It Starts

This process so far has been quite surreal. I have had to continually tell myself what I am doing- “I am going to Germany, not for a vacation.
The first flight went by pretty quickly. Sat next to a man and his little boy, on their way to Disneyworld. I watched a dumb movie for most of the flight.

The flight to Germany was the most eventful flight I have ever been a part of. Talk about the things you’d like to have someone with you for. The first few hours I was sitting in the back row next to a young German couple who felt it necessary to kiss every 30 seconds. Gross…I tried to focus on other things…Then one of the flight attendants came on over the intercom to tell us that because of a medical emergency with one of the passengers, we would have to turn around and go back to Miami. A few minutes later several attendants and one of the other passengers carried a man who looked very purple down the aisle to the back of the plane. A bit later we were told that we were going to have to land in the Bahamas instead. Apparently the other passenger helping to carry the man was a doctor and he didn’t think that the man would survive the extra thirty minutes it would take to get to Miami as opposed to landing in the Bahamas.


The dying man’s wife came and sat down behind me. I just kept hearing her apologize to the flight attendant, “I am so sorry. I feel so bad for all of these people.” The flight attendant kept assuring her that it was fine, that everyone would understand. The woman didn’t seem distraught at all over her husband. She remarked, “he’s probably going to be fine, as soon as we land.” As though the guy was just being dramatic. I felt so sad for this couple, for the man fighting for his life, for his seemingly unaffected wife, and for the strange relationship they must have. After about an hour and a half, the plane began circling down down and down. I could see the altitude numbers on the PA screen dropping….soon we were on the ground and the flight attendants opened the back emergency exit door. The wife said, “Oh good, we’re going out back here? Now we don’t have to walk by all those people.” Surely, I thought, this woman is somewhat in shock.



The man was taken from the plane and put on an ambulance. Then the waiting began. “we have to fill out paperwork” we were told. We waited an hour. “We have to get more fuel” added to the wait. Then, “We must contact our headquarters in Berlin to see where we should go, we cannot go back to America.” One hour turned to two, then three. Then we heard “we are still waiting on word from Berlin. We will serve a cold meal and turn on a movie.” I ate my cold sandwich and watched the second dumb movie in two days, this time “Arthur.” I drifted in and out of sleep. By the end of the movie we had gotten word that we would have to go to Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic. Air Berlin had a station there. The crew would get their mandatory 10 hour break and we would all be put up in a hotel. The hour and a half flight commenced.

We landed in the D.R. in the middle of the night. Most everything was dark and I couldn’t make out what the place looked like, except for the building.

We went into the open air airport and got our baggage. I was disappointed to find out our luggage wouldn’t stay on the plane because I didn’t want to have to deal with my two mammoth suitcases..but oh well. Up to this point I had made very little communication with anyone. About 90 percent of the people on the flight were German and the combination of the language barrier and my fatigue led me to stay quiet most of the day. Now in the airport I took my cues from my fellow passengers. There’s a luggage cart around that corner. I waited in the back of the crowd for it to thin out so I would have space to maneuver the insanely heavy bags I had packed. I loaded them up and followed the line through customs. I got another coveted stamp in my passport and followed the trail of people back out to the front of the airport. An airport service man took my bags from the cart and put them onto a dolley and took them out to buses that everyone was loading onto. Of course I had no money for tip, hopefully this man understood our situation? I got on the bus and picked a spot to settle in. We were told we were going to a hotel 30 min away.

On arriving and again unloading everyone’s bags, we now migrated to a meeting room where we would be registered with the hotel. I started realizing that I was definitely with Europeans- no one is polite about lines or space. The rule is there are no rules, it’s every man for himself and I would have to decide whether or not I was going to do things their way or be last in everything. I continued to deal with this dilemma all night as I could not bring myself to cut in front of people, to throw my body or bags in front of someone next to me. I continually felt frustrated by the people who would see a line of people and yet walk right to the front and jump in.

My dilemma led me to being the very last passenger in my hotel room- I later found out that another passenger had already been sleeping in his room for two hours by the time I got to my room around 5:30 in the morning. Upon entering my room I was able to forget my exhaustion for a second as my eyes beheld the large suite with a king sized bed, couch and sitting area and balcony leading out to one of the pools. I searched the mini fridge and found that the contents were included with the stay and I helped myself to the only food item inside- a bag of lays potato chips. The first food I had eaten since the cold sandwich, those chips had never tasted so good.


