Hold Fast

Hebrews 4:14-16
"Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

Though this passage seems very nice, it doesn't make any sense! Jesus, the Son of God, tempted in every respect that we are, still did not sin. Therefore, we, who have sinned, can find his help in our time of need.

Honestly, I do not get it. I'm not trying to set up a literary turn where it does make sense in the end - I actually don't see the connection. Because Christ did what we couldn't, we can find grace and understanding when we're needy? Maybe you get it, and in time I might, too. But for now, I'll simply take it.

So it is not with knowledge and understanding that I conclude, but with gratitude: God is an awesome God for extending grace, his very throne of grace, to us, sympathizing with our weakness and saying something like, "I know... it's okay." He is awesome because he was victorious and, though we are not, he still champions us and elevates us to be more like him, to be what we can't.

Now I draw near to this throne of grace with confidence, receiving mercy and grace in my time of need, and saying something like, "Okay... Thank you. Again." And I hold fast to my confession.

Letting Go

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold." -Frodo

I love Frodo so much. If he wasn't your favorite in the "Lord of the Rings" movies, give him a chance in the books. He is valiant. He accepts his role. He is selfless, and he is lovable.  He lets go of the Shire, not once but twice!

I've said some tearful goodbyes in the last few years, and I've left some wonderful people. The reason those goodbyes were so tearful, and why leaving was so heartbreaking, was because those friends were so good, so wonderful! I wouldn't feel this way if I only knew jerks! But I am so grateful to know such quality people from different states, different countries. They point me to beauty.

And that's what we're looking for. There was a time where I didn't see a beautiful sunrise or sunset for months. The weather just wasn't right. But I didn't need those, because I had beautiful friends who cared for me, who insisted on the truth about me, and who were persistent to point out the good. We all need to witness beauty to be whole, and I am rich with what I've seen.

After experiencing these things, plus forgiveness and such satisfying redemption, I see the Father at work. Here and everywhere! And if that's true, then letting go isn't always easier, but it's possible. Because what we're letting go of is beauty, and that can be found Everywhere.

Frodo left a lot of things and people, but what he came to was a far country of white, sandy beaches, the City-Upon-a-Hill, the Timeless Shores... There's more beauty where we're afraid to find it.

Change, Never-change

Goodness, this is long. But it's a reflective thing, so more for me than for you. So consider this a journal entry that I'm letting you read, haha! Understand, and please enjoy.

A lamp has a power cord. To move the lamp, you must unplug the power cord, relocate the lamp, and plug the power cord into another outlet. Simply unplug, move, plug. Quite simple. The lamp is still a lamp, but it's in a new place. Now, different things are happening all around the lamp, but it's still doing its job, while all it sees and hears is new and changed.

I lived in Canada for three years; 2 and a half years in a small foothills town in Alberta and half a year in the city of Vancouver. Those were very different environments - in two different provinces, even. One of them showed me a deer every day, beautiful stars, dangerous storms, and a slow, quiet life. The other presented a fast-paced, people-filled society boasting convenience and low prices within a lock-your-doors atmosphere. Though they were both truly beautiful, they were quite different. In fact, every Canadian was different; some wore cowboy hats and donned mustaches, and some owned bakeries while others made millions for the oil industry. And they all were different from me.

Less than three weeks ago I was unplugged, relocated, and plugged in again; a lamp moved not just across the room, but into another house! Yes, I am still James, but I'm in a totally different place. Different things are happening all around me. All the faces are different. The voices are different. The colors, smells, sky, and air moisture are all different. Even I am changed! Yes, I've lived here before, but I'm older. At this point in my young life, it amounts to being much older. And for some reason, that means a lot to me.

I know my surroundings are different and can't possibly satisfy my urge to recognize my experiences. There is no way to tell all the stories of who and what my light was cast upon, and no one would want to hear all of them anyway! And that's okay. That's normal! To expect more would be unfair.

