To the man in the little park off the square in Brussels:

Thank you for restoring my hope in love today. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know your story or even your name, but 

Thank You. 

 

Today I sat on a bench in a lovely town square, eating frites in the darling cone with the little plastic fork- grieving recent events (suicide attempts, broken relationships, inexplicable cruelty to innocents, etc.) and wondering to myself- do people even know how to love each other anymore? My cynicism, cleverly disguised as “logic” cast its vote: nay. I thoroughly enjoyed my delicious frites and the orange sauce of genius as I thought the worst of everyone passing by. It seemed that every passing conversation was an argument, and every passing glance was a scowl. I congratulated myself on my good judgement. See, I was quietly judging people, cleverly disguised as “people watching.” Poser. Jerk. Seriously, who do I think I am? It wasn’t a satisfying activity. In all of my cynical judging, I wasn’t comforted or proud of myself. I was grieved. I ached. I really, really wanted to be proven wrong. 

And then I saw it. Something turned my gaze upward, to the top of a sizable set of stairs. In the distance, I saw a father bend over an oversize baby buggy. Crowds shuffled past, and I watched, expecting to see him hoist his little one to his shoulder and navigate the buggy down the stairs with his free hand. And I was wrong.

Carefully, tenderly, he lifted the entire buggy, which was huge (have you ever seen the Euro strollers?) and tip-toed down the lengthy staircase. It must have been over a hundred stairs. He never stopped. He never gave himself a rest from the painstaking process, ever mindful of his sleeping baby. He did not speed up towards the end as his legs buckled under the weight of the stroller, eager to reach the ground level. Cradling the giant buggy, he maintained a slow, steady pace. A long, long time later he gingerly set the buggy down. So gently, so carefully. And smiled. And then walked off, not missing a beat. 

That's what love looks like, on a sunny afternoon in Brussels. I marveled, eyes misting, and hope came rushing in. I had just seen the great lengths this father went to, forgetting himself entirely, to ensure the absolute comfort of his sleeping baby. His thought process was entirely given to his little one- his comfort or convenience never entered the equation.  He delighted in the great lengths he went to, just as he delighted in peeking under the little umbrella to ensure his baby was still sleeping. He did it well, and he did it with joy. 

I have a Father like that. I have been loved like that. And thus, I want to love, like that. But-probably with a colorful scarf wrap instead of a buggy. 

Also, in Belgium cotton candy is called "papa's beard." :) Just thought you should know. 

"He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me." -2 Samuel 22:20

City of Dreaming Spires

A couple of months ago, around 3 am (when all truly great things happen) I was standing next to my desk, finishing up The Lady and the Peacock, (moving biography of Burma's Aung San Suu Kyi) which I had begun around midnight. I had picked up the book to pack it in my carry on to read on the plane, and couldn't resist flipping to the first page for a taste (kid on Christmas Eve...) and there I stood, in the same place-having laughed (the mental image of her biking through Oxford with her plastic bags of vegetables dangling from the handlebars-so very Asia!), wept (leaving her sleeping children in England one morning- not knowing she would not return again for decades), become enraged (at the oppression of millions of beautiful people that continues today), and marveled at how much she reminds me of Audrey Hepburn. 

Earlier that day, I had re-read my favorite Lewis book, The Great Divorce, smiling in awe, remembering how nearly two years ago my awesome God had given me this book from a perfect stranger, when I needed it most. And how, in His awesomeness, the messenger became not a stranger, and (beautifully) not perfect. 

And now, He's leading me into another adventure. I was honestly reluctant to move forward. I don't understand. I don't see. My heart yearns for beloved friends on the opposite sides of the world. I weep for injustice, and I want to fight against it with everything in me. I'd like to dig in my heels and stop everything until I can figure this out, or- go backwards in search of reason, sense, understanding. But the Hand I'm holding gently pulls me forward. 

My little hands have been outstretched, open for over a year. I've been waiting for doors marked "Thailand" "Cambodia" "Uganda" to open. I've deeply enjoyed and grown from every day spent in California. I've sat in silence and I've listened- (Ok, so there's been a fair share of frustrated beseeching, doubting questioning, outright demands and other unpleasant behavior along the way; but ultimately- I'm not the one driving...) and I never did put my suitcases away.