I tried to get the internet up on my computer so I could check in with family and friends, but no dice. Apparently the one thing not included in this all included resort was free wi-fi. I shut the laptop down, set two alarms, got ready for bed and crawled into that large slice of heaven for the next four hours.




I woke up around 10 on Sunday morning. I walked out to my balcony to spend a few minutes looking at:


I packed up my things and set out to find the front desk again. I stepped out the door to amazing humidity. The walk to the front desk had me sweating and I realized the jeans and t-shirt were a huge mistake. I went back to my room and changed. I tried calling the front desk to see if they could send someone to help me with my bags but no one answered. I set out with my two huge bags, backpack and purse. I was sweating bullets as I pulled those 100+ pounds down the sidewalk. I spotted one of the hotel bell boys with a bag cart about halfway through my trek and waited for him to come help me. Sure enough he offered to take my bags and I gladly let him. He said he had to go to one more room to pick up bags and he’d meet me at the front desk. I obliged, praying that I really would see him and my bags again…Back at the “lobby” (a huge open air room with bar area, restaurant and lounge) I searched for something to eat and drink. I found pineapple juice and a table with pastries. I downed two of the pastries and a few cups of juice and waited for my bags which yes, did show up. Again I had no money to pay the man and just hoped he wouldn’t hate me too much.
Next it was getting onto the bus. I joined the crowd of people from my flight, making some small talk with a few of the girls I remembered from the night before. After about an hour’s wait all of us were loaded again onto buses. A guy named Vijay began talking with me on the bus from across the aisle. We chatted on the ride to the airport. Upon arriving our bags were unloaded and the airport workers were waiting to help us with bags. I knew they were all hungry for tips and I tried to just grab my own bags to avoid once again disappointing some worker, but of course I wasn’t fast enough. I followed some dude with my bags to the line and I tried to explain to him that I didn’t have any money as he just stood next to me in line. Vijay came up behind me and handed me a $5. I thanked him and handed it to the man who then nodded at me and left…I thanked Vijay again and offered him some Euro but he told me not to worry about it. We were now at the back of yet another line, which was obviously going to be an hour at least of a wait. We continued chatting and making small talk. He is from India but works in Paris. He was giving me tips about living in Europe- keep an open mind, don’t be offended by harsh comments because Europeans speak their minds and don’t sugar coat things, try to learn the language, etcetc etc. He helped me roll one of my bags through the line and “soon” enough we were at the front of the line.
Next it was back through security and to our gate. Of course our gate didn’t say Berlin on it, but Miami. We spent a few minutes trying to figure out if we were at the right gate, and ended up just hoping for the best, taking the word of some of our fellow passengers that we were in the right place. I realized how much on this trip I just hoped for the best and followed along. I hope that this method continues to give me the success it has so far . Sure enough we got on the correct flight another hour or so later. Once in the air it was crazy to think of all we had been through so far.
Vijay and I talked some more on the plane. Eventually we were able to talk about God. Funny enough, it came up when he asked me what music I liked and I said in my list that I listen to Christian music. He began to tell me why he doesn’t like Christian music though he is a Catholic. I then got to explain why I do like it, how it reminds me about the truths about God, how it directs my heart to praise and admire Him, how God has used it in my life during hard times to encourage me…This led into talking about all sorts of things in regards to Christ and the Bible. Vijay asked me at some point if I had a lot of friends who believe like I do and I was able to tell him more about that. I am hoping that I could show him someone with a genuine relationship with God.
With about four hours to go in our trip we both decided to try to sleep. Of course that didn’t go so well, but I slept on and off for the next few hours. Finally they served us “breakfast” which I was very excited for and of course disappointed to find we were already starting the German breakfast of bread, lunch meat, and cheese. At least I got some coffee!