Now if I understand the struggle of moving and the confusion of all things changed, why do I shudder at times? Why do I ignore feelings until they ambush me with storm clouds? Why do I desperately wish for someone with which to open up, while I fear the idea of opening up at all? I want a friend but push them away. It was never like this before... Good Lord, why?

Grief. I lost something very precious to me. I lost a community, a job, a bedroom, a level of comfort, a style of humor, a list of inside jokes, a system of meals, and a group of fine people who called me friend; who loved me more than I realized till those last few days. All of that gone, and I'm left here in American with jokes about "snow" and "eh" and "a-boot." Good gravy! It was so much more than that.

I became a man there, and I returned to be told that I need to put shoes on before I leave the house! I know! For Pete's sake, I know.

So here I am - new and fresh but scared, experienced but nervous, a man now a man, deathly afraid of being treated like a boy. But I am James, and I am loved, and there are some things that never change.

Still a Tree

You shouldn't be dramatic so

You shouldn't slow the traffic flow

Or frantically wave a flag so white

Ov'r a clean ship healthy at first sight

A ship is first a tree, you know?

And trees ne'er live without a touch of woe

Hardships endured, but thickened bark

Can't stop the wind of deathly stark

The fall of one so great and old

Must sound much like a smash so bold

And splashing into the flowing clear

Like rocks on rocks or thunder near

The river runs swift and blind

Past an old, stuck log refusing to wind

In time it will falter and fall

Jetsam dragged, forgotten by all 

But though the log is tall and wide 

It's still a tree, deep inside

And though the tree is dead and gone

It's still a tree, thick and strong

So because the roots must stay back

The support has now been all but sapped

Those precious nutrients so far away

Getting further and further every day

Perhaps before the log shakes loose

It will find a similar log or two

And form a little dam their own

And firmly stand, to brave the Unknown.

What's the object of the game?

This poem is fictional. But it does relate to this: when something seems wrong, but right at the same time. So you trust it, enough to give it a shot, even when you sense it's leading into a trap. Perhaps it's a wrong motivation, or a dream you're following that someone else dreamt. Beware!

I don't even know your name
And if I did I'd feel the same
I never learned to play this game
But if you teach, I'll try to play.

Look alive, it's time to shine
See if you can't take what's mine
Tie your string and pull my line
With silky words and a smile wide.

But then again, not you but me
Tied that string and hung it free
Yeah it's locked, but here's the key
For any fool to take and keep.

A key that leads to open flesh
Raw and pulsing, my open chest
Covered by no bandaged mesh
No hair or skin or bone protects.

If you ask it, I will gift
That key that leads to captive shift
And walk into deceiving lift
And headfirst ascend through blackened rift.

A Few Short Poems

I wanted to share a few poems I wrote recently.

1.

Ah, a pretty moon does shine
Yellow, like the winner's wine
And though he be not me
I shall look upon a final time

Perhaps, in time, another moon shall rise
And, too, the look of soulful eyes
Upon me, Oh could it be?
Your searching quest has died?

2.

In this ONE DAY, today
Be here, in me, and stay
When I try to cut another
Remind me with your thunder
That you are Love, and so am I
Till the unending well runs dry

3.

Father of smiles
Father who's near
Father from miles
Away from here.

Father of water
Of every star
Would you hear me mutter?
And never be too far?

If you see me shiver
If you smell my fear
If you hear me whimper
Speak strong and clear.

That I'm your son
That your grip is tight
Till the days are done
It's gonna be alright.

4.

Thinking of months and late history,
Things rarely happen the way that you dream
Sometimes it's bad - so bad you feel stuck
Drowning and starving alive in the muck.

Though now is fine, tomorrow is shaken
If it's looking too well I might wait to me waken'd
'Cause even though I'm headed back home,
It doesn't mean I won't feel all alone

I'm shaking, I'm scared, I'm feeling blind
Reaching out, I don't know what it is that I'll find.
All the faces are different, the voices are wrong,
Or has everything here been a dream all along?

