"i can't today"

i told myself "i can't today.

i'm stuffed with burger and ice cream sundae.

i don't have the strength; i'm not in the mood

to run in a gym full of gross sweaty dudes.

one more piece of my life just withered away,

crying 'cause i don't even know how to pray."

the frigid trip there is at least half of the pain-

if you've done it before, you can do it again.

all the old rules, of course, still apply:

you keep on running til you can no longer cry.

plug in the iPod, let the songs be your prayer.

whip out the sweat rag, pull back the hair.

chase your reflection each tenth of a mile,

every step, every breath one more reason to smile.

the sweat  and the tears soon you can't tell apart,

and you feel the shirt vibrate as fast as your heart.

let go of the cares-they're just weighing you down.

ignore the hair frizz, that undignified crown.

don't stop to assess, take a break or a drink.

there's more in you than you could hope, wish or think.

find it and haul it out- put it to use.

it's oh-so-much stronger than Gatorade juice.

the Spirit that prays when you can't on your own

is the one who won't ever just leave you alone;

He holds you together and gives your feet wings,

who looks down from heaven and over us sings.

we've all got our "treadmill" that laughs in our face

when we're fresh out of strength, patience, hope, faith and grace.

whatever the trial, no matter its size,

the victory's coming- run after the prize.

if you've told yourself you "just can't" today,

get up on the treadmill now anyway.

i'm 1000% sure you'll be totally okay-

and you might accidentally run a 5K :)

sticks and stones and dead men's bones

I love those moments when a thought just pops up, a question just burns in your brain, or a revelation suddenly arises that makes you smile.  these moments, for me anyway, are rare, which i guess is part of why they're so special.

good glory, i hope this makes sense to whoever reads it.

I was considering again moments from my past and how in so many ways, for so many years i was nothing more than a modern-day Pharisee.  my early life revolved around following rules, codes, standards and policies that would make any Saul of Tarsus proud.  we would have had to add a whole second row of tassels on our robes, and heaven forbid we not tithe every single penny we received from our weekly allowance, which when we were 5 years old, was 25 cents.  so we were also good at math- which is a given (i forget which tab "homeschool" fits under- i think either "standards" or "codes"- but included was the Thou Shalt Succeed decree.  failure was not an option). we were filled with guilt if we forgot to tithe, do our morning devotions (because to do it in the evenings, or even after breakfast was classified as "wrong"), or even have too much Apple Cinnamon Cheerios with our plain Cheerios.  like the front-row Pharisees of old, we were generally applauded by peers and looked up to in our teeny tiny Christian community as being role-models. 

and also like the front-row Pharisees of old, i was even more tangled than those tassels, caught up in the little things but missing the big picture.  missing it entirely.  everything good about the Gospel buried under the rulebooks. plagued by doubt, fear of failure, shame, the need to please others, justification through the Law of Moses.  and the Law of Mom.  i'm not even sure which one i held in higher regard, to be honest.

so, just like the front-row Pharisees, i turned into a blind and bitter "Christian," with no answers for the situations i was trying to fix but couldn't.

in one of the last discourses Jesus gave in Jerusalem, in that last week before his impending execution, Jesus suddenly goes off on those front-row Pharisees, ripping to shreds their rules, codes, standards and policies.  he calls them children of hell.  a brood of vipers. hypocrites. blind guides. 

whitewashed tombs. absolutely stunning on the outside, gorgeous rocks, gardens, plants, probably markers or nameplates to remember their loved ones locked away inside.  on the inside, well, there are the loved ones' bones.  corruption. decay.  germs galore. a stench to turn even this nurse's stomach.

…

umm.  yeah.  Jesus said that. to the front-row, super-spiritual religious elites.  a tomb. a pretty vessel chock full of DEATH.

you're probably looking for the encouraging part now, right?  good- here it is.

i just went back and confirmed the timing on this speech of his, and when i flipped back and forth a couple times between Matthew 23 and John 10 and 11, you see something pretty cool.

immediately before the Triumphant Entry, something absolutely epic happens.

he receives word that one of his best friends in the town of Bethany (2 miles away from Jerusalem, and one of Jesus' stopping points) in on his deathbed and Jesus' healing is required immediately. 

so Jesus….doesn't go.  he waits. for 2 whole days.