On arriving to Berlin we began to clap. Our journey was finally ended. Vijay helped me to collect my bags (he didn’t have to get his as he was still going on to Paris). As soon as I walked out of the baggage claim Cosi was there and we hugged. It was so great to see her! Her Opa had brought her and would drive us home. He didn’t speak any English but he was very sweet. I wished I could have spoken to him. I just kept saying thank you.

When we got home Cosi had to go back to school and everyone else was gone. I took a few minutes to get online and check facebook then I went to my room and crashed. I took comfort in the fact that I had some sleeping pills so I could take one at night . The four hour nap felt amazing.



When I woke up everyone was home and were gathering to eat so I joined them. Delicious! Rice and chicken. We watched a little bit of the German basketball team playing Latvia, Nowitski was a pleasure to see again though it was Chris Kaman who was doing most of the scoring in the part of the game we saw. Soon it was off to Guido’s practice (Guido is Cosi’s dad and he coaches a club team of 16 year old boys). Cosi and I went along because some of the boys I know from Crossover were on the team- including Kjell who is the boy in the family that hosted Carrie and I this year. I was so excited to see him, and Adrienne, both who have been at Crossover every year that I have been. Then I saw Florian, a boy from last year and then Denis! I was so surprised to see Denis, he was walking up to me and I did not recognize him at all. I was thinking “does this guy know me? He is walking up to me like he does”…then I realized it was him! Denis came to Crossover in 2008. He was there again in 2009 but I wasn’t, and in 2010 and this summer he was on vacation during camp, so this was my first time to see him in three years. He is all grown up! He was very excited to see me and told me that he has great memories from 2008, especially from me answering his questions about God. What a wonderful way to be greeted!!

All this to say, the start of this journey has already been very eventful. I am excited to be here but still nervous for how things will work out. I just keep turning that back over to God. So far it looks like the team I will coach and the team I will play for basically practice at the same times. The team I coach is to practice two evenings a week, and the team I am to play for has it 4 evenings a week. I may only get to practice myself on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I really hope somehow it can work out differently…

Tonight is the first practice with the team I will coach. We have no idea how many kids will show up, and I have been told it could be kids from age 7 all the way to 14. I have also found out that this may be more like training sessions than an actual team. As usual, everything is up in the air ….

To be continued…

Hungry Life

Tonight I was talking with a friend of mine, and we were talking about whether or not it is important to have a sense of urgency in life. I immediately responded that we must, and without much thought I said, "because life is short, and we don't know how long we have, and we should have an impact with the life we get." Of course I was immediately somewhat wishing I hadn't said that because it caused me to once again turn the magnifying glass on my own life and examine whether or not I live with impact and a sense of urgency, and it was hard for me to say yes...

Of course hours after that conversation I'm still thinking about it. I think about it a lot actually, about what's going on with this life of mine. I think that everyone goes through phases in their lives when their "life metabolism" picks up. Suddenly you have this craving for more- more what? You're not sure, but you know that "this" isn't satisfying and you want something. We rack our brains trying to figure out what will satisfy us, and for some of us, we chase after the things we think will satsify us. For some of us it's a career. For some, it's prestige, for some it is family, or popularity, or beauty...we try and we try to satisfy that craving...but just like an apple won't do when all you're craving is chocolate cake, we find that all these things we are chasing just won't suffice.

The problem is that I know, and I think most people know, that in the end, we are craving God. We are craving spiritual experience. We are craving true and unconditional love. But we don't really quite know how to get from A to B.

I don't really quite know how to get from A to B. My friend who was talking to me tonight is an intensely practical person. He recognizes the need to live our physical lives and reminds me of it often, that at the end of the day- well, there's an end to the day, and a start of the next one, and it takes food and water and shelter to get us through it. We are physical beings with mundane responsibilities. I'm trying to figure out how to live out this thirst for God, and this thirst for spiritual experience, in a very physical world.

I'm trying to figure out the difference between selfish ambition and godly ambition. The difference between enjoying my job and working hard at it, and letting my job become my end all, my identity. I'm trying to figure out how my job fits into my ultimate purpose of loving God and building His kingdom. I'm trying to figure out how to be spiritual, emotional, practical, physical, rational, and faithful all at the same time.

