My Dear Friend,

Our time is short, I know, and so much has happened since we last saw each other five years ago. I have some really phenomenal stories, all of which I hope you’ll enjoy one day. I can’t tell you everything—who could? Dear friend, I know you like to know the end before you start the story, but trust me when I say this one is better for the mystery. One thing I will not even attempt to say is that it will be easy. You know better than to believe that, of course, no matter who it is trying to convince you. Still, here are a few things I thought were worth mentioning, as someone a couple pages ahead of you. Take them for what you will; you’ve been taught to check your sources, and I’m hardly a foolproof one, as we both know.

You will face things you never expected to—and things that you always told yourself you would never be able to live through. You will live through them. More than that, you will thrive through them, even though there will be moments when you wish you could curl up in a dark room and pretend to be invisible for a while. You will not come out the other side quite like you imagined, but most of the growth will be for the better. Moments will be hard, and scary, and at times life will seem utterly at odds with…well, everything.

You will never be alone. Not for one part of a second. I know that you will forget this sometimes, but please do try to remember it as often as you can. It will make your life easier, and it might help you to remember that you are really not the center of the world.

God works all things to His glory. Try to remember that too; I’m terribly bad at it, and I think starting earlier might have helped.

You will meet extraordinary people, in a thousand different settings. You will rearrange your schedule, spend money you barely have, and drive ridiculous distances because you cannot stop yourself from helping. The best moments of your life will be in the middle of conversations, reunions, get-togethers, and late-night confessions. The people you know now, and that you will meet soon, will be ones that you will keep your whole life. Thankfully, God has arranged it so that they will keep you as well—keep you sane, keep you laughing, and keep you humble when you most need it. (And I know, my friend, that you feel the desperate need to be in charge, but do not try to control them; they don’t need it, and they’re only humoring you anyway.)

You will learn each and every day. You will also teach, and discover that you’re pretty good at it. Try not to let it go to your head—you still have lots to learn.

If I can give you just a few bits of advice, it would be the things that most helped me: listen to the wisdom of the more mature believers you are currently privileged to have as friends, teachers, and counselors. Learn to listen more than you speak (I haven’t quite managed this one yet either, if that makes you feel any better). Choose your words with care; people are actually listening to you. Observe the world around you for what it is, but do it through the lenses of love and compassion. Learn absolutely everything you can, and then analyze it until you can use it. Rely always on Him. Rely always on Him. He will be the one to feed you, clothe you, protect you, bless you, and straighten you out when you get too full of yourself.

I think of you often, and I glimpse you from time to time, as I think you do me. Know that you are loved and fondly remembered. We have our paths ahead of us, and we are both growing, slowly, into the shape of the person God wants us to be. It is not an easy journey. But then, neither of us would enjoy it if it was.

With His Love,

Your Distant but Faithful Friend

People-Watching at the Airport

These thoughts are the result of a two-hour layover in Seattle. Sometimes the best entertainment comes from little more than a crowded room and a pen.

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Some of the longest days are the ones that end at an airport. Maybe some of the shortest ones end at airports, too. In any case, I find myself playing the ever-present and unavoidable waiting game. There’s little to do except sit and watch the people pass like schools and shoals of fish navigating the concrete-floored river of transitional space that is an airport walkway.

The flows and ebbs of people-watching have become so familiar now that I even find them comforting. No matter where I am, there are a few regulars that always appear in the endless parade of tired humanity that scrolls past my view.

There’s the determined businessman: he moves with speed and purpose around the other people in his way, destination clearly in mind, even if he doesn’t have one. His phone is at his ear–it doesn’t really matter who he talks to, or what about, as long as he talks to *someone*. I caught him once just as he finished a call, and for just a moment the facade of in-control success faded as he blinked and looked around as if, until now, he hadn’t fully processed where he was. The shield of busy activity gone, he was left an ordinary and tired-looking man in a polo shirt that looked made for someone (everyone) else, a little lost until the phone rang again and called him back into the constant movement of his life, crossing from A to B. As I watch him now, I wonder if he knows why he walks so fast, or if he even realizes that the world rushes by on the edges of his vision.

Then, of course, there is the family: this is a complex entity that moves in a slower and more unpredictable path due to its many members and countless baggage weights. A resigned but focused father leads the way, standing tall to part the current for his family behind him. He has one eye to the path ahead to prepare for obstacles and course-corrections, while the other is focused on just glimpsing the edges of the crazy circles his son makes as he bounces like a rogue electron through a jerking orbit made of whatever items look most interesting or breakable. The father carries the boy’s brightly slogan-covered backpack on the same shoulder as his own leather carry-on; he has long ago ceased to notice the way his free hand rests protectively over the pocket that houses his son’s newest keepsakes, instead of his own laptop.

