"Am I willing to see this thing through?"

Blaine Hogan is a writer, actor, what others pen as "a creative." Among many other great things things, he releases wallpapers with quotes from his book "Untitled." This one has been my background on my monitor and reminds me to continue doing what God called me to do: create. It says "Am I willing to see this thing through?"

It's easy to forget that we are created by a Creator to worship Him. We are created by a Creator to create. To create life that worships Him.

So, I am writing. Just not on my blog.
Stay tuned.

But my question for you is how are you being creative? How are you using the gifts and talents that God has given you to create and worship Him?

I dare you to create something today.

The Things Campers Can Teach Us

This summer I had the joy of working with two different kind of campers. I was a speaker at a middle school girls camp and  on our mission trip I got to work with a special needs camp filled with campers with Down Syndrome. 

Both sets of campers (middle school girls and campers with Down Syndrome) are the kinds of people who I think are very close to Jesus. They get it about who He is. Both groups exude joy, acceptance, love, and excitement in all they do. They live in the knowledge that they are loved and accepted. There is whimsy. There is joy. 

Sometimes I can be the very opposite of them.

At girls camp, I experienced 150 girls who were searching for Jesus in new ways, figuring out how to live like Him. I received so many notes of how they were changed because of what I said. I had multiple conversations with girls who just want to figure out how to best live for Him. I encountered girls who have (sadly) had to grow up quick and are dealing with issues that break my heart. They are fearless in their quest toward a life with Christ no matter what. They amaze me. They wear tutus. They consume pounds of sugar in a very short amount of time. They try new things like the giant swing. They sit on picnic tables and hold “Fluffy” the snake. They teach me to have a spirit of adventure. 

Adventurous. Hopeful. Seeking Christ. 

And then there’s those amazing campers with Down Syndrome. 

My crew of 5 awesome high school students were given the task of going to a special needs camp. I have always said that people with Down Syndrome know Jesus best. I was selfishly thrilled to spend a week with people who know Jesus. And to compare myself to them. And to be challenged by who they are in this world. 

What I found in my experiment of comparison is that these campers (ages 5-60ish) found excitement and laughter in all they did. Songs, baking, walking to lunch, getting to drink Diet Coke, playing bingo, sweatin’ to the oldies, and rest time... no matter what, there was happiness in the air. 

As I got to talk and interact with the campers with Down Syndrome, I found that all of the answers to my questions were in a positive note. The word “No” was barely heard. I would ask “Have you gone fishing yet?” and the answer would be an enthusiastic “Not yet!” 

Positive. Hopeful. 

One day I was siting with a camper who wasn’t speaking. She simply sat there in her own space and thoughts. Every once and a while she would break out in laugher. Full body laughter. 

Joy, unspeakable joy. 

While coloring during rest time, a camper looked up straight into my eyes and said “You’re beautiful, ya know it?” and then went back to coloring. 

Uninhibited encouragement.

Yet another camper found a way to make everything into an opportunity of praise for someone else. She was the resident cheerleader. She always had a song to sing about a counselor, volunteer, or fellow camper. Positive words of affirmation flowed from her lips like she was born to make others feel loved. 

Celebrating others. 

There is a certain sense of whimsy when it comes to people with Down Syndrome. There’s an uninhibited acknowledgment that they are loved, they are worth it in the eyes of Christ. They just know it and live it. When I compare myself to these very special people, I find that I am rarely these things. I try to have whimsy and joy, but it can very easily get sidetracked by people, places, or things. 

I think that deep down within our souls we all long for whimsy, joy, excitement. To be filled with hope and love. To be cheerleaders for others. To simply love. 

And so I hope that in your everyday life, you embrace a sense of being the kind of people who are close to Jesus, who know you’re loved and can live within that. To live like these campers... to be like middle school girls and have every hope in the world. To be like the campers with down syndrome, and love like Jesus is watching. 

Wear a tutu every once and awhile. Dance to your favorite song, sing out loud in your car. Tell someone they are beautiful. Share a smile, do a cheer for a friend. Write a letter to someone who has influenced you. Make a friendship bracelet for your bestie. Have a sense of adventure and hope. Love like Jesus is watching. 

LOVE.

I hope I live the rest of my life trying to do what these verses tell me. 

I know I’ll mess up and forget sometimes, but it’s certainly worth a try. 

Join me? 

“Don’t just pretend to love. Really love people. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection and take delight in honoring each other.” Romans 12:9-10

“Owe nothing to anyone-except for your obligation to love one another.” Romans 13:8

“Love does no wrong to others, so love fulfills the requirements of God’s law.” Romans 13:10

“We should help others do what is right and build them up in the Lord.” Romans 15:2

“Accept each other just as Christ has accepted you so that God will be given glory.” Romans 15:7

You are a Million Years of Work

Beautiful lyrics. Great song. 
See below for the video. 


Needle & Thread by Sleeping at Last


When the world welcomes us in,
We're closer to Heaven than we'll ever know.
They say this place has changed,
But strip away all of the technology
And you will see
That we all are hunters,
Hunting for something that will make us okay.

Here we lay alone in hospital beds,
Tracing life in our heads;
But all that is left
Is that this was our entrance and now it's our exit,
As we find our way home.

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That we are made of love,
And all the beauty stemming from it.
We are made of love,
And every fracture caused by the lack of it.

"You were a million years of work,"
Said God and His angels, with needle and thread.

They kissed your head and said,
"You're a good kid and you make us proud.
So just give your best and the rest will come,
And we'll see you soon."