Sometimes I am afraid that I am going to live my whole life and never figure it out. Or that I'll finally figure it out after years and years of living the "wrong way." I'm afraid that I'll get caught up in living for myself, in loving myself, and in allowing myself to float through life or to pursue things that just don't matter.

These past couple of weeks I've been reading through a book my sister lent me, "Christ the Lord, Out of Egypt" by Anne Rice. The story is about Jesus' childhood years, from about age 8-11. Of course it is all speculation, but it was really interesting to read and to think through what He was like then! It was good to be reminded that my Savior spent 30 years on this earth living a very human, very ordinary life. (ok, minus the angels and magi and stuff at his birth...)He had parents and family and school and traditions and holidays and such...

In the book Jesus is trying to figure out exactly who He is and what His purpose is on the earth. I know this passage is taken out of context so I hope that it doesn't lose its punch, but at one point in the book He says,

"I wasn't sent here to find angels! I wasn't sent here to dream of them. I wasn't sent here to hear them sing! I was sent here to be alive. To breathe and sweat and thirst and sometimes cry.
And everything that happened to me, everything both great and small, was something I had to learn! There was room for it in the infinite mind of the Lord and I had to seek the lesson in it, no matter how hard it was to find.
I almost laughed.
It was so simple, so beautiful. If only I could keep it in my mind, this understanding, this moment...Oh yes, I would grow up, and there would come a time when I would leave Nazareth, surely. I would go out into the world and do what I was meant to do. Yes. but for now? All was clear...
It seemed the whole world was holding me. Why had I ever thought I was alone? I was in the embrace of the earth, of those who loved me no matter what they thought or understood, of the very stars.
'Father,' I said, 'I am your child.'"

This passage from the book was beautiful to me because I saw how Jesus was content to know that He was God's. He was content to live His daily life, soaking up the lessons His Father had for Him, and moving each day toward whatever purpose the Father was planning for Him. I felt relieved to think that there are things in my life that won't go as I would have necessarily wanted, but that there are lessons there to learn, and that Jesus himself 'grew in wisdom' (Luke 2:52) and Jesus was "perfected through suffering" (Hebrews 2:10)...The experiences I live through, are shaping me for the purposes God has for me.

There are days when I love being a coach. There are days when I just wish that I was married and staying at home (no, I'm not necessarily saying staying at home with kids, just staying at home. Sleeping. Eating. Letting some sugar daddy pay the bills.) There are days I want to conquer the world's problems. There are days I just want the Lord to come back and sweep me away to heaven. Regardless, each day the Father has a purpose for me to be here. The point is that I live here. The point is that I am His child. The point is that I impact others to live here as His children also. He will lead me in how to do this. Right now, I can keep leading these girls on the basketball team, by example, by loving them. I can keep loving my roommate and encouraging her to love Christ. I can love the people in my church and find out how to help them embrace their Father as well.

I pray, overall, that I will be satisfied in Christ. That just as He was satisfied, knowing He was His Father's that I will be satisfied knowing I get to share in that relationship as well.

Beloved

Colossians 3 talks a lot about how I am to identify myself. I am not known by God as a white girl or a Caucasian or an American or a basketball coach, though I am all of those. Col 3:12 says,"So, as those how have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion..."He knows me as one who He has raised with Christ. He knows me as one of His Chosen ones. He knows me as one of His Holy ones- meaning, He set me apart to be like Him. And, ultimately, He knows me as His beloved.

I think that this last one, for some reason, is one that I just have such a hard time grasping. I am not entirely sure why, but there is some disconnect in me that says God just doesn’t really like me that much. This verse tells me otherwise. I looked up that word in the original Greek, beloved, and here’s what it said:

1) of persons
a) to welcome, to entertain, to be fond of, to love dearly

God has welcomed me, He’s brought me in to entertain (as in the sense of entertaining someone in your home?), He is fond of me, He loves me dearly…The Greek dictionary further said that this word may come from the word phileo which means:
1) to love
a) to approve of
b) to like
c) sanction
d) to treat affectionately or kindly, to welcome, befriend
2) to show signs of love
a) to kiss
3) to be fond of doing
a) be wont, use to do

I’ll be honest, reading those definitions stopped me in my tracks. My eyes are welling up and I feel a quickness in my breathing. God approves of me? He likes me? He treats me affectionately? Loves me dearly? God befriends me? God even kisses me? God is fond of saving me?