Choose Well

What happens next does matter most!
    To drop my eyes with shoulders bent,
        And walk away from break of day?
Into the night self-engrossed,
    And tread only where the bitter went?

This moment now shall choice be made
    'Tween hope, despair; to love or hate?
        Will others' speech so deeply reach?
Or will your Love in me invade?
    Or will your Light new heart create?

"Choose well," do whisp'ring angels say,
    "It matters more than you may think."
        But another voice gnaws at my choice.
A dark, dark shadow stands in the way...
    But of his cup I will not drink!

So stand I shall with friends beside,
    And face and eyes all held up high,
        With hope and love 'neath Love above,
And live because of him who died,
    To walk in Light until I die!

Hourglass

That old clock's ticking like it's the last day of the world.

That captain's wheel spinning, hands a blur.

Our roads spiral quickly together,

Soon to join forever

As one.

Smiles spread and grins grow.

A little life multiplies into new joy and hope.

Before we know it, saplings of bright green jump and thrive

Then midnight strikes and the pillows meet our old, accomplished eyes

Spring Faith

Aye, this be a new chapter. God has written a suspenseful one, but I believe it’s coming to an end. Very old junk, old hurts, present exposure, present pain, new healing, new life! The previous chapter was one of colorful adventure in Vancouver, in Thailand and Malaysia with new friends from around the world, and in a beautiful community fighting to grow closer to God. But it ended 7 weeks ago in Alberta with a gray-scale Tuesday morning conversation that I’ll never forget.


The cat was out of the bag and the closet opened and contents spilled out. I was in trouble for mistakes I had made nearly a year before. That day saw some light though: I vowed to make things right and Jesus was in front of me – the beacon of reconciliation to lead the way. Emotions came and went: shame and confusion, then anger, then eventually and God-willing, compassion; to step out of my shoes and into another’s. I finally sensed some of the trouble I caused and squirmed uneasily. Then the good news set in, “This can be restored.” Really, truly made right.


It’s been a great story, if I may say so. The enemy, the antagonist, wasn’t clear for a time. At first I thought it was the then-revealed victim. Of course I discovered the enemy is rarely the person who’s hurt. The enemy is instead the one that silences the promise of healing. And his destiny is set, isn’t it?


I had a mediator – a godly man to help me; to defend me but also to make me see the wholeness of what I’d done, mixed with the destruction wrought by another who does not come into this tale… a child whose actions were never reckoned for. So I was not wholly to blame, but some blame was mine, and it is the role of a friend to reveal that if need be.


The River Time coursed by… it was mostly frozen at first, advancing at an agonizingly slow pace. But it picked up, thawed by the great Sun, by breaths of the great Creator who wished to test my patience and my integrity.


I ran the course with bow set stubbornly straight. Indeed, I may have never been so set in my ways as I was these last couple months; set on making things right, on seeing this through. As a character learns his strengths and weaknesses, I have learned and admit proudly that I am a Carer. Though clinging to selfishness at times, I have been endowed with a capacity to care. I am a cacophony of selfishness and selflessness, but inevitably, with enough time spent with Jesus, the melodies of love and peace and patience will ever carry on and away and drown out the harsh discords of self-demand. There was a lovely harbor I regrettably stole from in my youth. But I sailed my ship back there and mended what I could. Recovery will take time but I believe I’ve done my part for now. The rest, thankfully, is up to the Shipwright and the Repairman, the God of the land and the sea.


And the page turns as a large hand titles a new chapter, "Spring Faith."

May it be a sweet, sweet sound

This song really hit me at church. When we speak to God, he listens. And, it's a sweet, sweet sound in his ear.

I love you Lord

And I lift my voice

To worship you

Oh my soul Rejoice

Take joy, my King

In what you hear

May it be a sweet, sweet sound

In your ear

Testing Times

Though my name sullied may be,
Yours far more is stomped about,
The diff'rence, though, easily seen:
Guilt I have while you're without.

