the face of AIDS

Etched in my memory are faces- the faces of women lying hopeless on their beds. They laid there, tormented by pain that would never be comforted and tortured by fears that would never be calmed. They laid there under the cover of dingy blankets in a ward that reeked with the unsettling stench of death and decay. A small group of us went from bed to bed, listening as each woman whimpered and whispered. They told us they were alone and afraid. We leaned in close over their listless bodies and prayed for each one. We prayed that the God of all comfort would draw near and make Himself known. We prayed that the Great Physician would intervene and bring healing to both body and soul. We left those ladies with some fruit and a gospel tract in their own tongue. But more than that, we left them in God's hands.

Etched in my memory is the face of a young boy suffering the consequences of someone else's sin. His room was lonely and cold. But the sickness couldn't hold his smile hostage. All we could offer that shy little guy was a small bag of sweets. He grabbed that little bag and held it close to his chest. It might as well have been Christmas! But just across the room in stark contrast to that lively little guy lay a lethargic little girl- too weak to move. It broke my heart to see someone so young suffer so much. In moments like those, prayer seems so futile. But it's moments like those that I have to remember that my God is a faithful Father and He calls His children to cast every care on Him in full assurance that He cares.

Etched in my memory is the face of an infant. Through big brown innocent eyes, that tiny little baby had already seen and experienced a fallen world. That child was already part of a reality that only exists in my nightmares. The desperate cries still ring in my ears. It doesn't seem fair does it?

Statistics became a reality when I saw their faces. AIDS takes the lives of about thousands of South Africans each day. Thousands of people facing an eternity somewhere. AIDS has a face. AIDS has a family. AIDS has a story. But who is listening?

I saw the face of AIDS at the government hospital we visited, but I saw the end result at a cemetary in Hammanskraal. Grave after grave gave testimony to destruction of that disease. Row upon row upon row of graves barely inches apart. Dozens of freshly dug graves will be filled by the weekend. Plots in South Africa are very different than the ones we have in the States. Mounds of dirt are outlined with small rocks and topped with dishes or jugs of water, nothing fancy, just graves. The people believe that when their loved ones awake from their sleep they will need food and water. Some "better off" people had granite tombstones like we would be more familiar with, but most had only a hand written marker giving testimony to a life. The lives of some were long but the majority lived only a handful of years, some just days. One area of this particular cemetary is dedicated to small children and babies. Those tiny little graves hold the remains of children who didn't live to be even as old as my nephew. Marked with baby bottles and teddy bears, those little graves are enough to make you cry.

One of the guys on my team noticed an aloe vera plant placed on top of a grave. It reminded him of the story of the rich man and Abraham. The rich man who had everything in this life had nothing in the next. He was in agony. He called for Abraham and pleaded for just one drop of water on his tongue to sooth his pain. But there was no relief. The suffering man then begged that someone would warn his brothers and spare them the same eternal torture. Oh, what people would do for a drop of aloe from that plant! I wonder how many of those souls would cry out and beg that someone warn their loved ones. So often I get wrapped up in my comfy cozy little world and forget that I have the good news of the Gospel. Millions around the world die everyday and many will face a Christless eternity in Hell. What am I doing to get the Word out?

the depth and beauty of the Body

It's hard to put a finger on the Body. I can't quite wrap my mind around it. Who can really define or fully explain it? [Didn't Paul call it a mystery?]

I used to think church was that big brick building with the big white cross on the front. I used to think it was the place you went on Sundays. I thought it was the place where you went to look at the back of people's heads for a couple hours while a man behind a pulpit rambles on and on.  I used to think "big church" was just for "big people" and kids were supposed to color quietly. I don't know if my mindset changed when I became a "big person" or if somebody finally got through to me.

Regardless of when I started to "get it," I've never understood so fully as I did amidst God's people in South Africa. [Disclaimer: I don't mean to say that my church has failed me or Americans can't "do church." I'm just noting my observations.]  One of the most glaring lessons I learned in Africa was the depth and beauty of the Body of Christ. While I was there I had the privilege to see many different aspects of "church." My team enjoyed a morning service in Hammanskraal, worked at a future church site in Pretoria, visited a church plant in a squatter camp, helped in a well established church in Kokstad and participated in a service in a dirt poor village called Horseshoe. Each one of those churches left an impression and each one taught me much.

