No blog posts for a while, seeing as how I'm going to be sleeping in a tent in the middle of Africa.
I am praying for God to do big things in the Didinga Hills and in my own life. When I get back, I hope to be able to put my experience into words that will do it justice. Until then, I will pray the words of Paul, which just so happen to be one of my favorite pieces of Scripture:
"To me, though I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ...For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
Thanks to all for their commitment of prayer. It is a great encouragement to know that you will be praying half a world away.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
I am Known by God
I leave for the Sudan on Thursday. It’s hard to believe that it is finally here, and that it only takes a couple of plane rides to be transported from a place of familiarity, comfort, and excess to a place where indoor plumbing and Starbucks have yet to arrive. And while I am ready to just go, I know I am going through those days that usually accompany the final preparation for a mission trip; I question my adequacy to serve, my ability to share this Gospel of truth and grace. Will I be able to articulately describe a love that is incomprehensible and yet so palpably real in the same breath?
Recently, though, I have been trudging through J. I. Packer’s Knowing God. And however challenging it might be, it has also served as an encouragement to me over the past couple days as I prepare to leave. In it, he describes the beauty of being known by God:
“what matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it—the fact that he knows me…There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself...”
How beautiful it is to describe God’s love as utterly realistic---that it overwhelms us despite our fears, failures, and flaws. That despite my own disillusionment, good or bad, His love is unchanging. That despite my own feelings of inadequacy, He will use me to His glory, and His purpose will prevail.
So I don’t have to worry about knowing what to say or being able to overcome culture and language, because the beauty in following Christ is that His love will transcend my human folly. As I prepare to love a people presently unknown to me, there is comfort in knowing that they are already known by Him.
Recently, though, I have been trudging through J. I. Packer’s Knowing God. And however challenging it might be, it has also served as an encouragement to me over the past couple days as I prepare to leave. In it, he describes the beauty of being known by God:
“what matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it—the fact that he knows me…There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself...”
How beautiful it is to describe God’s love as utterly realistic---that it overwhelms us despite our fears, failures, and flaws. That despite my own disillusionment, good or bad, His love is unchanging. That despite my own feelings of inadequacy, He will use me to His glory, and His purpose will prevail.
So I don’t have to worry about knowing what to say or being able to overcome culture and language, because the beauty in following Christ is that His love will transcend my human folly. As I prepare to love a people presently unknown to me, there is comfort in knowing that they are already known by Him.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
father's day
because today was father's day, i dragged myself (or maybe was pushed) out of bed to go fishing with my dad at 4:50 IN THE MORNING. the morning sunrise was beautiful, as you can see.
happy father's day, dad. i love you!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Come, and Follow Me...
I suppose those of us immersed in the Christian circle have heard a sermon on transformation once or twice…or three times. And as often as we hear it, I wonder how many of us truly live transformed.
I see it in my own life, where the familiarity of the old comes easier than walking in newness of life. It’s easier to not love enemies, easier to change lanes to avoid contact with a homeless person, easier to consume myself with things---well, of myself.
But this is not the life I have been called to. The journey to the Cross is one that begins with death---death to self, to earthly passions and lusts, to anything less than His holiness. I so easily sing ‘lead me to the Cross,’ but do I really behold the gravity of that phrase? Do I truly understand that I cry out for a death to myself?
Most of the time, probably not.
If I did, maybe I would be a little more like salt and light rather than just another face in the crowd.
But there is always more to the Cross than what is seen at face value. And while the journey begins with death, it ends with life. Life changed, life restored, life to the full. And the beauty that pours from the Cross is full of grace and truth.
So while for me death to myself is a daily battle, I will continue to cling to this Cross. And though there are times [many] when I fail to die to myself, I can rest in His promise that He will carry on His work in me to completion. He will continue to transform me, change me, love me to the person I was created to be. The only thing required of me is that I meet Him there.
And so daily, I will continue to walk the path to the Cross. Because the path that begins with death ends at the One who conquered it all.
The hard part, I suppose, is taking that first step.
I see it in my own life, where the familiarity of the old comes easier than walking in newness of life. It’s easier to not love enemies, easier to change lanes to avoid contact with a homeless person, easier to consume myself with things---well, of myself.
But this is not the life I have been called to. The journey to the Cross is one that begins with death---death to self, to earthly passions and lusts, to anything less than His holiness. I so easily sing ‘lead me to the Cross,’ but do I really behold the gravity of that phrase? Do I truly understand that I cry out for a death to myself?
Most of the time, probably not.
If I did, maybe I would be a little more like salt and light rather than just another face in the crowd.
But there is always more to the Cross than what is seen at face value. And while the journey begins with death, it ends with life. Life changed, life restored, life to the full. And the beauty that pours from the Cross is full of grace and truth.