Lazarus, unknown to the messenger, is probably already dead before Jesus hears of this, because by the time Jesus shows up the mourning is in full swing and the body has already been cleaned, prepared and locked in the grave for 4 days.

Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha, both have separate conversations with Jesus on his arrival.  Jesus asks to see Lazarus's body, and Mary, full of grief, confusion, impeccable common sense, says, "Eww. Jesus, that's gross."

Martha had already run out to meet him, and also to question why he refused to come earlier to save them from this incredible pain. 

Jesus then takes this fantastic opportunity to boot her faith up several levels and tells her :

"your brother will rise again."

Martha said to him, "i know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day."

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."(John 11: 23-27)

then He walks right up to that beautiful tomb full of a dead man's bones, convinces several hesitant guys to roll the stone away, and then demands that those dead man's bones get up and walk on out.  and they do. 

the Resurrection had come.

a short amount of time later, that Resurrection was in the Jews' religious center- Jerusalem, speaking to a synagogue's worth of tombs, calling them what they were, angry at their sin, condemning it, calling it out.

but just as importantly, offering life to any of those dead bones who would step out and receive it.  

He's shouting out: HEY!! you're DEAD!  but true life is LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!!

i have very little doubt that many of those Pharisees hearing that speech hadn't heard about Lazarus.  a bunch of them were likely there at the tomb and had witnessed firsthand what happens when Jesus gets too close to graves and talks to them.  those who weren't there, were told immediately by those who were (John 11:45-47).  the whole episode at Lazarus' re-birthday was meant to bring the spiritually dead to a new spiritual life, just as his speech to them in Jerusalem days later, with this miracle fresh in their minds. 

i remember that day when, -after months of wrestling together through these incredibly difficult issues and circumstances surrounding me, shedding tears and prayers, talking and listening- my pastor and i had reached a point where he called my salvation into question, citing as proof the guilt, anger, self-righteousness and pride that had become so evident.  and i suddenly, immediately felt the immense burden of sin- MY sin- that i'd never realized before.   i looked down that night at my shaking hands wringing out another tissue and envisioned the blood dripping off them, the spiritual death i'd caused, how far i had strayed.  how much sin could be covered up and made to look oh-so-spiritual.  how the mask of religious piety was nothing more than a death mask, hiding the corpse of a soul lurking underneath.  i was a whitewashed tomb, choking on all the crud that filled me up.

but that calling-out wasn't just a judgment.  it was an invitation. this tomb's bones were finally ready to be introduced to the Resurrection and to be summoned from the depths of the grave, out into the light.  i knew the theology and was kinda ticked by Jesus' timing, just like Martha.  i had so many questions i wanted answers to, just like Mary. i had a stone-cold heart and eyes blinder than a bat, just like a Pharisee. 

but the Resurrection had come.  to me.  called me by name.  and i changed from a Pharisee, a Saul, a tomb, into a Lazarus, a Mary, a Martha with eyes opened now to a whole new life.

cool things happen when Jesus talks to rocks. and if there are any other front-row Pharisees out there, i hope you hear him calling you out of your tombstone, too.

your Resurrection is here.  it's calling.  are you going to remain inside your whitewashed tomb or are you going to step out when you hear your Resurrection and Life beckoning you?

head down, hands up

there is a short list of hymns and songs that have had quite an impact on my life, one of them being "I Surrender All," specifically Brian Littrell's version, because that's the one on the CD i bought, never imagining how that WOW Hymns music would affect me.

i still remember that moment- that cool fall night in October 2009 when i was utterly fed up with a crap load of circumstances that i couldn't control or change or easily deal with.  i slammed those nursing textbooks shut with great vigor and took to the almost deserted sidewalks of campus with the cheap iPod i had and just walked for ages, listening to these modernized hymns, knowing there were something in them that i was missing- just having no idea what it was.  then this song came on for about the thousandth time, right at the very end of the walk.  i collapsed against the decorative column outside the dorm and just listened.