The church is not a building. One of the churches we visited was in a small dilapidated building that could not be identified as a church by any outer means. A broken window revealed the dust covered cement floor and in one corner was a stack of plastic chairs. We didn't get to see this place when people gathered within to worship, but I couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like if we had. Another church we went to was in the heart of a very poor township. These beautiful people gathered faithfully several times a week in the biting cold under a mid-sized tent. A small strand of lights was draped through the middle of the tent. A few dozen white lawn chairs made up the seating, but many were left to stand for the length of the service. At the front of the tent was a makeshift stage where the pastor stood to preach. These buildings didn't keep anybody warm or comfortable. There were no formal pews or lush red carpets, no stained glass windows or grand pianos, not even a pulpit or lectern- but God was there. All these buildings boasted were the people that they hosted. Those people had nothing but Christ and most of them wouldn't have it any other way. It was the smiles they wore that distinguished them, not the tattered clothes that were draped on their backs. The bitter cold didn't matter because they were filled with Spirit fire. You wouldn't believe the worship there! Most of those saints would never win African Idol but the fervent sounds they uttered were the coolest things I've ever heard in all my life! Participating in a service like that makes Heaven seem all the sweeter. Oh that I would worship with half their zeal! Something else struck me. More than these people longed to fill their bellies, they longed for soul food. The pastor began

to expound from God's Word the simple truths of salvation and  the people hung on his every word, feverishly scribbling down notes as he spoke. I've been under the teaching of God's Word all of my life. I've sat through thousands of Bible lectures in Christian school and college. I even have a 4 year degree. But somewhere along the way I lost some of that "hunger and thirst" after righteousness. Is it poverty that sets these saints apart? Or culture?

Before I give the impression that America fails at "church," allow me to make my point clear. Being in South Africa reminded me anew that it isn't the clothes you wear, the money you make, the house you call your home, or the car you drive. It isn't the building or the color scheme, the pews, the pastor... it's not even the style of worship that matters. God established His church to be a people who as one would reflect Christ on earth and bring glory to His Name. Nothing else matters! One day EVERY knee will bow and EVERY tongue will confess Jesus Christ as Lord. One day people from EVERY tribe and EVERY nation will gather for the single purpose of worship. Until that day, I'll stand in awe of the depth and beauty of the Body. Until that day, I will worship the One who saved me and sustains me with arms high and heart abandoned. Until that day, I'll wait patiently.

"For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. For the body is not one member, but many."

- 1 Corinthians 12:12-14 -

when God applauds

I'm convinced that God is always working thematically in my life. You know, when every sermon you hear seems to drive home the same point? For me lately it's this area of PRIDE. Handy, I s'pose, since all sin really boils down to that anyway... but none the less. The youth group just started a new series in Sunday School based on CJ Mahaney's little book Humility: True Greatness. I think it's going to kick me in the face... repeatedly.

In my 22 1/2 years on this planet I've managed to get really good at the pride thing. Actually I think I was born pretty good at it (is that prideful?). Sometimes it's pretty obvious- the nose-in-the-air, I'm-better-than-you-because... attitude. Or the "hey, have you heard how great I am lately?" conversation. Or "hey, did you know that I am crazy spiritual!?" Or when I start to talk about the terrible trinity- I, Me, and My, more than anything/anyone else. But other times it's not so obvious. Sometimes it's well disguised. In fact, sometimes the ugliest kind of pride looks like humility. This kind is more sneaky- others might not even catch on. It could be going out of my way to serve in some way as if I'm just a humble servant-person... and all the while hoping in the back of my heart that somebody's taking note. Or... it could be denying and deflecting others' compliments or kind remarks. For the longest time I didn't even realize that was pride! Ha ha, truthfully, the first time I really remember being confronted with this truth was when Carey Nilius was doing my hair for Jr/Sr my senior year. She gave me some sort of compliment or something that I tried to ignore which turned into a golden opportunity for rebuke. I so needed that, though, and I've never forgotten that conversation either! Who knew an Eeyore "whoa is me" attitude is prideful? But it is... and it's ugly!