He knows what He is doing with me, and how He is using all of these things to shape me for His purposes, and my good. In May it was Osaka, Japan. One brave night, around 3 am, I decided to be fearless: I applied for a summer semester at Oxford University. I wrote 3 application essays that morning, giddy and laughing at the ridiculousness, sitting on the floor in my friend Tomomi's apartment. The sun came up and I clicked send. We laughed more and ate popcorn for breakfast. 

And then, a few days later, an unexpected door swung wide open. England. Seriously? Did not see that one coming. God knows I long to sit on dirt floors in remote villages in countries I already love. I don't see all He is doing right now, but I know this is where I am supposed to be now, and there's no better place to be in the world than that. My wonderings are calmed by His assurance: This is part of it. I've got you. 

And now, I'm sitting in my dorm in the garden courtyard of beautiful Trinity College at Oxford- where C.S. Lewis roamed, and (last week!) Aung San Suu Kyi finally accepted her honorary degree. 

I had no idea this was in the plan as I read those books that day, but He knew the prerequisite reading all along.

Like months ago when He gave me this verse:

‎"I will rejoice and be glad in your steadfast love...you have set my feet in a broad place."-Psalm 31:7-8

He took my feet...

...and set them on Broad Street, Oxford, Oxfordshire, England. 

Humbled. Thankful for this amazing opportunity. I'm in awe of the beauty of His plans and timing. I'm in awe of Him.

This isn't it. There's more. There's Him. He loves me. 

It will soon be 3 am. I am peering out my centuries old window into an unfamiliar, starry sky. Underneath my window, even though I can't see it right now in the temporary dark- is a beautiful gate that swings wide open.

I'm in. Here we go.

Love the sin you're in.

It's that annoying soap commercial that gets stuck in your head forever.  It rang through my thoughts today, thinking how everything in our culture tells us to be comfortable in our own sin. To accept it. To tolerate it. To delight in it. To celebrate it. To feed it.

I shudder. I loathe sin. When I see it in me, it makes me nauseated. (Wondering if the word abhor has kind of a vomiting rejection implication?) I run to Jesus like a little kid in footsie pajamas running into her parent's room because she's going to throw up. (Holding fast!)  I need Him like that. It's an emergency, and it needs to come out. I know that I will be safe in His arms, and find relief, comfort and healing for my soul. And I know that He loves me and accepts me, all whiney and crying and covered in puke, just the same.

"Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good."Romans12:9

Love the sin I'm in? This is the same flesh that is at enmity against our God who is Love. It is this sin that separates me from Perfect Love. Sin isn't cute.  And it's in me. This morning alone, I caught thoughts of utter selfishness, defensive pride and smug self righteousness that so shocked me, I dropped my car keys and they fell under my car. I had to get on my knees to get them back, which is probably where I needed to be anyway. I love that the Holy Spirit is so good to convict me of sin, so I can turn to Jesus and be washed and live in the freedom He died to secure for me. And yet, I am always sad. I am grieved over my sin- how it separates me from my God and from others, how it destroys relationships. I thought we were through with all that! I thought we killed it. It's back. It's a fight that I will keep on fighting, the lifelong war of my flesh against His Spirit. The war that only Christ can win, and has already won. And I long for the days to come, of peace, and free from the disgusting presence of sin, in the beautiful presence of Christ. I love that skin.

^" So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:21-25a

Osaka Icarus (true story.)

I first saw it over my shoulder, out of the corner of my eye, through the greyly quiet buildings of Osaka, Japan. A rounded face of fire peeking between two sky scrapers, smiling at us.It’s brilliance melted a tear and prompted a reflexive utterance of awe: wow. Sights like this cause tired shoppers heading home to turn the car around; illegally, abruptly, wholeheartedly. Pointed westward we turned our gaze upon it for long stretches at stoplights, until our eyes burned and the dim light turned green. It drew us to itself, a warmly glowing peach, dangling ripely over the sea from invisible boughs. The dinner left uncooked was gladly and unanimously abandoned as we gave ourselves to this pursuit. We were much more hungry to make it to the shore.  