didn't try to figure anything out. 

didn't try to over-think anything or understand. 

i just listened.  and then it hit me- and i understood. or at least understood a bit more.

the ASL sign for "surrender" is literally throwing both hands up over your head, palms open and upward.  now, no matter how big and strong your hands are, whatever is in them is up for the taking.  you can't hold anything back without getting carpal tunnel, can't even keep a pencil without seriously cramping that pinky. 

you. can't. keep. anything.

when good old Brian was singing "I surrender all," he meant ALL.  EVERYTHING.  which is a whole lot, people.  it's everything. it's actually more than every single thing- it's not just things.  "Everything" includes the not-things as well.  they're not tangible, they're invisible, have no weight, don't fill up a backpack like they fill up a life, yet need to be shoved onto the altar as well.

what hit me was all the not-things that i'd been holding on to.  not-things like self-esteem... grades... importance... my sanity.  (well, that last one was borderline).  some anger and frustration. the "need" for control.  emotions, ideas, circumstances, plans, dreams, motivations.  my altar up until that point was just too small. some of the not-things had slipped off the edge and fallen back within reach of my hands which were only half-heartedly in the surrendering pose, eager to maintain control of those few bits of my chaotic life that i could still grasp.

surrendering means you don't get to control things. you control NONE of the things.  head down, hands up, palms facing the sun, over your head- you're not really in a good position for taking, negotiating, bargaining, bossing, begging.

it's a really good position for obeying, however.

Abraham's defining moment only happened because he was (spiritually speaking), in a surrendering position.  he heard, "You need to surrender ALL," and he opened his hands over his head, with every thing and every not-thing in his palms and said, "take it.  take it all.  i can't hold on to any of it." 

i'm willing to bet those hands were shaking a bit when he heard the "all" that was required of him.  giving up his entire future, his life, his crowning achievement, his social status, his sanity, his ethical code- that and even more.  it was all hanging in the balance.

he wasn't given a guarantee, like, "hey- if you pretend to give this up to Me, i'll give it all back and then some by this date." 

he was given a command. "surrender this. to me. here."

head down, hands up.

he walked like that all the way to the mountain.  all the way up the mountain. building the altar.  all the way until the knife was up in the air.  

the neat thing is that once your hands are empty of the things and the not-things,- when it's all surrendered and gone,- they're empty to be filled by all things and more.  it sounds a bit contradictory at first, and some times it looks downright heretical or backwards or wrong. putting your kid on a handmade stone altar, with a lit torch in one hand, blade in the other- probably not what the heathen-turned-faith champ was expecting, especially because the God who GAVE him that impossible miracle kid now wants him BACK.

understanding isn't part of it.  obeying is.  obeying is all of it.  i probably won't get a ram for a Christmas present this year. but there are promises that i have that not even Abraham had.  it's just those promises come after the altar.

time to get these hands off the keyboard and up in the air. time to climb the mountain and make that altar a bit bigger again.  time to surrender again, obey again.

head down, hands up.

a moment (Brazil 2014, part I)

i'm finally getting around to writing some of what i meant to write a month ago, or at least fleshing out some thoughts and ideas. 

if anyone has an idea of how to post things like PowerPoint to a blog, let me know.  until then, i'll just have to copy, paste, and keep typing ;)  you know b  now i can't stop after just a paragraph or two!   i spend for-freaking-ever on collecting some of my favorite pictures and memories into a PowerPoint, because i far enough behind in the tech realm to do it any other way, and now i can't find a way to share it with anyone outside my church. i just now- literally, JUST NOW- figured out how to add a couple pictures to these blog-things!! :P
see- look at this!! look!!!!!!

