Remembering How to Cry

I was helping out today in the nursery at church, playing with Abby, one of the cutest little girls. She's a little more than a year old, and although she's quite young, my mom has been telling me that she's one of the more independent babies. While most of the babies in the nursery tend to cry and need constant attention, Abby is fine on her own, playing by herself.

Until till today that is.

I was sitting there holding her (as I had been for the past nearly 20 minutes) today, when suddenly out of nowhere she starts crying. At first we thought it was because she needed to changer her diaper, or she was hungry or something. However the real reason was quite simple; she was tired and wanted her mom.

After holding her for a while and trying to calm her down, she eventually went to sleep, which is where she stayed until the end of the service.

Abby reminded me of something very important today. She reminded me that I need to remember how to cry. We all do. It's strange that we start out as needy children, crying about every little thing, and knowing that our parents will respond to us. Yet somehow as we grow older it becomes more difficult for us to cry, and when we do, you know your in for a big flood. We start to feel as though crying is something we aren't supposed to do. That we've learned enough about grief and pain that we should be experts at how to react and recover. But it's such a lie to ourselves.

In Matthew, Jesus is approached by his disciples, who ask the question of who will enter the kingdom of God.

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. " - Matthew 18:1-4

Jesus tells them to be like children, like Abby, in order to do so. He doesn't tell us to be the most independent, the strongest emotionally or physically. He doesn't tell us to have the most money, or be the smartest. Instead he tells us to be vulnerable, needy, physically weak, lacking money or intelligence.

As I was trying to calm Abby down today, it struck me that the sound of her cry wasn't just a noise. There was passion, emotion, complete trust, and vulnerability in her cry. She was crying out for her mother, the one person she knew who would never leave her. And when her mom didn't come, she kept crying and crying and crying. She had no doubt that eventually her cries would be heard, she had completely faith that her mom would come.

And it was that sound of her cry that shook me and put tears in my eyes. To be able to cry out to God, my Father who will never leave me. To not be afraid to let myself wail, to scream out my brokenness to someone who understands better than anyone else. And to know that my cries will be heard and that someone will come to my aid.

I was reminded today that its more than okay to cry. In fact God welcomes it, because he knows that when we cry it means we have nowhere to turn but him. And its funny how it took a child, who doesn't even know the impact of her tears, to teach me such a humbling lesson.

Free Refills

You ever have those moments? The ones where one moment you feel absolutely selfish, down, disconnected from God and people, unsure, confused, and conflicted all at the same time?

And then God does something amazing, it can be big or little, and it warms your heart. It fills you up to the brim again, and whatever was lacking before is no longer lacking.

It happened tonight. =)

I feel like I just drank a cup of hot cocoa, hot apple cider, hot milk tea, whatever is your winter beverage of choice. You start out cold and distant, and slowly the liquid pours into your body, warms you to your toes, and the frost begins to melt.

Mmmmm...........thank God.

Coming home for break always brings about time for pondering, interacting, and remembering. Pondering the point of your life you currently find yourself in, as well as dreaming of the future. Interacting with the people you haven't seen for a while. Remembering past times, and looking at the progression of how you've grown.

Tonight I was encouraged by my heart to heart sisters, and how no matter how far we move away, somehow the bond between us never dies. I never realized how in sync we were to the sound of each others hearts until tonight. And I never valued it as much until tonight.

I was encouraged by my brothers, one spiritual, one real, and their passion to take up the cross. Their desire to be a man after God's own heart, to be strong and courageous, taking up their sword to fight on the side of the Almighty.

As we sat in the car, praying together at midnight, I felt the warmth return to my toes. The hot cocoa had done its trick, and my previously empty soul was renewed by the words of two humble men in a parked car on a rundown driveway.

Thank you God for always providing free refills when needed.

Daddy Save the World

Daddy Save the World.

Be the superhero I know you to be. The one who comes down with flashing lights, a thunderous voice, and instantly the oceans and animals fall silent. Amazed at the magnificance of your power. Our world is in desparate need of a hero. I don't care how you come down, as Superman, Iron Man, X-Man or otherwise. But come down and save us from the destruction that us humans have created. The hellfire of gunshots and poverty that plague our cities, the burning remains of broken hearts, the lackluster smiles that used to hold such joy. Save us from ourselves.

And I know that I'm not even one to ask of such a lofty request, when my own actions have shown a lack of trust, a doubtful mind, and an apathetic heart.

But here I stand again, kneeling on the floor in front of you, with all of my control being offered to you. These attackes in Mumbai, show that nothing is permanent, nothing except you. Nothing is sacred, nothing is whole. All is broken, and yet you choose to come heal the broken. And not just one broken mess but every single one on this earth, from the shooting terrorist, to the innocent child.

You have chosen to redeem.

And on Thanksgiving I'm thankful that no matter how far I stray you redeem me, because I'm already chosen. And nothing changes that. Nothing at all.