A dozen blocks stood between us and the sea, with train tracks that demanded stopping. Umbrellad pedestrians pushing strollers meandered at afternoon speeds, unaware of the show and with a “lack of urgency” that would cause my Marine-trained sous chef to take a slow breath and purse his lips into a tight line that terrifies me to action still. Each block left us more reckless. Tomomi hadn’t driven like this since her sense of urgency was caused by about a liter and a half of hoijicha tea. We drove towards that sunset like a carful of girls searching for a bathroom, and every time we slammed on the brakes it hurt as our hearts lurched forward, aching like bladders about to explode. 

Our conversation was like a song, little exclamations of awe in different accents and tones- It glowed with longing as we trekked on in delight. Looking down the stretch of road, I sized up the distance and wondered if we should hit the emergency flashers and make a run for it. I couldn’t think of a better emergency for which to make use of that triangle button. I could hear the water now, through the rolled down window, and I saw the bright beautiful golden globe glowing and I missed it. Now just two blocks away, I ached. The promise of green lights and the visible shore beckoned us come, and I felt sure I would soon be standing under its glow as it splashed into the horizon. 

How dare that cloud hide it, and how dare the light turn red. We waited forever at that light,and it felt cruel- to be so strongly drawn and then kept away. Where does this hopeful longing go, if not to the beach? Cool waves of disappointment and loneliness lapped up on our souls in that stopped car as the sun sank into the water, entirely hidden by clouds. 

I don’t get it. 

I turned toward Tomo and her face was still aglow, just from looking into the sun. I felt it’s warmth on my face, too. We went home in the dark, porcelain newly aware of our fragility, and without the relief of our cherished hopes realized. God, I don’t think I can live in this perpetual urgency, wanting, everlonging of the soul. It was just a moment- barely a moment- but so breathlessly beautiful I turned my heart inside out trying to get there in time. Silly girl, falling in love with a setting sun. 

Comfort reminded me that morning is on the other side of this night, that it won’t always be like this-dark. Hope reminded me of a place with no need for sun, and I longed for it more. And so I will live my days, in this longing. Compelled. I’m gonna turn the car sunward, and floor it until I reach the beach and the sun goes down. I’m gonna laugh and talk melodiously of it as our hearts are stirred, and we will run until our faces glow. I will encourage pedestrians along the Way to lay down their umbrellas and glance upward into the spectacular light over their shoulders. God- how I love that sunset! I smile at my freckles-sun kisses. I cherish them, but I’m homesick for the sunless glowing sky I’ve never seen. I blink, and that white spot is still burned into my vision-from staring into the sun. Everywhere I look, I see it still. And I get it.

 Like- I’m gonna get it, one dayless day. 

And by it, I mean You.  


"For from the rising of the sun to its setting my name will be great among the nations, and in every place incense will be offered to my name, and a pure offering. For my name will be great among the nations, says the LORD of hosts." -Malachi 1:11


"The sun shall be no more your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon
    give you light;but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. Your sun shall no more go down,nor your moon withdraw itself;
for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended." -Isaiah 60:19-20 

Turn right here...left.

A friend recently asked me what it looks like when you feel God is calling you to do something and you make that choice to act on it in the moment. What goes on in our minds? What goes on in our hearts? I had no idea, and out of curiosity purposed to keep mental notes the next time I was aware of it happening, and track the process. It is not pretty. But it is real. Here is a novice attempt at recording the thoughts of my foolish mind and wicked heart when they were confronted by their Creator last week. If you respond to this by being paralyzed with fear of making a wrong decision, or flippantly enchanted by a fairytale God who sprinkles magic dust on all our purposeless wanderings- I have failed. My prayer is that all of our hearts would more quickly bow in awe before a sovereign God and follow His voice with uninhibited joy.

I never thought the familiar clicking of a turn signal could sound so much like a bomb ready to explode any second.

How did I get myself into this?

