...don't give up until you drink from the silver cup.

Lonely.

I have discovered that during these past few weeks, I have been very lonely. Not for lack of friends. Not for lack of stimulating conversation. Not for lack of joy.

For the lack of someone who knows me and someone with whom I do not have to explain myself. A reference from a book I’ve been reading—“Telling Secrets” by Frederick Buechner—sums up what I’ve been feeling: “Man’s greatest desire is to know and be known.” And somehow, in this loneliness, I am reminded of God’s habit to come to us in our humility, reminding us of the open arms waiting, just waiting, for our return. And ultimately that is WHOM we want to be known by, surely. What fleeting emotion could be greater than the joy that comes with the knowledge that we are known by the one who created us, shaped us, and loved us first? Loneliness in and of itself is, albeit, uncomfortable. But it is in those times of discomfort, of sadness, of restlessness, that God comes to us. Our hour of need is His shining moment. What a redemptive thought. I am tired of being lonely, but I also know that these are the days for me to look out with expectant joy and delight at the coming of my Lord to my cry for a friend, my cry for a soul who knows mine.

I cannot wait to know.

I cannot wait to be known.

I cannot wait to be home.





Machine Gun Preacher:

…thoughts on “Machine Gun Preacher”, the new film concerning the life work of Sam Childers and his mission in Sudan and Uganda.

I went into the theatre expecting the main ethical debate to be focused around the vigilante stance that Childers takes on defending his orphanage against Joseph Kony and the LRA—the “spilling blood for the sake of the Lord”, and as Childers puts it in his own words “…if your child was taken, and I was the one who was going to bring him home, does it matter how I get him home?” However, I surprised myself by getting caught up in the ethical issue of his work coming before his family. The struggle between what he had experienced and what he wanted to experience was brilliantly played out—I appreciated the vulnerability that the scriptwriter added there. Human emotion—raw and expressive, always messy and unscripted, tended to be a major theme in the film. The movie as a whole was very thought provoking and offered more questions than answers at the end, but as one of my friends here mentioned on the subway ride home: “How can we view something like that, come away with a knowledge, and not do anything about it?” The evil we have to be most guarded against in this world is not the faceless evil in the dark, but the indifference of good men.

The movie spanned the life of Childers, not hesitating to include the beginning of his story that involved drug and alcohol abuse, and the brutal stabbing of a car hijacker. However, the scenes in Africa were what made me shudder the most—raping and kidnapping in villages, child soldiers shooting guns that were bigger than them, and the especially gripping scene of a pile of bodies (a group of children that could not fit in the back of the truck when they were discovered—Childers said he’d be back for them in a few hours) that lie burning in an open field, victims of the LRA’s killing spree. The movie was brutal and hard to watch at times, but eye-opening and allowed an opportunity to feel, be enraged by what is happening in Africa now. Splendidly done, hard to watch, thought provoking—I’d highly recommend it, but it is not for the faint of heart.

"If we allow ourselves to be full of hate, then they've won - you must not let them take your heart.” –William, a Sudanese child and friend of Childers.

Renewal…In Times of Peace and Times of Chaos

Ireland is amazing. I blessed in too many ways to count, but I repeat my words of praise every moment I can. The landscape is visibly, gently carved by the hand of God. The people reflect Him in their laughter, the light in their eyes, and the spirit of their manner. The air always carries a breeze, like a long, embracing hug, everlasting in that peaceful moment. Ah yes, I’m here.

I have been stretched in many ways during this trip: as a leader, as a student, as a coworker, as an individual. And a thought crept up on me today during my daily “seaside stroll”—I have been praying for renewal in my spiritual life, for a consuming fire, and a spirit of thirst. All this while, I have been discouraged by the lack of a “thunderous” response to my surely humble plea.

Yet once more, God brought me to a place of learning and mercy—and showed me where I stand, corrected. Today I realized that while the “high moments on mountain-tops” are glorious, and should be appreciated; we can always display a spirit of renewal, through willingness and humility. Even at our low points, in the dark moments, when we are most lonely, we can have a spirit of renewal—renewal of hope, of dependence on God, of strength through weakness, of persistence; renewal of glory.

This renewal, this refresh, this revitalization… it happens wherever we chance to seek it out, in times of chaos—alluding somewhat to life here on the island—and in times of peace, places to revive us again.

