Once upon an August morning...

I was jerked awake at precisely 5:27 by a squirming knot in my stomach. Its cause was this dreadful realization: I had parked in a place where I could get a ticket... or possibly towed. Rushing outside with an impending sense of doom, waves of relief washed over me as I saw my fabulous, enormous, wood-paneled wagon still sitting in the lot (next to a tiny smart car, which gave me quite a laugh) completely ticket free.

Praise the Lord!

                          —Not even for sparing me a headache and inconvenience, really, but for this:
I was dragged out of bed in a frenzy, fully expecting the worst, only to step out the front door and literally have my breath taken away by one of the most glorious sunrises I've ever seen. Vivid magenta clouds illuminated the horizon, ribbons of crimson and gold reaching their spindly fingers up into the retreating darkness. And in that moment, I was struck by the overwhelming mercy of my Savior.

So I drove to Cup of Joe, got some chai, and sat on the river,
drinking in God's word and the splendor of His creation. 


                                                                   But this I call to mind,
                                                                          and therefore I have hope:
                                                                   The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
                                                                          his mercies never come to an end;
                                                                   they are new every morning;
                                                                          great is your faithfulness.
                                                                   “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
                                                                          “therefore I will hope in him.”

[Lamentations 3:21-24]

ALL CAPS

make things seem more important, wouldn't you say?

bleach + caramel

I was spending my Tuesday afternoon cleaning the sink in my dorm room, causing my hands to smell profusely of clorox. Naturally, after all my hard work, I sat down to enjoy a Dulce de Leche scratch cupcake. I took one bite and—

             BANG.

I'm eleven years old, sitting on a big, super-hot cement block next to the baby pool outside Ames High with Mary Schliesman. The sun is shining on my face, with the scent of pool water wafting through the humid air and a caramel apple pop stuck to my molars. 

____________________________________

Except it's -2 outside, I haven't seen Mary in 6 months, and I can't remember the last time I had a caramel apple pop. What is it about tastes and smells? I haven't thought about our summer escapades in years, yet the combination of bleach and caramel triggered the strongest flashback I've ever experienced. The human brain is such a mysterious, marvelous thing.

courtesy of xkcd.com

THAT kid.

I sat in the back row of an early-morning Humanities III class, trying to keep a low profile. Most of the 35 students looked as though this was the last place in the world they wanted to be.
     "Have any of you read Frankenstein?" our professor asked us expectantly. Myself and three others raised our hands.
     "Only four?" He blinked at us enthusiastically, allotting an awkward silence before gushing about modern day allusions to Mary Shelley's novel. He then held up a copy of the Communist Manifesto.
     "I bet even fewer have read this one... Anybody? Anybody?" I'm probably going to need more coffee to keep up with this guy, I thought to myself, raising my hand along with one other student. He grinned at us.
     "What high school did you go to?" he asked me. Thirty-five heads turned my way.
     "Ames," I replied quietly, trying to suppress any part of my personality that might resemble Hermione Granger.
     "Ah, yes. Well, a bigger high school would emphasize great literature..." Okay, he is putting unnecessary amounts of effort into making me sound like a pretentious snob. As he began to enlighten us on the cultural relevance and criticisms of Marxism, I hoped silently that the next book would be new to me. When he inquired about 1984, I may have grimaced before putting my hand in the air once again.
     "What did you think? Was it a happy book?" he asked, giving me uncomfortably extended eye contact.
     "Interesting, but not happy," I responded. He got a chuckle out of that, which annoyed me a little because I was trying my best to be humorless. A discussion with the rest of the class of utopian and dystopian societies followed and I thought I was out of the woods.
     "Now, I would guess that most of you have never even heard of this book. I'm the only Humanities professor that uses it... A Sand County Almanac!" He began to share with us the merits of this book, which Mr.Schuck, my 7th grade science teacher, read to us in its entirety. I gladly remained silent. As he didn't technically ask if we had read it— and I wouldn't technically say that I had— I was spared confirming everyone's suspicions that I am, in fact, THAT kid.

it's a bloody mess

"Well, today I found out that there are about 150 empty dorms on campus," my dad says.

I respond: "That seems like a lot... Do that many people just quit school?"

"It's a small percentage of 30,000."

"Wait," says my brother, "I actually thought the drop out rate was higher than that."