It all started that morning, and it was a Friday. One of those rare California days where it was chill enough to know it is winter, and sunny enough to remind you that it won't always be. I had the day off of work unexpectedly and I sat in my parked car, contemplating what to do with the suddenly empty day before me. I wish I could say that my thoughts were the easy, giddy ones that should come with the gift of a glorious day to use as one wishes. However, this gift came to me while I was still reeling from the last unexpected turn of events. I was weary from many days of what can only be described as grief- relentless waves of shock, sadness, loss, uncertainty, disappointment, doubt-and the nagging knowing in my gut that something is not right and there is nothing I can do about it.

I've been on "time out"- as I affectionately named this season of waiting God has chosen for my good this past year. It is not my favorite place. It is, however, an incredibly humbling place. It is a beautiful place, if you don't mind beauty with a healthy dose of agony on the side. In this season my Lord has lovingly chipped away at my pride by suspending my career and education endeavors, tamed my overly independent spirit through illness and humbled me by providing this year of living with my parents, and is teaching me His love through my own broken heart. Meanwhile, the enemy has taken every opportunity to rob God's glory in this by lying to me constantly. Like what? You are worthless. You are fading. You are lazy. You are wasting your life. You're getting rusty and will never be useful again. You are a big disappointment. God has forgotten you. You are in big trouble. You are unloveable. You are insincere. You're a joke.

Lies must be constantly fought against with Truth. Only, lately I have caught myself agreeing with the liar instead of killing the lies. Fragility of spirit will do that to you. Don't let it.

See, there is another voice that says "You are mine." Listen to this one- it never lies. It cries out from the depths of my soul, affirming who I am. (Romans 8:14-17)

These were the thoughts going through my mind as I contemplated how I'd spend my day. Usually it is not difficult for me to jump into many exciting and delightful activities, but creativity is one of the first casualties of grief. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried out to the One who has never left my side. "hey- I don't know what to do today. Surely there are things you want to accomplish in Santa Rosa today. Use me." And then I went to get gas.

Music blaring - (Lecrae- nothing like the spoken Word to pierce through the vague fog of lies) my heart began to warm and melt and dripped down my cheeks. Fear began to subside, and the deep longing of my soul grew louder as I sat in awe of the God who perpetually pursues me with His love. I pulled into the gas station. Pumped the gas. Pulled out and began to make a right hand turn. This street is one of the busiest in Santa Rosa, and it is nearly impossible to make a left. As I hit the brakes, I heard a small voice

Turn left.

What? No. That's a bad idea. That has to be my own voice. I am imagining things. I really need to sleep better at night. Seriously, God is not going to talk to me while I drive my car out of the gas station. Who do I think I am anyway?

Turn left.

It was not audible- but a knowing. It was familiar, insistent, and it was strong. That's just crazy. I reached out and flicked the blinker- left. And sat. I watched the traffic in front of me in an unending barrage. I waited. Even if I would have wanted to cut someone off, there wasn't even an opportunity for that. Cars began to pile up behind me. I waited. They became impatient.

Seriously, God. I'm going right. This was a bad idea. My heart lurched as it recognized this vulnerable situation. Still bruised and bleeding, it begged me to run and protect myself. Did I really believe that the voice of God had instructed me to make a left hand turn? Here I was, stepping out on a limb- utterly exposed, looking like a fool- waiting for something that was ridiculous to hope for-again. People in their cars behind me were probably not hearing the same instructions, and they wanted out. I half expected someone to walk up to my window and punch me in the face.

The right lane was beautifully open before me. I began to think of things to do on that right side. Silly things, things to pass time while I waited for God to tell me what to do with this day. Part of me didn't believe He ever would, that I'd be stuck in the Twilight Zone fog of frustrated uncertainty forever. I felt sorry for myself. I scolded myself for feeling sorry for myself. And I waited. It became uncomfortably long. I reached the end of my rope. I was certain something was going to break. I almost turned right.

But I didn't. Something held me there- wanting to believe even after I'd reached the end of myself. I felt like an absolute fool. And I waited.

And then I looked up, and right in front of me was a black car with my friend "Jane" in it. I have been praying for her for months, and somehow we kept missing each other. I honked. She waved excitedly. Windows rolled down, greetings were exchanged. Traffic began to move- "I'm going to Target! Follow me!"

and then there was a perfect gap in traffic, and I made a left hand turn.