I’m not on a mountaintop right now. I’m not close to the heavens. All I see is an impossible pass. A long journey. But what I feel? A renewal of mercy. A renewal, a reason to take up my cross and carry on. A renewal to live.

I miss my Taylor friends and my family, but I know I’m here for “such a time as this”…So here I’ll stay, until called home.

Love to all!

E

The Broken Alabaster

This quote was recently given to me and it has resonated more within me in a few weeks than I was ever expecting:

"God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever." (Vance Havne)

This image of perfection—through bitter brokenness—has been played through time and again during my recent arrival in Ireland. I have seen the beautiful face of my Creator cry through pungent testimonies. I have heard His heavy heart beating with the revealing and breaking down of every heart-wall. I have witnessed the pain and sorrow and strife that He has suffered every time I saw an open wound be exposed—physically, emotionally, spiritually. I have seen the face of my Creator. And I have wept.

The most beautiful image I have seen so far in my life is when the broken body of Christ comes together, returning to “greater power than ever.” And for that, I am thankful. And for that, I whisper words of praise. The Body may be broken, but the Spirit is not—and the Spirit is strong.

The vulnerability and honesty and transparency I have been blessed to witness this week has absolutely humbled me. I am reminded once again that I have only praise for my God and that I need to return more than I do to thank Him for the miracle of His love for my life. I am honored to be a part of this journey in Ireland with these freshman, and utterly terrified by the fact that I am responsible to lead and serve and protect. I am thankful that I was brought back and I am being reminded of how much I need my Redeemer.

I know I don’t thank you enough, but tonight Father, I am on my knees in humble adoration of your love. And tonight I’m thanking you.

The seasons are forgot
I found myself alone
In the Shadow of my past
Where a broken reed won't last.
It took me by surprise
The day I felt demise
A value I held high
Now lost into the night

As heaven is above us
And east is far west
How great is Your love for us
How vast is Your great love?

My mind is wearing thin
In my brokenness and sin
I know you say I'll change
But inside i feel the same
I close my eyes this time
To feel your heart in mine
I just want to be someone
That truly loves your Son.

As heaven is above us
And east is far west
How great is Your love for us
How vast is Your great love?

It's Your love
It's what I need
It's Your love
It's what I need

As heaven is above us
And east is far west
How great is Your love for us
How vast is Your great love?

J-Term breaking in Iowa...=)

Hello all!

Well, a bit of time has past since I last took to this.
However, to save face in my apparent lack of blogging skills, I will tell you, I have written three other blogs on my computer, but for some reason, they weren't the right ones to say. Not yet, anyway.

As for the up-dates, I really am in Iowa. Again. And it has been such a good break. Many thanks to Brit and her family.
Just finished with J-term, and for what it's worth, it was intensive. But fun. Campus sure feels different with half of our student population gone, but different in a good way. It's quiet and a little more calm than normal. Ah.

I'm gearing up for spring semester. Should be exciting--Research in Psychology, Ethics in Psych., Phys. Geography, Modern Middle East, and two leadership classes. Adding to that schedule, the equestrian team, work at the Writing Center, and a substitute life-guard for our new pool! Woot--and yet, very busy. I'm also gearing up for my spring break missions trip to Poland. I can't wait to see the change God will institute over that week, as well as before and after.




The truth I stumbled upon over J-term was a simple one, but also a hard one to come to terms with:
At the center of vulnerability is where holiness begins.

It's a tough concept, and one that many people wouldn't like to look in the eye (myself included).

So often, we assume we have everything under control and completely taken care of. And yet, so often, God gently brings us to our knees and holds us as we realize we have never held on to anything in our life. Its always been Him. And it always will be.
And at the center of meekness and humility, of vulnerability, where we are not tainted by our sins, where God has always had complete control over, that is where we begin to value that holiness, and the sanctity of His perfect life. In the middle of our soul, the place closet to our heart, the place we protect the most-and yet, somehow, the place we ourselves can never reach-THAT is where God finds us and reminds us that we belong to Him, a slave of righteousness. A slave of His endless, unconditional love.

So, the one place in our being that we will never reach, is the one place we know we will always find Him, waiting.
It's a scary feeling, an unscripted emotion, but one that is so worth seeking.

Attempt to be vulnerable today, and see where you find God.

Faithfully,
Erin