I don't ordinarily like writing about stuff I see online. Online is... not real.
But this was different. My boss shared a video from NASA of a photo captured by the Hubble Telescope earlier this year. The images are of the Andromeda Galaxy and although it's one of the largest photographs ever shot, it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what is out there. It's only part of the galaxy and even within the shot, there are hundreds of millions of stars within the image. It's beautiful to behold.
As I watched the video pan from side to side and up and down... I was overwhelmed.
We barely know what is outside the Earth.
We're still figuring out our own solar system of planets and even our moon.
We don't know all that much that's within our oceans.
We're still discovering new species of animals, plants, and the like on a regular basis.
And yet, our great God, the Father of Lights, the Cosmic Artist, created this all in its wonder, knows, and holds it. That in and of itself is humbling and makes me feel small, but what overwhelmed me even more is a second thought I remembered from a close friend at church when he returned from a missions trip several summers ago. The gravity of this truth moved him to tears and I will admit, I was as well when I stopped and considered that magnitude of it all as well.
This very same God... the same Father of Lights... the same Cosmic Artist... is intensely personal, infinitely more so than my very closest friends and desires each of us individually. I cannot even begin to understand how, let alone why, but it absolutely flattened me that my God loves, saves, and desires every one of us on the deepest level imaginable and is the exact same God whose creation overwhelms man's observation.
I don't understand how He does it all or why because I don't deserve any of this.
But I'm so thankful that He is that way. Both the Cosmic Artist and the Loving Father.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Love as Belizeans do
It feels good to write again.
Given how life has changed for the good (a working routine can lift spirits so much-I cannot state how grateful I am for that, not to mention what a miracle this has all been), and in some ways for the disheartening, it's amazing how the lessons we learn even in recent months can apply so well.
Like most people, when I dream, the places which have a profound effect on me become settings for the dream. Belize was no exception and it didn't take long to show up. The other night, I dreamed I went back and although I was tired and wanted to collapse into bed every night, just like when I was actually there, it was a little glimpse of Heaven in my mind. I have no idea if I was alone or with friends, but dream casting filled in the gaps, as it always does.
I couldn't have been happier. It felt like a homecoming of sorts. I was back in Progresso at Templo La Hermosa, seeing Pastor Vitalino and Ida. Felipe and Carla. Byron. Carlos. Danelson. Hector.
I had a chance to see Angel, Lorelly, and Luda and serve with them again.
My Belizean brothers and sisters in Christ. My fast friends who taught me so much about love. A love which dives deep and isn't concerned interstate travel, cross-country drives, international flights, or bilingual communication. This is the real deal. They love like God loves.
And in this, after I woke up, I realized how important that is in my life as part of a larger body of believers in the midst of a vulnerable chapter. Templo La Hermosa taught their American friends about loving deeply, as a family does, and even in moments of weakness. In those moments, there may be hurt and pain, but there is not abandonment.
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
~John 13:34-35 (ESV)
I pray that as a body, we do just that.
Given how life has changed for the good (a working routine can lift spirits so much-I cannot state how grateful I am for that, not to mention what a miracle this has all been), and in some ways for the disheartening, it's amazing how the lessons we learn even in recent months can apply so well.
Like most people, when I dream, the places which have a profound effect on me become settings for the dream. Belize was no exception and it didn't take long to show up. The other night, I dreamed I went back and although I was tired and wanted to collapse into bed every night, just like when I was actually there, it was a little glimpse of Heaven in my mind. I have no idea if I was alone or with friends, but dream casting filled in the gaps, as it always does.
I couldn't have been happier. It felt like a homecoming of sorts. I was back in Progresso at Templo La Hermosa, seeing Pastor Vitalino and Ida. Felipe and Carla. Byron. Carlos. Danelson. Hector.
I had a chance to see Angel, Lorelly, and Luda and serve with them again.
My Belizean brothers and sisters in Christ. My fast friends who taught me so much about love. A love which dives deep and isn't concerned interstate travel, cross-country drives, international flights, or bilingual communication. This is the real deal. They love like God loves.
And in this, after I woke up, I realized how important that is in my life as part of a larger body of believers in the midst of a vulnerable chapter. Templo La Hermosa taught their American friends about loving deeply, as a family does, and even in moments of weakness. In those moments, there may be hurt and pain, but there is not abandonment.