Thanks.

Sisterhood

Might be a short post, but I thank God for sisterhood.

The giggles, the smiles, the crazy stories, and the bonding.

I'm smiling right now, and I know that He must be too.

Each different, but each passionate.

=)

Good Morning Dear Brother!

Bus, Bible, Black guy.

I meant to write this a while ago, but now I can't exactly remember what happened. But since its happened more than once, I'd like to remind future self that God is always awake, you just have to be on the lookout.

Waiting

This was taken from CK's blog, but I really liked it. =)

From Daily Bread - November 7, 2008.

Make haste to help me, O Lord!” the psalmist David prayed (Ps. 70:1). Like him, we don’t like to wait. We dislike the long lines at super-market checkout counters, and the traffic jams downtown and around shopping malls. We hate to wait at the bank or at a restaurant.

And then there are the harder waits: a childless couple waiting for a child; a single person waiting for marriage; an addict waiting for deliverance; a spouse waiting for a kind and gentle word; a worried patient waiting for a diagnosis from a doctor.

What we wait for, however, is far less important than what God is doing while we wait. In such times He works in us to develop those hard-to-achieve spiritual virtues of meekness, kindness, and patience with others. But more important, we learn to lean on God alone and to “rejoice and be glad” in Him (v.4).

F. B. Meyer said, “What a chapter might be written of God’s delays! It is the mystery of the art of educating human spirits to the finest temper of which they are capable. What searchings of heart, what analyzings of motives, what testings of the Word of God, what upliftings of soul. . . . All these are associated with those weary days of waiting, which are, nevertheless, big with spiritual destiny.”  — David H. Roper

Memories

Memories.

I read an article for one of my classes this year in which it talks about how we constantly turn back to our memories, to our past. It discusses the affect which the past has upon us, and that we are then shaped by the memories we have, and whether or not we can move forward from them or remain so intrenched in them that we cannot get out of them.

These past couple of months have been a trip down memory lane. In every way possible I have been afflicted through the meanings and the moments that have affected myself to the core of my being. The influences of people, the heartbreaks, the lows and the highs, and the peaceful existence of my soul so covered by the love of a Savior. Many of the memories are as vivid as yesterday afternoon, a song that repeats itself over and over.

Reflections.

Thinking about these memories lead to reflections of where I've been and how far I've come. Specifically with my relationships, I look at how much I have learned, how hard the struggles have been, and how much redemption God puts into my life, and my heart. Forgiveness, reconciliation, and trust. Perhaps the biggest themes of the last months. Oh and peace. Peace beyond words, beyond wisdom and understanding. Not that there aren't moments when the sea does rise, but instead of swimming I'm floating on top, cruising along untouched by the tide.

I was looking at some pictures of a past memory today, and it made me smile. And I think its the first time I've been able to do that. That memory, which produced both good things and bad, made me smile. To know that I am also a memory, and a good one, was reassuring.

Pictures capture our memories so that we can relive them, but sometimes it makes it harder to leave them. But not today. Instead today it brought a smile, and a sense of hope. Hope in knowing that there was just as much good in that memory as bad. Hope in being thankful for a memory that changed my character. I was able to relive that memory, free from the connections of the hurt and pain. And I was even able to find joy in what will be the potential of many new memories, and many good times.

And while that current memory may not be my own, to know that it exists in the life of someone else brings me peace. To see such happiness, well it made me happy.

And really, memories come and fade. They hinder us and help us, break us down and build us up. But when the peace of God transcends the emotional connections of memories that bring us to tears, it creates smiles.

Sweet peace, new hope, heart full.

The Young Fight

I can't remember the last time Jesus really brought me down to my knees, literally. Yet today I realized how much I missed being there, at his feet, completely helpless, admitting no power of my own. Full sovereignty of the God Almighty, shown to a mere mortal like myself, a person who frankly does not deserve to live the blessed life I do. On my knees in a state of pure helplessness and broken pieces.

And it felt so refreshing.

I've been so busy this past week that God has not at all been my household name. I've been to tired to proclaim his name, my eyes have been closing too quickly to read his word, and my heart has been filled with anger, annoyance, and lacked in love.

Ahhhhh, but then came today, as the wind howled outside, the glass windows and white walls of my room creaked and moaned, I fell back into God's lap. He held me like a child as I told him how much I sucked, and how much I was sorry. Good thing he accepts apologies that are neither coherent nor eloquent, because I couldn't really express anything in words.

He told me to read his Word, he told me to "pick up and read" like the children told St. Augustine to do. I ran over towards my Bible, a bit giddy at the thought of finding something exciting and new in a book so old, but yet so forgotten by my soul this week. Opening to 1st John I read verse 9, which coincidentally I had heard just that morning.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

I am now made righteous in his sight.

Then I read chapter 2, and verses 12-14 stuck out to me:

"I write to you dear children,

because your sins have been forgiven on account of his name.