(*savors moment of victory*) anyway. well, here's an effort to put some words into what some of you have seen from the facebook pictures, or if you haven't seen them… here's some words.  :P

one of the many "little" things we saw (or specifically, did NOT see) was the rain.  our first full day in Brazil was completely overcast and featured quite the downpour that several Brazilians said was abnormal, even though this is their winter.  in years past, we have often spent a bit of our first sunday in getting some of the block-laying work done, so give us a head start on monday.  this year, however, it just was not possible.  not at all.  all our organizing of materials happened- indoors in a room the size of a shoebox- as somehow, about 35 suitcases and as many bodies squeezed in there to get sorted and shuffled around.  but 30 seconds outside, and you could forget the idea of being dry.

so instead of working, the other church members we were with brought some guitars and inside the adjacent old building immediately behind the work site, they just started singing.  and we sang along. and kept on singing. and singing.  and then when we had to go back to our hotel, we all took turns with a "popcorn prayer," celebrating the work that we knew would be done, praying the rain stopped soon- but celebrating, knowing that very good work of some type WOULD be done, regardless of whether or not the rain came or went.  and that's all we got done that day.

 

monday morning there were maybe 2 tiny, wispy, little clouds visible, and a couple puddles.  that. was. it.   what a "Hallelujah" went up that morning as we gathered around a pile of blocks, ready to get to work!

at least 2 days, there were some sprinkles while we were eating breakfast at the hotel, but each day it stopped before we were on the bus.  on friday, there was a brief but intense, shower during our on-site devotional when Ms Sue was sharing the gospel with the workers, but the roof was already on the chapel and was doing what every good roof does- keep the rain off everything we needed to stay dry.

and then, on at least 2 of those work days, we looked up and saw the brightest, clearest rainbows i've ever witnessed. and by standing on top of the old building behind the chapel, we were able to see the entire rainbow- almost 180 degrees of color, stretching from one tree-line horizon on the left to the opposite tree-line horizon on the right.  the biggest one was even a double rainbow, that just seemed to be centered right over our worksite.   the work day was almost over, but i still just had to take several minutes to stand up there,

above the trees,

above the work,

above all the other team members,

above the noise,

above the food and friends and fun and VBS and translators and street-preaching/praying  and everything else happening. 

my feet were stuck up there, and i didn't fight it.  i just stood there, free to… just stand there and stare at a giant rainbow.  the rainbow was stuck too, and didn't go away for quite a while.  so i didn't, either.

next time you see a rainbow,- or a sunset, or a flower, or some "insignificant" momentary sliver of nature,- that’s asking to take your breath away, stop whatever you’re doing and let it. 

just let it.

what would happen if you just let it?  what if you really did, literally, just:

put down the book, pull over the car, take the conversation outside- or just stop talking for a minute.  SMELL THAT ROSE- do it.  pick up the pretty leaf… do it.  take the stale loaf of bread and feed that fat, domesticated duck at the pond. just do it. i wonder how much i miss out on because my non-brazilian moments are so full, that i forget the value of having a moment that’s nothing more than me and Jesus sharing a rainbow. 

what else does a moment need?

surrounded

it is so hard to wrap my mind around some things: what the world looks like to a bumblebee, how a plane flies across oceans, SmartPhones that are smarter than me, how an invisible virus or a tiny pill can have incredible effects in a body, and the idea that right now, as i sit in my air-conditioned room near all the comforts of a first-world town there are, on the other side of the planet, hundreds of humans hiding in caves and mountains.  hiding from other humans.  eating anything near-edible, drinking anything wet they can find.  sanitation and hygiene are a dream.  in every direction, there are enemies offering an impossible choice: surrender your God, or die. 

my first thought was one of confused wonder at how vicious people can be, how far they will take their anger at God and attempt to defeat Him by forcing His people to cave to their demands.

my second thought was just wonder… and anticipation.

everyone, even non-religious folks, knows the popular Bible stories and all kinds of illusions to Noah's Ark, Jonah, the Nativity, and a handful of the "really cool" ones.

but one of my favorite stories is one you don't hear much about, tucked away in the middle of a chapter in II Kings:

daily life in the East. a cruddy king ruled the nation, people did whatever they wanted, their first faith pretty much abandoned and the easiest person to blame was the prophet, who was just trying to bring his nation back to God. every year nations would go to war and fight over cities, livestock, trade routes, people, money and gods. faith was an integral part of the early humans' life.  they saw a clear connection between the physical and spiritual.  if the Philistines won the battle against the Moabites, then clearly Dagon was a better god than Baal, and if you offer enough sacrifices to either, neither, or both, your fortune will change.