But that thing you lacked; guilt unknown,
You took from me and bore yourself
At the cross that made the curtain torn
And threw the world upon itself

Now my life is in your hands
And testing times I find I'm in.
But this day's end will have me stand
And with your power find peace within.

Easier said than done, I fear
How to keep from running away?
The answer's simple: You say, "Draw near,
Through this, together, we'll find a way."

The Oddness of Transition and "Home"

Thailand to Canada, Vancouver to Turner Valley.

Where am I?

After hours and hours of plane travel and Greyhound rides, I don't know where I am. But I'm still happy - I still have joy.

This base in Turner Valley, Alberta, Canada has been my home away from home for the last two and a half years. Vancouver wasn't home. So when I arrived there and felt the relief of everything western and convenient and familiar language, I was relieved only mostly. For I was still not "home." Because home is in Turner Valley. (But home is in Escalon, California? That one still gets me. I love travelling so much, but it confuses me a little about what to call "home." So I find myself calling every place I sleep "home." The jury's still out one whether I'm fine with that or not.)

So my week and a half in Vancouver was slightly awkward. (And I don't use that over-used word freely.) I was waiting for the final relief of the Discipleship Training School - debrief, retreat, and all - to wrap up.

I can't tell you how relieved I was to enter the rest that awaited me at Turner Valley. Inquisitive and hilarious friends, picking up our relationships where they left off, welcomed me back. They not only made up my room, but brought my stuff out of storage - a task I was not looking forward to.

Possibly the best thing that's happened being back was a happenstance conversation with a local stranger. Jim struck up the conversation as our pedestrian selves shared a road on a warm, snow-melt kind of day.  He's had his share of difficulty lately. Between being kicked out of his job and losing his wife last year, he kept a positive spirit and admitted there had been some inner healing even today, by laying flowers on her grave.

But before he shared about his tragic loss, I was prompted unexpectedly to ask him a question (prefaced of course): "Jim, this might sound a little crazy (there's the preface), but do you have any aches or pains in your body?" After an overwhelmingly affirmative answer, I followed up my question with another one to top it in strangeness, "Can I pray for you? I just got back from a mission trip and I've seen people healed and they've felt peace. God can heal your body."

Though he danced around the question, and again politely declined when I repeated it at the end of the conversation, I couldn't help but feel successful. Since success is when we obey God, I did well. And it was just the opportunity I needed to realize that though my DTS staffing experience has dissolved, the needs of the world and the calling from God remain. And though change and transition may cause the ground beneath me to feel shifty and swirly, there is no place where the Spirit of God cannot reach me.

Where can I go from your Spirit? 

   Where can I flee from your presence? 

 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; 

   if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 

   if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

 even there your hand will guide me, 

   your right hand will hold me fast. 

 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me 

   and the light become night around me,” 

 even the darkness will not be dark to you; 

   the night will shine like the day, 

   for darkness is as light to you.

(Ps. 139:7-12)

Trust in the Lord - A short speech to a Thai church

Oy, our awesome translator, did a good job
(from what I could tell, haha).

At a street church in Pattaya, Thailand, I gave a sermon about trusting in Jesus. It had become so important to me at the time (and still is) that I had to share it with others. Luckily, this opportunity was given to me and I spoke briefly through a translator to this Thai congregation.

Below is the audio file (edited because you probably don't know Thai). It's about 8 minutes long... now that's a short sermon!

Here is the outline:

• Intro.
• Tell your neighbor what you think of when you think of Jesus.
• Trusting Jesus
• Personal:
• Negative story - not letting go of that girl
• Positive story - trusting God to go to Vancouver for a few months and help with the Discipleship Training School
• Bible:
• Moses striking rock (Num. 20)
• Israel's idolatry (Judges-Malachi)
• Why we don't trust Jesus
• Disciples in the storm (Mk 4) - Because we don't know him well
• Wrong picture of him
• Dan 7
• Rev 1
• Application
• Get to know him better! Spend more time with Jesus.
• Trust Jesus with everything!
• What are you trying to hear now? Future plans? Wait on him (Ps. 27), take courage and wait for him to answer.
• Even if bad, bad things happen, always trust in him.

