon, drunken and reeling across her canvas of night. She smiles rather understandingly back at me, and sends a few extra rays by way of lightyear to play tricks in my head and across the lawn.
The busy tempo of swing music wafts out from the dance hall just across the patio; from my picnic table bench a few strains greet me, mixing with the little breezes, tugging on wisps of hair and scarf and adding to the general otherworldliness of the moment. Distracting from the tone are the pair of couples situated in the grass - both intent on showing the other up in a playful competition of aerial dance moves. Oh! She's in his arms, now she's down.. did he really just throw her? Down again, her feet planted - the next routine begins. Any other day I'd be in the thick of it - laughing and jumping, allowing one or two gentlemen to inadvertently drop me on occasion, and adding to the racket.
In my head now I'm everywhere else. (I shouldn't make a habit of prolonging my stay there.) Running. Running. I can't get the picture out of my head... head to the sky, legs coursing, arms flailing, gloriously breathless. I know something's waiting at the finish line, 'cause there's a knowing smile across my face and fire in my veins.
Tonight my reason drives me mad. The heavens and their intricacies refuse to bend themselves into my head, or organize themselves in the lines I have drawn for them... and what's more, my actual, practical, for-real life isn't either. More irritating still.
'Every man must choose his world.' How can I when I am so uncomfortably suspended between the two given me?
I stand forever between the dreaming and the coming true.
Someone grabs my hand and pulls me up off my bench and towards the dance floor. My eyes stray back to the rays of moonshine behind me. She laughs at me the age-old laugh. My old Spanish professor would say 'Mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.' (The devil knows more for being old than for being the devil.) She knows I'll never quite make sense of it, and grins quite knowledgeably at the "troubles" of youth. Perhaps that is the magical and frustrating glory of living.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed and then cried:
"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land that I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till know. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"
He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop - a Unicorn's gallop, which in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But now a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and they found, to their astonishment that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and Poggin the dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a wind screen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath.
If one could run without getting tired, I don't think one would often want to do anything else.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
A Fresh Arrow to a Comfortable Soul
'We are so utterly ordinary, so commonplace, while we profess to know a Power the Twenty- (FIRST) century does not reckon with. But we are 'harmless', and therefore unharmed. We are spiritual pacifists, non-militants, conscientious objectors in this battle-to-the-death with principalities and powers in high places. Meekness must be had for contact with men, but brass, outspoken boldness is required to take part in the comradeship of the Cross. We are 'sideliners' - coaching and criticizing the real wrestlers while content to sit by and leave the enemies of God unchallenged. The world cannot hate us; we are too much like its own. Oh, that God would make us DANGEROUS!'
~ Jim Elliot
~ Jim Elliot
Monday, December 03, 2007
Notes From the Thick of Battle
You said the straight and narrow
But this road's crooked; broad.
Whispers I heard of peace...
All this naught but untrue and odd.
I must say how mortally tired I am
Of trying to find You here
Where once I did see remnants
I wade in poisoned pools of fear.
Earthly lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true
And all I hope: to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of you.
I once was so verbose
And now I have no tongue.
Songs and rhymes -
Now hardened times -
Undefined and still unsung.
You used to give me words -
Ah! How we used to play
'Cross meadows of song and consciousness
From falling night till day.
My rhymes are now gone.
And that train! That train!
That ghastly, that condemned train!
Condemned to be running through my head
To be green grass and sinking lead -
The ghost of futures yet untold
(And damn my fickle heart: it's sold)
To whistle tunes that I can't play -
Can't seem to keep these wolves at bay -
Are they his? Or are they Thine?
Or are they all invention mine?
The barriers you once put up he's now torn down.
Or was it me?
(He and I look an awful lot alike these days.)
Potential's all that's left of me.
Hellish lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true.
And all I hope; to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of You.
Found and founded:
The things I miss most.
Oh for when peace was somehow my boast.
But this road's crooked; broad.
Whispers I heard of peace...
All this naught but untrue and odd.
I must say how mortally tired I am
Of trying to find You here
Where once I did see remnants
I wade in poisoned pools of fear.
Earthly lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true
And all I hope: to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of you.
I once was so verbose
And now I have no tongue.
Songs and rhymes -
Now hardened times -
Undefined and still unsung.
You used to give me words -
Ah! How we used to play
'Cross meadows of song and consciousness
From falling night till day.
My rhymes are now gone.
And that train! That train!
That ghastly, that condemned train!
Condemned to be running through my head
To be green grass and sinking lead -
The ghost of futures yet untold
(And damn my fickle heart: it's sold)
To whistle tunes that I can't play -
Can't seem to keep these wolves at bay -
Are they his? Or are they Thine?
Or are they all invention mine?
The barriers you once put up he's now torn down.
Or was it me?
(He and I look an awful lot alike these days.)
Potential's all that's left of me.
Hellish lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true.
And all I hope; to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of You.
Found and founded:
The things I miss most.
Oh for when peace was somehow my boast.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Blog Makeover
Hi friends! This is your official notice of a blog makeover.
First, I want to apologize for posting once every three months or so when I have something remarkable and world-changing to say. One of my very honest friends jokingly described each post as "a systematic description of the meaning of the world in 8 short pages"... or something to that extent.
I'm here to change all that.
I have no idea if anyone still reads this, but I'd like to get some interaction. Graduating from college / figuring the world and life out is not as easy as it might sound, so I like all the advice I can get. My posts will be shorter. I'll be asking questions. PLEASE COMMENT even if you merely want to say... "Hannah, you're pretty much an idiot," or something to that lovely effect. Honesty is a good thing. ;)
One of my friends described an ideal Christian faith not as 'reformed'... but 'reforming'. Constantly seeking out Scripture, constantly being willing to rework our understanding of God to fit the God of the Scripture. That's what I'm all about.
So let's do it. Talk to me. ;)
First, I want to apologize for posting once every three months or so when I have something remarkable and world-changing to say. One of my very honest friends jokingly described each post as "a systematic description of the meaning of the world in 8 short pages"... or something to that extent.
I'm here to change all that.
I have no idea if anyone still reads this, but I'd like to get some interaction. Graduating from college / figuring the world and life out is not as easy as it might sound, so I like all the advice I can get. My posts will be shorter. I'll be asking questions. PLEASE COMMENT even if you merely want to say... "Hannah, you're pretty much an idiot," or something to that lovely effect. Honesty is a good thing. ;)
One of my friends described an ideal Christian faith not as 'reformed'... but 'reforming'. Constantly seeking out Scripture, constantly being willing to rework our understanding of God to fit the God of the Scripture. That's what I'm all about.
So let's do it. Talk to me. ;)
Monday, November 26, 2007
Trekking Through Shadowlands
I lay in the back of the truck and wished that it would go on forever.
It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… a day that you come away from shaking your head and wondering what just happened. One of those days when you search really hard for peace… but it seems to stay so out of reach. I was hurt and baffled and scared – very scared – afraid that that which I hold dear might be slowly slipping from me.
Uncertainty frightens me. Frenzy takes over. I try so hard to fix things in my mind but in the end I just create dragons… dragons of shadow and mystery and fancy. Sometimes my shadow dragons frighten me because their form seems so clear on the wall in front of me, all of their menacing features so real and tangible – even before they are seen. Sometimes they are just a nagging dread, sitting in the back of my mind, tormenting me with hints and whispers; smoke and echoing lies. Sometimes I wake up and realize that the dark form on the wall before me is really just my own shadow.
Sometimes I fight me.
I’m young and I love young people. I love seeing hope and ambition and potential in its first budding stage. I love nothing so well as a starry-eyed dreamer… one who not only watches the stars but reaches for them as well. Yet my heart aches when those that I love seem to wander, to founder, to fall. Sometimes our endless searching for a path becomes our very downfall… we’re always looking and never finding. Someone in a movie once said… “Young people always want to be traveling. Even if they find food and a warm fire and kindness, they wish to be gone.” Perhaps our over-worked imaginations tend to get the better of us… whatever we do not yet have becomes our object of worship. The unattainable is always bigger.
Better. Brighter.
Sometimes we forget what we have.