problem: Dagon and Baal got nothin' on Jehovah, forgotten though He may be. and then Elisha, the prophet given the massive task of awakening Israel to this revelation- God hasn't forgotten you; return to Him and your basket of blessings will overflow. follow your own way, and He will let you- just know it's got some undesirable side effects.

so one fine spring Syria, who's been antagonizing Israel decides to take out  the city Elisha is residing in at the time- he knows too much, he's rooting for the "wrong" God, and they'll prove it by taking him out.

so Elisha and his assistant wake up one morning and see what would make any normal human tremble.

the whole city is surrounded.  soldiers, horses, and chariots beyond counting. there's no possible way out. the choice: surrender, or die. 

Elisha's servant feels the knot in his stomach, looks at his master and says (loosely paraphrased), "what the crap are we gonna do?!?!"

and Elisha just smiles and says, "nothing."  he just knows God's got this.  so he just prays, "God… let. him. see."

God answered- he saw.  all of a sudden, the barrier between visible and invisible, physical and spiritual, real and REAL- was ripped to shreds.  the sunlight paled in comparison to the newfound vision the servant now had.  he saw the soldiers. he saw the horses. he saw the massive army blocking the entire city in…

but the mountain that he and Elisha were standing on was completely full of a far more formidable army.  chariots of fire, surrounding them, encasing them and protecting them, against which nothing could stand.

Elisha prayed again, God struck the human Syrian army with blindness and confusion, and Elisha led them off to a completely different city before they realized they'd been duped and made a spectacle of themselves and their "god."

that army is still out there.  ISIS will know. they can force Nazarenes to their knees and make them say whatever they want about God, claim that Allah is greater and has won this battle, but…

that army is still out there. 

they may seem invisible, or impotent, or absent-

but i know that those mountains in Iraq are full of chariots of fire. 

i still can't smile like Elisha, and my blood pressure is probably rising more than his did over this desperate situation,  but underneath the horror stories there are glimpses, however brief or dim, glimpses of those angel soldiers keeping watch over their charges. 

i pray for eyes to be opened to the bigger Reality. for food and water to reach those who are clinging to their faith more than to physical life, but also that they see those chariots and know that they are not forgotten- by us or by God.  for the eyes of the terrorists be blinded and for them to leave- and then to realize that there is only one true God who protects His people and avenges all wrong in His own time. for the spiritually blind ISIS members to see the Way, the Truth and the Life, to drop their weapons and find mercy and grace on the only mountain it comes from; for them to run to Calvary, not Mecca and choose forgiveness and life over hatred and death.  

that army is still out there- you are surrounded!  which army surrounds you, and whether or not that sounds like good news to you will change depending on which camp you're in- and you can switch. if there's hope for me, then there is hope even for ISIS terrorists who come to faith.

Nazarenes- take hope.  that army is out there- you are surrounded and safe!  non-Nazarenes- take heed.  that army is still out there- you are surrounded!

Thank you, Private Ryan

i think it's been about 2 years since i've seen Saving Private Ryan.

if you're an American old enough to understand the concept of freedom, i highly recommend it. it's one of the best WWII visuals out there and says what i wish i could say better than i could ever say it.

on the bridge, where too many young people just died, instant friendships formed then ended in hours, families ripped apart, faces turned to memories- it rips your soul out and twists it up.

that last line from Tom Hanks…

"Earn this. Earn it."

I took the trash out to the dumpster and made it back inside in time to hear it.  following the story in my head as i walked, i stood a second to look.  right on the edge of the dumpster, about to spill to the ground was a pile of 5 cases of beer.

good thing we haven't forgotten what today was about, huh?

i wonder what the veterans are thinking about today. 

i don't know if we really can earn what we've been given. we received it, we use it-not nearly to its fullest potential, but we use it, we celebrate it… but how?

there are few, but there are still people alive who remember Normandy not from a textbook, who have gold or silver stars hanging up, folded flags, uniforms, badges and medals… if i met one, what could i say?  "hey, thanks for giving your life for my liberty.  i'm so proud to be free because i can drink beer on a monday?"