Aren’t these the longings in me? To be loved like that? To be fulfilled by such a love? God is not stiff-arming me, waiting for me to make myself holier, to prove myself worthy of something from Him…I don’t know what it is in me, but with both my earthly father and heavenly father I’m always living wanting to please them so they’ll be pleased with me. Neither of them have done anything to me to cause me to think this way, but there it is inside my heart- this thirst for approval, this idea that I’m earning something from them, not even just proving myself worthy of admiration, but working to gain it…Really I treat all people like that, but those are the two big ones…It is a sick love that cares more about how people view me than how I view people. It is wanting their approval more than their good…but that is for another time…
The crazy part is that not only does my earthly father love me unconditionally, so does my heavenly father. I think the latter is so much harder for me to understand because of His complete knowledge of me.
My dad knows me as well as anyone on this earth, but God is the one who knows what I’m really like. God is the one who hears all the thoughts that I am so glad other people can’t hear. God is the one who has seen the deeds done that I’m so glad other people haven’t seen. He knows all about me, the things that really motivate me, bother me, that make me who I am…and He is fond of me.
I think we live in a culture so built on work and rewards that it has seeped into every fiber of my thinking. For goodness sake, even in Awana the system is- learn a verse here‘s a badge for your chest! And to an extent, God works like that too- He says we are laying up treasures in heaven, but we are never ever ever working for His approval or His pleasure over us. That is as free as the air that we breathe. Just as I can take pleasure in God simply for who He is (though I don’t often do that), God has taken pleasure in me simply for who I am- His daughter, the work of His hands.

And you know what’s crazy? When God introduced Jesus to the world as His Son- what did He say? “This is my beloved Son”…same root word…God isn’t kidding that He loves us the same way He loves Jesus…
So often I have read that verse “So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience…” and I have skipped right over those amazing words of who I am in God’s eyes. I’ve read it and gone straight to the checklist- what is God expecting of me today? Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, got it. Then I go and try to bang these into my head so that I will be able to perform them. As if I am some Marine who by sheer force of will and training can produce all the results demanded of him by his officer.
God is not some removed military official, and I most certainly am not even capable of taking His traits and forcing them into my being. As I realize who I am to God, holy and beloved, putting on compassion starts seeming doable because I am so full of the love God has for me. I am so in awe that God likes me and that He has affection for me and that it’s just because.

That is my new identification. I am God’s beloved. What then do I have to prove to Him or anyone else? Nothing. "My Beloved is mine and I am His."

Heavy Heart

Life is so hard. People are in pain all around me and my heart hurts thinking about it. I have experienced so little personal pain but I have been exposed to real raw grief in those around me time and again. It leaves me crying, literally, out to God, asking Him to do something, asking Him to make Himself known, asking Him to reach into these circumstances, to relieve the pain. It is easy to get lost in the pain, in the darkness that seems unyielding, heavy, and consuming. Satan would love for all of us to walk down that dark tunnel of despair never to return. He would love for us to make up our beds in his caverns of sorrow and pity.

I have to remind myself in these times, that this is why God’s wrath makes sense- this is why God hates sin so much, it’s why He put Jesus on the cross- because He absolutely hates how we have destroyed ourselves. He hates the diseases, the disasters, the disappointments, the power plays, the pride, the selfishness, the ugly destructing and grotesque sin that has disfigured our lives so badly. Do I think that these tragedies point to an absent God? That He has somehow lost control of things? Or do I believe, as He told us, that in this world we will have trouble but He overcame the world in crucifying His Son and raising Him to life, so that someday, all this will end and we will at last have rest?

My friend is suffering today. Her grandmother is dying… My childhood friend just lost her husband and is now a single mother… Another friend just lost an uncle and a few days later lost a family friend who committed suicide…How are we to take all this in? I think it is easy to question whether or not our faith will hold us in those times. And I think therein lays so much of our problem- no, faith will not hold us. God will hold us. Will we recognize that? That is the question.

