Reflections While Hammocking Today

Today.

Summer rays.
The light glinting through my hammock's side, shining on my skin and seeping through my eyelids.
 It's warm, steady, and welcome.
It surrounds me with a steadfast, peaceful calm.

Windy gusts.
Making music as they swirl through the tree leaves, running past my ears.
At times it is so present, powerful, refreshing, and soothing; I get lost in its current.

And then the windy bursts subside. The stillness waits for its return; the eager hush of anticipation gives merit to its value. Waiting.

It is worth the watching.

With recognition the boughs applaud the wind's return.

My mind wanders, and I imagine how You, Your Spirit, and Your Son are like this. Together the sun's rays and the wind's swirls glorify the Day. Each completely independent, yet together as one in complex unity.

I may not ever fully grasp how marvelous You are and how You orchestrate these things,but that is alright. There's growth in the wondering.

Ultimately the summer day, today, glorifies You and sings of Your goodness.

Poetry: the Original Instagram.

I'm deep in a really good book right now; it's called "The Rest of God." I have found this book is refreshing and convicting, directed to the busy life. It's all about pointedly choosing a more peaceful, God-oriented pace of life by honestly resting in Him, instead of allowing the immediate things of the world to fill your plate and cloud your attentions.

I bring this book up, not to brag about the new-found time I have over the summer (although it is quite nice!), nor to advertise for the book (although you really should read it!), but because the author makes an interesting point that got me thinking...

In one portion, the author tells a story of an over-worked friend who wanted to be a better writer. To improve her skills, she enrolled in an evening poetry class. Although skeptical, the author's friend fell in love with the course and the material after the first night. She attributed it to the teacher's charisma and perspective:

 "[the teacher] had an infectious love, not just for words and poems, but for life itself. He relished mystery and simplicity, the quirks of the human heart, creation's whims and flukes and feats. He was childlike with wonder, exclaiming over ordinary things that, for the most of us, have become familiar to the point of invisibility."

 I frequently find myself rushing to the next thing, neglecting the moment, and missing what really is meaningful in the here-and-now. The lesson of this chapter is simple: in what you do (work, rest, pray, eat, socialize, worship, play, etc.), be all there. Be attentive. Pause. Rest. Enjoy. Take it in. This day is a gift, gosh darn it! Sometimes God intercepts us in the going and speaks into our lives, but other times He wants us to sit and wait - really wait - on Him. It takes being still and shaking of the dust of the world.

One way to make this mindset a habit, as the author suggests, is to reflect on the moment with words and poems. Poetry can be a way to cognitively focus on what's around us, a choice to be really here. He shares one of the first poems his friend wrote for her evening poetry class. And guess what? It's about a thumb tack. Not an uber-deep or profound topic, but through her words the short blurb about a metal pin becomes alive with rich meaning and suspense.

The author proposes that poetry is one of the earliest art forms, and that we are all born poets. "The real question is, when did you stop being one?" As worshipers of God, this makes sense. We're created to make God's glory known, and to be full of awe. And mind you, being awestruck means paying attention.

This is even as simple as enjoying the things He's created: Consider the rain racing on the window, or the weight of the humid air on tree boughs; note the folds in your shoes, and the stories each scuff tell; listen to the sound of the dog breathing, and the lingering stink of your hand after petting it ... (I'm rambling, but you get the point).

It's at this juncture in reading that I had a further thought. These descriptions the author writes of the seemingly mundane begin to sound a lot like an instagram picture feed. I think that this is where a lot of our poetic nature has been funneled: to capturing our surroundings with artistic angles and filters. There's nothing wrong with photography (frankly I love it!) but I think it can be argued that, when always used in place of words, it might be a cop-out. 

It sure is convenient to snap a shot in a matter of seconds, and while it may take some thought, it pales in comparison to capturing that same moment with words. Words take thinking. And thinking takes attention.

So this is my challenge to you: amidst the snapshots and hashtags of sunsets and dinner dishes, mix in some time-considered words as well. It's a discipline I'm going to try to incorporate into my life more often, and I hope you will join me. I desire to be a better thinker, and for my words to have more meaning. Ultimately, I hope to be more present, wherever I am (but especially in my times with Him), and more considerate of the things around me.

An Aching Heart

My heart aches for Ukraine. It's hard for me to gather my thoughts, but I'm going to try.

There is so much unrest there, so many people who are acting on injuries which have long-laid dormant. I agree; this pain and injustice up to this point should not go forgotten. I admire their protests and how (initially) they were peaceful and persuasively sincere. Now, however, they have become violent. More government-sent troops to quell the masses of protestors, rocks thrown, clubs swung, and shots fired. I desire so much to see God's Hand work in Mighty ways there for resolution.

As one of my friends, Nick, reported to me in a message online:  

       "Our citizens are being kidnapped by authorities. We still don't know where are the most of them now. Furthermore, in recent days several of activists here were shot dead by Internal Troops. The downtown looks like hell - there's smoke, fire and ashes are everywhere. We've got hundreds of activists injured and taken to hospitals. But police comes there and takes them away in unknown direction."

Picturing Independence Square in this way is painful. I had the tremendous privilege to visit Kiev, Ukraine after graduating High School. This trip played a big part in my life, in so many ways. I made many new friends, and learned that God's kingdom isn't just in little churches in Texas. His people are from everywhere, and He desires that everyone would know Him. Nick is just one of the people I met, and get to pray for now.

Here is a picture from our trip - oh lovely, rainy Kiev. You can't see much of it, but this is the day we visited Independence Square.