no. just..no.

i want my life to count for something.  i want to make this world better.

i want to see a people rise up who actually believe in something enough to make it happen, or to not shame those who step up and pay the cost. 

the next war will probably go the nuclear or bioterrorism route in about 10 seconds. we're past the rifles and sticky bombs, the time when hand to hand combat made the struggle close, unavoidably personal.  every single person who wore one of those dog tags knew they probably wouldn't enjoy the freedom they were fighting to keep- but they fought anyway, saying, "yes, freedom is worth yet another life- mine."  afterwards, we can see the final price tag- it's astounding.

my freedom is worth way too many lives for it to be wasted on a few beer cans. 

even more than the vets, though, there's Someone else who i want to please.  who went beyond infinity and made the ultimate sacrifice and turned the whole war around. 

because frankly, we were losing so badly it wasn't even a war.

freedom and life was at stake.  millions of lives, literally.  drowning in an ocean of sin and chaos, there was no hope.  until He decided to make it personal.  unavoidably so. he broke into the time-space continuum, got right up in Satan's face and said, "she's mine, and that freedom is worth yet another life-MINE."  knowing the cost, even more than we ever could, He said it was worth it.

He didn't say, "earn this." because He knew we never could, and i don't plan on trying to. 

but i refuse to waste it. there are some gifts that are just too large, and there's nothing you can do but say, "thank you.  thank you so much."  to say or do more would be pathetically insufficient, but to do nothing is unthinkably ungrateful.

i want today to be my "thank you."  in a way, it IS our thank-you; it's up to each of us individuals what we want to express.  what are you doing with your gift? would you really want a WWII veteran to see it? 

thank you, veterans and current  soldiers. for your giving, your serving, your sacrifices great and small and in-between.

thank you to all those who are defending my right to work, to live, to worship without fear, to speak. some of you are in courtrooms, some are in offices, some are in churches, some are simple Americans and some are super-important Americans with badges and security officers and big white houses.

i hope we never forget.

thank you, Savior.  for your giving and serving and sacrifice that makes every other sacrifice pale in comparison. you gave freedom to those who can't pay for it, your served those who had no right to even carry your dirty sandals, you shined a light so bright even a blind hopeless screw-up like me could finally see the way to You. 

i know i will never forget.

today is my "thank you."

Dear Stalker,

there is so much i could tell you.

the best answers always come AFTER the restraining order's been filed…

although even if that file weren't between us, i don't know if i'd ever be able to actually spit this out anyway.  first of all, because you wouldn't listen to me (you never did before, anyway).  secondly, because i empathize with you more than i ever cared to admit.

my heart hurts.

for you, and for me. and for oh, so many more like each of us.

your one and only fallback excuse to turning your back on religion was the age-old question of why there was so much suffering in this world if there was any semblance of a "good" God, as the Bible claims; why God had never pulled a miracle out of His hat and cured an amputee; why those who rely on prayer are all exactly like that one fanatic couple who endangered their child's life by praying instead of going to a hospital.

you've never read anything thicker than the New York Times, from which you borrow most of your core beliefs and spout off quotes like you came up with them yourself.  you let strangers you've never met do 100% of your thinking for you, and are completely unable to back up those thoughts with logic, facts, or even conviction.

you have nothing left to hold on to but a tangled mess of a life philosophy, so blinded and lost you have no idea just how blinded and lost you are.

problem: i've been exactly where you are standing. spoon-fed beliefs that completely contradict everything you think you see in the world. drowning in a pool of what seems right, though the pool is more like deadly quicksand than water, and the more struggling you do to get out of it the lower and lower you sink until you think you're going insane from the panic.

i admitted to you that i do not have all the answers, at least not the ones you want.  dude, sometimes life just seems to suck, big-time, and God feels very, very far away, or uncaring, or just plain not there. which is the conclusion you wound up with.

and yet, i'm coming to the opposite conclusion you did.

i was given a book- it was like Christmas all over again!!  a 500-page book, so i know you wouldn't ever try to read it.  but it put into words everything i tried once to tell you, and is helping me even now find the answers we both were, or still are, looking for (referencing "If God is Good; Faith in the Midst of Suffering and Evil", by Randy Alcorn...and no, i have not messed with APA or MLA formatting in 3 years and even then cried my way through it.  Alcorn, forgive me!). it explains a difficult side of the gospel that is easy to explain away and understand BEFORE you have suffered, but only really and truly comprehended AFTERWARDS. and to think- without suffering at all, we would miss out on it. though suffering is never what we enjoy or ask for or relish the idea of.