[Wanna hear a funny story? OK!] When I was in Junior High, I remember for Bible class each week we did a unit on a different character trait that we should be growing/acquiring as Christians. One particular week the unit was on "humility." [True story, mind you.] I remember wanting so badly to impress Mr. Lane with my skill in humility. So during activity period I was shooting hoops and thinking... "how can I look REALLY humble playing basketball?" DING! DING! DING! "I know! Every time I miss a basket  I will just hang my head in shame. And if I make it, I'll still hang my head and shame... that way, I'll look like I'm super humble!" Pathetic right? Yeah, tell me about it.

I was reminded last Sunday that humility is really just having an accurate understanding of self. Accurate is key though. John Calvin wrote, "It is evident that man never attains to a true self-knowledge until he has previously contemplated the face of God, and come down after such contemplation to look into himself." Similarly, Mahaney says "Humility is honestly assessing ourselves in light of God's holiness and our sinfulness." That's it. It's that simple! There is no room for pride in a world where God is truly exalted as God. But I guess that's why Heaven is Heaven. Think about it. Essentially, pride is just measuring yourself against the standard of everybody else. If we assess ourselves this way, we always come out on top because we can always find somebody who's worse than we are. But what if man is not the standard? What if God is the standard? If God is the standard, NO ONE measures up! His standard is perfect holiness and righteousness and sinlessness. But we don't like to think this way because then we feel small and insignificant. But true significance comes when God applauds.

"Let him who boasts boast in the Lord.

For it is not the one who commends himself who is approved,

but the one whom the Lord commends." 

2 Corinthians 10:17-18

stamped in bold red letters

I've been told a time or two ten thousand that I'm morbid. I prefer, however, to consider myself one who thinks deeply about life. It seems silly to shun the thought- not like any man avoids it, right? You've heard the old adage "Death is no respecter of persons." So why pretend? I figure I'm kind of like a jug of milk... stamped in bold red letters with an expiration date. (Haha- maybe you prefer to think of it as a "best if used by" date.)

I watched a couple movies tonight... both of which made me think about "the end." One was fictional- Remember Me, the other was all true- Brothers Lost. The latter stands out more. It's a documentary of friends and relatives of those who lost their lives on 9/11, retelling their stories. That's powerful stuff! And for those of you who are convinced I don't have tear ducts- you're wrong! Promise.

Have you thought about it lately? What if it were you? What if it were me? Many of the guys who shared their treasured memories told of ordinary moments- the day-in-day-out, mundane stuff that most people don't give a second thought. The last good-bye. The last "I love you." The last joke. The last kind gesture. The last argument. If today were your last day, what would stand out in people's mind? If you knew today were the day, would you live it differently? There's a line in a Tim McGraw song... "someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying." Intriguing, eh? The reality is, though, we all have that chance EVERY DAY.  Life is unpredictable, and death all the more! The all familiar James 4:14 says "You do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." We don't know. We cannot know! It is what it is, yet by the same token... IT IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT!

One of the last questions fielded in the documentary was in reference to the grieving and moving on stages of loss. It was "Do you believe in God? (or "What do you think is next?") This was the saddest part of the whole thing! Not one of the men who shared their stories had any real hope of seeing their loved ones again. Many of them explained that September 11th was "proof" that a good God cannot exist. Some said the here and now is all there is and then it's over. Others said they'd all meet again in heaven. 1 Thessalonians 4:13, 14 comes to my mind. "Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe..." Praise the Lord for HOPE! There is something greater than me, my little world, and my little life... there is a great and awesome God out there Who has ordained all my days. He has prepared a place for me in His presence and I can be confident in such a hope. I do not mourn as others do!

I pray that I will invest my life in something that will outlive me. I pray that I'll live everyday for the applause of One. I pray that when the last page is turned, the story of my life will have been all about the Author and Perfecter of my faith. Oh Lord, make my life an Hallelujah!

for a little while
grace

where healing begins

Ever become overwhelmed with the realization that you're a crappier person than you thought you were? It's an unsettling thing! It's funny though, we try so hard to hide it. We do everything we possibly can do in order to mask the fact that we're terrible people... as if others haven't picked up on it. We're so scared someone might see us for what we are. I wonder though... what if we were real people? What if everybody were REAL/ TRANSPARENT/ GENUINE/ FLAWED? Wouldn't it be beautiful!? I heard a quote that interupts my train of thought sometimes- "The best thing that could happen to us would be for our sins to be literally exposed on the 5 o' clock news- our deepest, darkest, most embarassing sin, the ones we work the hardest to hide..." (Derek Webb). Isn't that like a sucker punch to the gut!? What if it happened? What if the whole world saw me for what I am?