My heart is especially hurt when scrolling through my Facebook news feed, and seeing the stark contrast between my friends here in the States and my friends there in Kiev.

There, my friends are posting articles, videos, and statuses calling others to respond and pray. The pictures are vivid, and often violent. I hear that the government in Kiev is moving to close down all access the people have to internet. I hope I will still be able to contact my friends, and that what little voice they have now won't be snuffed out.

Here, where warm weather usually abounds, we've been posting pictures of "Snow! #feelingcold" and icy car windshields. We take pictures of footprints in the frost, artistic angles of the frozen wonderlands. Yes, it's beautiful, and it's different from the Texas heat and worth celebrating.

It's challenging to me, however, to see these posts side-by-side; blissful celebration of snow next to vivid images of burning tires, beaten people, and hurt Ukrainians. Their pictures have snow, too, but they can't enjoy it with the tumult going on around them. The cold weather only makes their protesting more trying, and more difficult.

This issue taking place in Ukraine has received very little attention. I'm not ignorant of the fact that fighting, revolutions, and general unrest are commonplace in the world. So much goes unnoticed by us as we sit bundled in our cozy, comfortable homes here in the USA. I'm guilty of this indifference, too.

Even so, going somewhere will change you. Kiev changed my life. I am honored and joyful to say this. As I watch this place that I love face such trying times with murky solutions, I feel compelled to bring it up. Please research it. (Here's a good place to start: http://www.businessinsider.com/understanding-euromaidan-2014-1)

Don't take it lightly. Believe me when I say that the lives there are actively facing this issue, and it's such a pivotal moment for the country, as well as the individuals. God could step into this time and move in big ways.

Please pray. Kiev needs the Lord, and His Kingdom, peace, and grace. It needs the love found in Christ.

Please pray for ...
... Nick- safety and judgement
... Vitaly and his family with small children - safety and strength to continue directing the UEC
... God's work that is being done in the UEC (Ukrainian Education Center), and for lives to individually be touched here by the gospel (through the Bible Studies, etc)
... the believers there - that they would be a light during this time, and would receive strength and wisdom from the Holy Spirit to point others to Christ
... for Christian leaders to rise up and direct the country
... the protests and unrest - for justice, peace, love, and mercy to abound, through Christ

Thank you. 

Indefinitely Deep and Marvelously Free

Grace. What a precious word. I grew up hearing about grace in multiple ways: in conversation, when describing beautiful sights, and regarding my friend, named “Grace.” I’m not going to lie; the word becomes quite weathered down here in the South. Undoubtedly it’s a popular word, with good reason. 

Someone once told me that grace is, in simple terms, an unmerited, undeserved gift. This made a lot of sense; I knew from my life that I wasn’t perfect, so grace coming from God was a gift I was happy to receive. Jesus “paid for my sins,” right? Totally free – and for those students out there – who doesn’t like free stuff? I jumped for the offer. 

And then … time elapsed. I don’t know about you, but oftentimes I get “cozy” with a word like grace. It becomes casual and familiar. Like an old song on a radio, we hear the word and tune out, change the station, or let our mind drift. “Oh – ‘grace’? Don’t worry God. I know what that is. No need to revisit that.” 

I am thankful because, through my coming to Texas A&M, God opened my eyes to the meaning of grace anew. I love it when He does that. You see, when I applied to A&M I had no idea how I would be paying for it. God had a plan all along, though, and he answered my family’s prayers in a big way.

Shortly after being accepted to A&M, my family was notified of a newly started tuition assistance opportunity based on my dad’s military service. Because he had served in Iraq a number of years ago, as his child I was offered a chance to study without burdening my family with loans or bills.

What a blessing! I was overwhelmed. Why me? My parents were eager that I take the aid. My older siblings, who were already through their college years, also insisted I attend A&M. In so many ways, it seemed too good to be true. And it still is.

It was through this experience of pressing need and God’s provision that He demonstrated His love to me in a fresh, deeper way.

Grace. What a precious word. 

There was nothing I did or could do to contribute to how my tuition would be paid for. It wasn’t like I could go back in time to Iraq and serve in the place of my dad. He had already paid that price. It’s already been done. Like how Jesus Christ lovingly came to earth as a human being and lived a life of love, then died for love on the cross to clean us from our hurt and rose again to life in victory over death: there’s no changing it. What’s done is done. 

My only part to play in it all was to say “yes.” 

When people ask questions about living with this freeing grace, the first problem is “well then, why be good?” I used to wrestle with this dilemma. That is, until I came to A&M on somebody else’s dime.

I remember back in 2004 when my dad was called from the Army Reserves to serve in Iraq. I remember wishing he was home, and how challenging that year was. He missed a lot of soccer games, dinners, and birthdays in our family. I especially remember the uncontainable joy I felt when running across the room to give him a hug – finally, he made it back home. 

We didn’t fully know it at that time, but through the cost and pain of that year our family grew, learned, and gained a lot. Years later, the blessing of his service still affects me today.

So, when people ask me questions like, “why do you want to be a good student? Why even try to make good grades?” my response may seem like a funny thing. But in light of the gift I’ve received, it makes total sense. Just because a gift is free, it doesn’t mean it was cheap. I know I won’t be able to repay my dad for what he did. Neither can I repay Jesus Christ for his sacrifice by striving to be good. 

Instead, I live with the gift in mind. It inspires thankfulness, humbleness, and love. So much has been done for each and every one of us. Honestly facing how big our gift is will change the way we live. The only part we play is opening up our lives to it. 

Grace. What a precious word. God is always challenging me to dwell more richly on what it means. While simple, I’m learning that it’s indefinitely deep and marvelously free.