If you’ve followed my thought life through my posts at all throughout the past year, you may know that my topic of choice has been waiting. I feel like I’m always waiting. I wanted to see the world; to see what’s going to happen; to have the future now. Endless opportunities, possibilities seemed to present themselves… I felt like a kid in a candy shop, struggling so with the idea of having to pick only one that I picked none at all. Trust was key; my heart was frail; just when I thought I had faith the Lord would throw something else into my life and I would fall to the ground with a thud. Pictures come to mind of wings being trimmed; plants being pruned; a brave, new little tree kept from erring by a sturdy post in the ground. Its great shows of bravery have only proved how young and green and inexperienced it is in this fine art of growing. And though that bright yellow tape may feel like a hindrance, a roadblock, a ball and chain… in the end it keeps the tree from falling right over in its overexuberant zeal to get somewhere.
It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… and I climbed into the back of that old truck for a moment alone. I stopped for a moment to breathe. No proper words came to mind… but I just started talking. Talking to One who hears. I talked and talked and talked – all about life, about my fears, about the future, about my desire to find it… to know how I should live, personally, in light of this great salvation. I talked until there were no words left and then I stopped for a moment to wait. I know THE way… but what is my way? We are each given gifts, abilities, lives very different from those next to us in order that we might bring glory to God in a manner entirely our own.
Where to, God? Where to?
Oh Captain. Oh Captain. Guide me. What direction? Hear now my declaration of dependence.
The stars seemed brighter tonight than usual. Almost closer. In the distance a train sounded. In the air tension; something hung in the balance. My mind, frenzied, kept reevaluating, rethinking – still searching. Then, suddenly, a few short, quiet words…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say... My mind stopped running and one memory pierced my mind with sharp force.
A dark night. Stars as well. Open sky. Caborca. Another life-changing question. The same words, the same melody playing softly, slowly, clearly in my head. Be more quiet now.
Nights like this make my soul forget fear.
I lay in the back of the truck and wished that it would go on forever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ecclesiastes 8:5-6
It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… a day that you come away from shaking your head and wondering what just happened. One of those days when you search really hard for peace… but it seems to stay so out of reach. I was hurt and baffled and scared – very scared – afraid that that which I hold dear might be slowly slipping from me.
Uncertainty frightens me. Frenzy takes over. I try so hard to fix things in my mind but in the end I just create dragons… dragons of shadow and mystery and fancy. Sometimes my shadow dragons frighten me because their form seems so clear on the wall in front of me, all of their menacing features so real and tangible – even before they are seen. Sometimes they are just a nagging dread, sitting in the back of my mind, tormenting me with hints and whispers; smoke and echoing lies. Sometimes I wake up and realize that the dark form on the wall before me is really just my own shadow.
Sometimes I fight me.
I’m young and I love young people. I love seeing hope and ambition and potential in its first budding stage. I love nothing so well as a starry-eyed dreamer… one who not only watches the stars but reaches for them as well. Yet my heart aches when those that I love seem to wander, to founder, to fall. Sometimes our endless searching for a path becomes our very downfall… we’re always looking and never finding. Someone in a movie once said… “Young people always want to be traveling. Even if they find food and a warm fire and kindness, they wish to be gone.” Perhaps our over-worked imaginations tend to get the better of us… whatever we do not yet have becomes our object of worship. The unattainable is always bigger.
Better. Brighter.
Sometimes we forget what we have.
If you’ve followed my thought life through my posts at all throughout the past year, you may know that my topic of choice has been waiting. I feel like I’m always waiting. I wanted to see the world; to see what’s going to happen; to have the future now. Endless opportunities, possibilities seemed to present themselves… I felt like a kid in a candy shop, struggling so with the idea of having to pick only one that I picked none at all. Trust was key; my heart was frail; just when I thought I had faith the Lord would throw something else into my life and I would fall to the ground with a thud. Pictures come to mind of wings being trimmed; plants being pruned; a brave, new little tree kept from erring by a sturdy post in the ground. Its great shows of bravery have only proved how young and green and inexperienced it is in this fine art of growing. And though that bright yellow tape may feel like a hindrance, a roadblock, a ball and chain… in the end it keeps the tree from falling right over in its overexuberant zeal to get somewhere.
It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… and I climbed into the back of that old truck for a moment alone. I stopped for a moment to breathe. No proper words came to mind… but I just started talking. Talking to One who hears. I talked and talked and talked – all about life, about my fears, about the future, about my desire to find it… to know how I should live, personally, in light of this great salvation. I talked until there were no words left and then I stopped for a moment to wait. I know THE way… but what is my way? We are each given gifts, abilities, lives very different from those next to us in order that we might bring glory to God in a manner entirely our own.
Where to, God? Where to?
Oh Captain. Oh Captain. Guide me. What direction? Hear now my declaration of dependence.
The stars seemed brighter tonight than usual. Almost closer. In the distance a train sounded. In the air tension; something hung in the balance. My mind, frenzied, kept reevaluating, rethinking – still searching. Then, suddenly, a few short, quiet words…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say... My mind stopped running and one memory pierced my mind with sharp force.
A dark night. Stars as well. Open sky. Caborca. Another life-changing question. The same words, the same melody playing softly, slowly, clearly in my head. Be more quiet now.
Nights like this make my soul forget fear.
I lay in the back of the truck and wished that it would go on forever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ecclesiastes 8:5-6
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The Game
Come and play a while with me, my friend –
Games are free; I’m yours on lend.
We could try things out and see –
Let’s see just how you look on me –
Then, just like that, we’ll turn away
A true love lasted just one day.
You’d think a day would be alright
A few short hours, sunrise to night
But no! Eternity within in our hearts
Gets weary soon of these false starts
Summer tears can last through fall…
Deep roots of pain outlast it all.
Sorry, friend, I tried to play along
To match your voice in this stupid song
But the lock and latch imbedded deep
Now I’m convinced you’re all I need
Until another comes along
To try on me another song.
The music starts; now soft and low
You beckon me to come below
It takes all of me to turn away
(Torture greets me in your face!)
Arousing prematurely is something we do well…
I should have looked into your eyes before the darkness fell.
Come and play a while with me, my friend
Can we forget in our world of pretend?
We could try things out and see…
We could try things out and see…
Painted smile is all that’s left of me.
Games are free; I’m yours on lend.
We could try things out and see –
Let’s see just how you look on me –
Then, just like that, we’ll turn away
A true love lasted just one day.
You’d think a day would be alright
A few short hours, sunrise to night
But no! Eternity within in our hearts
Gets weary soon of these false starts
Summer tears can last through fall…
Deep roots of pain outlast it all.
Sorry, friend, I tried to play along
To match your voice in this stupid song
But the lock and latch imbedded deep
Now I’m convinced you’re all I need
Until another comes along
To try on me another song.
The music starts; now soft and low
You beckon me to come below
It takes all of me to turn away
(Torture greets me in your face!)
Arousing prematurely is something we do well…
I should have looked into your eyes before the darkness fell.
Come and play a while with me, my friend
Can we forget in our world of pretend?
We could try things out and see…
We could try things out and see…
Painted smile is all that’s left of me.
Friday, August 17, 2007
I Repent
Trepidation is about the best word to describe the full extent of my attitude towards my latest adventure. As its approach drew near, I realized I was anything but ready, and the task was no small one. I was one of ten in a small evangelistic team headed for North Africa… and, although I do happen to be a former MK (missionary kid), the Muslim culture is one that I had not experienced until now. I have so much to say… and the trip was so long that it’s divided itself into different sections in my mind. So, without further ado (and from the very start)… the adventure begins.
Day 1: A non-starter
This particular day – July 3rd – a bomb scare closed down London / Heathrow airport, and 108 flights in and out of the place were cancelled. Meaning… ours as well. Right from the start we realized that this was not a trip on our own strength, and if God was going to make things happen, He was going to make sure that we knew – for sure and for certain – that WE weren’t the ones responsible. J So, with our living room a chaos of suitcases and various and sundry different packages – the four occupants of the Paasch household were very still: simply waiting. Living life on hold.
This moment of not-knowing is quite an analogy of my life right now.
If you were to walk into my bedroom right now, you wouldn’t see much. We sold my desk and packed away all its contents months ago now. Ok, 1 ½ months is all it’s been, but for me… it feels like a short eternity. You see, about 6 months ago my parents were seized with this awesome and radical idea to sell everything, box up what little was left, and move down to Tempe, next to the university campus, in order to live life and share the Gospel with students. It was a radical, exciting, very Paasch-esque thing to do, and we were all stoked. We found a place right across from campus, boxed up only the necessaries, sold all the rest, and put our house on the market. Unfortunately, no one bit on our house. So, I’m left with a chest of drawers, some clothing in the closet, a lone loft bed, and a lot of questions.
Life on hold.