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The Dust That Clings

If dreaming makes him glad

And waking makes him sad

Then thinking he must do

To find out what is true

He doesn't know what's real

But try so hard he will

By using all his might

To find out wrong and right

And doing what is just

He wipes away the dust 

That clings with reckless hate

And threatens his good fate

But dusting takes so long

It's job is never done

So return, you old refrain

You sweetly-sounding rain

Returning from the 3-month mission trip in Southeast Asia has been hard. Somewhere in the last few weeks I began feeling riddled with thoughts of disappointment and have worried about how much good I brought as a staff member of this group. Help came from a friend, though, and I have realized that even if the feelings of disappointment are so strong, they may not be accurate at all. Maybe what feels right, isn't actually right. So this decision to believe the best in myself, to admit the exaggeration of mistakes, and to dust off the condemnation, has been hard, and I haven't been able to do it on my own. But through prayer and a sweet grace-flavored rain, I am constantly being rid of the false accusations.

"Lent" me your ears

Terrible pun title means an adequate blog as I always say. But I press on.

Ash Wednesday begins 40 days of Lent. That was yesterday, but whatever. What to give up is the question. Or is it? I wondered for a while what I could go without: soda, desserts (first thought is food of course), time in my day, TV shows that I follow... Though I did settle on withholding overeating (as in eating way more than I need, simply because I can squeeze it in and because it tastes good), I also realized that in celebration for Easter, what I personally need is not to take everything away from myself, but to continue to dive into God. My greatest need is to draw near to him, to trust him, and to love him. This involves time and energy and it takes getting used to, but oh boy. Because if the Bible is true (which I would admit under penalty of death), the rewards for following God, for hosting the Holy Spirit in us, are incomparable! There's love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control that are dying to pour forth from any person who trusts God with their whole self. Who doesn't want those?

Instead of removing items from my life, which does hold many benefits, I want to focus on adding good things. It's like instead of trying to stop saying mean things, to focus on saying nice things. Then the rude thoughts will fizzle themselves out, naturally.

Yosemite National Park
Date wrong - Summer 2009
(Not exactly related)

Now that outreach is over, I'm trying to figure out what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. I've been in Asia for almost 3 months! I love experiencing hot showers again (most of the trip they were unavailable). I missed meat and potatoes and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Vancouver's chilly weather and snow-capped mountains have warmed my heart and added a lightness to my step when I was so confused about, well, everything.

I'm honestly not trying to be dramatic. But in this temporary tiredness and anxiety of not knowing if I have done a good job, what my core thirsts for is an embrace. A long, solid, love-filled hug from someone who knows me well. Who misses me when I neglect conversation. Who cares for me in a way I will never fully understand. Who loves me unconditionally. A hug from a God? I'll take that. And another! In preparation for Easter, I will get to know Jesus more than I ever have. And all I have to do is ask.

Confronted with Muck

When a wound is ugly and gross, red and swollen, and filled with muck… What do you do?

You can simply stop looking at it. But we all know that won’t make it go away.

You can imagine everyone gets cuts and bruises and we all live with it. But that won’t last long, because it doesn’t take the pain away. And the purpose of pain is to get your attention.

You can cover it up with clothes or weak bandages and ignore it for as long as possible, hiding it from yourself and others. But you know the blood will run down, smear on things, and your friends and family will see it, smell it, and notice your attempts at concealing it.