"why, God?"

i've asked it so many times. so very many times; at some points, out of anger, at other times, struggling with confusion and hurt, or plain old insecurity and curiosity.  to be honest, most of the time i don't really expect a clear answer written in the stars, blazing out for me to see, and i am 10,000% sure that even if i got one, i wouldn't understand it. but somehow, i'm clinging to my belief anyway.

the belief that He's there. the belief that He's good, despite times and circumstances that you say indicate He can't be.  the belief that He cares- a lot. more than i know.

i'm clinging to the belief that THERE IS AN ANSWER, even if i don't know it, or hear it, or understand it, or like it.

but mostly, i'm just clinging like SuperGlue to Him.  because through all this, the only sure thing i know is that no matter how i may feel, He's all i've got.  which is eternally more than enough. 

right now, there are more than 200 families in Nigeria that are probably asking "why" as they wait, and wait, and wait for their daughters to come back. more and more names come, and still many more girls whose names are as of now unknown to us. People all over the world point to this situation and mock religion, mock God, mock those of us who pray.

this is the part of the story where Liam Neeson grabs a gun, a walkie-talkie and a Nigerian-English Dictionary and busts up the entire trafficking gang and saves every single child without suffering more than a scrape or two. at least, that's the story we want.  the story we think we need.  the story we think God needs to back up His own reputation and prove Himself.

Dear Stalker-who-shall-remain-nameless, there is indeed a story happening, and it's a good one. but chances are it's not what we think.  God has no need to bow to our whims, or those of a madman waving a gun and threatening to destroy God and all His followers.

He knows your name, and mine.  He knows your struggles, and mine.  He's got the whole story of the universe written down, and it includes the name of each and every star that you care to count tonight.  there is indeed hope.  there is indeed faith. it's all been promised (cited below, also not in APA format). there's a plan and a promise- so far beyond our merely human minds.  it's too big to fathom.  He's too big to fathom, calculate, put in a box, control, or change. in unbelievers, this triggers doubts.  in Christians, it's nothing short of strength, peace and life.

no matter what happens to those girls, God not only knows every single one of their names, but also the story's end.  it most definitely ends with Him being glorified, us being humbled, evil being conquered, and righteousness prevailing and filling an entire, brand-new world with peace and joy that is lit up with the brightest purest light conceivable- its source: God Himself. 

yes, i will still pray.  you'd better believe i'm gonna keep on praying- for those girls to somehow be filled to the uttermost with a peace that only God can provide and that they will be able to rest, physically and spiritually, knowing that God is near to them in their trouble and is a Rock with a cleft just the right size for every one of them.  i'm praying for those … those horrid men who think their plan will succeed, that they can boast against God and come out on top- praying that they will have a change of heart, be rescued from their own spiritual fetters and find the peace and forgiveness they need in the very God they are trying to fight.

and i'm praying for you.  by name, because i know it and so does God.

and for all those like you, searching for- or fighting against- the God you're not even sure exists, numbing yourselves to the honest questions your hearts are asking by absorbing fluffy, non-substantial, brain- and soul-numbing lies to avoid the difficult, but only, path to hope not only for this life but for the next one. 

If you are a praying believer, I'm going to ask you to join with me in praying for these girls, by name.  Follow the link just below to see this list.  This is such an amazing and personal way to be involved, by communicating with the One who's in total control and just offer up the name of these individual children. praying for their safety. praying for their families.  praying that they, their captors, we, and the entire world see God, see God glorified.

http://achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/2014/05/06/please-pick-one/

"Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near;

let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;

let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways', declares the LORD. 'For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth: it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and it shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall make a name for the LORD, an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off."

-Isaiah 55:6-13