"It probably is, but not all of them live on campus."
"I know a kid who dropped out of college recently." I add, "Pretty sure he's in prison now... But hey, I guess there are a lot of different—"

My words catch in my throat.

The list of reasons people don't finish school doesn't need to be discussed tonight.

I drop my gaze from my brother
as the reminder of his friend's fatal car accident sears yet another hole in my heart.

There are so many now, it's amazing I still have a pulse;
That cardiac muscle of mine is beginning to resemble swiss cheese.

As my blood pressure drops, I try to scream.
It comes out hollow, weak and unconvincing, falling on deaf ears.

But I need them to understand.
I need them to realize that life can be cut short in the blink of an eye—
that their YOLO world view doesn't cut it—
that their lives are worth more than that—
worth more than they could ever know.

The blood of God has been spilt willingly on our account.
So what am I worth?
What are any of us worth?

"Worth, value, and beauty are not determined by some innate quality,
but by the length for which the owner would go to posses them.
And broken and ugly things like us are stamped excellent
with ink tapped in wells of divine veins—
a system of redemption that could only be described as perfect." 

[Propaganda]

After seven minutes

of untangling christmas lights...

MOM:

This is a recipe for frustration.

ME:

You do look pretty frustrated...

LUKE, HOLDING A PIECE OF GREENERY AND NOT HELPING AT ALL:

So, should we take a break and play scrabble?

It's better than perfume.

Jesus came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus liften up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." When he said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him and let him go."

[John 11:38-44]

As I view God as the Author of the universe, I like to think he is the ultimate expert at literary devices. I have to admit that I'm a bit of a nerd; I geeked out when I got to this passage in John. The foreshadowing, the metaphors... It's all so exciting! Partially because it's great literature, and partially because its implications affect the lives of everyone who has ever lived.

Right now I wanna hop out of this specific event in order to look at the broader implications, because I believe that this story isn't just about Jesus raising a man from the dead—which is awe-inspiring and incredible on it's own. I believe it's also a pre-game show for Christ's own death and resurrection— GET READY, PEOPLE: IT'S GONNA BE BIG— in addition to a picture of what it looks like when He rescues us from our sinful state of spiritual death. 

I've got 5 bits of goodness. Ready?

"Lord, by this time there will be an odor,
for he has been dead four days."

You know, sometimes I think that God made decomposing things smell so revolting to us as a kind of metaphor in order that we might understand how despicable sin is in His eyes. Now, the only thing I remember learning about math throughout my high school education was this: if A=B and B=C, then A=C. In other words, if people are sinful and sin is death, then people are dead in their sin. Yet Jesus descended from eternal bliss into this sin-infested mire without blinking. He doesn't care about the hopeless, disgusting state of people when we're dead— no matter how revolting it is to him. The living people around him are like, are you sure you wanna go there? It's gross. Have you ever smelled something that's dead? Naaaaasssstyy.

BIT NUMBER ONE: Christ forges on into our filth anyway;

he cares about us that much.

__________________________________

"Did I not tell you that if you believed
you would see the glory of God?"

Not if you do well enough in school. Not if enough people say you're a nice person. Not if you're successful enough at work. Not if you're a good enough friend, neighbor, child, sibling, or parent. Not even if you're a good enough Christian. 

BIT NUMBER TWO: The prerequisite for seeing God's glory

is NOTHING MORE than believing.

__________________________________

"Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me."

Jesus is constantly chatting with the Father; I'm pretty convinced they have that whole telepathy thing going on... But I think the moments when Jesus decides to communicate with Him verbally are the sweetest, because we know that he's only doing it so that we can hear. 

R.A. Torrey said,

"The chief purpose of prayer is that God may be glorified in the answer."

Isn't that beautiful? I mean, it's not like God is unaware of your needs until you tell Him about them. "Oh, good heavens— I didn't see you down there!" But when we ask God for things— and get them— we know that they came from God and can thank Him for them and give Him the praise and honor He deserves. Check out Jesus' prayer. He's thanking God and bearing witness that the miracle he's about to perform came solely from Him. What a classy fella.

BIT NUMBER THREE: Every miracle is done so the people who see it will know

it came from God.

__________________________________

"Lazarus, come out."

What a boss! This one is short and sweet. 

BIT NUMBER FOUR: The nature of the universe, the laws of physics, life and death...

Jesus has authority over everything.

__________________________________

"Unbind him and let him go."