~*~
Since writing the last paragraph, I’ve been told that someone – presumably from our party – has re-booked us to fly out of LA tomorrow, then to Paris, and then to Málaga, Spain. The bizarre part is – none of our 10 team members are at the airport or could have possibly made this reservation. At this point my only choice is to sit back and watch God make this thing happen. And, of course, record noteworthy things here and there… in order that I might remember.
Day 2: Independence Day
The 4th of July is always one of the weirdest days of the year. One I spent in Matamoros, Mexico, watching fireworks from across the border next to a drug lord’s house and headquarters. One I spent sitting in a corn field in Iowa. This year… not sure. I’ll let you know how it ends.
So far everything has gone swimmingly. I was severely searched and patted down to within an inch of my life – and considerably embarrassed by the thoroughness of one security officer who pulled out all my crap in search of objectionable items. I really must have looked quite menacing. Other than that… everything has gone quite according to plan (which, of course, is nice for a change). I’m beginning to get the exciting adventure feeling – the kind of feeling that makes sitting in the lobby of Gate B22 looking at the blinking red and orange letters that say “PHX – Los Angeles” for an hour and a half suddenly seem like a secret mission. It’s not 90 minutes “just killing time”… it’s really only 90 minutes till something inexplicably exciting begins.
What can I say? I’m wide awake. Standing on the edge of something large. What’s going to happen? No idea. But that’s the adventure, right?
Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to see.
~*~
It's 10 p.m. and I'm watching the whole metropolis of LA exploding into flame. As we fly out, fireworks go off on every block... explosions of red and green and blue across the sky.
Day 3: Landing
I’m lying in a hotel room in Málaga, Spain. Will wonders never cease?
It did takes some maneuvering to get here, though… and that’s putting things lightly. Upon recovering our luggage, we came to find out that all the trains for the day had gone, and our only hope was the one last bus that would hit the airport any minute. Somehow we made it, and the bus driver chick dropped us off in the general vicinity she believed our hotel was. And there we were – stranded with 18 40 pound bags in the middle of downtown Málaga at 1 in the morning. We must have been a sight. From there we walked – in no direction in particular – in hopes of perhaps finding the elusive Hotel Silken. Typical moment in the life of a Paasch. Thankfully, by what seemed pure chance (and was really pure providence), we suddenly came upon the blessed Hotel Silken. Debbie and Amy and I were ridiculous all night and fell asleep at 2 a.m. – or 9 p.m., our time.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living inside one of those culture-shock comedies – you know, the kind where the dumb American turns globetrotter… and yet, in spite of it all, I’m beginning to really have a view for the nations. The problem is – I’m by no means an evangelist. Hence my qualms with the idea of “missionary life”. And yet, every time I tell myself that the mission field is not for me, I get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I’d just said something dastardly heretical. (I’m not quite sure that “dastardly” fits there – but it had the right sound effect.) Still, I feel like God has shown me too much for me to be content with my little American air-conditioned life.
Day 4: It begins.
A long walk, a bus, another long walk, and a ferry ride later, we arrived in C____. The worker living there (who I’ve heard of for ages and am now finally getting to meet!) met us coming off the ferry, and gallantly rescued us poor females from a few of our extra burdens. With him we had a bit of a pre-trip pep talk, and his advice and well-put direction put my heart a tad more at ease. Just be yourselves, he said. Love people, and it will show. And I’m clinging to his words. If life is war and souls the target, we 10 of us are headed into hand-to-hand combat. Five times a day in a Muslim culture there is a call to prayer, broadcasted from the rooftops of mosques everywhere. After hearing the call to prayer here, I was struck with a very odd, rather eerie feeling – as though I could feel the foothold of the Enemy more clearly than before. My deepest desire is to – for a few short days – bring a candle into a dark place, a place that has gathered shadows and darkness for centuries now… and I want to do it by just tangibly loving people. I have no idea really what that would like in this context, and I desperately need wisdom.
Day 5: First day inside.
We are now in Africa. Our worker friend dropped us off and we were left to the mercies of our new friend, Nuri… our tour guide. We busted out of that hotel and almost immediately found ourselves in the heart of the city’s marketplace. Vendors were all around us, shouting sales calls for their individual wares: fruits, vegetables, fish straight from the water in all varying degrees of freshness… sides of beef and goat and freshly gutted chickens. Immediate sensory overload. Exotic spices – and stenches! – filled the air. Labyrinthine pathways of white-washed walls and centuries-old doorways stretched out in every direction. It was an exhilarating experience, but simultaneously a bit frightening, as dark eyes all around me stared straight into mine – some friendly, some less, some with a sort of brooding hostility. Oh that light would shine in this place again.
From the marketplace we were led (quite unawares), into the local tannery, where we experienced up close and personal the leather-making process. Suffice it to say that, should curiosity into the arts of tanning ever overtake me again, I will gladly content myself with pictures and the the Dummy’s How-To Book at my local Border’s. Some things are better left unsmelled.
Authentic food, hidden courtyards, passionate colors… words cannot do justice to the ancient and intricately carved doors, the mosaic tiling, the incredible craftsmanship we saw everywhere. I wish I had words to describe all I have experienced, just today. There is only one word that begins to give an idea: life-changing. Mind-changing.
Later that night we wandered the streets of the city, looking for opportunities to share, and finding fewer than we expected. No one spoke Spanish, and although we had tried to assimilate our dress to the culture, one could really begin to feel the oppressiveness of the culture as it weights a naïve newcomer down. I began to realize my real inability to make any semblance of a conversation happen, and, circumstances being what they were, we took the chance to walk up and down the streets, just praying. Praying hard. I feel like I’m on a reconnaissance mission of sorts – just learning is all I can do. It’s a humble place to be.
I must remember: love is a universal language.
Day 6
The effects of Islam in the lives and hearts of people are becoming shockingly clear. It hit me just today how little space there is for love in a culture like this… honor and shame are all that matter. Save face. Follow tradition. Appease God. I so desperately want to show them love… but HOW? Does there ever come a point when language and culture barriers are finally too great to overcome?
Tonight – I think – I got my answer.
I realized just how high the stakes were when the time drew near to visit the White Fellowship this evening. We had two taxis drop us off on a beach, and, at a pre-determined spot a brother came and picked us up, leading us through a little doorway (exceedingly well fastened and bolted) to the fellow brothers and sisters awaiting us there.
Once inside, I was surprise at what I found. Instead of the 7 or 8 I expected (the size of the White Fellowship a year ago), 16 or 17 were there to greet us… all with different stories or backgrounds… and yet all of us had somehow been led by the Lord to that very place this very night. 3 American college students were there from all over the U.S., recruited by a very brave young couple working here, and their two precious and very tiny children. Each of the national brothers and sisters were all incredible examples of what God can do in a Muslim heart. Such joy was written across each face… so heavily contrasted with the oppressive somberness that seemed to weight the eyes and hearts of those walking the streets of our city. I had seen the leader of them in a video taken by another worker, entreating all of those fellow believers listening to pray for His people here. And there he was, all smiles, praising with such gladness and abandon that I could not but marvel at God’s faithfulness to His promise… He does indeed have his people from among every nation, tribe, people, and tongue. The Arabic language – so often labeled as a language of hate – was used to bring praises to a beautiful Savior in a remarkable turn of the tide.
I witnessed a miracle tonight.
A few things on my mind:
1. We are NOT safe. One of the Fellowship’s members, in all seriousness, eagerly prayed that we would sleep in our hotel tonight. The last city we’ll reach is one known for terrorism towards evangelists. It makes one think … what am I willing to risk? Would I be ready to give ALL? And yet these brothers really live that, every day.
2. Love is unconditional. I cannot rebel… I have no choice. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Through the love that Christ has poured out on me, so undeservedly – undying, untiring, all-sacrificing love – I therefore CAN love others.
3. Can I be comfortable, now, going home to a comfortable home and comfortable life? It’s not luxurious, perhaps… but it is comfortable. Is this life I have lived merely some coincidence? I have seen too much to be normal now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Someone once said that the actual trip is only the first part of a journey. Coming back to life and putting into action all the things you've learned and seen is quite another thing. I'll tell more about Europe and life getting back later. This is only the beginning.
Day 1: A non-starter
This particular day – July 3rd – a bomb scare closed down London / Heathrow airport, and 108 flights in and out of the place were cancelled. Meaning… ours as well. Right from the start we realized that this was not a trip on our own strength, and if God was going to make things happen, He was going to make sure that we knew – for sure and for certain – that WE weren’t the ones responsible. J So, with our living room a chaos of suitcases and various and sundry different packages – the four occupants of the Paasch household were very still: simply waiting. Living life on hold.