It makes me think of the examples we’ve been given. When Daniel experienced the near annihilation of his people, and was taken captive to Babylon, what could he have possibly felt? What horror and grief and sorrow? His entire life was completely ripped apart. His identity was stripped away from him. He was given a new name, a new residence, a new employment in the house of his enemy. But Daniel was held by God and he knew it. I wish we had more details of Daniel’s life. I wish I could have heard some of his prayers in those early days when his new reality was sinking in. I want to know how a man like him- who we have heralded as righteous and courageous- grieved. I want to hear his requests or his praises or laments…Even more, I wish I could hear God’s voice in response. What was God saying in heaven?

I wish I knew and I wish my friends could hear. The only thing that comes to mind is Jesus in Revelations, urging the churches to just hold on a little longer. He promises that He is coming soon and tells them to hold fast…He encourages them to keep enduring patiently…Come quickly dear Jesus. What else can I pray? None of us want easy answers, we want something to stand on. Christ be our rock. Teach us what it means to put our feet on You, to give you our burdens, because words mean so little and it is the living that is so difficult. Teach us how to get out of bed in the morning and think about you and to trust you right through breakfast time and into the day. Teach us how to draw on your strength and to drink of your peace as we enter into our responsibilities. Help us to take our thoughts captive and to speak words of truth and to think on things that are excellent. Help us to follow Your lead as we make decisions and to choose to entrust ourselves to you as frustrations, doubt, fear, and failure threaten us. Help us to be courageous when we are thrown to the lions and to know that You are always always always with us, in control, and drawing us to Yourself. Help us to remember as the day comes to an end and we fear waking up tomorrow to start again, that your mercies are new every morning and that one day we will wake up in a new heaven and we will live on a new earth and we will be with You at last, face to face, hearts at rest forever.

What's the Point?

The last couple days this question has been popping into my head. What is the point?

It pops into my head at different times. Like, when I'm getting ready to go and I'm curling my hair and putting on make up and I'm thinking, "what is the point of being pretty?" Why am I trying to be pretty, what's the point? What does it get me? What does it get someone else?


Last night at the mall I was looking at the beautiful displays of clothes in Gap's front windows. And I wondered, "what's the point"? What is the point of dressing well and of having trendy outfits? Again I wonder, what will wearing that stuff do for me? I was in Buckle, trying to find a pair of jeans that are actually long enough for me, and the sales girl brought me a pair of pants that cost $110. They fit great. She asked me how I liked them and I told her that I did, but I said, "honestly, I just don't want to pay that much money." She proceeded to tell me how some people just love a good pair of jeans and the money is worth it to them because they love jeans that much. I am not slamming people that spend that kind of money on jeans, but it just made me think, do I want jeans to mean that much to me? What's the point?


The other day I was hanging out with a friend and we were being so goofy. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I even cried a little from laughing so hard. But I left, and I felt a little empty. And I wondered, what's the point?

Now I definitely don't think that I need to be a plain/ugly, poorly dressed, always serious drag of a person, but I do want to think about what I'm doing. I want to know what the point is.

Tonight while I was driving home from church the thought came into my head- "you are trying to make your heaven down here." It clicked. Now that I think about it, maybe that was the Holy Spirit talking to me? I don't know. Regardless, it's true and it is so easy to fall into. I start trying to make this life my heaven. I want it to be comfy, cozy, careless, safe, fun, etc etc etc. I want my heaven here and now. That is not what God put me for. He has told me repeatedly that heaven is coming. And that I must put treasure in that heaven, investing for a later day, and I must live for that day here. I must give up myself while I'm here and I must live to serve.

I want to keep thinking through this and to figure out how to live this out. How to be joyful but not full of empty mirth. How to spend money. How to spend time. How to thirst after God and heaven and not try to make a heaven right here out of the earth. Jesus said that in this world I'd have suffering but I am working so hard to avoid the smallest discomforts...

Will I be bold enough to stop building?

I HEART NYC!

(Ok, disclaimer, I wrote this a while ago,in June, it's taken me this long to put it up...)
This past week something unexpected and incredible happened to me (which I guess unexpected is probably one of the prerequisites for something being incredible). But anyway, so something wonderful happened to me – I fell in love…with New York City.

