LIFE- tragic, abundant, wrenching, beautiful.

Life is so fickle. This past week in my mailbox, I received on the same day both a wedding announcement/save the date card, and a merchandise credit to Williams-Sonoma. One couple of friends got married in Switzerland, and are coming stateside to have a celebration in Santa Barbara this summer. I couldn't be happier for them. Another couple dissolved their new marriage and returned all of our gifts in the mail. I couldn't be sadder for them. The irony of that juxtaposition in my mailbox struck a chord with me. I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 3. Its scope is beyond me.

When we first moved to TX, we decided not to go to the west coast for the holidays. We wanted to save money, which was a good thing, since in March we'll be going to both California and Seattle for a week each. Some old friends in Houston invited us to spend Thanksgiving with them and we were very excited to do so. We had the most lovely day, and shared it with one of the coolest families I have ever met. Their name is the Alford's and their huge southern mansion in Houston's artsy district could not have been more beautiful. It's beauty was far eclipsed, however, by the love in that 5 person family. They had been through a hard year, as the father, Gene, had been paralyzed from the waist down in an accident on their farm (a tree pinned him down on his tractor). Gene is a prominent surgeon, and navigating the life changes after that tragedy was, and continues to be, challenging. But the love and support and joy we experienced in their family in November was palpable, the tragedy just made them stronger as a family.

I am sad to say that this past week, tragedy struck them again. I have no idea why tragedy strikes, but our hearts are groaning with and burdened for the Alford's and we would love if you would pray for them. The youngest son Charles had just turned 16, and was so excited to be given a car from his grandparents. He was driving back from west TX, when he was struck and killed in an accident. His mom was in the car with him and also injured. She is now temporarily joining her husband in a wheelchair. Her grief and strength are unimaginable to me. You can see Charles' sweet face and read his obituary here. Please pray for Gene, Mary, John and Bess and their extended family. Charles had a keychain with the verse Is. 41:10, a verse other friends of mine have chosen to uphold in the face of death as well, as it says a promise from God, "Fear not, for I am with you." May we all cling to that truth amidst the tumult of life here on earth.

Life is short, tragic, beautiful, fulfilling and wrenching, if we fully live. I suppose we could numb ourselves throughout it, a la Zach Braff in Garden State, one of our most favorite movies, but I would rather feel deeply, all of the heights and all of the depths combined. I don't know what strange and hard things you may be getting in your mailbox, facing in your family or facing in this questionable economy, but I am going to join the chorus of those trusting that amidst it all we need not fear, for God is with us.

FOOD

This morning, I stumbled upon this disgusting website, if you never want to be hungry again, check this out. My arteries clogged just looking at it.

Sometimes I am really motivated about food. As we've learned more how to bolster our "leafy green" intake and get all our nutrients from whole foods, rather than pills, eat organically, locally and in season, etc. we've picked up some good tips and habits. Reading Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle was eye-opening to say the least, and as I gave it to my mom this weekend, we had lots of motivational conversations about food.

But other times I am discouraged about food, because along with all our newfound knowledge comes conviction when I am slacking on being a good steward of my own body, let alone the earth! It feels hypocritical to know the right thing to do (or eat, as it were) and then not do it. Very Romans 7-esque, if you know what I mean? Being the classy people that we are, after our great conversations about food and health, on Valentine's Day, we promptly ate at a) Costco and b) Taco Bell. Cast your stones now, people, I am ready. I wish I could just blame it on my pregnancy cravings and say that after June, we will be perfect eaters... But that's probably not true. Sigh. I'm trying to see eating as a continuum and if concession stand junk food were all the way on one side, and organic vegans were on the other (I don't know?) I would like to make peace with being somewhere in the middle, moving in a healthier direction. It'd be easier to be all about "moderation" and be less OCD. Alas, so far I just feel like a hypocrite:)

I know I'm not alone in this. Thoughts? Struggles? How do you interact with food and not let it become too prominent a focus? Tell me.

Christmas Reflection on Mary

Funny how being pregnant makes me think about Jesus' mom at this Christmas-time than I ever have before... As a virgin, betrothed to Joseph, she must have been feeling like life was going pretty well, maybe just how she wanted it. Sure they might not have had much financial stability (as today's sage counselors advise us before getting married), but undoubtedly they had dreams and a plan for a future together.