This moment of not-knowing is quite an analogy of my life right now.
If you were to walk into my bedroom right now, you wouldn’t see much. We sold my desk and packed away all its contents months ago now. Ok, 1 ½ months is all it’s been, but for me… it feels like a short eternity. You see, about 6 months ago my parents were seized with this awesome and radical idea to sell everything, box up what little was left, and move down to Tempe, next to the university campus, in order to live life and share the Gospel with students. It was a radical, exciting, very Paasch-esque thing to do, and we were all stoked. We found a place right across from campus, boxed up only the necessaries, sold all the rest, and put our house on the market. Unfortunately, no one bit on our house. So, I’m left with a chest of drawers, some clothing in the closet, a lone loft bed, and a lot of questions.
Life on hold.
~*~
Since writing the last paragraph, I’ve been told that someone – presumably from our party – has re-booked us to fly out of LA tomorrow, then to Paris, and then to Málaga, Spain. The bizarre part is – none of our 10 team members are at the airport or could have possibly made this reservation. At this point my only choice is to sit back and watch God make this thing happen. And, of course, record noteworthy things here and there… in order that I might remember.
Day 2: Independence Day
The 4th of July is always one of the weirdest days of the year. One I spent in Matamoros, Mexico, watching fireworks from across the border next to a drug lord’s house and headquarters. One I spent sitting in a corn field in Iowa. This year… not sure. I’ll let you know how it ends.
So far everything has gone swimmingly. I was severely searched and patted down to within an inch of my life – and considerably embarrassed by the thoroughness of one security officer who pulled out all my crap in search of objectionable items. I really must have looked quite menacing. Other than that… everything has gone quite according to plan (which, of course, is nice for a change). I’m beginning to get the exciting adventure feeling – the kind of feeling that makes sitting in the lobby of Gate B22 looking at the blinking red and orange letters that say “PHX – Los Angeles” for an hour and a half suddenly seem like a secret mission. It’s not 90 minutes “just killing time”… it’s really only 90 minutes till something inexplicably exciting begins.
What can I say? I’m wide awake. Standing on the edge of something large. What’s going to happen? No idea. But that’s the adventure, right?
Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to see.
~*~
It's 10 p.m. and I'm watching the whole metropolis of LA exploding into flame. As we fly out, fireworks go off on every block... explosions of red and green and blue across the sky.
Day 3: Landing
I’m lying in a hotel room in Málaga, Spain. Will wonders never cease?
It did takes some maneuvering to get here, though… and that’s putting things lightly. Upon recovering our luggage, we came to find out that all the trains for the day had gone, and our only hope was the one last bus that would hit the airport any minute. Somehow we made it, and the bus driver chick dropped us off in the general vicinity she believed our hotel was. And there we were – stranded with 18 40 pound bags in the middle of downtown Málaga at 1 in the morning. We must have been a sight. From there we walked – in no direction in particular – in hopes of perhaps finding the elusive Hotel Silken. Typical moment in the life of a Paasch. Thankfully, by what seemed pure chance (and was really pure providence), we suddenly came upon the blessed Hotel Silken. Debbie and Amy and I were ridiculous all night and fell asleep at 2 a.m. – or 9 p.m., our time.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living inside one of those culture-shock comedies – you know, the kind where the dumb American turns globetrotter… and yet, in spite of it all, I’m beginning to really have a view for the nations. The problem is – I’m by no means an evangelist. Hence my qualms with the idea of “missionary life”. And yet, every time I tell myself that the mission field is not for me, I get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I’d just said something dastardly heretical. (I’m not quite sure that “dastardly” fits there – but it had the right sound effect.) Still, I feel like God has shown me too much for me to be content with my little American air-conditioned life.
Day 4: It begins.
A long walk, a bus, another long walk, and a ferry ride later, we arrived in C____. The worker living there (who I’ve heard of for ages and am now finally getting to meet!) met us coming off the ferry, and gallantly rescued us poor females from a few of our extra burdens. With him we had a bit of a pre-trip pep talk, and his advice and well-put direction put my heart a tad more at ease. Just be yourselves, he said. Love people, and it will show. And I’m clinging to his words. If life is war and souls the target, we 10 of us are headed into hand-to-hand combat. Five times a day in a Muslim culture there is a call to prayer, broadcasted from the rooftops of mosques everywhere. After hearing the call to prayer here, I was struck with a very odd, rather eerie feeling – as though I could feel the foothold of the Enemy more clearly than before. My deepest desire is to – for a few short days – bring a candle into a dark place, a place that has gathered shadows and darkness for centuries now… and I want to do it by just tangibly loving people. I have no idea really what that would like in this context, and I desperately need wisdom.
Day 5: First day inside.
We are now in Africa. Our worker friend dropped us off and we were left to the mercies of our new friend, Nuri… our tour guide. We busted out of that hotel and almost immediately found ourselves in the heart of the city’s marketplace. Vendors were all around us, shouting sales calls for their individual wares: fruits, vegetables, fish straight from the water in all varying degrees of freshness… sides of beef and goat and freshly gutted chickens. Immediate sensory overload. Exotic spices – and stenches! – filled the air. Labyrinthine pathways of white-washed walls and centuries-old doorways stretched out in every direction. It was an exhilarating experience, but simultaneously a bit frightening, as dark eyes all around me stared straight into mine – some friendly, some less, some with a sort of brooding hostility. Oh that light would shine in this place again.
From the marketplace we were led (quite unawares), into the local tannery, where we experienced up close and personal the leather-making process. Suffice it to say that, should curiosity into the arts of tanning ever overtake me again, I will gladly content myself with pictures and the the Dummy’s How-To Book at my local Border’s. Some things are better left unsmelled.
Authentic food, hidden courtyards, passionate colors… words cannot do justice to the ancient and intricately carved doors, the mosaic tiling, the incredible craftsmanship we saw everywhere. I wish I had words to describe all I have experienced, just today. There is only one word that begins to give an idea: life-changing. Mind-changing.
Later that night we wandered the streets of the city, looking for opportunities to share, and finding fewer than we expected. No one spoke Spanish, and although we had tried to assimilate our dress to the culture, one could really begin to feel the oppressiveness of the culture as it weights a naïve newcomer down. I began to realize my real inability to make any semblance of a conversation happen, and, circumstances being what they were, we took the chance to walk up and down the streets, just praying. Praying hard. I feel like I’m on a reconnaissance mission of sorts – just learning is all I can do. It’s a humble place to be.
I must remember: love is a universal language.
Day 6
The effects of Islam in the lives and hearts of people are becoming shockingly clear. It hit me just today how little space there is for love in a culture like this… honor and shame are all that matter. Save face. Follow tradition. Appease God. I so desperately want to show them love… but HOW? Does there ever come a point when language and culture barriers are finally too great to overcome?
Tonight – I think – I got my answer.
I realized just how high the stakes were when the time drew near to visit the White Fellowship this evening. We had two taxis drop us off on a beach, and, at a pre-determined spot a brother came and picked us up, leading us through a little doorway (exceedingly well fastened and bolted) to the fellow brothers and sisters awaiting us there.
Once inside, I was surprise at what I found. Instead of the 7 or 8 I expected (the size of the White Fellowship a year ago), 16 or 17 were there to greet us… all with different stories or backgrounds… and yet all of us had somehow been led by the Lord to that very place this very night. 3 American college students were there from all over the U.S., recruited by a very brave young couple working here, and their two precious and very tiny children. Each of the national brothers and sisters were all incredible examples of what God can do in a Muslim heart. Such joy was written across each face… so heavily contrasted with the oppressive somberness that seemed to weight the eyes and hearts of those walking the streets of our city. I had seen the leader of them in a video taken by another worker, entreating all of those fellow believers listening to pray for His people here. And there he was, all smiles, praising with such gladness and abandon that I could not but marvel at God’s faithfulness to His promise… He does indeed have his people from among every nation, tribe, people, and tongue. The Arabic language – so often labeled as a language of hate – was used to bring praises to a beautiful Savior in a remarkable turn of the tide.
I witnessed a miracle tonight.
A few things on my mind:
1. We are NOT safe. One of the Fellowship’s members, in all seriousness, eagerly prayed that we would sleep in our hotel tonight. The last city we’ll reach is one known for terrorism towards evangelists. It makes one think … what am I willing to risk? Would I be ready to give ALL? And yet these brothers really live that, every day.