So while for me death to myself is a daily battle, I will continue to cling to this Cross. And though there are times [many] when I fail to die to myself, I can rest in His promise that He will carry on His work in me to completion. He will continue to transform me, change me, love me to the person I was created to be. The only thing required of me is that I meet Him there.
And so daily, I will continue to walk the path to the Cross. Because the path that begins with death ends at the One who conquered it all.
The hard part, I suppose, is taking that first step.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
sunday morning
i love Sunday mornings when i can feel the Spirit moving through worship...and through a message wrought with truth, wisdom, and genuine humility.
podcast Matt's sermon here (it might not be up until later in the week). it was more than challenging and beautifully graceful.
'For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.'
podcast Matt's sermon here (it might not be up until later in the week). it was more than challenging and beautifully graceful.
'For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.'
Saturday, June 7, 2008
He Asked, She Said????
After driving the 400 miles from Oklahoma City to Austin, I got a phone call Thursday afternoon that put me back in the car. This time, I was on my way to College Station to see my best friend get engaged. And with a little deception on both my and Dane's part, she opened the door shocked and surprised to see this:
He asked, she shook her head, and a giant rock was placed on her finger.
After all these years of our 'hypotheticals,' fake Wal-Mart rings, trips to jewelry stores with pretend fiances, and probably hundreds of hours of conversations about marriage and what our weddings would be like, one of us will actually be walking down the aisle. Wow.
So congratulations bestest friend. I have a feeling this is going to be more fun than watching you play softball...
He asked, she shook her head, and a giant rock was placed on her finger.
After all these years of our 'hypotheticals,' fake Wal-Mart rings, trips to jewelry stores with pretend fiances, and probably hundreds of hours of conversations about marriage and what our weddings would be like, one of us will actually be walking down the aisle. Wow.
So congratulations bestest friend. I have a feeling this is going to be more fun than watching you play softball...
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
ET Phone Home?
[note: this is in direct response to an unnamed friend’s blog post.]
As friends begin to move away, and life continues to change, I have been thinking about what home means. Four years ago, I never thought I would be able to call Austin home. I hated every bit of this city, and as most of you know, I spent most of my freshman year in College Station.
But time passed, and by some miracle, I remained a Longhorn. And Austin began to feel like home.
As I think more about it, Sugar Land never stopped being home either. It’s home because it’s home to my family and home to people who knew me way back when. But now, Austin is home too. And it’s home because there are people here that I can’t imagine my life without, people I would call family. Granted, none of us are related. But I suppose that in this life, it really doesn’t matter if you share the same DNA. What matters is that we choose to live life together. We choose to bear each other’s burdens, to listen on bad days, to rejoice in God’s blessings, to mourn when things go wrong. We choose to be each other's family.
Home, I’ve learned, is not about bricks and mortar. Home is about people.
And so while it might seem scary to leave the family we’re most familiar with, to move somewhere unknown to a place we wouldn’t necessarily call home, we can take comfort that in each new place await new additions to our family. New people to sharpen, encourage, and enjoy life with. And because we know that our loving God has prepared the way for us, we can be certain that this new place will eventually begin to feel like home. Sooner or later, we will find those people we can’t imagine our lives without.
So go my dear friend and find your new family and make your new city home. This one will be waiting when you’re ready to come back.
As friends begin to move away, and life continues to change, I have been thinking about what home means. Four years ago, I never thought I would be able to call Austin home. I hated every bit of this city, and as most of you know, I spent most of my freshman year in College Station.
But time passed, and by some miracle, I remained a Longhorn. And Austin began to feel like home.
As I think more about it, Sugar Land never stopped being home either. It’s home because it’s home to my family and home to people who knew me way back when. But now, Austin is home too. And it’s home because there are people here that I can’t imagine my life without, people I would call family. Granted, none of us are related. But I suppose that in this life, it really doesn’t matter if you share the same DNA. What matters is that we choose to live life together. We choose to bear each other’s burdens, to listen on bad days, to rejoice in God’s blessings, to mourn when things go wrong. We choose to be each other's family.
Home, I’ve learned, is not about bricks and mortar. Home is about people.
And so while it might seem scary to leave the family we’re most familiar with, to move somewhere unknown to a place we wouldn’t necessarily call home, we can take comfort that in each new place await new additions to our family. New people to sharpen, encourage, and enjoy life with. And because we know that our loving God has prepared the way for us, we can be certain that this new place will eventually begin to feel like home. Sooner or later, we will find those people we can’t imagine our lives without.
So go my dear friend and find your new family and make your new city home. This one will be waiting when you’re ready to come back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