I write to you, fathers,

because you have known him who is from the beginning.

I write to you, young men,

because you have overcome the evil one.

I write to you, dear children,

because you have known the Father.

I write to you, fathers

because you have known him who is from the beginning.

I write to you, young men,

because you are strong,

and the word of God lives in you,

and you have overcome the evil one."

I wanted to know what was the relation between being "young men" and "overcoming the evil one." And I thought then about how in wars, the most able, young, strong men were called to serve. Children would be too little, and fathers too old. Therefore the "young men" (and women of course) make the most impact, because they are in their prime ages to fight.

So in a battle with the evil one, it is the young men who fight, because they are able too. The children understand the name of the Father, the fathers have wisdom of the ages, but the young men fight. They fight with strength, fervor and passion. They also overcome evil.

And so I sat on my bed and realized that in coming to the foot of God, admitting my sin, and asking for forgiveness, that I was fighting. I was overcoming the evil one. See Satan sits there and hopes that we'll either feel too guilty, too ashamed to come to God with our sin. He throws lies at us that God won't love us unconditionally, and that we instead need to run and hide just like Adam and Eve did in Genesis. But the reality is, that in a battle, you have to stand up and fight to overcome the enemy. If you run away they capture you and you can never find freedom.

So the irony in confessing our sin, is that it's really a fighting technique. And I learned today that when I stand my ground, firmly planted back in the Father, I do win the battle, and I do overcome the evil one.

And praise God for that.

A Greater Joy

"How much greater will I bless you, and how much greater will your joy be" declares the Lord.

Strength found in weakness

Where I am weak, you make me strong.

Let me trust you.

Fuckin' Change

The other day I was rushing like normal, to work. On the way I passed this man sitting on the ground next to a women. Both were homeless, begging for change from the many people passing them by. I saw them of course, but my mind was set on the fact that I was already late. Stopping would take time, and it also meant I had to open my purse, find my wallet, and take out some money.

What an inconvenience.

As I passed by the man he looked straight at me and yelled "Give me your fuckin' change!" Mind you I had my earphones in and my Ipod was on, but there was no ignoring his voice.

I continued walking on right by without even giving him a glance, thinking 1) What right does this man have to treat me like that, and say something like that, and 2) Now I really don't want to give him any money.

A couple steps later I realized what I had just been thinking.

What right does this man have? He has every right. What right do I have to treat him like that? I have none.

So with my pride knocked down by the conviction of the Holy Spirit I reached into my bag, pulled out my wallet and turned around and back down the street.

As I approached him I looked him in the eyes and said "Hey man I'm sorry I ignored you earlier. I was late for work, but you don't deserve to be treated like that. Have a great day."

The man thanked me and smiled, and I continued on to work.

It was completely humbling.

Easy Distance

Sometimes it's just easier to give up. It's easier to just distance yourself from what you don't want to deal with. It's why people don't like to confront one another, because by not doing anything, we pretend that conflict doesn't exist, and by not existing we can live in our own world untouched by hurt, or the potential for hurt.

I think its the potential for hurt that gets us the most.

When there's a decision, a definitive outcome, it means that actions and emotions can be taken and felt accordingly. And even when there is a decision, sometimes they're subjective to both parties, which leads to confusion.

So as a result it becomes easier to simply choose the distance rather then to face the possibility of subjective discord between both parties. It limits awkwardness, potential hurt, and unwanted situations........or so it seems.

So the question is, what is a biblical response to all this?

Easy distance. Conflict. Emotional detachment. Patience. Confrontation. Obligation. Quiet acceptance. Trying to fight.

Or does it simply depend on what season of life God has put you in? What does "trust God" really mean in this context? Does trust = distance or diving in?

I don't have an answer yet.

But after all these years I'm still no good at understanding my emotions.

Confused...........but never emo.

Milk Not Pineapple Juice

To say that I'm scared would be an understatement. Terrified would probably be a better word.

"How are you feeling about this upcoming year?" was the very simple question asked by a very good friend, as we parted ways after another long summer.

And I think that up until then, up until tonight, I had been dreading my answer.

In Genesis 22, Abraham goes to offer a sacrifice to God. As he and his son Isaac travel on their donkeys, his son asks a valid question, "Where is the lamb for the burnt offering?." Little does he know that in fact he is the one supposed to be sacrificed. Just as Abraham is about to kill his son, he is stopped by an angel. Then the Lord says "Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld me from your son, your only son."

Fear of God.

And that's why I'm terrified.

Now don't take this the wrong way. By fear of God it doesn't mean that I'm like a mouse hiding in terror from the snake ready to devour it. Rather fear of God denotes a great deal of respect, a lack of power on my part, and a lack of control over my own life. Fear of God is acknowledging that you a rendered useless to the power of the Almighty. It's a humbling position really.