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That maybe Hollywood was right:
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried,
The answers that we have been dying to find
Are all pieced together and, somehow,
Made perfectly mine.

We are made of love,
And all the beauty stemming from it.
We are made of love,
And every fracture caused by the lack of it.

It's Hard to Face Reality

There has been a lot of silence in my world lately. I will catch myself with the radio off in my car, or afternoons at my apartment or in my office where there's no background music. This is pretty abnormal for me. I love music. Lyrics, melodies, an acoustic guitar. But lately there's been some silence. It's as if my soul knows it needs silence so that I can really hear from God and to be fully present in the places I need to be. 

But yesterday I was listening to Under the Radar's syndicated radio show online (listen here). I heard a song and it reminded me of why I love music so much. There are songs that sing my heart. Songs help me put into words what I'm feeling and thinking. "Dreaming of Peace"by Jenny & Tyler was the song that took me out of my silence and gave words to my soul. Jenny & Tyler have a new album out soon. Check them out. For now, here's the lyrics to "Dreaming of Peace." 


Dreaming of Peace 



i see people on the corner holding their signs
people in the road forming a picket line
want the world to know they’re here
trying to make their message clear
i honk for peace and hear them cheer

watch them smile in my rearview mirror
keep on driving, just pass on by
i’ll honk again at the next sign
it’s hard to face reality, so i’ll just keep on dreaming

it’s plain to see, we don’t have the answers
but we think we know, and so it goes
it’s plain to see, we don’t have it together
but we think we know, so it goes on

students in the green arms intertwined
candles lit, swaying side to side
show the world that we’re aware
but we're not going anywhere
i can’t remember which petition i signed
but i sleep pretty well each night
knowing that i’ve done my share in showing everyone i care
it’s hard to face reality, so i’ll just keep on dreaming

it’s plain to see, we don’t have the answers
but we think we know, and so it goes
it’s plain to see, we don’t have it together
but we think we know, so it goes on

but while we’re standing in the streets
they’re fighting off disease
i’m in the comfort of my bed
not dealing with a shred
of this war between nations and this war against nature
it’s a battlefield that i’ve never seen

it’s plain to see, we don’t have the answers
but we think we know, and so it goes
it’s plain to see, we don’t have it together
but we think we know, so it goes on

and so it goes on
o must it go on

A Heavy Anchor and the Last 60 Days.

How is it possible that I haven’t blogged since December? 

I know why. 

It’s been a busy two months. I think everyone can say that, but when I look back on the last sixty days, it’s been filled with many things that I didn’t expect. I asked myself today, where did the first two months of the year go? 

I know where. 

2012 began with a few big church events, and then the world sort of stopped for a few days. It was during a church service when I got the call that my grandfather had passed away. I honored my grandfather by speaking at his funeral in Ohio. It was a whirlwind trip heading back to Illinois quickly to set up sacred space prayer stations for a women’s retreat just five days after his death. 

That was January.

February was retreat month, planning for our biggest and (best) student weekend ever. It wasn’t until the end of the month, so I had plenty of time to tie up lose ends and planning. However, a few other things came up that occupied my evenings. I am thankful for the passion projects that God puts in my life outside of my career and calling in youth ministry. These passion projects include speaking at a girls camp, training for a run, writing for a youth ministry blogsite, and planning a mission trip to Belize. 

Speaking of Belize. 

In a week’s time, my mission trip planning to Belize began and ended. I was asked to go to Belize to share sacred space prayer stations with pastors in that area. I was super excited for this opportunity to share the gifts that God has given me. So I spent most of a week planning out details, talking to people about potential financial support, and tying up loose ends. Before the trip had even been solidified, I had spent nearly two weeks praying over the opportunity, bringing it before a few friends for support, and even connecting with my pastors about it. But just a short week after finalizing my “yes” I received a very disappointing “no.” I was about to get my plane ticket and got the call that the people in Belize had different ideas about the trip. Perhaps next time they said. So my trip was gone. Something that I was so sure God was calling me to was gone. I never question God, I never really have. But the question I have asked is “why did this come in and out of my life? What am I supposed to learn or do or be from this experience?” 

But I didn’t really have time to mourn the loss of the trip. 

My birthday came just a day after receiving the news about my cancelled trip, and just three days before our big retreat. While friends and family celebrated me, I was preoccupied with grief of wondering what God was doing through the gift of the Belize trip and then the immediate cancelation. I was preoccupied with the retreat too. My 32nd birthday came and went. The retreat came and went. February came and went. 

So now it’s March. 

And it didn’t surprise me that all of the grief, emotions, questions, and tiredness from the previous 60 days drowned me with a heavy anchor. All of what was in these months came on heavy and I walked through the day with a weight on my heart. It was March 1st. I should have known. I had recovered from the big retreat and life slowed down. It’s like when adrenaline wears off and you start to feel your wounds and realize you are bleeding. 

That was me March 1st. 

But what was won’t define my next 60 days. I let it take hold for a day, discovering all that God was doing in and through me to remind me that life is meant to be lived, daily. That being numb for a few days, being preoccupied with the next thing was ok for then. But it’s not ok now. 

Today is March 2nd. 

Life anew. Things fresh. I can shake the last 60 days, I can learn from them, I can see the blessings, I can see where God is still mending the places that hurt, and where He’s whispering His promises. And today, March 2nd, I can say I’m thankful for the ways that God has revealed Himself to me in these past 60 days.

How is it possible I haven’t blogged since December? 

I know why. And I’m ok with it.