Or, you can study the trauma, diagnose the problem, and dig out and remove the muck, despite the pain. A tear or two may swell in your eyes, but the temporary agony will prove itself worth the work because wounds heal. Your body is designed to restore itself. It won’t naturally expel that junk, though; it will learn to live with it, and new skin will grow around it. So we must assist the natural by intervening with supernatural help, cleaning the wound and treating it as best as we can. The dirt, the gravel, the glass has to be handled gently but thoroughly.

I’ve spent loads of energy, time, and emotion staring at wounds and mourning their debilitating effects on myself and others, even after asking forgiveness. I’ve looked at them from every angle and felt every emotion – empathy, sadness, anger, disappointment, apathy. I have overshot humility and ended up in the land of immobilization, where my mistakes and harsh words replay continuously. A festering wound is unenviable.

But in a world that lives with its cuts and abrasions, there’s something special, innocent, and healthy about being sick of your infections. It’s a good sign when there’s no compromise between pride and humility. It’s a good sign that there’s no compromise when it comes to health and well-being, joy and love. If you’re so tired of doing what’s wrong, then you must be doing something right! A hate of a wound is a good thing. But how will you treat it? Staring at it only does so much.

Consult the Great Physician. We can only do so much healing on our own.

Awake! oh Light

(Here's another poem I wrote. Since there's 20 lines, it's not a sonnet. The rhyming patter is easy, though - ABAB CDCD... Finally, it's in 'Iambic Tetrameter,' which means each line has 4 feet with two syllables each, and the rhythm is something like da-DUM da-DUM... )

Awake! oh Light

Adapting eyes, his iris grows,

Two pupils shrink like ships depart;

Asleep no more but still unknown

Where he shall sail or when to start.

One day he'll wake and know his course,

He'll learn the winds, the stars, the moon;

He'll shout with joy till voice is hoarse,

Unwavering through all monsoons.

But storms are strong that rage within,

And fright is doubl'd in shadows deep;

For shadows live where light is thin,

And fear when sown means darkness reaped.

If only there was Light so bright,

To guide his ship round rocky shore;

And scare the dark and fear of night,

Away from weary trav'ler's soul.

Awake! oh Light, and dance upon

The face of him who sings along,

Who trusts in One with life e'erlong,

With voice raised high in faithful song

Sonnet 1

(This is my first attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet. Here are some elements of the structured poem: 14 lines, a specific rhyming pattern, and a rhythm, or meter, which means the poem should carry a beat like this: da-DUM da-DUM... I suggest reading it, "When I sit here, no clues..." Enjoy!)

When I sit here, no clues, confused, ashamed

I think of all locales in which to hide

You speak to me but I avert my gaze

I long to look unblinking in your eyes

Seek solitude, but fear to be alone

The paradox, I know hurts me and you

Now smash into iotas hearts of stone

Rebuild them all and set on paths so new

But to transform for none is any quirk

Cerebral habits derail the heart-run train

Though blazing new a road, it's no small work

Established paths are hard to deviate

Destroy therefore, for good, the bandit shame

And set me free by whispering my name!

Our Hope

Our Hope

Not just there

Like a rock

Foundation

Here too

Dwell in us

Chasing us

Pursuer

Truly

You always

Care so much

Compassion

Our Love

Your heart swells

For justice

Righteous One

Our Life

Very breath

My heartbeat

Creator

Endless

We too share

Life ceaseless

Eternal

Wait for the Lord

"Is anyone feeling less than okay emotionally?" asked the leader of the meeting. Though a few people responded, and though I should have raised my hand, I remained silent. But because I believe in prayer, and honestly thought it would help me and others, I decided to pray, and to pray out loud, with the words I chose to use applying to me and the humble few in the center of the group. What I asked for was what I needed most of all: solidity and steadiness, and a reminder that the Lord's love is steadfast; he is our Rock and Refuge.

After praying I opened up to Psalm 27 because it's awesome. The last verse resonated within me:

"Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage,
wait for the Lord!"