And don't take being terrified as a bad thing either. It's not that I find myself terrified of being struck down dead by lightening. Instead I find myself terrified because I don't know the outcome of this next year, the good and the bad. I'm terrified because I find myself at the feet of the Almighty Lord, waiting to see what he has in store for me. It's a good kind of terrified, but still a bit unnerving. I'm terrified because I know the outcome will ultimately be good, yet I'm terrified that the in between parts will be a mountain and a half to climb.

Another reason I'm terrified is because I know that this year will be more difficult than last semester, and that it'll mean I have to give out every last drop of milk that I have in my cup.

My brother made the analogy that whatever you fill yourself up with, you will over flow with. With glass of milk for instance, it starts off empty and dry, stripped down of any ounce of liquid. When milk is poured in, it not only fills the empty void, but eventually causes it to overflow. And out of that overflow, what drips over the sides? Milk. Not water, not orange juice, or pineapple juice, or Coke, but milk. And its the same with us. The more we empty ourselves, and let God fill us, the more we can overflow God out of our cups.

Throughout last semester God kept asking me if I trusted that he would get me through it.

 And he did.

Not only did he get me through, but he told me that by getting through it, by trusting Him, that it would be a test, a prelim for what was yet to happen this year. He told me that this year would be harder, more draining emotionally, and spiritually, but that it would be good for me. That by the end of it I would come out worn out, and beaten, but better. He told me to let my cup overflow and become as empty as it was before he filled it, to give my all in this last year.

And that's why I'm terrified, because ultimately I know the end goal will be far more then I deserve or could have dreamed of.

And that freaks me out a bit. ;)

Dancing Full Out

In dance, there's a phrase that's often used; dancing "full out." Performances are danced "full out" whereas rehearsals may or may not be danced "full out." What the phrase means is to dance at one's best, to dance to the fullest potential possible, to dance with passion, emotion, and energy. To dance "full out" is to give the audience the best of you, to become immersed in the character, to leave your heart out on the stage by the end of the piece.

And yet it takes a lot of work to dance like that.

First its learning the steps, the movements, the type of dance, the style, all the basic elements. It's about learning the timing, the dynamics of the piece, and mastering the difficult turns or jumps. Then come multiple rehearsals solely focused on memorizing and perfecting the dance. Most often this becomes the time when constructive criticism from the choreographer or director helps to "clean" the piece. All the while the emotions and passions of the dance slowly begin to build and take form, and every so often the dance is rehearsed "full out" so that the dancers can get a taste of what it's like to perform at their best. Then finally, the piece is performed completely "full out" to a live audience, and is received with a loud applause.

Dancing full out.

It's a lesson that I'm learning towards the end of this summer. To dance at my best, go at it hard, even though the rehearsals are difficult, draining emotionally and physically. To jump in with both feet, knowing that I'll land in the water, or rather in His arms. And even though I know that there is the possibility that sharks might attack me, that I might flounder in the water for  bit, or that I might even hit the rocks at the bottom, its learning to have the faith that I'll get out of that ocean current. Maybe a bit bruised and hurt, but ultimately stronger for having fought the battle, and hopefully a bit wiser.

And dancing full out is hard. You may know all the steps and be perfect at them, but it doesn't lead to a great dancer. Dancing full out means involving a bit of your soul in the movement, into the song. You have to be vulnerable enough to the possibility of exploring inner emotions, some of which could be painful. But yet the payoff is that the emotions, no matter if they are happy or sad, become a source of strength to the dancer. 

And this makes the dance and the dancer beautiful.

Of course there is a balance. Too much emotion and it becomes overwhelming, and even hinders the dancer from performing. Not enough emotion leads to a dull performance that no one wants to watch.

But with just the right balance and confidence, beauty arises with a grace-full twirl.

And faith leads to the sound of a brilliant applause.

Part 1 Euro-Extravaganza: Madrid

Part 1 of the Euro-Extravaganza began in the lovely city of Madrid. Having never been to Europe Madrid definitely showed off the good side of Europe. The people, the food, and the sights were all delicious.....yes ALL of them were. The city itself was very clean (this comment pertains specifically to the Metro which put the NY subway to shame) and more spread out then I imagined. All in all it wasn't too difficult to explore the city (even with my sad 5 year old Spanish skills) which is very tourist friendly.

Day 1: Saturday May 17
We began with a flight from JFK, and after purchasing a dinner of hummus to eat with our Trader Joe's Bagel/Pita chips, Kissa and I sat down and waited for our plane. The flight itself wasn't too bad (I have to admit I slept for the majority of it) and once again God blessed me with nice companions for the flight. Alessandro sat on my right, a blond blue-eyed Italian, in his late 20's who was had been visiting the city for vacation. We had a nice little conversation about a variety of things, and his biggest piece of advice? Make sure I go to Paris with my boyfriend because it is the "City of Love." Good thing I had Kissa with me to serve as my date/lover for the trip, haha. On the other side of of the row next to Kissa was Jorge, a very smiley and cheerful man probably in his early 50's. Jorge was definitely interested in us from the beginning, I think he was surprised to see two small Asian Americans sitting on a plane, trying to remember and practice any ounce of Spanish left in our bones. He was very helpful however, and was more than willing to give us tips on what to do in Madrid. Two important things: eat tapas and pulpo de gallega, both of which we did. Jorge also was kind enough to answer our questions about Spanish words, which ranged from asking him what to call a cup to what conseguir meant. And to top it all off he wished us good luck as we parted ways.