Until an angel comes and 'ruins' everything. Besides scaring the crap out of her (presumably, as angels tended to do in Scripture), he also let her know that God had an agenda for her life that she didn't quite bargain for. It was going to include miracles and being a part of history unlike anyone else. A total honor, yet one that would also come with a lifetime of hardship. The immediate shame of being pregnant, when society may or may not believe that Joseph was the father, and all the rumors that would swirl around with that. Some people probably thinking she was crazy for trusting God was at the helm of her son's life, during the persecution and crucifixion he would later face. In all of this, she had to give up control, something hard for us to do. A pastor in Seattle calls raising children a 2-decade exercise in giving up control. True, but we at least hope they'll be safe. Mary couldn't even hope for that.

When she told the angel, "may it be as you've said," I have newfound respect for her, as she accepted all of the future joys and pains that awaited her for the rest of her lifetime.

But the part that really gets me is when it's time for her to go into labor. If I were birthing the savior of the world (which I'm not, but IF I was) I would AT LEAST expect to be put up in a 5-star hotel with room service for the few days surrounding the labor and delivery. I mean, it's the least God could do, right? I'm signing up for a lifetime of who knows what- can I at least be comfortable while giving birth?! Doesn't seem like to much to ask. They've traveled to Bethlehem, where Joseph's roots are. You would think that if the guy had family in the area, when there was no room "in the inn," some relative would've at least said, "come sleep on our pull-out couch" or something... Nothing. And what kind of town sees a massively pregnant woman, and doesn't offer to help her out?! What kind of people are these?

Mary must have felt really alone. And we are not meant to be alone. We are not designed to be alone. So the funny part of the story to me, is when these crazy-haired shepherds enter the picture. Totally random guys, who've been living with animals more than people, show up on the scene, not even sure what they're looking for; but trusting God will guide them. And they come to Mary, Joseph and Jesus. I'm gonna go on a wild hunch that they're not the community that Mary was hoping for to surround her after giving birth. When it is my turn, I want family and friends around me, not some weird dudes who've been herding cattle in West Texas. I'm just saying. Yet this is the community that God offers them. She could either feel alone, and sorry for herself, or embrace, yet again, the plan God has for her life, and the people God brings into her life.

I have been feeling alone some of the time I've been in TX. Especially today, on Christmas, even as a 29 year old, it is weird to be away from family for the first time. Things look different than I thought it should, or am used to. It would be easy to feel alone in this. But the truth is, we are not alone. We have good friends in Kiesha, Dave and the Richerson's nearby. We have a new church that has embraced us, and people from there who asked us to come over on Christmas. Life may look really different than what we have known, but like Mary, we are doing our best to receive what God has given us in this blessed season. I pray the same for all of you. God puts people in each of our lives; maybe not the people we expect or would choose ourselves, but we don't have to be alone. The human heart was meant to be in community, so embrace those around you, or reach out to someone who may feel alone today.

Being a Prophet Sucks, or, 'anyone got a bullet proof vest I can borrow?'

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There Goes the Neighborhood

Maybe it’s because I just watched The Dark Knight (newest Batman flick, good one) that I’m feeling a desire to fight injustice. Not organized crime, per se, but that of the broken homes and underage drinking persuasion. Like 13-year-olds ditching school, getting drunk and going to the hospital with alcohol poisoning kind of underage drinking. Last night I was talking to some great neighbors while waiting for Burly to do his business, when a car came screeching up next door to them and a girl ran out of the car and hopped through a bedroom window. Two minutes later her parents showed up to pick her up and were screaming at her in Spanish, b/c she wasn’t supposed to be at Kayla’s house. Little did they know she had been elsewhere. 3 minutes after that my 13-year old neighbor and a bunch of her miscreant posse showed up, open beers in hand (from the car!) This was at 11, the last I saw them was after 3am. No mom in sight.

My heart is sad for her, as she has little role model in her mom. A few months ago, her parents got divorced. A new man was in the house shortly thereafter. As a tight-knit community, our block took it pretty hard. That schism has changed the dynamics of our street some, turning their house into a dysfunctional place where teenagers can do whatever they want. It’s made me think a lot about community and how sad I am that none of us were allowed in to the couple’s lives to know that they were hurting. If we had been, I wonder if being loved from other couples and being given resources could have changed the dynamics or outcome of their situation. Maybe not, but maybe. What makes it so hard for us to tell people when we need help? If it ‘takes a village’ to raise kids, then we need community…

I want to tell Kayla, that at 13 she’s making decisions with boys and drugs that are setting her on a path that isn’t going to lead anywhere positive. She’s already been kicked out of a school, and the friends she’s surrounded herself with are not going to lift her up and inspire her to any kind of greatness in life. Watching her compared to her next door neighbor who’s only one year older is like watching the book of Proverbs’ concepts of wisdom and folly being fleshed out. Wisdom respects her involved parents, has chores, works hard, is honest, does well, and will have the world at her feet when she finishes school. Folly by contrast, does none of the above, and is blown with the winds of peer pressure and erroneous judgment.