This, at first glance, seems like the least important bit of dialogue in the entire passage. Like, kay... Obviously we don't want Lazarus to be mummified now that he's up and at it. But hear me out for a second:

The strips of linen used to wrap corpses were soaked in oil, spices, and perfumes; this was a Jewish custom with no other purpose than to keep the body from stinking so much. The stench of death was disgusting to them... Sound familiar? Except, instead of trying to cover up the smell of death, Jesus reverses death. He makes perfume obsolete. Do you understand the implications of that? The first time I read it, I didn't.

In our sinful state, we do stuff to try to make us seem less filthy. We try to train ourselves to be kind, generous, and thoughtful. We toil after perfection and try to be "good people" in order to cover up the stench of our rotting, sinful souls. With half-hearted attempts, we wrap our crappiness up in failed imitations of good deeds, always tainted with selfishness and pride. Just like spraying perfume on a rotting corpse, we know we're fighting a losing battle.

But Christ says, "unbind him and let him go." He doesn't bring extra-strength deodorant to the table; he wipes the slate clean, starting over from scratch. Christ makes us new creations. We don't have to constantly cover up our shameful sin, because HE HAS SET US FREE.

BIT NUMBER FIVE: We no longer have to strive after our own righteousness, because

Christ's is sufficient.

[Hebrews 10:14]

For by a single offering, Christ has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

†

I'm irrationally excited about this.

Tomorrow, I get to relive my childhood through

A HARRY POTTER COSTUME PARTY.

Feel free to be thoroughly impressed with all of these wands Laina and I made

[Ingredients: chopsticks, hot glue, paper, twigs, wire, beads, paint, and love]

They all have their own little personalities, and it makes me ever so happy.

The entire collection:

Favorites:

I think that one on the left is the best, but that gnarly black one is mine.

[I'm going as Bellatrix Lestrange, I know you were wondering]

There's also going to be a horcrux scavenger hunt. JUST SAYIN.

#pleased

I NEED YOU TO HEAR THIS

Because I need to hear it every single day.

   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

"Do you know Jesus?" the woman asked me.

"Yes, I do."

"Do you sin?"

"Yeah. Every day... Probably more than I realize."

"THEN YOU'RE A CHILD OF THE DEVIL AND YOU DON'T KNOW JESUS."

Well.

If you are anything like me—and I know I am—

then there are two things you should know about this woman.

The first thing
                is that she is affiliated with a man who calls himself Brother Jed.

"I don't know how the whorehouses in this town stay open—

all of you sorority girls are giving it away for free!"

His voice echoed through the courtyard in front of Maucker Union, met with mocking laughter and jeers, declaring that feminists, liberals, homosexuals, alcoholics, fornicators, and those who smoke weed and/or listen to rock and roll are destined for Hell.

I'll concede to three points:
        1. His message was a call to repentance.
        2. His words were full of hatred, judgment, bigotry, and condemnation.
        3. His delivery was classless, tactless, graceless, and, most importantly, Christ-less.

The second thing
                         is that she believes her own lie.

On Monday afternoon, this warped view of the gospel manifested itself in condemnations shouted at each passing college student:

"You are all going to hell!"

"You are living sinful, wicked lifestyles!"

"You have to stop sinning in order to be with God!"

And I'm standing there, like:

"That's not necessarily true..."

"That's a pretty bold generalization..."

"That's... wait—

—what?"

LISTEN UP:
        If you are someone who thinks you have to get your shenanigans together before God wants anything to do with you, you need to ask yourself two very important questions:


FIRST:
              WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
                                [that you could ever get your shenanigans together on your own]

SECOND:
              WHO DO YOU THINK GOD IS?
                                [that He couldn't handle your shenanigans at its worst]

I want you to think about something for a moment;

I want you to think about how wonderful it would be if there were not hateful, judgmental, hypocritical words being spoken every day by people who claim to follow Jesus Christ.

And I want you to think about precisely how you would feel if every church worldwide was calling out to you in a loud, resounding voice, saying,

"COME AS YOU ARE."

I mean, COME ON.

We are CHRISTIANS.

Followers of that man called JESUS.

AND THIS IS HOW HE DID CHURCH:

                Jesus was chilling in his house, hanging out with thugs and mafia members and prostitutes. And some really arrogant religious guys were like, "What the what? Why is he eating supper with all those sketchy people?" And Jesus was like, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

[Mark 2:15-17, almost entirely paraphrased. Except for that part where Jesus talks... that part is legit.]