I like meeting strangers on planes. =)

Day 2: Sunday May 18
After getting into Madrid, we got our luggage and took a cab to our hostel. We found ourselves outside of a sketchy looking building, and walked into a darkened hallway, and into a really old school elevator. To get in you had to open the outside gate, enter through two swinging doors, making sure you locked the outside gate, and then up you went. Very quaint and old school, but awesome. We met Francisco who showed us our room (complete with a tv, 3 beds (yes 3!) and a desk. The bathrooms we shared with the rest of the girls on the floor, consisting of 2 showers and one toilet. The hostel we stayed at was a students hostel, and so every so often you'd hear some others conversing in different languages.

Once we were settled in at the hostel we went on to find a bank. Quite an adventure as we explored the city for the first day. First thing I ate was a boccadillo con jamon serrano, DELICIOUS. Boccadillo's are Spanish sandwiches, basically a baguette with ham (more like proscuitto then American sandwich ham, and therefore even more yummy.) We explored the Retiro Park for a bit before getting blown away by pollen and dirt (after we drank our first Spanish Coke - for the record it taste pretty good, maybe better than American Coke, and is always served with a slice of lemon.) From there we went to the Puerta del Sol where we encountered our first Museo Del Jamon. While it is most definitely NOT a museum, it has tons of meat, more like a deli. We stopped off to get some candy at a Haribo store, and then went home to rest up for the next day.

Day 3: Monday May 19
We started off the day at the Palacio Real, which was beautiful (thanks to Bekah who suggested it.) Large and picturesque were each of the rooms and the entire palace itself. After sneaking in an illegal picture or two, and taking absolutely too many between and through columns, we then went to the cathedral that was next to the palace.

It was interesting being in the cathedral. For one thing its different being in a type of church like it, because 1) Most Christian churches aren't built like cathedrals, and 2) it's also a piece of artwork. The stained glass windows, along with all the architectural aspects were simply amazing. The mosaic ceilings, were a blur of colors and images, and gave a sort of lightness to such a holy place. The second thing that interested me about being in the cathedral was that I felt the majesty of God in that place. I understood why Catholics seem to distance themselves from a personal relationship with God's to one where there God is the authoritative figure. Not saying its bad, if anything it was a feeling I haven't felt for a while. Few times do I ever feel that small at the feet of God, but in this cathedral, I felt God's power. I felt that I was in the presence of something so much bigger than me, that all I could do was be in complete awe as a result of his all mighty nature, and my insignificance.

From the cathedral we went to the Real Madrid Soccer Stadium. Too cheap to pay for a tour, we walked around the entire stadium (took lots of pictures for my brother) and even got to sneak a picture of the field through an opening where some men were doing construction. From then we spent the afternoon at Plaza Mayor, where I had my first chocolate con churros and cafe con leche (can we say YUM!), and then later had dinner at a nice restaurant.

For the sake of the length of this blog I will write a short description of the food, but let it be known that it was all sooo good. =)
Pulpo de gallega - buttery slices of potato, with tender pieces of octopus on top, with a splash of olive oil and a sprinkle of paprika
Stuffed Pimientos - Small red peppers stuffed with seafood in a tomato cream sauce.
Sopa Castilliano - Serrano ham based soup, with pieces of bread, and a fried egg at the bottom
Sangria - you better know what this is

Day 3: Tuesday May 20
On our last day in Madrid we visited the famous Prado Museum, which had a special exhibit on Goya. Not realizing the extent of our exhaustion and the grandeur of the museum we quickly went through it and took a short 10 minute nap on one of the benches inside.

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NOTE: Goya
So I learned about Goya in my art history class, and I never was particularly fond of his art until I was able to see it up close and in full scale. In particular one of his paintings, The Third of May 1808, never struck a cord with me until I got to see it at the Prado. In books you can't really see the man's eyes, but in person.....well the painting depicted so much humanity in the eyes of the man, ready to die. The exhibition displayed Goya's works that were based on his feelings towards war. Some of them are really difficult to look at, not simply because they are gruesome, but rather because they indicate reality.