We have the power of choice in life, we are not merely recipients of the cards we are dealt. I know a guy from Atlanta who just shared his amazing life story with me. He realized that education was the way out of his broken family, projects life. After high school, he got a full scholarship to Penn and then Harvard Business School, when his mom had just completed 7th grade. He retired at about 40, set for life.

It makes me sad that the path he took is more rare and the path people like Kayla are on is more common. But then again Scripture says ‘broad is the road that leads to destruction and narrow is the road that leads to life.’ I wish life for Kayla, and all her friends. I don’t necessarily know how to communicate this, but I think it starts with the stirring that I feel in my heart.

Close, but yet so far... gotta love all-nighters...

It's 12:30. In the morning. And I am 2000 words away from being done with my last Hebrew Exegesis paper ever. Which means two things: #1) I dominate Proverbs 31 and could write a book on it, or preach a sermon series at least. And #2) it's likely I won't be sleeping. But it's the last all-nighter I'll ever pull. I can almost hear the nostalgia being queued.

And sleep is overrated. At least that's what I'm going to tell myself. I can sleep on the plane to Cali. Or during my hair appt. But then my highlights may look weird.

It's a good thing I have an IV of espresso running through my veins, in spite of doctor's orders... I told the doctor, who is a psychiatrist, that the paper has the potential to make me certifiably insane otherwise; so the espresso is the lesser of two evils. True enough. I thought he, of all people, could appreciate that.

Obscure, yet interesting fact: My 1899 commentary on Proverbs titles the wisdom woman in Proverbs 31 "the ideal housewife." My 2005 commentary calls her "the woman of strength." Funny how phraseology changes in 100 years. She used to wear an apron and bake muffins. Now she's a boxing and pilates aficionado who runs a real estate business and wineries in her spare time. Hoo rah.

On other notes, if I had a dollar for every time this blog has been read; I could make up my $50,000 of tuition that's been forked over to Fuller lickity-split. REI should be paying me for the free advertisement.

Resurrection reflection (Mary Magdalene)

“Mary.” Hearing that one simple word, my name, changed everything. To be honest, I was crying so hysterically when I first saw him that I didn’t even recognize him! I thought he was the gardener. The gardener! Didn’t he teach that he was “the vine and his Father was the gardener?” Well God, I guess he is looking more and more like you the longer I know him.

When he said my name, all the confusion and chaos of the past couple of days came to a halt. All of a sudden my identity felt secure and affirmed. I never pictured Jesus going about things this way, but there he was, alive, and once again, helping me understand truth. He calls me by name, he calls us by name, he meets each of us where we are, and has the power to restore everything that’s broken.

In any case, I had been so upset because I thought maybe someone had stolen his body. Everything that had happened the past couple of days was almost unbearably heart-wrenching. Seeing my teacher, my friend, up there on the cross was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Perfection sandwiched between criminals. Dying a humiliating death in front of people who persecuted him up until he gave up his last breath. Why did it have to be like that? He used to hint about this, but it was too cryptic for me to imagine what was really going to happen.

And there was an earthquake as he died. It was as though the earth was grieving the loss as well. I couldn’t tell which was louder, the chasms being split open on the ground, or the crashing happening inside my heart. Both were devastating. That morning was so dark. The clouds that came over the sun came over my spirit as well.

And then I was supposed to prepare for Sabbath? Yeah right. I felt angry, I felt restless, I felt out-of-control; the last thing I wanted to do was be still. There was no peace to be found this week. I stayed as long as I could outside the tomb. His mom and I and some others reminisced about Jesus’ impact on our lives. I don’t know if it was good or bad to do, since it made us all the more grieved.

I remembered the state I was in when he first found me. I was a mess. I usually don’t like to think about the demons that haunted me, but for a long time they were all I knew. They kind of ‘defined’ me. I believed a lot of lies about myself back then. When Jesus came into my life, he got rid of all of them. I didn’t have the power to do that on my own, and believe me, I had tried lots of ways to seek peace before meeting him.

Go figure, he was the only way to true peace. And he still is. When I was crying in the garden and he came to me, and said my name, I felt a surge of joy run up through my body. I hadn’t felt that in days, and I grabbed him, wanting to be as close as possible.
He said I couldn’t hold on to him, though. That he wasn’t staying. He was going to be with his Father, and told me to tell everyone about him. So that’s what I do now. I tell people, like you, about Jesus. I tell of his teachings, and how he changed my life. And the joy and peace I have now can’t be shaken. He is alive. And he calls me by name.