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
~John 13:34-35 (ESV)
I pray that as a body, we do just that.
Monday, May 11, 2015
The Wind Shifts
The previous chapter in my life has ended. And another one has began.
Through it all, God has sustained me. He didn't change, He didn't abandon, and He never moved. Not one bit.
The question is... did I? How much? What was I supposed to see? What am I supposed to see now? What is the takeaway? How do I grow closer to my Father in Heaven as a result?
Right now, as I begin to look back, I don't want the last three months to have been wasted. They've been rough. Agony, at times. But I don't want them to be for nothing.
And also... I'm grateful for all those who prayed for me. And also those whom I didn't know were praying for me. I can't imagine what might have happened if they hadn't. Prayer does move mountains.
Lord, show me what all this was for.
Through it all, God has sustained me. He didn't change, He didn't abandon, and He never moved. Not one bit.
The question is... did I? How much? What was I supposed to see? What am I supposed to see now? What is the takeaway? How do I grow closer to my Father in Heaven as a result?
Right now, as I begin to look back, I don't want the last three months to have been wasted. They've been rough. Agony, at times. But I don't want them to be for nothing.
And also... I'm grateful for all those who prayed for me. And also those whom I didn't know were praying for me. I can't imagine what might have happened if they hadn't. Prayer does move mountains.
Lord, show me what all this was for.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
"Let Me Pray for You"
When I was a student at Hope, we had Chapel in the morning on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and The Gathering on Sunday evenings. No classes were held during Chapel so you could certainly go, and the cool part was attendance was certainly encouraged but definitely not required. It was a major factor in why I liked Hope over a lot of the other Christian liberal arts institutions. Hope believed in the mentality that you have to make your faith your own rather than goading you into it, but they were more than willing to provide a place to help you grow as a Christian. I appreciated that.
One of the things was we had guest speakers at Chapel on a regular basis. The band would rock out, Dwight or Josh would close us in prayer, we'd sit down, and then Trygve or Paul would intro a stranger listed on KnowHope for us.
Sweet! A new person.
As I look back, one thing that sticks out to me was, without fail, Trygve or Paul would look at our guest and say, "Let me pray for you."
And then that's what would happen. It wasn't anything necessarily long or even complex, but a gesture that as I look back meant more than I saw then. Speaking in front of a group of people that you might have never even seen in your life (or even if you have) is nerve-wracking. When Trygve and Paul took that short moment to pray with these guests, I can see where not only were they lifting the message and us as a congregation in prayer, but the person as well when they likely needed it immediately.
That's the takeaway I see now. So often, we hear, "Would you pray for me?" or "I really need prayer for this." A wise friend of mine has appropriately stated there is never a shortage of people who need prayer. In light of that, why would we wait? I personally have the mind of an artist. I can memorize the repertory for a recital or choir tour and sing it back for you, yet I can't even remember what five things I'm supposed to get at the grocery store for my family (was it milk, bread, eggs, cheese, and onions? Or was it juice, coffee, butter, apples, and cereal?).
Keeping it all and who straight is a near-impossible task for my chaotic mind. I get bummed when I think, "Oh. Yeah. I didn't pray for him." I guess my point is don't just walk away from someone when they need prayer. We're not supposed to approach life as a bunch of individuals. We're a family in Christ. I've always been grateful when I have asked and been prayed over in that moment and in turn, I've seen the gratitude come back when I've prayed over someone in their moment of need.
One of the things was we had guest speakers at Chapel on a regular basis. The band would rock out, Dwight or Josh would close us in prayer, we'd sit down, and then Trygve or Paul would intro a stranger listed on KnowHope for us.
Sweet! A new person.
As I look back, one thing that sticks out to me was, without fail, Trygve or Paul would look at our guest and say, "Let me pray for you."
And then that's what would happen. It wasn't anything necessarily long or even complex, but a gesture that as I look back meant more than I saw then. Speaking in front of a group of people that you might have never even seen in your life (or even if you have) is nerve-wracking. When Trygve and Paul took that short moment to pray with these guests, I can see where not only were they lifting the message and us as a congregation in prayer, but the person as well when they likely needed it immediately.