2. Love is unconditional. I cannot rebel… I have no choice. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Through the love that Christ has poured out on me, so undeservedly – undying, untiring, all-sacrificing love – I therefore CAN love others.
3. Can I be comfortable, now, going home to a comfortable home and comfortable life? It’s not luxurious, perhaps… but it is comfortable. Is this life I have lived merely some coincidence? I have seen too much to be normal now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Someone once said that the actual trip is only the first part of a journey. Coming back to life and putting into action all the things you've learned and seen is quite another thing. I'll tell more about Europe and life getting back later. This is only the beginning.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Loving a Person
Loving a person just the way they are - that's no small thing.
It takes some time to see things through.
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting...
We need grace either way.
Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...
There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can occupy the same spaces, baby
And only one makes you free...
Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...
If we go looking for a fence, we're gonna find it.
If we go looking for real love, we're gonna find it...
Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing.
That's the whole thing.
Loving me just the way I am, that's no small thing.
It takes some time,
It takes some time,
It takes some time.
It takes some time to see things through.
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting...
We need grace either way.
Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...
There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can occupy the same spaces, baby
And only one makes you free...
Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...
If we go looking for a fence, we're gonna find it.
If we go looking for real love, we're gonna find it...
Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing.
That's the whole thing.
Loving me just the way I am, that's no small thing.
It takes some time,
It takes some time,
It takes some time.
Friday, April 06, 2007
How Firm a Foundation
How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word!
What more can He say,
Than to you He hath said,
You, who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?
In every condition - in sickness, in health;
In poverty's vale, or abounding in wealth;
At home and abroad, on land or on sea,
As thy days may demand, shall My strength ever be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was a sweltering August day in the year 2004, with an unmerciful sun beating down at high noon. The Paasch van was parked in front of Chandler-Gilbert Community College, a recent meeting-place of all of the family's latest discussions and worry, and the subject of particular loathsomeness to the two young girls who sat therein. It was an interesting time in life... I had just recently ended my freshman year in high school, and here I was, not yet quite 14, on my way into my freshman year of college.
This wasn't fair.
Why me? I began to ask myself. Why me??? This always happens to me! I always end up in abnormal situations. What, after all, would be so terrible about being ordinary?
My mind knew better, but my heart still fought. Desperately I tried to think of any way out of this... could I fake sick? Nope, that would involve lying... too risky. Could I feign being asleep? That wouldn't last long! Excuses began to flood my mind... I'm too young. They don't want me here. I can't do this. I'm not smart enough! This isn't realistic.
Fortunately enough for me (as I would later come to admit)... my very determined little mother would have no excuses. Nothing seemed to budge her. It was enfuriating! Cheeks boiling and heart pounding, I stuck my face into my new backpack one last time, double-checking for textbooks, folders, pencils, etc. Everything was there and as it should be, to my growing dismay. I could've at least left one at home!
The minutes passed all too quickly, and suddenly it was 11:38. Class began at 11:40. My mom was saying something - something encouraging - but my mind was lost in a tempest of fear and doubt - anger at life not going how I would have planned. What happens next? I asked myself. Where do I go from here?
11:39.
"Alright, girls, time to get going! God be with you! I'll be right here when you get out."
Suddenly we were out of the door and swept up into a crowd of students heading to class. We walked in the door to Building B and I stopped dead in my tracks. Before me was a long hallway, lined right and left with seemingly hundreds of students waiting to get into their classrooms. Fear pierced my heart, and for one endless moment, I was absolutely paralyzed. I felt as though every eye was on me; that every student there knew just how naive and insecure and little I really was.
Somehow I made my way down that endless hallway that first day... but I swore (inwardly, to myself, and also quite vocally, to my sister) that I'd never do it again.
From then on, as we walked onto campus, Amy would walk down the corridor of fear, and I would go around the long way, sheepishly slinking against the side of the building, embarrassed and afraid to be who I really was.
Courage has always been something I'm short on. Every new change, every fresh trial, anything even remotely different would throw me off completely and leave me - as I said before - mentally (and at times physically!) paralyzed. It wasn't until that next year that I realized my problem ran much deeper than scary hallways and age numbers... it had to do with my heart, with my faith... with my lack of trust in a sovereign and faithful God. Every now and again, with a fresh pang of conviction, I would recall Joshua 1:9... "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and couageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."
Do you believe this? I would ask myself.
Thank goodness the Lord didn't leave me there. Many times since I have asked Him to challenge me, to grow me... and, (to my utter dismay at times!) He does and has answered. Many times He has pushed me... not merely to the borders of my comfort zone, but completely off its steep edge and into the world of the unknown. Situations like... calling someone I've never met. A public speaking class. Remembering an essay due two minutes before the start of the very class. Going to ASU! Walking up to complete strangers and asking to share with them the Good News of the Gospel... many of my friends have no idea what an inward battle the first Gospel Nite on Mill was for me!!!! Being an interpreter on various mission trips. Speaking up for what I believe in. Trusting God's kind sovereignty when I can't see what's ahead of me - moments when all I can do is trust. All of these things have asked courage of me... courage I did not have.
And yet His grace is greater than my weakness!
1 Corinthians 10:13... No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.
I keep coming back to this glorious truth - all that His grace asks, it provides.
The parable of the mustard seed is indeed a good description of my faith sometimes... other times it seems smaller yet. There are days when it seems I shall lose sight of it all together. Sometimes fear overwhelms me. One thing that has always frightened me is the thought that I'm not quite "normal". I have often said that living a life of "not-knowing" is my deepest fear. Although it seems these fears threaten to overtake me at times, I've decided to fight.
It is always encouraging, in moments when the future seems bleak and uncertain, to look back on those moments where the Lord has shown Himself faithful. You'll be surprised to find elements of faithfulness interwoven throughout every single moment of life - through both easy times and difficult, through both poverty's vale and abundance of wealth. And in our abundant weaknesses, He is proved strong.
This past weekend I spent in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico... my hometown. As I traversed all of those old haunts - places that once were home - I could not but marvel at the faithfulness of God to bring me where I am now. I love remembering where I've been! I finally came to realize - for sure and certain - that I would never trade all kinds of material wealth and security and "a normal life" for the incredible adventures that I've been able to live, always supported and held up and led by One who does not fail like earthly things. Now my chief joy is in remembering that underneath are the everlasting arms, arms that will not falter, whose strength does not waver like the shifting shadows. As my days may demand, so shall HIS strength ever be.
How firm a foundation is the one that we stand on.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Pursuit
"Strange, piteous, futile thing
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited -
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek them in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."
-Francis Thompson
excerpt from the Hound of Heaven
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Portraits
I just realized, after writing this whole entry, that I wrote a post with the very same song almost a year ago now - February 21st, 2006. I feel as if I've come so far since then... and yet, reading the post over again, it feels as though I'm right where I was before. All I can say is this - praise Him for His faithfulness, despite me.
~*~*~*~*~*~
I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most are
The places where I’ve been
They are calling out to me
Like a long-lost friend…
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most are
The places where I’ve been
They are calling out to me
Like a long-lost friend…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As a self-supposed connoisseur of all things vintage, I confess I am often completely mystified as I walk around your average antique store. (No, this hobby is not confined to Arizona’s winter snowbirds… although I do sadly confess myself on quite the younger spectrum of customers in said places! My generation doesn’t know what they’re missing.) It seems that so many things once commonplace and hum-drum are suddenly beatified by age. It’s as if the yellow haze on an old portrait somehow makes the face softer; the nose less pointed; the eyes kinder; the features almost familiar, like an old friend.
And yet I have also noticed, as I walk about these places, that it’s not only the yellow haze that adds such beauty. In fact – more often than not – a fair amount of deceit is (unbeknownst to the customer!) incorporated in old works of art. Long before the now universal camera, photography was carried out in portrait-painting. Paint and canvas were the instruments conveying faces and figures to posterity, and the mind behind paint and canvas was often well paid to be inaccurate. I remember reading – with a good deal of both amusement and disdain – that many portrayals of well-known faces were glorified and magnified beyond even recognition.
Sometimes I paint portraits with my life, too. Portraits of places I’ve been; things I once knew. My instruments are not paint and canvas… I use words.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much…
And the place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn’t milk or honey, but then…
Neither is this.