I can't quite explain the meeting up of old friends that happened, the conversation walking the aisles at Target, and what exactly happened to my thought process and my heart with each step. Both of us had each other on the mind that day. She had just seen a car that looked like mine, but I wasn't in it. I had just been thinking about her, since she used to live across the street from the gas station. I also can't explain the other friend I ran into in the parking lot as I was texting her. We had lunch, another great conversation, and we prayed.

It could have just been fun conversations, casual girly stuff. But it wasn't. Within the space of that day, I got to see the fruit of years of prayer. I learned about a much longed for baby on the way that doctors bet couldn't happen. I saw stubborn hearts softened, and made up minds changed. One of them was mine. And it recognized the voice of its Maker, and followed.

As I lay in bed that night, contemplating a God so big coordinating all of these domino divine appointments in His perfect timing, I worshipped Him in awe. Who am I to doubt what He is working in my life through this season? Hadn't I been praying for Him to melt away pride, and to know His voice? To be quite honest, at one point during the day, the accuser showed up again, and my futile thinking cried out "I didn't accomplish anything today..." And then the voice of my God whispered back " I did." Wow. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't know how or when exactly it happened, but out of that day and through those conversations, my heart was stirred. I knew what is at the bottom of my heart, the depths of my soul- those longings that God created in me for Himself. I am His. Pure joy. And the accompanying longing for others to know this for themselves, too. Vision for how to practically live that out became clear. I don't "know what I'm going to do with my life" in an SAT essay format, but I know the voice of my God, and I am confident to follow it, no matter how long I wait with my blinker on, and how uncomfortable and foolish I feel. I want Him more.

See, I'm no hero. I'm in love. And you do crazy things when you're in love. I fail, I doubt, I wrestle with my own thoughts- He reveals truth and takes me back- every time. I weep, I laugh- am thankful to know Him and make Him known, and I look forward to these adventures everyday. I don't know what would have happened if I had turned right. And of this, I am glad.

Isaiah 30:21

"And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying 'This is the way, walk in it' when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left."

*if you have a minute, read Isaiah 30- what happens when we don't ask for directions- beautiful illustration of His mercy, restoration and justice to a rebellious people- Israel (us.)

(Live & Active) Culture Shock.

If you've ever been away from your homeland for a while, and come back, you get it.

Every day new layers of realization.

Remembering cold, and the delight of snuggling up next to a toasty fire.

Being in a roomful of people who love me so much it hurts.

Loving a roomful of people so much it hurts.

and still missing a faraway sunshine land- so much, it hurts.

The smooth, grippy (Faux) leather of my steering wheel.

the British-y new car smell that never seems to go away.

But the moment that America really hit me in all it's starred and striped glory- was in the refrigerator aisle of the supermarket. Pausing in awe in front of the gleaming yogurt case at Trader Joes. Talking with Natalie on the phone about pausing in awe in front of the yogurt case as I beheld it's splendor. Selecting yogurt like a child grabbing too many shells on the beach- soccer moms smiled at me as they pushed past, amused. Talking with Nat- about yogurt, in the same country. Like- if the cows that gave the milk to make this yogurt could talk, it would be in English. Getting to the car, eager to tear into one of the aforementioned yogurts- and missing Chiang Mai when I realized there was no little plastic spoon in the bag. Oh Thai 7-11! You’ve ruined me for silver spoons.

Carry On.

Yesterday, I began unpacking my heart. I put some thoughts in drawers and filed some memories in the little wooden slats in my desk. I was reluctant. It was scary. I have spent most of the last 2 years living out of suitcases, happily nomadic. I’ve had my grab and go on for so long, but now I'm learning a new trick- I’m learning to “stay.”

It's surprising when moving forward means...not moving. For now.

Not that I wouldn't love an adventure- (my passport still has empty, hungry pages.) But I'm waiting for this:

Exodus 33:14 -15

"And he said, "My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." And he said to him, "If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here."

And so we set up camp. Somehow the ritual of it all helps to anchor me down to the here. Kind of like- when Mr. Rodgers came home and he changed sweaters and shoes. I think he wanted to get the message across that he was going to stay a while. My heart is rocking the Santa Rosa sweater right now. Although, the no-shoes inside-ness of Asia lives on :)