That's the takeaway I see now. So often, we hear, "Would you pray for me?" or "I really need prayer for this." A wise friend of mine has appropriately stated there is never a shortage of people who need prayer. In light of that, why would we wait? I personally have the mind of an artist. I can memorize the repertory for a recital or choir tour and sing it back for you, yet I can't even remember what five things I'm supposed to get at the grocery store for my family (was it milk, bread, eggs, cheese, and onions? Or was it juice, coffee, butter, apples, and cereal?).
Keeping it all and who straight is a near-impossible task for my chaotic mind. I get bummed when I think, "Oh. Yeah. I didn't pray for him." I guess my point is don't just walk away from someone when they need prayer. We're not supposed to approach life as a bunch of individuals. We're a family in Christ. I've always been grateful when I have asked and been prayed over in that moment and in turn, I've seen the gratitude come back when I've prayed over someone in their moment of need.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Abandonment
I've written on this before, but it's a topic of relevance and worth revisiting.
Hope College has a beautiful worship space in Dimnent Memorial Chapel. It's this lovely Neo-Gothic space made of stone built in shortly before the Great Depression. It's tall, has big beautiful stained glass windows of some of the great figures in the Old and New Testaments on either side, a lovely rose window over the main entrance, and another big beautiful window in the chancel. The pews are old school - all wood, well-worn from years of students gathering to worship together and countless music events. The sound carries in the space and has been put to good use for Chapel Choir recordings. There's a constant stream of music - the Skinner and Pels and Van Leeuwen pipe organs and a couple of wonderful Steinway grand pianos grace the space.
Hope College is indeed blessed with a wonderful place to worship. I still miss worshiping alongside my friends there, both for the incredibly strong sense of community we had and also because... yes, we have a great place.
In 2007-2008, Trygve's inspiration for his sermon series at The Gathering was the windows in Dimnent Chapel. We had these lovely little booklets for the first semester and I took one and kept notes for some of them.
On week 5, the teaching was on the prophet Jeremiah, "the weeping prophet." In some ways, I've struggled with this guy. Like with anything in the Bible, there's much to take in and peeling back the layers reveals more and more, but the bigger picture isn't a lot of it isn't good news for God's people a lot of the time. It can be a bit of a bummer.
In this particular instance, Trygve focused in on Jeremiah 8:18-9:1. He reminded us of the historical context-indeed, it was a rough time to be in the divided kingdom of Israel.
"Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then has the health of the daughter of my people
not been restored?" (vv. 22)
Trygve paraphrased this, "God... where are You? Where are You in the midst of all of this?"
Tough question. And definitely a worthy one in Jeremiah's days. They wanted and needed answers and weren't seeing many (spoiler: the kingdom of Israel didn't have a good ending and neither did the kingdom of Judah)
I remember fall 2007 being a tough semester (really, a tough year-my senior year at Hope was the craziest among my four years). But as he continued, my pastor explained that this is a question that needs asking.
When we're willing to ask this, it keeps God front and center.
Right now, I'm left wondering why life has taken the turn it has. There's so much I can't understand between work, relationships, having one of the best missions experiences I could have asked for in Belize and already having a deep longing to return, this deep aching to invest in our Belize mission partners while not down there, thinking about other places I'd love to visit and serve, serving in ministries at church here at home, looking at what the future holds and wondering how everything fits together.
I dream. I wonder. I get frustrated, nervous, scared, angry, and upset. Why am I in this place right now? What's the point?
I've been here before. What am I supposed to take away this time, anyway?
It might not look like how life looks for some of my new friends in Belize, but by no means has this been a picnic (and honestly, it's a whole different set of problems) and at times... I've felt abandoned, even if I know deep down I'm not.
Why is there suffering there? Here? In whatever ways we deal with them?
Why the pain?
There's no complete answer that magically fixes it all (we wish for that stuff), but Trygve did teach in this sermon that Christ has suffered. He walked with His people. And His Spirit is still in the suffering.
As I've revisited this lesson over the years, I continue to be reminded that in those valleys of darkness that lamenting, crying out to God, asking where He is *IS* what we should do.
Seek Him, even when the darkness is as a moonless night. He is still there.