A couple weeks ago I was reminded that I have SO FAR TO GO and it was overwhelming and to a degree, discouraging. But I think what was hardest was not the sin itself but the fact that somebody else exposed it. But this is where healing begins. Think about it. People go to the doctor to find out what's wrong so they can fix it, right? Most sick people don't go to the doctor hoping to stay sick forever- we want to be healed, we want to be well. So why then, in reality, do we try so hard to stay sick? to hide our sin?

I'm reminded of the Pharisees of Jesus' day. Matthew 23 records Jesus' woes and warnings for the Pharisees. In verse 27 Christ referred to the Pharisees as "white washed tombs." Apparently, during Jewish feasts etc. the tombs would be cleaned and white-washed on the outside so they looked better for the public eye. Yet the inside were full of death, decay, and disgustingness. But who can blame them? We do the same thing. It's just like making the bed and stuffing everything underneath... or sweeping a mess into a pile and throwing a rug over top of it... or putting dirty dishes in the fridge/stove/cubbard. It's not our definition of "clean" that counts- it's gotta be Christ's. Oh how we I need to be exposed again and again! Tenth Avenue North has a great song entitled "Healing Begins" - check out (some of) the lyrics!

So you thought you had to keep this up

All the work that you do

So we think that you're good

And you can't believe it's not enough

All the walls you built up

Are just glass on the outside

So let 'em fall down

There's freedom waiting in the sound

When you let your walls fall to the ground

We're here now

This is where the healing begins

This is where the healing starts

When you come to where you're broken within

The light meets the dark

Afraid to let your secrets out

Everything that you hide

Can come crashing through the door now

But too scared to face all your fear

So you hide but you find

That the shame won't disappear

Sparks will fly as grace collides

With the dark inside of us

So please don't fight

This coming light

Let this blood come cover us

His blood can cover us

This is where the healing begins

When you come to where you're broken within

The light meets the dark 

If any of this resonated with you, I'd challenge you to look up Psalm 51 and meditate on its truth; let David's prayer be yours! Be cleansed from the inside out. Enter into relationships without reservation- let people see you for who you are- failures and all (James 5:16). THIS is where the healing begins. Let the walls fall; there's healing in that sound!

AS IS, grace

then you will have good success

I am working at memorizing several chapters in Psalms for a scholarship at Faith this semester (for the first time, I should add). Scripture memorization is a weakness for me. For one pitiful reason or another I find it very easy to pack away the lines of a movie I like or a stand-up I enjoy, but I fail to memorize the very words of God Himself. My brain serves as a portable jukebox, playing hundreds of songs on shuffle and repeat all day long... but yet, I rarely bring myself to marinate my mind with Truth.

Chuck Swindoll wrote, “I know of no other single practice in the Christian life more rewarding, practically speaking, than memorizing Scripture.... No other single exercise pays greater spiritual dividends!" He's so right! Psalm 19 is the chapter I'm working on this week; verses 7-9 expound on several of the blessings that come with the knowledge of God's Word. "The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple; the precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes; the fear of the Lord is clean, enduring forever; the rules of the Lord are true, and righteous altogether."  What's not to love? And in Joshua 1:8 we find the recipe for success: "This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, SO THAT you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For THEN you will make your way prosperous, and THEN you will have good success." (Note: meditation leads to application.) Think about it, Christ Himself fought temptation with memorized Scripture (Matt. 4)- and the Law at that! Who am I to assume I have a chance apart from the same strategy!? It's also interesting to note that the only offensive weapon we are equipped with in the war we wage as Christians is the Word of God (Eph. 6:10-24)- but no worries, it's sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Heb. 4:12). The Bible is bloomin' powerful! Why do I aimlessly enter the battle field at times unarmed and illequipped?

I pray that as I grow in the grace and knowledge of God, I'll grow in my love of His Word. David said of God's Words, "More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb" (Psalm 19:11). May the same be true for me.

true and better

I stumbled upon a cool video on youtube that got me thinking. Question of the day: Is the Bible basically about me and what I must do, or is it basically about Jesus and what He's done? The video is entitled "What is the Bible Basically About?" (I know, clever right?) by Tim Keller. It's worth your 3 minutes and 49 seconds.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkNa6tLWrqk