Taking advantage of the wake he leaves a little behind him is the mother. She is tethered by the weight of a half-dozen bags on one arm and the pull of a small girl on the other. She moves more slowly than her husband, partly for the sake of her little daughter’s increasingly tired stumbling. Her eyes flicker between her son’s sporadic movements out to her left and her husband’s back. Though she’s in the rear, the other three look back at her every other step, and it’s clear that she’s the one who keeps this travel-weary pod of loved ones moving in the same direction. The father looks over his shoulder and their eyes meet for a moment. The tired smile they share seems to comfort them both a little, and the father’s steps have more energy as he leads them off around the bend, and out of sight.

My mind lingers on them for a little, even as I take in the other familiar figures that appear:

There is the group of tourists who move in a tightly-held formation that cuts a straight line through the wavy tessellations of the other travelers. They look comfortable in their brightly-colored shirts, as if they’ve had them on so long that they’re no longer even conscious of the spectacle they make.

And here and there is the college student, the same formula repeated in minor variations: mostly seen in singles or pairs, they tote duffel bags on one shoulder because their cellphone is in the other hand. Some are trying to imitate the maturity they remember in their parents, while others are probably attempting to achieve the exact opposite by formulating a deliberate swagger of their own. In any case, the resulting walk looks pretty much the same: a medium-paced meander, slightly hindered by ungainly flip-flops, and always accompanied by the same expression of nearly-adult competency mixed with moments of childlike amazement at their own ability.

Just behind and to the right are the two women, both in the casual business apparel of a recently-escaped meeting or conference. They chat amiably as they pass, and the small rolling bags that follow at their feet rattle off a plastic counter-rhythm to the soft clacking of their heels on the hard floor.

And all of these change course to flow around the aged grandfather in the wheel-chair, who stares absently ahead as the blue-shirted airport attendant who pushes him along carries on a one-way conversation about the weather.

Countless other travelers besides the ones I’ve noticed have passed by, of course, but these people are the ones I see today, and though we have never met, I feel as if I know them, a little. I wonder if they feel the same when they look at me, because they’ve seen me a hundred times before. Or if I’m only a shape in their peripheral vision, just another girl sitting and watching the airport crowd with a notebook in her lap.

Easter Changes Everything

It’s amazing, really, how one single event (or at least one single culminating event) can forever change the course of history. And not just history; it can also forever change a single life. My life, in fact…and, I hope, yours. How can this be true, you ask?

Because Jesus died on the cross and rose again three days later, all of our relationships have changed!
The point of Easter was for God to change the world.

We can talk to God directly; no more veils or earthly intercessors.
The blood of Jesus gives us leave to enter the throne room of Heaven.

We can join together regardless of race or class or culture into the unified body of the church.
And it is an eternal family. My friends will have to listen to my questions literally forever!

We are no longer slaves to sin, but dead to it!
Praise Jesus, who conquered death so that we might benefit. Oh death, where is thy sting?

And best of all, we believers are even now alive in Christ.
How should we then live?

Heady stuff indeed. Happy Easter to all. May we never forget that Jesus’ death and resurrection has made us free to live, free to love, and free to experience the real joy of purpose. God is good. I picked the last half of Philippians chapter 3 as my favorite Easter passage this year because in it, Paul describes the life we should be living, now that we are indeed alive in the blood of Jesus.

“But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ.

More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,
for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him,
not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ,
the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith,
that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection
and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death;
in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect,
but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.

Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do:
forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead,
I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

~Philippians 3:7-14

Happy Easter!

Watching the Sunset

Out in the desert, that last hour between day and night can be really spectacular. Some things are just so beautiful that you have to try and catch them on paper, even though you know that you’ll never get it quite right. This is my feeble attempt.

The sunset sets the long red-brown desert on fire. Massive purple clouds drift and layer, reflecting deep rose-gold colors in their underbellies, as if they’ve been dipped in the molten, dripping sun. Darkness begins closing at the edges of the sky, turning the far-off lavender mountains to shady shapes and eating up the blue-and-cream streaked expanse.

The clouds deepen as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, behemoths of purple-deep shadow soaked in crimson at the edges. The sky becomes that calm, quiet periwinkle that always comes just before night sets in, as if the heavens, now purified by the red-gold spills of the sun, are refreshed and prepared–a baptism of fire that leaves a canvas for the coming night.

In these last moments, when the day is still in the heavens, chasing the sun behind the horizon, there is a deep feeling of tranquility–even peace for the soul.

The night, with its fresh moon and softly budding stars, is the more beautiful when it comes but gently on the last fragile wisps of day.