Hope College has a beautiful worship space in Dimnent Memorial Chapel. It's this lovely Neo-Gothic space made of stone built in shortly before the Great Depression. It's tall, has big beautiful stained glass windows of some of the great figures in the Old and New Testaments on either side, a lovely rose window over the main entrance, and another big beautiful window in the chancel. The pews are old school - all wood, well-worn from years of students gathering to worship together and countless music events. The sound carries in the space and has been put to good use for Chapel Choir recordings. There's a constant stream of music - the Skinner and Pels and Van Leeuwen pipe organs and a couple of wonderful Steinway grand pianos grace the space.
Hope College is indeed blessed with a wonderful place to worship. I still miss worshiping alongside my friends there, both for the incredibly strong sense of community we had and also because... yes, we have a great place.
In 2007-2008, Trygve's inspiration for his sermon series at The Gathering was the windows in Dimnent Chapel. We had these lovely little booklets for the first semester and I took one and kept notes for some of them.
On week 5, the teaching was on the prophet Jeremiah, "the weeping prophet." In some ways, I've struggled with this guy. Like with anything in the Bible, there's much to take in and peeling back the layers reveals more and more, but the bigger picture isn't a lot of it isn't good news for God's people a lot of the time. It can be a bit of a bummer.
In this particular instance, Trygve focused in on Jeremiah 8:18-9:1. He reminded us of the historical context-indeed, it was a rough time to be in the divided kingdom of Israel.
"Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then has the health of the daughter of my people
not been restored?" (vv. 22)
Trygve paraphrased this, "God... where are You? Where are You in the midst of all of this?"
Tough question. And definitely a worthy one in Jeremiah's days. They wanted and needed answers and weren't seeing many (spoiler: the kingdom of Israel didn't have a good ending and neither did the kingdom of Judah)
I remember fall 2007 being a tough semester (really, a tough year-my senior year at Hope was the craziest among my four years). But as he continued, my pastor explained that this is a question that needs asking.
When we're willing to ask this, it keeps God front and center.
Right now, I'm left wondering why life has taken the turn it has. There's so much I can't understand between work, relationships, having one of the best missions experiences I could have asked for in Belize and already having a deep longing to return, this deep aching to invest in our Belize mission partners while not down there, thinking about other places I'd love to visit and serve, serving in ministries at church here at home, looking at what the future holds and wondering how everything fits together.
I dream. I wonder. I get frustrated, nervous, scared, angry, and upset. Why am I in this place right now? What's the point?
I've been here before. What am I supposed to take away this time, anyway?
It might not look like how life looks for some of my new friends in Belize, but by no means has this been a picnic (and honestly, it's a whole different set of problems) and at times... I've felt abandoned, even if I know deep down I'm not.
Why is there suffering there? Here? In whatever ways we deal with them?
Why the pain?
There's no complete answer that magically fixes it all (we wish for that stuff), but Trygve did teach in this sermon that Christ has suffered. He walked with His people. And His Spirit is still in the suffering.
As I've revisited this lesson over the years, I continue to be reminded that in those valleys of darkness that lamenting, crying out to God, asking where He is *IS* what we should do.
Seek Him, even when the darkness is as a moonless night. He is still there.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
The Answer
Life is weird. Just plain weird.
I chalk it up to humanity being creatures of comfort. The majority of us, at least, crave it and settle into routines. Even when life rattles us into something unpleasant, once we get used to it, it becomes familiar.
Even if we pray to the Father for something better, I sometimes wonder if there's this little pinprick deep down, "But don't make this hard." It's exactly like Plato's cave metaphor I learned about in college. There's a beautiful world outside, but we become familiar with our dark little hidey-hole and have no desire to emerge.
I'm seeing a potential answer coming, though I could be wrong. Although it could be beautiful, I'm sensing the pinprick. What potential changes might lie ahead? What would come with it? Last time this happened, it was wonderful, but life did change. In some ways, it was incredible.
Others... yes, it was tough and I didn't like them. It took some getting used to.
I'm thankful the Father has it all. He's seen it all forever. That alone is enough to blow my mind, and yet He still loves His creation anyway.
Unfathomable.
I chalk it up to humanity being creatures of comfort. The majority of us, at least, crave it and settle into routines. Even when life rattles us into something unpleasant, once we get used to it, it becomes familiar.