In seeing Goya's work I had to admire the man. You can't look at it and not realize the heavy burden he must have carried. His heart obviously hurt for victims of war, for injustice that occurred. His mind must have been heavy as he tried to explain his complex emotions through art. I saw his paintings not only as an expression of the situations around him, but as an image of his heart, torn, broken, and burdened. Burdened so much so that he had to express himself in a way that affects so many future generations, people like myself. And while it may seem depressing at some points, it in some way encouraged me to have hope. It reminded me that everyone carries some sort of heavy burden, for all sorts of things in the world. It reminded me that its ok to share that burden too, because perhaps it can encourage others to do something about injustice, like how Goya's artwork has affected me and so many others.
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After the Prado we stopped of for lunch at Plaza Mayor one last time, for paella and mas churros. Interestingly enough we had a waiter who was from China. I finally had the chance to carry a conversation in English, Chinese, and Spanish. =) Then we went back to the hostel to pick up our stuff, drag it through the Metro, got on a plane, and flew to Barcelona.............where the real fun began.

A Lion's Head and a Potential for Piece

I sit in Kimmel on the 8th floor trying to finish my 15 page paper thats due by 5 PM this Friday. So far I have a little more than half done, not bad considering I have been pretty distracted in the last couple of days. Lots of lunches, late nights, and last minute conversations, but all in all not too bad of a finals week.

So as I've been writing I've noticed two things:

1) A Lion's Head

NYU has many unecessary things it does with its money, but there are sometimes where I honestly wonder who in their right mind thought of this stupid idea. I sit next to the large glass windows, with a perfect view of 5th Avenue across from me (along with a dirt image of where the fountain used to be.........I can't believe they moved it, but thats another blog), a comfy chair, a table to put my computer on, and a 3 1/2 foot statue of a lion staring at me.

I have to be honest, the lion doesn't look that bad, aside from the fact that it looks a bit neglected and dusty, more of a gray color than the pristine white I would expect of NYU. It also appears to be eating a tassle/piece of cloth/ sash, that I can't really figure out. It's altogether a bit confusing (well at least the lion looks confused.......I mean sitting on the 8th floor of Kimmel? I would be a bit confused too....)

However unecessary and absurd the lion's placement is (I might add that he actually does have a friend on the other side of the floor so he's not completely alone at night when everyone leaves) it has been a good companion for the past couple of hours. So maybe that was NYU's intent in placing the poor lion here. He makes sure students don't go crazy studying for finals, even though they might think they are hallucinating when they see him staring at them for 4.5 hours.

2) A Potential for Peace

I've been sitting here to finish my essay on the outcome of the Democratic primaries, which basically means I get to figure out if Obama or Clinton wins the nomination. It's not a terrible assignment, just a bit long. But while you would think that the past 4.5 hours of work would be among the most boring and grueling of hours..........it really hasn't been at all.

I've learned that I really enjoy writing. That for me, writing leads to a potential for piece or peace.

I've always enjoyed writing. Even from 5th grade I wanted to be an author. English has always been the easiest subject for me (minus writing the essay freshman year, which kind of counts as an English class.) I find that through writing I can piece together, or piece apart my thoughts, and figure out what to do with them, and start to understand them.

So the last few hours of work, well they haven't been too bad. Just some interesting topics, some (hopefully) good writing, and good music.

I'm set, lets finish this thing.

When I want to do good..........I just can't.

Sometimes it's hard to understand why hurt happens.

Why, in a world that is already torn apart and broken, do we choose to make it even harder than it needs to.
Why, in the moments where we could change things, in the moments we could actually lessen the potential for hurt, do we instead choose to continue on, leading us to hurt people we care about in the worst way possible.
Why, do honest answers seem to escape our lips, even though we know the truth will hurt less then the lie we continue to find ourselves in.

So many times, if we had just been upfront and truthful, would broken hearts have been spared, would the waterfall of tears been reduced to a simple stream.

And I understand that hurt of any degree probably feels the same to that person going through it. I'm not saying it would hurt less. But maybe the aftermath would be easier to heal if we could just be honest.

And I understand that it's hard to tell someone you've betrayed them, that you're going to hurt them, that you can't understand why you've acted the way you did, when you want to do what's right. It says in Romans 7, "For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me." meaning that our sinful nature is the reason why we do it, although it doesn't mean its right.

So while we want ultimately to do good, sin once again gets in the way, and THIS is the reason why God comes into the picture. Amidst our broken relationships, our imperfect lives, we try as hard as we can to make it better. We try telling the truth, we try being completely honest, we try to do good always. But its never good enough, because somehow its the sinful nature that continues to live and breathe in us, even when we think we've shoved it down to the deepest parts of the earth.

And then God comes in to make us whole, to overcome the sinful nature within us. He comes to defeat the "evil right there with me" in order that we may live a free life. He lets us DO the good we want because he provides strength to conquer our inner self and do what is right.

And this is why relationships without his presence fall apart, because there is no one to provide freedom so that both people can care and love each other equally.