It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much…
And the place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn’t milk or honey, but then…
Neither is this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Every house I’ve ever lived in – and I’ve lived in a few – is imbued with certain timeless memories. I remember the old trailer in Ensenada for the beautiful cliff 100 yards away looking out on the sea. I remember my last home in Hermosillo, Mexico for its many rooms – ideally built for excellent rounds of hide and seek – and my last big birthday there. I remember North Carolina for the rolling green hills, the forest right outside my apartment door, and the wild onions Amy and I would gather by the dozen. Each of them – despite their many faults – are immortalized in my mind. So what if “home” was nothing but a freezing 4-foot-wide trailer without any heat? So what if the sewer underneath the house exploded? It was home.
And lately – as I began to face the future in real earnest, as people begin to ask me where exactly I’m headed – my heart begins to fear. If there’s anything I hate to say in this world, it’s this…
I don’t know.
And lately, I feel that I don’t know much.
I suppose it’s a healthy place to be, but that doesn’t make it any easier!
I like to hold on to the past; I like to feel founded. Who doesn’t? And so many times, in this painful process of sanctification, I reach for what’s comfortable instead of what’s true. I long for what was once home to me – because I’m afraid to trust Him now.
Numbers 11:4 The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost – also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic…
Apparently they remembered little else. (!) They don’t remember slavery, they don’t remember the murdering of their children, they don’t remember famine and hunger and deprivation and strife. They’ve forgotten the miracles that brought a country to its knees and brought them out of danger. They’ve forgotten that moment when the Red Sea was parted and they walked through its bed to dry land.
Apparently they remembered little else. (!) They don’t remember slavery, they don’t remember the murdering of their children, they don’t remember famine and hunger and deprivation and strife. They’ve forgotten the miracles that brought a country to its knees and brought them out of danger. They’ve forgotten that moment when the Red Sea was parted and they walked through its bed to dry land.
All they can see ahead is fog.
As fallen human beings – un-sovereign and un-omniscient as we are – we often do just this.
As fallen human beings – un-sovereign and un-omniscient as we are – we often do just this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard…
And I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go…
I am caught between the promise
And the things I know
I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I’ve learned…
The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard…
And I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go…
I am caught between the promise
And the things I know
I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I’ve learned…
And those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned.
While my back was turned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I’ve learned a few things about myself lately. First of all, I’m stubborn. Second of all – even when I think so – I don’t really want what’s best for me. Not really. Because if I did, I would want His will for my life… not mine. Or, better put, my will would be in line with His. And I spent a whole year “waiting”… waiting for God to do something, waiting for God to move. As soon as He does – as soon as He breaks down my pride and allows me to see Him more clearly – I run backwards, away from this painful process of growing. I run back to my memories; to my portraits; to the little earthly anchors that I, in my human short-sightedness, once thought held me secure.
Having realized my error, what should I do now?
The answer, at first, was mystifying to me: remember. Then I realized I was focusing on my own face in the portrait - rather than the glorious Painter Himself, whose brilliant colors and fine artistry far surpass my meager attempts at portrayal. I must remember HIM in all this! I must remember the times He has been faithful when I was faithless. I must remember His promises – to never leave us; to never forsake us; to bring us into the glorious country we will one day share with Him.
I have a new focus; a new hope.
There is a reason why Paul, in Hebrews 12, tells us to run ahead with perseverance the race marked out for us. We are not home yet. We see in Hebrews 11, right smack in the middle of the hall of fame of faith, these incredible verses.
v.13 All of these were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them.
Oh boy! Now that’s awesome, in every real sense of the word.
Heb 11:1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Rom. 8:23 … we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
2 Cor.4:16-18… Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
I pray, as I end, that these memories, these portraits of the past may be used in my life as tokens of my God’s faithfulness; that I might remember Him. I pray, that as I look toward the future, my will might be entirely enveloped in His – my eyes fixed, my focus set, my heart willing, my feet running. Running ahead.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Heb 10:35
So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
For in just a very little while,
“He who is coming will come and will not delay.
But my righteous one will live by faith.
And if he shrinks back,
I will not be pleased with him.”
But we are not of those that shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.
Heb 10:35
So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
For in just a very little while,
“He who is coming will come and will not delay.
But my righteous one will live by faith.
And if he shrinks back,
I will not be pleased with him.”
But we are not of those that shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.
~*~*~*~*~*~
-Song excerpts from Sara Groves
Monday, January 29, 2007
Greater....
When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding
'Cause my ribs are bruised and it's just round two.
When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding, kidding
'Cause there's a cut on my eye and it's just round five.
And I used to be quick, I used to see it coming
I used to know how to move my feet
Now I can't duck
And I can't land nothing and
I've forgot how to bob and weave...
Bob and weave...
When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight, you were not kidding
'Cause this room's in a spin and it's just round ten.
And if you care at all
Take that towel from your neck
'Cause I've reached down deep and there is nothing left
I've got nothing
I've got nothing
I've got... nothing
And I was talking big
I was talking
But now...Now what?
Greater is He who is in me
Greater is He who is in me
Greater! Greater...
Ok, ok, ok...
-Sara Groves
Monday, January 15, 2007
Breaking Day
Life begins at the intersection...
If you live the Christian life long enough, sooner or later it will become routine. We, as humans, are creatures of habit... and it seems that anything and everything we do, by mere consistency, can become mundane. Stagnant.
And so, every now and again, the Lord tests what we're really made of. In that moment, when He pulls your world apart - in that moment, you face the intersection.
...these have come so that your faith, of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire, may be proved genuine, and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
1 Peter 1:7
I always thought this last part of the verse "...and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed..." was speaking of that moment when time and this world end and He returns to us at last. But somehow, it seems to apply to my situation as well... albeit in a smaller way.
Sometimes, in this life, amidst our journey along this narrow way, our view is suddenly obstructed. We stumble; we fall; we grope for truth as though blind - madly seeking any reason to even take a step forward. When I cannot see the road ahead of me, hope begins to falter. All those things that are worst in my human nature begin to rear their ugly heads... even in my love of God and of others, for it seems I cannot seem them anymore. That I do not know them. Pride. Jealousy. Doubt. Defeat. The monsters of Untrust and Uncertainty. Every step I take falls on a steep incline... as if, at any moment, I could lose my footing and plummet to the deep dark depths below.
Two questions arise to tempt me... products of the old mind; the life I once knew.
Why me?
What direction now?
My new heart asks - Oh God, what would you have me do? I shout it to the skies above; all I hear is an echo of my own pleading voice: the dark clouds seem to give no answer.
And so I wait.
Oh Lord, I think. We've been through all of this before, haven't we? Didn't I write a blog on waiting a year ago now? I don't understand. I don't understand!
If you live the Christian life long enough, sooner or later it will become routine. We, as humans, are creatures of habit... and it seems that anything and everything we do, by mere consistency, can become mundane. Stagnant.
And so, every now and again, the Lord tests what we're really made of. In that moment, when He pulls your world apart - in that moment, you face the intersection.
...these have come so that your faith, of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire, may be proved genuine, and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
1 Peter 1:7
I always thought this last part of the verse "...and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed..." was speaking of that moment when time and this world end and He returns to us at last. But somehow, it seems to apply to my situation as well... albeit in a smaller way.
Sometimes, in this life, amidst our journey along this narrow way, our view is suddenly obstructed. We stumble; we fall; we grope for truth as though blind - madly seeking any reason to even take a step forward. When I cannot see the road ahead of me, hope begins to falter. All those things that are worst in my human nature begin to rear their ugly heads... even in my love of God and of others, for it seems I cannot seem them anymore. That I do not know them. Pride. Jealousy. Doubt. Defeat. The monsters of Untrust and Uncertainty. Every step I take falls on a steep incline... as if, at any moment, I could lose my footing and plummet to the deep dark depths below.
Two questions arise to tempt me... products of the old mind; the life I once knew.
Why me?
What direction now?
My new heart asks - Oh God, what would you have me do? I shout it to the skies above; all I hear is an echo of my own pleading voice: the dark clouds seem to give no answer.
And so I wait.
To you I call, O Lord my Rock;
do not turn a deaf ear to me.
For if you remain silent,
I will be like those who have gone down to the pit.
Hear my cry for mercy as I call to You for help,
as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place.
Ps. 28:1 -2
Oh Lord, I think. We've been through all of this before, haven't we? Didn't I write a blog on waiting a year ago now? I don't understand. I don't understand!
But that's the point - I don't understand. So here I stand at the intersection - this pivotal moment where I have to decide... where is my faith now? Who do I trust here, at the end of myself? I've always said I trusted the Lord... but did I really? Finally... which way will I go?