I’ve heard a variety of things about NYC. I’ve heard about its hustle and bustle, and its excitement and the seemingly endless venues for art and culture. I’ve heard about how the city is dirty and overcrowded and unsafe to be alone in at night. In the excitement of preparing for my trip there I had that little voice of reason in the back of my head that was fretting over whether or not my excitement would be fulfilled or if my anticipation would be slightly disappointed.

Well it turns out my anticipation was more than fulfilled. I loved every part of my trip. I loved the clash of cultures that you find in the Big Apple. To sit in the park and hear one accent after another as people chat, laugh, yell, and peddle, seemed to be the perfect living description of what America is all about. Lady Liberty stands to welcome anyone to come into her harbor to make a new life and here they are, in central park, in the subway station on their way to work, in the deli, living, loving, struggling, to forge a life in the land of freedom.

I loved walking down one street to see Chinese markets and grab a dinner of real Chinese food, though I passed up the ducks hanging in the front window, and then moving on a couple of blocks to get some Canoli in Little Italy. I loved to see the little Chinese women carrying their babies on their backs, and then having Italian men, calling out to passersby to entice them into their cafes for a meal from the Old Country.

I walk a few blocks more and I am surrounded by trendy shops, artful buildings sprinkled with an old church here and there. The wonderful mix of old brick and new metal and glass buildings delight my architectural eye. In those worlds of concrete and structure there is frequently an interruption of green and trees and flowers where children can play and adults sit reading on benches. No one is hiding behind backyard walls, everyone is out together, interacting in this great scene of New York Life.


The Street vendors are frequent with their foods with their delicious scents- hot dogs, roasted nuts, kababs; no street is without a salesman. Each salesman seems bored until you start making a purchase and it seems his countenance gets brighter with each step of transaction. They wish you well as you walk away delighted with your purchase.

I loved seeing parts of my nation’s history- part of my history. It was like I was discovering part of what allows me to be who I am. The great statue stands to tell the world that we are free and open and full of opportunity. Ellis Island was full of stories of the hardships people endured to make a new way for themselves and their families- of sacrifices, dreams, disappointments, and legacies.

I saw the gaping hole of 9/11. I recalled the image seared into my mind of that morning, watching on my television with disbelief and horror what others were simultaneously experiencing when the towers collapsed. Now I saw how the city was moving on, how the land would be healed, the people are healing, and how God has restored so many. I felt anger towards those who would make war against our people- those people I saw in the parks and cafes and on the streets, who believe in freedom and hard work and independence. I felt sorrow for those who’d lost so much when the buildings fell, and I felt pride for those who’d sacrificed so much to help their fellow Americans- to clean up, to rebuild, to replant, to move on and yet to remember.


I experienced the doleful attitudes of those confined to work in booths of all sorts, and the eager helpfulness of strangers on the subways and on the streets. I met people proud of their city and eager to help others experience all it has to offer.

I experienced the vibrant worship of the Brooklyn Tabernacle. The choir rejoiced and the people along with it. The pastor challenged us to give our whole selves to God, not withholding anything, even our most prized possessions or ideas.

New York City is a beautiful place.I hope I will one day return to that great city and continue to explore. But with all it has to offer it is not void of problems- one only has to watch the news or read the paper to learn that. It has its warts and stains and troubles like any other place. Yet at the same time it is like nothing else I've experienced, a great mosaic of color and sound and motion. It is a melding of history with modernity. It is filled with the people of the world that God loves. I pray that New Yorkers would see past their giant city and its charms, surely it has many, and see that there is another city, whose foundations are not man-made; whose splendors will never need refurbishing, whose delights will never disappoint, and more than satisfy for life. I pray that they would know that their laughing, crying, living, and dying takes place under the watch of a Great God who loves them.

I'm Back, but Just as Confused as Ever

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. Anything on paper that is. I must’ve written about a hundred blogs in my head. Days go by where much of my thinking is spent on various topics, with an author’s tone taking over as if I’m addressing a group and not merely thinking to myself. There’ve been many nights where as badly as I want to be sleeping I cannot slow down the train of thoughts that whiz through the space between my ears. And just as a train passing by at its highest speeds becomes not a train at all but an image of colors and light and sound rushing through the air, so my thoughts may fly by me quickly, without a certain shape and form. Unlike a train my thoughts are not held down to go in one direction, at any moment they seem to change and evolve, at times like a tornado to pick up and hop over a topic and set back down someplace else entirely. All the while however, those thoughts are whirling, and spinning , and creating a maddening energy that I simply want to dissipate so that once again I sense the calm that was before the storm began.