28 Things I Learned in 2008

28 Things I Learned in  200 8

1. The end of high school is not the end of the world.

2. The end of high school is not even necessarily the end of high school.

3. College is not the end-all of life experiences

4. Friends can be together regardless of physical distance

5. To really appreciate the people in your life, you have to be able to see what your life would be without them in it.

6. Travel is a state of mind more than an activity

7. Forgiveness is sometimes a one-way street

8. Real love is that which is given when it is least deserved

9. People-watching can reap many unexpected benefits

10. The difference between “teacher” and “student” is only whether you are asking the question or answering it

11. There are few things more enjoyable than being in a room of people that completely disagree with your point of view

12. God remains faithful through all things. People do not.

13. God remains faithful through all things. I do not.

14. Having people that really understand you, even when you’re silent, is a gift not to be taken lightly

15. Family is not necessarily determined by blood

16. The value of money is directly related to how said money is being used

17. Living in the moment is a matter of willingness to sacrifice your own moment in favor of someone else’s

18. Being eighteen is not the same as being seventeen

19. Learning is addictive

20. Truth does not change just because we want it to. In fact, it doesn’t change at all
    

21. Unless you are asking questions, you are not really paying attention

22. In the end, you are defined by no other relationship except that between yourself and God

23. Listening will often get you twice as far as talking

24. Real role models are the people who don’t find themselves worthy of being one at all

25. Sometimes, making a stand means doing your homework

26. The teacher isn’t always right.

27. Neither is the student.

28. A year is only a measure of time. Life is a measure of actual living.

Theater Scribblings

These are just some random thoughts that I scribbled on the back of an envelope while I waited in the lobby of a theater before a play in which a friend of mine was acting. Fortunately, I was sitting with a friend who recognized the look I get on my face when I suddenly have the need to write something (I didn’t even know I had that look until she told me), and offered me both a pen and the envelope. Now that is true friendship. Reading it again recently, I realized that I kind of like it.

“There is a kind of magnetism in the production of a play.

It is the potent power of pretend; it is the high of seeing our inner life acted out before our eyes.

Indeed, theater is a natural expression of the human mind, for it is the very picture we seek to conjure into being from written word or music.

It is the mind, the dream, the very thought of a man (and if done correctly, all men) transposed by flesh and blood.

And to the artist, drama on stage is perhaps the greatest challenge, for it involves all the senses of both actor and audience.

To sincerely and powerfully present a play, the written words, the scenery, the costumes, the heart and mind of the actor, must all align in something both profoundly physical and innately spiritual.

To what cause, then?
To inspire, amuse, astonish, even to anger and infuriate the race of man.

To show his vices as well as his beauties, his pains and exaltations.

Theater frames the mind of man by showing him a facet of himself, whether to praise or condemn.

To be on stage, then, is to be the instrument of change within humanity itself.

So, dear actor, choose what type and class of change you will wreak upon your own society

with the utmost care and caution.”

An Adult’s Perspective of Absolutes

The more of the world I see, the more I am struck by the sheer absurdness of those “hollow philosophies” that Paul warns us of in Scripture. The very principle of a relativistic mindset–indeed, any philosophy that is not founded on the absolutes of Scripture–is not only illogical, but completely un-natural.

The world itself, as far as I can tell, is run on absolutes. Without them, nothing works. Societal norms, laws, even personal happiness, are all servants to some kind of absolute standard, whether of rightness or goodness or something else. Even language itself is absolutist by nature, relying on constant definitions outside of each person’s individual emotional attachment to words.

I am continually more aware that by denying the presence of absolute truths based on a God outside of this universe (and even if I know about them, refusing to act on them as if they are real), I am essentially acting like a spoiled, dillusional child. While I sit in a corner and scream at the tops of my lungs in hopes of making the world bend to my will (even though any adult could tell me that it won’t), God stands there looking at me as the kind, patient Father that He is.

“If only she would accept the way things are, and act accordingly,” He must say, “then she could finally start growing up, and leave these temper tantrums behind.” What parent hasn’t wished that for their child?

And yet we men as a whole have consistantly chosen the childish temper-tantrums of postmodernism, pantheism, humanism, and relativism. How very much like toddlers we are! How naive and childish must we seem to God as we strive against the natural, undeniable reality of life merely because it causes us some discomfort in our self-centered views.

Only now have I started to understand even an inkling of that promise, “The truth shall set you free”. There is no gauruntee of comfort there; the truth does not make things happy or event pleasant. And yet it does!

Is there not joy in leaving those empty philosophies of the world in favor of a more “adult” view of the world? What child does not, over course of time, realize how much better off he is in his understanding once he has matured? Is there not happiness and pleasantness in growing closer to the heart of one’s Creator, and of having true purpose and meaning?

This, then, is the freedom that truth gives us: the freedom of perspective, of disregarding those vain philosophies that would take us captive and keep us forever screaming in the corner.

I realize it is high time that I listen to my Father and stop throwing temper tantrums of fake philosophy, whether by believing them or acting like I do.