Even if we pray to the Father for something better, I sometimes wonder if there's this little pinprick deep down, "But don't make this hard." It's exactly like Plato's cave metaphor I learned about in college. There's a beautiful world outside, but we become familiar with our dark little hidey-hole and have no desire to emerge.
I'm seeing a potential answer coming, though I could be wrong. Although it could be beautiful, I'm sensing the pinprick. What potential changes might lie ahead? What would come with it? Last time this happened, it was wonderful, but life did change. In some ways, it was incredible.
Others... yes, it was tough and I didn't like them. It took some getting used to.
I'm thankful the Father has it all. He's seen it all forever. That alone is enough to blow my mind, and yet He still loves His creation anyway.
Unfathomable.
Monday, April 20, 2015
He Holds You
I was stopped after church today.
I had this thought in mind of who I was going to/needed to talk to, but evidently God had other ideas.
Let me stop and unpack that. I don't entirely believe God sees our plans and laughs at them, just as Pastor Jim wisely taught earlier this year. God is our Heavenly Father, and just as a good parent wouldn't laugh at a child's earnest intentions, I don't believe He would either. However, I don't believe He won't override them for better ends.
In this case, I never did get a chance to find whom I needed to chat with, but it was okay.
In this case, my cousin Seth stopped me. I'm always glad to see him-one of those guys who never fails to bring a smile to my face.
"Seth! Hey man. What's up?"
In this case, it was simple but still profound. He and I have been praying for one another for various things we've dealt with, and for that, I've been thankful. He was reminding me of that through the twisting journey life has taken me recently, but it was something in particular, the way he put it, that really stuck with me, perhaps on purpose, perhaps unintended.
"Remember: the Lord has you. He holds you, man. He holds your very soul."
It hit me and I lost a bit of focus after that, probably because of the weight of his words.
But the more I think about it, the more I get flattened by that statement. This is the same Lord Almighty who has always been. No beginning or end. He just is.
The same Lord who created it all.
The same Lord who had already seen through all of history.
The same Lord who sent Himself to us, His creation.
The same Lord who has walked among us.
The same Lord who died for us and came back, defeating death out of His love for us.
The same Lord who lives in us and holds our souls.
And the same Lord who still holds the world now.
This same Lord holds my soul. My life.
I don't know what the future even remotely looks like for me, and in some ways, that's a scary thought. It's just plain hard. As I've thought about and written before, trust isn't a thing inherent to us as people.
But as Seth reminded me and it crystalized again today, the Lord God is someone to trust because of who He is.
He is love. He is good. He is our Father in Heaven. He is Lord God.
I had this thought in mind of who I was going to/needed to talk to, but evidently God had other ideas.
Let me stop and unpack that. I don't entirely believe God sees our plans and laughs at them, just as Pastor Jim wisely taught earlier this year. God is our Heavenly Father, and just as a good parent wouldn't laugh at a child's earnest intentions, I don't believe He would either. However, I don't believe He won't override them for better ends.
In this case, I never did get a chance to find whom I needed to chat with, but it was okay.
In this case, my cousin Seth stopped me. I'm always glad to see him-one of those guys who never fails to bring a smile to my face.
"Seth! Hey man. What's up?"
In this case, it was simple but still profound. He and I have been praying for one another for various things we've dealt with, and for that, I've been thankful. He was reminding me of that through the twisting journey life has taken me recently, but it was something in particular, the way he put it, that really stuck with me, perhaps on purpose, perhaps unintended.
"Remember: the Lord has you. He holds you, man. He holds your very soul."
It hit me and I lost a bit of focus after that, probably because of the weight of his words.
But the more I think about it, the more I get flattened by that statement. This is the same Lord Almighty who has always been. No beginning or end. He just is.
The same Lord who created it all.
The same Lord who had already seen through all of history.
The same Lord who sent Himself to us, His creation.
The same Lord who has walked among us.
The same Lord who died for us and came back, defeating death out of His love for us.
The same Lord who lives in us and holds our souls.
And the same Lord who still holds the world now.
This same Lord holds my soul. My life.
I don't know what the future even remotely looks like for me, and in some ways, that's a scary thought. It's just plain hard. As I've thought about and written before, trust isn't a thing inherent to us as people.
But as Seth reminded me and it crystalized again today, the Lord God is someone to trust because of who He is.
He is love. He is good. He is our Father in Heaven. He is Lord God.
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