If one person is stuck in the sinful nature while the other is free, it's like a person trying to free a prisoner. While the one person is free on the outside, they first have to break into the prison gates, past the electric fences and guards. Once inside they still have to sneak past more guards, and find the cell where the other person is being kept. After that there are thick metal doors to get through, along with the prison bars. Even after that, if the person happens to be freed, there's still the psychological and even physical barriers that need to be broken down before that person can even completely enjoy their freedom.

And that is why it's so hard to have relationships without God, because ultimately a normal person can't break that easily into prison.

Only God can.

Golden Glow at 7 o'clock

One of my favorite parts of the day is right before dusk. It's not when the sun exactly sets, but it's the hour before, when its still bright enough to be part of the midday, but starts to slowly darken. Today that moment begins at 7 o'clock.As I look outside the sun no longer hits the top of the buildings, with a bright light. Instead it seems to warm up the bottom parts of the buildings, like a small glow of a fire almost burnt out. The clouds shift and sweep across the blue sky, whispy and whimsical. The sky is a combination of light blues, pale purples, faint yellows, grays and whites. It looks like an impressionist painting. It's like looking out into a fairytale of a scene, a dream that swirls around the harshness of New York City.

For a moment at least it seems that the city is caught up in fantasy, instead of living in the realness that consumes the masses here.

The best part however is the golden glow of light that caresses the edges of the buildings. It's a warm, yummy caramel color that makes me feel like I just drank a hot cup of coca. There's a sense of kindness in the light, a kind of gentility that breaks up the bright sunshine of the rest of the day with the dark mystery of the night.

And slowly it starts to melt into that dark mystery, except that right before it disappears the light seems to get brighter. A quick flash of the sun, and then the last of the golden glow trails away like the delicate chain of a necklace.



Mmmmm.....................

Donna on the 2

I like encouragement. I thrive on it. I especially like it when it happens in the most unexpected moments, the most random times, by the people you least think would be encouraging you.

I was on my way to work today, sitting on the 2 train, and I took out my bible to read. I haven't been going through any specific chapter in the bible, just kind of flipping through the New Testament, seeing what God wants to tell me that specific day. Today I really had no clue where I wanted to start, so I began looking through the passage titles, trying to find something that jumped out at me. Next to me sat an older black woman, not extremely aged, but definitely an adult who had been through her share of life. I noticed that she kept looking at me and at my bible.

My first thought was that she was about to criticize me for being a Christian. I guess living in New York I've gotten really cynical about other people and their views on religion. I automatically assume that people are completely against what the Word says, and look at Christians with a distorted perspective.

Instead the woman asked "Have you read Romans 8:1-18? It's a really good chapter, you should read it. I've been really encouraged by it."

I was kind of stunned for a second, and then realized that this woman, was encouraging me because she was my sister in Christ. I had forgotten for a moment that by being a part of Christ's family, I also inherited the biggest extended family ever. And here I was on a train to Time Square, getting to meet a distant (although now not so distant) relative of mine, who had some encouraging words to tell me.

I told the woman I hadn't read it for a while and so I read through it, and then we finished our conversation. The woman's name was Donna, and she told me that recently she had been starting to get back into church, and had started seeking God again. She told me that she could have been in jail, killed, and that she'd done a lot in her life that she wasn't proud of. But ultimately it was God and his love that brought her back. Donna told me that the beauty of God is that even if we go far away, in our own directions, that he eventually calls us back to him, because he loves us so much. And even when the rest of the world, our friends, and family fail us, that he doesn't. That He is above all of it.

That was the first WOW. To hear her tell her testimony to me was such an encouragement. To see her faith, and how she talked about God with a sparkle of hope and graciousness in her eyes was an awesome thing. To see her honesty and passion, well it was so simple and trusting.

The second WOW was what I found through reading the Romans passage she told me about. In verse 15 it says:
"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father."
The part that stuck out to me was that we no longer are "slave again to fear."

Fear is something that makes it sometimes so difficult to follow God. Sometimes the fear of failure keeps us from living out his Word. Fear of rejection prevents us from reaching out to non-believing family and friends. Fear of hurting or being hurt stops us from rebuking when we need to. Fear always seems to become an excuse for why we don't do the things we want to.

And yet in Romans it tells us we are no longer slaves to fear..........so why keep being a slave when we can be free? We have no reason to be fearful with the power of the most high on our side. There is no fear in us if we can only learn to just fear the Lord.

The third WOW was how God humbled me through my conversation with Donna. She told me about another verse in Psalms 141:3 "Set a guard over my mouth, O LORD; keep watch over the door of my lips." and told me that this was something she struggled with. But she said that verse always reminded and encouraged her to be careful of her words. To hear her being so open with her struggles was such a demonstration of humility, especially as I struggle with the same thing.

WOW is all I can say about Donna, about our pre-appointed meeting, and about the encouragement she brought me today.

It's nice when God does the unexpected.