Okay, listen...

Listen.
LISTEN.
LISTEN TO ME:
THIS IS THE GOOD NEWS!

AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE, 
BUT I KNOW YOU NEED TO HEAR THIS.

I KNOW YOU NEED TO HEAR IT BECAUSE ALL OF US NEED TO.

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO YOU ARE, WHERE YOU'VE BEEN, OR WHAT YOU'VE DONE—
THIS IS FOR YOU.

T H I S   I S   T H E   G O O D   N E W S :

*

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,

and are justified by his grace as a gift,  through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.

[Romans 3:23-24]

*

For the wages of sin is death,

but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

[Romans 6:23]

*

God shows his love for us in that

while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

[Romans 5:8]

*

For by grace you have been saved through faith.

And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

[Ephesians 2:8]

*

If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works;

otherwise grace would no longer be grace.

[Romans 11:6]

*

If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord

and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead,

you will be saved.

[Romans 10:9]

*

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus

from the law of sin and death.

[Romans 8:1-2]

*

Chicken Sandwiches and Whitewashed Tombs.

I have seen exactly one episode of Glee in my life, and all I can remember is each person receiving a t-shirt with their major insecurity written on it in large, bold letters. T-shirts reading, "FOUR-EYES" or "GINGER" or "CAN'T DANCE", and then there was some sort of happy message about how we should all own our flaws because they make us beautiful.

Put on your stretchy thinking caps, everyone:
A fast food chain recently threw two groups of people into the spotlight— homosexuals and Christians— sparking a hateful, viral battle of opinions. And I gotta be honest, all I see are t-shirts donning either "GAY" or "CHICK-FIL-A".

Gadzooks, it's Glee in real life!
                      [Allow me, for a moment, to explain myself.]

Homosexuality is a lifestyle sin.
It forces gays to wear their sin like t-shirts for the world to see.
And, hey, this is also often true for prostitutes, thieves, and murderers.
Theirs is a brokenness that shows on the outside.
Like a t-shirt. Get it?

Here's where it all falls down:

In my interactions with people whose sin is evident to me, I work very hard to show love and kindness and grace. I strive to withhold judgement and look past imperfections.

Every once and a while, despite my efforts to act impartially, I catch myself harboring arrogance that makes me feel sick to my stomach; I realize that even if I don't act like it, I'm positively filled with pride.

When I read through the records of Jesus's life, it becomes very apparent to me that the sin for which he had the greatest distaste was pridefulness. Jesus ate dinner with sinners. He spent time with them and showed them real love. It was the Pharisees— those who thought they knew everything and followed all the rules— whom Jesus would not tollerate.

Does it strike anybody else as cruelly unfair that, because of the different natures of our sins, I'm allowed to hide mine while others must parade theirs around on display, open to public ridicule? I let people see the 'good' things that I do and coast by on the assumption that no one can see my sin because it's internal. Who do I think I am?

—1 Samuel 16:7—

"For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”

My t-shirt is pearly white.
Which is great, except that it's covering up my rotting flesh.
So who do I think I am? In hindsight, I think I'm a moron.

— — — — —— — — — — — —

I saw a post on twitter a while back that said,

I LOVE GAY PEOPLE. Or as I sometimes like to call them, "people"

And I don't know if that makes you laugh or shocks you, causes you to smile or to promptly close this window...... But I think that's beautiful.

Every person who has ever lived

—apart from one—

has lived with sin that had the power to destroy their soul.

And the One who lived without sin?

He became sin for us
—all of us—
that we might be free from it.

FREE.

"Because Jesus was strong for me, I was free to be weak;
Because Jesus won for me, I was free to lose;
Because Jesus was Someone, I was free to be no one;
Because Jesus was extraordinary, I was free to be ordinary;
Because Jesus succeeded for me, I was free to fail."
(-Tullian Tchividjian)

And I love this freedom.
I love not being condemned for my sin.
I love that I am free from failure because of what Christ did for me.

If I'm so in raptures at this freedom, shouldn't I extend the same freedom to absolutely everyone I encounter?
Uh, YES.
This starts with openness regarding my own sin, and real love in spite of theirs.

I'm not owning my flaws because they make me beautiful;

I'm owning my flaws because they show that He truly is.

†

caaaaamp.

Love.