I think on the one hand it is silly that I don’t write more. There is so much that I could say, so much that I probably need to get onto paper because things kept in my head never get sorted out. My thoughts need time to stretch their legs, to roam free and to find a destination. Locked inside my head they get jumbled and confused, much like the necklaces I keep squishing into a small jewelry bag. Though I put them in separately, whenever I go back and open the bag again they are inevitably a mass of tangles. So my thoughts so often seem to be.

On the other hand, I go through phases with my thoughts. Sometimes I think I’ve wrestled them down. I think, most curious of all, that I know what I think, and that I’m ready to commit to cementing them with ink. But just when it seems that I’ve got it all straight, a cog falls off and the wheels start running away in different directions and the whole machine has run down again.
Today I realized something that may be good, but perhaps is troublesome for me. I don’t think it’s any surprise to say that I’m an analytical person, or that I am introspective. However, at the same time, I am completely emotional. I want feelings and tears and laughter and joy. I want meaning and purpose and depth.

The two will not always appease each other. My mind is hungry for reason and logic. I have cried oftentimes at my inability to understand the things that I believe will bring me the highest passion and in my mind, the highest purpose.

I don’t want to be like either camp that seems to be found in the world around me- the camp of science which says there is nothing real that I can’t touch or measure, or the camp that says knowledge matters for nothing, only what I feel is important…
Both are wrong; both are death. What good is a body of only bones? What good is a heart without a skeleton? Most of all, what good is a man without a soul? Before God breathed in Adam he was but dust. And so, without the soul, dust is all we would be. Without heart and muscle we are good for nothing but burial. Without bone and soul we are nothing more than meat.

I don’t want to be like those whose reality lays only in experience yet I feel I go crazy for lack of spiritual experience. What is it that others speak of when they say they delight in God’s presence? When they are calmed by His still voice? When they are sure of His guidance?
I pray. I pause, I wait for something. A thought? A feeling? A nudge? A whisper? A sign? I know not what. I have this knowledge that says I ought to be satisfied. I have been given a relationship with the All-satisfying One. I hear others speak of their satisfaction, of their peace, of their wholeness…What have I done wrong or not done right? Where did I miss a turn? Did I sleep in too many mornings? Have I not wanted it enough? How do I get myself to want it more?

I try to conjure the feelings. I try to create a response within myself. I hope for an experience that breaks the ice above my head and leaves me at last, drinking in the air and freedom of the open above me. Inhaling that delicious satisfaction that heals and takes me past a point that I will never go back to.

But right now I seem to be on the Ferris Wheel again. Each time I think I’ve come over the top, for that moment when everything around me is clear and I can see for miles, and I believe I’ve seen my last day at the bottom, then somehow my sun once more turns to twilight and I find myself dropping down, down, down, and I can’t get off the ride. The bottom comes once more and I tell myself I need only wait, stay focused, and I will be lifted again to the heights…

The trouble is, I know that it’s in me that this problem lays, it must right? I am not forced onto the ride, but have created it in my own mind. My experience tells me that I am rising and falling, but so does that of a man with vertigo though he has never gotten off the couch...

Oh to see clearly the road I am walking on, to understand the shallows of my own heart, and even more the depths of its creator. To end the ups and the downs and to be one of those called “faithful” or “constant”, one of those who believes without seeing…

Last night I went to a friend's baptism...as I sat in the service my thoughts took flight as usual...this time to:

Father I don’t understand…”My grace is sufficient for you.”
Father I don’t want you enough or love You enough….”My grace is sufficient for you.”
I can’t DO this. I don’t know how to and I don’t have the power anyway…I am weak…”My grace is sufficient for you.”
What will become of me? How will I get up again? “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness”
Most gladly therefore I boast in my weaknesses because when I am weak Christ is strong. I will wait once more for the fog to lift and hope once again that it will never return...