Scumbags

It's the week before finals, hence I should be writing a paper that's due. Instead my mind has been wandering to a conversation I had earlier with one of my sisters. We were talking about scumbag boyfriends, you know the type, the one with the most amazing girlfriend who thinks he's slick enough to flirt with other girls on the side. The one who seems to be completely into his girlfriend, when behind her back he's trying to hook up with her roommate. Now I'm saying a lot of this out of frustration, and so I'm making more of a general statement here. There are a lot of amazing guys out there, who are in relationships with amazing girls, that treat them the way they should. But as of now, I'm talking about the ones who just take for granted the fact that their girlfriend would give the world for them, and in turn they give her a scrap piece of land that no one really wants.

My heart hurts for those girls.

I've had too many friends who have been in this position. Too many girls I know who stay in their relationships because of excuses like "we have a long history together" "you don't know him like I do" "he'll change I know he will" "he really loves me, he's just being stupid."

Too many excuses, too many times, and what does that leave us with? More broken hearts, more tears, and more reasons that girls just can't find the right kind of love they need.

And if they only knew the kind of love that is unconditional, the kind of love that would sacrifice his only child for them. That listens to them every second of everyday, that pursues them with such passion and commitment.

If they only knew that there's someone who thinks they are beautiful, who has confidence in their abilities, who encourages them, who is proud of them.

If they only knew how worthy they are, how they deserve so much better than what they have now.

If they knew they have been called to greatness, to live a life that's complete and full.

If they knew that they don't have to get their hearts smashed into pieces to be loved, because they already are.

God IS love.

If they only knew.....

Rain

I like the rain. As opposed to most people, it doesn't make me feel glum or grumpy. Maybe I like it because I've been deprived throughout the first 18 years of my life in California. But for some reason the rain makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, it makes me smile, even as it gets me soaking wet. For me, the rain is......beautiful.

This past Sunday Pastor Adam spoke about the trials and suffering we go through. Suffering, as much as we hate it, is the only way we can grow, we can learn, and we can be changed.

"Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:3-5

Rain is like suffering. It can be harsh, gets everything wet, makes it difficult to walk, its altogether kind of annoying. And yet it is still beautiful. It's beautiful as it trickles down the window, as it makes the plants grow (as Christina would say), and afterwards, well sometimes there's a rainbow at the end of the storm.

We can't say we don't need the rain, because otherwise nothing would ever grow. And in the same way we can't say we don't need to suffer, because we wouldn't be able to grow. Christ suffered on the cross, and if he hadn't gone through that storm of life, well nothing would grow and there would be nothing to harvest.

So to me, rain is beautiful. Suffering is beautiful. We can't see it as we go through it, often because the rain drops blow into our eyes, and we get cold, wet, and uncomfortable. But after the skies clear we see the results of the storm. We see the rainbow at the end. And once again, everything is beautiful.

And when the scales fall down...

Just last night I was so conflicted, so hurt, so filled with complex emotions. Not really sure of where they came from, only knowing that the tears that fell came from a place I couldn't explain. And funny how after all that, today I find more joy, more happiness in the blessings of the happenings of today.

Coming back to AACF/NYU I was a huge skeptic. My belief? That God couldn't change the AACF I had left behind, that God wasn't going to use them in to do crazy things at NYU. Basically, my faith in God was in non-existence in terms of AACF and the greater NYU campus.

And once again I am humbled, this time by a simple number: 4.

It's funny, that number 4. It's less significant than the number 5, but more than just 'some'. Some might find it unimportant, but that less than ten number equates to 4 lives now living for God. Four souls that heaven was rejoicing over. Tonight as I heard about my new sister, there was just so much joy in my heart, knowing that the scales had fallen down, and that new sight had become hers.

Such joy that reminded me of my lack of faith, but that God's faith overcomes that.

And so the family extends as the angels rejoice, and a new child is reborn.

The World is Thirsty for Grace

The world is thirsty for grace, for truth, for real love. God would you save this world. Would you bring people to you. Would you dig deep into their hearts and find the souls that have been lost to the lies of this world, of the evil one. Would you let tears fall from our eyes every night, knowing that heaven is coming and so many can't even see it. Don't even know it exists, or are too blinded by themselves to even see a bit of light. God would you bring people out of hiding. Hiding from who they are meant to be, from what they are supposed to do. Would you fill this world with Christians who are delving into those places so lost from you: politics, arts, business. God would you refresh our world, overflow our cup, take us out of our comfort zones. Would our hearts always hurt for those you love. Would it break for the people of this world, not just once twice, but every minute we see someone lost in this world. God save your people, capture hearts, renew minds, captivate those who used to know you so well. Reconcile our brothers to one another, let sisters do the same. Let us rebuke one another with love. Build us to reach our ultimate potential, and let us love on others. Forgive us for what we have done against you. For the nails in your hands and the thorns in your head. Let us go out into the harvest, let people see where the workers are few, and send them there.

Bring us back to you, and let our hearts break.