I think that "Wait for the Lord," can be about two things. First, it is the daily waiting to hear God: spending time in his presence, devoting life to him, balancing our wobbly selves on him, who is the steady, unwavering One. "Wait for the Lord" is also about waiting for Jesus to return.  Because return he will. And when he does, we will wonder why we didn't trust him absolutely before our eyes beheld his power and majesty. No guilt here, I only mean that maybe our picture of Jesus prevents us from really, truly trusting him and throwing ourselves on him when our desperation culminates. And when we see him, we will understand why we were called to wait for him, to cast our cares on him, and to call him the loving Lord of our lives. (I am struck by the lack of a weakling Jesus here - a soft-spoken man holds no place in this passage. That too may be why we don't trust him enough).

"14 The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength.

 17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades."

Alive forevermore! This has become more than just a personal encouragement to have more quiet times, more devotions. For me, this passage is the reason I even try. Because there are flaming eyes that look at me and love me, and there is someone who is stronger, holding stars and capturing the very light of the sun in his face - declaring that he is not just in control of my life, but the universe - and there is someone with a voice like the roar of many waters who invites me into an intimacy incomparable.

Does this inspire you to wait for the Lord? To be strong and let your heart take courage? Will you wait for the Lord and listen to what he might say?

Prima Verbe - First Word

Prima Verbe - First Word.

What are the first words you speak out loud each day?

If you sleep with someone, I imagine it would be different. But I sleep alone. Well, my roommates are usually asleep when I wake up, so I basically sleep alone. When I wake up, I take a shower, get dressed, go to breakfast, and talk to people there. This makes my first words something like, "Good morning." And if I skipped the shower, the tired words would be an octave lower than normal, my eyes would lazily be half-open, and saying, "Good morning," would become an empty automatic.

But I believe that the first words we speak each day wear some kind of power. They may not, but they might. If anything, they set the mood for the first hour of our day, which tailors the mood for our whole day.

Are your first words, "Ugh," "Aaaahh," "Shoot!" or even something worse, depending on how late you stayed up the night before? How long does it take to strip this attitude and dress yourself with an attitude more fitting to loving your friends and family?

My first words are paramount in my attitude. A temptation for me is to use my words to rip and tear others in order to somehow, sneakily, lift myself up; to uselessly, improperly sew up my insecurities. This passive aggression is deadly and wears holes in my relationships, and I want so badly to instead use my tongue and the words that it speaks to touch others, to lift them up, dust them off if need be, and to make them feel warm and happy, cared about and welcomed... That all our issues are extra small compared to God, who constantly irons us out.

I have begun making my first words something more profound and thought-out. Because of my mental state for the first few minutes of each morning, with effort I gather myself to mumble a few words: "Thank you, God." Tucked in beneath those words is a heart giving its day to God, as I realize that it's only because of his design that I'm here, alive and well, with the ability to influence others. This often happens when I'm in the shower or getting dressed. I speak these first words, and God is meanwhile washing me clean and dressing me in his righteousness, the righteousness he died to give us. He was clothed with humanity so we could don holiness. A set of bright white clothes that causes its wearer to radiate with glory and sing with purity.

And then it's a good morning indeed.

Outreach Update!

Photos by Heidi Jarva

The orphanage has perhaps 20 kids, ranging from 2 years old to university students, with a large chunk being in the 8-12 range. They are all full of life and energy, and all seem very happy to have us around. We are in a remote area, outside the town of Non Som Boon, near Nang Bua Lamphu, in NE Thailand. Needless to say, we're not hitting the movie theaters on our days off.

We were warmly received a couple weeks ago by the children singing us a song as our vehicle pulled into the parking space. Since then we have conducted our evening English programs and painted 3 of the buildings a sky blue. A couple days a week we travel to different schools to entertain the Thai students (elementary schools so far) with English lessons, games, songs, more games, a gospel explanation, and after another game or two, a drama.