The question is harder to answer than you would think.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This one's 'bout a dream I had last night
How an old man tracked me home
And stepped inside
Put his foot inside the door and gave a crooked smile
Something in his eyes
Something in his laugh
Something in his voice made my skin crawl off
He said, "I've seen you here before...
I know your name
And you could have your pick of pretty things
You could have it all
Everything at once
Everything you've seen
Everything you'll need
Everything you've ever had in fantasies...
You've one life, one life, one life left to lead
~ Jonathan Foreman
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It is at this moment when temptation is at its strongest and most lethal. It seems that at our weakest point these decisions come.
And yet, that we might not boast...
"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecution, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
2 Corinthians 12:8-10
Such paradox is this! Indeed... "to be low is to be high, the broken heart is the healed heart... to have nothing is to possess all... the valley is the place of vision."
So He drew me to my knees. That has always been a hard place for me to be; it proves my neediness before a holy God.
The last words I prayed were these - the very same words lifted to His throne so many years ago by a follower like myself...
Lord, let me find thy light in my darkness,
thy life in my death,
thy joy in my sorrow,
thy grace in my sin,
thy riches in my poverty,
thy glory in my valley.
It was then I realized that I had been praying for the wrong thing all along. I had prayed that God would make my path clear; instead He showed me what I really needed to see. He opened my eyes and showed me where I really was... and revealed Himself to me.
All those nights in the valley; all those days climbing, climbing, tired, alone...
... had led me here, to the great mountain top of His glory. I stood, to my utter surprise, on the peak of the highest, most beautiful pinnacle my eyes had ever met. The clouds and fog that had so surrounded me were merely signalling that I had almost reached the top. I had ascended - in the dark! - a height that, had I travelled alone, would have killed me.
And yet his grace...
Now the path behind me suddenly made sense! Now I could see why I had stumbled and fallen; now I knew why every step I had taken had met a steep, frightening incline. And now I saw beneath the firm foundation that had never left me.
My heart beat once or twice, and life flooded my veins
Everything had changed, my lungs had found their voice
And what was once routine
Was now the perfect joy...
~ Jonathan Foreman
I still wonder what God has in store. I am still so eager to see what exactly He wants from me. But I know in whom I have believed. And at that fearful intersection, His grace led me where I could not go... down a path of whole reliance on the One who knows.
And although I still ask - 'Lord, what do you want from me?', His answer - for now - is simply this...
Take up your cross and follow Me.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
What I Learned in 2006
Hello friends! The new year has come, and I pray that it finds you all deeply blessed and rejoicing in the Giver of all good things. As for me, a lot is on my mind and I’d like to share a bit about the things I have learned in 2006. Notice when I used the word “learned” I do not mean to say that I have mastered any of these. Oh friends, no such thing! Yet the Lord has poured out grace in my life, and has seen fit to help me mature and realize the things in my life that need to change.
I have learned …
1. … to rely on Christ alone and on the precious promises of Scripture. Though father and mother forsake me (and praise the Lord they haven’t!)… He remains faithful.
2. … to love people unconditionally.
3. … to speak the truth in love.
4. … to think before I speak.
5. Don't believe everything you hear.
6. …To live in the light of eternity and the hope of heaven.
7. …To love time in prayer – in the secret of His presence.
8. ... that He disciplines those He loves.
9. …To be spontaneous!
1o. …To have a good conversation.
11. … to organize a missions trip.
12. … to laugh so hard I internally shake.
13. … to write poetry.
14. … to sing LOUD! Really, really loud.
15. …to have patience and to wait on His perfect timing.
16. … to love His Word!!!!
17. … to bake a satisfying cranberry apple bake. ;)
18. … to effectively share the Gospel!
19. … to take initiative.
2o. … to search the Scriptures.
21. … to listen.
22. … to have compassion.
23. … to talk on the phone for over a minute. (!)
24. … to walk by faith.
25. … to write for His glory.
26. … to seek first His kingdom.
27. ... that God can handle an honest conversation.
28. I’m not alone in this.
29. … to heartily attack and complete a trashed kitchen in 15 minutes, armed with nothing but a bottle of Windex, a sponge, and lots of paper towels.
30. … to realize how weak I am in and of myself.
31. … to realize how strong He is.
32. ... to fly by the instruments.
33. (and finally) … to dream big.
The Lord has seen fit to grow me in huge ways this past year; I hope to continue to learn these things… some of these lessons really are life-long. I can't wait to see what the Lord will do with 2007. I haven't really had much time to come up with resolutions as yet (although I have a few!)... perhaps they'll end up being more like February 1st resolutions. Oh well. ;)
I leave for Caborca early, early on the 4th... and I really want to ask you all to be praying for this trip. This is the first Caborca trip that I have organized and, as such, the details have encompassed me much more than perhaps they should have. I want to be focused on the Lord and on His glory... and many hard and painful trials have arisen in the past few months that tempt me to alter my focus. And yet, even through these, the Lord has taught me to trust Him - and Him only - as I have never done before. His grace is indeed sufficient in my weakness. Please be praying that the Lord would prepare the hearts of the people we go to share with; that He would open doors for the Gospel and for our ministry; that He would prepare the team; and that, in everything, we would make His glory known this January.
That's all, I guess. God bless - and a very blessed New Year to you all.
~ Hannah
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Attempt great things for God; expect great things from God.
~ William Carey
I have learned …
1. … to rely on Christ alone and on the precious promises of Scripture. Though father and mother forsake me (and praise the Lord they haven’t!)… He remains faithful.
2. … to love people unconditionally.
3. … to speak the truth in love.
4. … to think before I speak.
5. Don't believe everything you hear.
6. …To live in the light of eternity and the hope of heaven.
7. …To love time in prayer – in the secret of His presence.
8. ... that He disciplines those He loves.
9. …To be spontaneous!
1o. …To have a good conversation.
11. … to organize a missions trip.
12. … to laugh so hard I internally shake.
13. … to write poetry.
14. … to sing LOUD! Really, really loud.
15. …to have patience and to wait on His perfect timing.
16. … to love His Word!!!!
17. … to bake a satisfying cranberry apple bake. ;)
18. … to effectively share the Gospel!
19. … to take initiative.
2o. … to search the Scriptures.
21. … to listen.
22. … to have compassion.
23. … to talk on the phone for over a minute. (!)
24. … to walk by faith.
25. … to write for His glory.
26. … to seek first His kingdom.
27. ... that God can handle an honest conversation.
28. I’m not alone in this.
29. … to heartily attack and complete a trashed kitchen in 15 minutes, armed with nothing but a bottle of Windex, a sponge, and lots of paper towels.
30. … to realize how weak I am in and of myself.
31. … to realize how strong He is.
32. ... to fly by the instruments.
33. (and finally) … to dream big.
The Lord has seen fit to grow me in huge ways this past year; I hope to continue to learn these things… some of these lessons really are life-long. I can't wait to see what the Lord will do with 2007. I haven't really had much time to come up with resolutions as yet (although I have a few!)... perhaps they'll end up being more like February 1st resolutions. Oh well. ;)
I leave for Caborca early, early on the 4th... and I really want to ask you all to be praying for this trip. This is the first Caborca trip that I have organized and, as such, the details have encompassed me much more than perhaps they should have. I want to be focused on the Lord and on His glory... and many hard and painful trials have arisen in the past few months that tempt me to alter my focus. And yet, even through these, the Lord has taught me to trust Him - and Him only - as I have never done before. His grace is indeed sufficient in my weakness. Please be praying that the Lord would prepare the hearts of the people we go to share with; that He would open doors for the Gospel and for our ministry; that He would prepare the team; and that, in everything, we would make His glory known this January.
That's all, I guess. God bless - and a very blessed New Year to you all.
~ Hannah
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Attempt great things for God; expect great things from God.
~ William Carey
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Saturday's Citation: Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken -
It is the star to every wandr'ing bark,
Whose worth's unknown
Although his height be taken.
Love is not Time's fool; though rosy lips and cheeks
Beneath his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom -
If this be error, and upon me proved,
Then I never writ; nor no man ever loved.
-William Shakespeare (at his very best!)
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken -
It is the star to every wandr'ing bark,
Whose worth's unknown
Although his height be taken.
Love is not Time's fool; though rosy lips and cheeks
Beneath his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom -
If this be error, and upon me proved,
Then I never writ; nor no man ever loved.