Besides the programs and the schedule, I've been quite surprised by how quickly we were loved and accepted by all the kids. There are several boys who are fascinated by arm hair, leg hair, and one has even discovered the hair under my arms. Haan and Tong, 12 and 13, especially come to me when I'm around and hold my hands, lean on me and smile at me. In Thai culture, and in many Asian countries, there's nothing unusual about guys being touchy with each other. I don't know these brothers' story, but they ended up here and so probably don't have parents. So I decided I would get close to them.

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It was perhaps easier said than done. For the first week I was worried because I simply didn't know what to do around the boys, or even children! I'm tied for the youngest in my family, and didn't spend any time helping in Sunday School growing up. I lack experience. But I was encouraged by another staff to just be myself! They're not looking for a performance, just someone to be with. That helped immensely! Since then I have been much more at ease.

Teaching English to Han and Tong - brothers

It's also got me thinking about something a friend of mine, Aaron, said once after a trip to Thailand. The father figure is lacking in so many kids here, what they need is for a man to be there, wrestle with them, play with them, smile at them, and just be a man to them! One who cares and is involved, even for a short time.

Outside the orphanage, we have seen several people healed, when parts of our team go out and evangelize to people in nearby towns. The DTS students have been stepping up to the microphone and stepping onto the ledge, offering prayer and describing their love for Jesus to people who, through prayer beforehand, God had highlighted to them (ie: a woman with teeth died black, a house behind a tower/spike, and other little clues that came to pass in shocking detail. These revealed people were fortunately open to the gospel and accepted prayer).

God is moving amongst the 7 students, we 4 staff, the orphanage students and staff, and in the region where we live. We have another week and some here, and then onto Pattaya for the final 3 weeks of outreach. We will continue working with children and likely a ministry that helps women trapped in the sex industry.

Satisfy us in the morning

"Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days." Ps. 90:14

Mornings have always been refreshing for me. (I like dusk a lot, especially in Summer. But that's for other reasons, which I may comment on another day.) When I sleep in real late, I feel like I missed something. But when I'm up early, or even too early, I can't help but smile. Despite my tiredness, I am happy. I am content because the day is still open to whatever may happen. I haven't made any mistakes yet. I can be an encouraging man today. Make others feel special. But mostly, there's a freshness that is found in no other time of day.

Reading this psalm gets me thinking about God, and how amazing it is that he satisfies us not just for the current day of the calendar, but also for every day that I will live on this earth, and the endless ones to come after life on this planet is over.

And with what does he satisfy us? With his power or his insistence on discipline? Though those things are irreplaceable, he satisfies in the morning with something else. With his love! With his steadfast, unfailing, neverending love.

And why? So that we can be more efficient beings, better at keeping things in line, perfect, and under control? Nay! That we may rejoice and be glad all our days!  That we may sing for joy and be glad every single day of our lives. That we may live free lives! Free of condemnation, free of the oh-so-many plaguing fears we have, free of the evil, cunning voice that whispers perfection is the only way we're good enough, and free of the now-defeated charge that we are still guilty of our sins. Freedom from that into something greater: life and life abundantly.

From now on, if I'm feeling down, I will ask myself if it's possible to sing for joy. If the answer is "No," then I will ask if I'm satisfied by God's everlasting love. If I'm satisfied by his intense care for my well-being. If the answer is still "No," then I have to alter my schedule a bit and spend some time waiting on God, listening to him. Letting him satisfy me.

I would encourage you that joy is possible and attainable. But it does not stem from ourselves; our minds or our souls or spirits. We haven't the strength to do this genuinely for more than a week, or even a day. But this should be encouraging, because if you're really seeking joy and peace, you can look to an outside Force who is more than willing to give it to you. It comes as a reward for your faith in the One God who is the Savior, Jesus. Let the darkest part of the night make way for Light, which is just waiting to show itself. You cannot stop the sunrise. If you're sensing some change coming and you see stars fade, shadows weaken, and colors emerge, embrace the rays that are dying to dive into your heart. Choose Joy.