-William Shakespeare (at his very best!)
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Dear Refuge
Sometimes life can be summed up in a few lines of an old hymn.
Dear refuge of my weary soul
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll
My fainting hope relies.
To Thee I tell each rising grief
For thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.
But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail
And all my hopes decline.
But gracious God! Where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust -
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust.
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace
Been deaf when I complain?
No, still the ear of sovereign grace
Attends the mourner's prayer -
Oh may I ever find access
To breathe my sorrows there.
Thy mercy seat is open still
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will -
And wait beneath Thy feet.
-Anne Steele
Dear refuge of my weary soul
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll
My fainting hope relies.
To Thee I tell each rising grief
For thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.
But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail
And all my hopes decline.
But gracious God! Where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust -
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust.
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace
Been deaf when I complain?
No, still the ear of sovereign grace
Attends the mourner's prayer -
Oh may I ever find access
To breathe my sorrows there.
Thy mercy seat is open still
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will -
And wait beneath Thy feet.
-Anne Steele
Friday, December 15, 2006
A New Tradition
So Brian has his Wednesday's Word. Jonathan has his Friday's Foto. And... I'm adding my own weekly contribution to the blogosphere... Saturday's Citation. So... it's cheesy. But... knowing me... what can you expect???!? ;) I love quotes. I hope to be able to post something worth thinking about, now and again... some worthwhile food for thought. What with this new "Blogger Beta" business, I've been trying (for quite some time) to post a "text box" on the edges of things for my quotes... but alas! I have no mind for technology... or html. ;) So, here goes.
Saturday (give or take an hour and a half), December 16th, 2006 -
Saturday (give or take an hour and a half), December 16th, 2006 -
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
~Theodore Roosevelt
~Theodore Roosevelt
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
The Setting Sun
...my hope runs underneath it all,
the day that I'll be home...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Art thou tired and art thou weary?
Run to Jesus, weakened soul...
Here is grace and strength aplenty,
Here the spent - in Him - are whole.
He did not promise a clear lit pathway
Or a life just how we wanted
Yet mercy waits on poor in spirit
And attends all His faint hearted.
With tempting, we are not overcome
Nor perplexed, despairing
Nor shall life's sometime heavy load
Break our backs in bearing.
What use is there in hoping, then,
If all is now complete?
What joy in rest shall we possess,
If we strengthen our own feet?
Mighty One, God of armies
I stand before Thee, quaking
The earth - within my head - is spinning
The ground - around me - shaking.
Yet I know in whom I have believed
Though I know not the way
This rock, this anchor holds me firm
Till His unending day.
For aught though now we languish
We do not pass through this unseen;
His Word, His life, His truth are ours -
... In Him true victory.
If faith is in a future home
Then here I hope to run
Not tangled, hindered; but rejoicing
Toward bright setting of the sun.
Rejoice, my fellow soldier!
Though night is coming on...
The dark is for a moment
Until bright day shall dawn.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Just a few simple lines penned in a dark moment of trial... illumined yet by glorious hope. These moments that try the soul test our trust in His ever-faithfulness. May my faith - by His grace - be proved ever true.
You are never too young to think about it...
I cannot wait to be home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith - at last - becometh sight.
the day that I'll be home...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Art thou tired and art thou weary?
Run to Jesus, weakened soul...
Here is grace and strength aplenty,
Here the spent - in Him - are whole.
He did not promise a clear lit pathway
Or a life just how we wanted
Yet mercy waits on poor in spirit
And attends all His faint hearted.
With tempting, we are not overcome
Nor perplexed, despairing
Nor shall life's sometime heavy load
Break our backs in bearing.
What use is there in hoping, then,
If all is now complete?
What joy in rest shall we possess,
If we strengthen our own feet?
Mighty One, God of armies
I stand before Thee, quaking
The earth - within my head - is spinning
The ground - around me - shaking.
Yet I know in whom I have believed
Though I know not the way
This rock, this anchor holds me firm
Till His unending day.
For aught though now we languish
We do not pass through this unseen;
His Word, His life, His truth are ours -
... In Him true victory.
If faith is in a future home
Then here I hope to run
Not tangled, hindered; but rejoicing
Toward bright setting of the sun.
Rejoice, my fellow soldier!
Though night is coming on...
The dark is for a moment
Until bright day shall dawn.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Just a few simple lines penned in a dark moment of trial... illumined yet by glorious hope. These moments that try the soul test our trust in His ever-faithfulness. May my faith - by His grace - be proved ever true.
You are never too young to think about it...
I cannot wait to be home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith - at last - becometh sight.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Giving Thanks
Days like these call one to remember.
As I sit here, filled to the brim - no! overflowing - with good things, I am driven to thanksgiving. I can't help but remember, in a moment like this, all the times that He's been faithful. His mercies are indeed new every morning. Even when I am tired; even when laid low; even when remorseful and prostrate over my sin... still, in the midst of my never ending shortcomings... He is faithful. And I cannot help but fall to my knees in thanks and praise for the endless blessings He has bestowed on my life.
Let me briefly count the ways.
I am blessed with a strong, Christ-centered church and daily opportunities for ministry. I am blessed (perennially!) with a strong Christ-centered family who every day encourage me and spur me on toward love and good deeds. (It doesn't get much better than that, does it?) I am blessed by the opportunity to go to school (yes, it is a blessing) and study one of my favorite things - Spanish. I am blessed by all of you every day... my friends who have encouraged and supported me in so many, many ways. I wish, friends, I could tell you just how much.
And then, of course, there are things like these....
my second home...
.... Team Caborca...
As I sit here, filled to the brim - no! overflowing - with good things, I am driven to thanksgiving. I can't help but remember, in a moment like this, all the times that He's been faithful. His mercies are indeed new every morning. Even when I am tired; even when laid low; even when remorseful and prostrate over my sin... still, in the midst of my never ending shortcomings... He is faithful. And I cannot help but fall to my knees in thanks and praise for the endless blessings He has bestowed on my life.
Let me briefly count the ways.
I am blessed with a strong, Christ-centered church and daily opportunities for ministry. I am blessed (perennially!) with a strong Christ-centered family who every day encourage me and spur me on toward love and good deeds. (It doesn't get much better than that, does it?) I am blessed by the opportunity to go to school (yes, it is a blessing) and study one of my favorite things - Spanish. I am blessed by all of you every day... my friends who have encouraged and supported me in so many, many ways. I wish, friends, I could tell you just how much.
And then, of course, there are things like these....
my second home...
carne asada...
.... Team Caborca...
Days like this....
Sunday nights. Random phone calls. Good conversations. Music. Worship. Old Testament Survey. Tia. Learning Spanish. RE-learning Spanish. Sunsets. Stars. Learning truth. Swing dancing! 4 hour nights. Italian modules. Movie nights. Antique stores. Books worth reading. Moments worth waiting for. Growing relationships. Searching the Scriptures. Sweet hours of prayer. Proclaiming the Gospel of salvation! The Valley and the Height. Singing old hymns. Cranberry bliss bars. Surprise parties. Finals. Much needed sleep. For even those moments that try the soul.
(Note: all of the above and so much more.)
Now here comes the best part.
And then, amidst it all, above everything else, first and fore-most... there is the unchanging, unwavering, continual faithfulness of God. What beautiful truth! It ever calls me to rejoice. There are His great promises that never fail... even in our weakness. There is His Word - double-edged sword and faithful guide - and His great mercy that never fails.
I have seen, in this past year, so much of His goodness. I have seen Him work in hard hearts. I have seen Him use a group of tired, hot, and weary people to make His glorious name known. I have seen Him prove faithful in every trial I have encountered.
While in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
My God is true each morn anew
He leads me that I shall not fall,
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, and by the way....
I have discovered anew the beauty of hymns. A ministry through Christ Community Church in Tennessee called "Indelible Grace" has been "recovering" hymns... taking amazing old lyrics and giving them new life. Immerse yourself in prayer, then in Scripture... then immerse yourself in these. Matthew Smith, Derek Webb, Sandra McCracken, and Mr. Haseltine (lead singer of Jars of Clay) are just a few among the group of artists who have been collaborating on this project. Great stuff. I recommend them to any and all.
And yes, they ARE from Tennessee, so a few of their renditions are a bit "country" for my taste... but the lyrics remain the same. With titles like "Whate'er my God Ordains is Right" and "My Lord, I Did Not Choose Thee"... I am more than willing to overlook slight taste preferences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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