small dreams

just may be the bane to my existence.

thought-provoking writing

"The scientific method," Thomas Henry Huxley once wrote, "is nothing but the normal working of the human mind." That is to say, when the mind is working; that is to say further, when it is engaged in corrrecting its mistakes.

Taking this point of view, we may conclude that science is not physics, biology, or chemistry--is not even a "subject"--but a moral imperative drawn from a larger narrative whose purpose is to give perspective, balance, and humility to learning."
— Neil Postman (The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School)

"Television is our culture's principal mode of knowing about itself. Therefore -- and this is the critical point -- how television stages the world becomes the model for how the world is properly to be staged. It is not merely that on the television screen entertainment is the metaphor for all discourse. It is that off the screen the same metaphor prevails. (92)"
— Neil Postman (Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business)

"Television is our culture's principal mode of knowing about itself. Therefore -- and this is the critical point -- how television stages the world becomes the model for how the world is properly to be staged. It is not merely that on the television screen entertainment is the metaphor for all discourse. It is that off the screen the same metaphor prevails. (92)"
— Neil Postman (Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business)

"Remember: in order for a perception to change one must be frustrated in one's actions or change one's purpose."
— Neil Postman (Teaching as a Subversive Activity)

was Huxley right?

"We were keeping our eye on 1984. When the year came and the prophecy didn't, thoughtful Americans sang softly in praise of themselves. The roots of liberal democracy had held. Wherever else the terror had happened, we, at least, had not been visited by Orwellian nightmares.

But we had forgotten that alongside Orwell's dark vision, there was another - slightly older, slightly less well known, equally chilling: Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Contrary to common belief even among the educated, Huxley and Orwell did not prophesy the same thing. Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley's vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distractions". In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.

This book is about the possibility that Huxley, not Orwell, was right."
— Neil Postman (Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business)

observation of modern day information

"a new problem never experienced before: information glut, information incoherence, information meaninglessness...We have transformed information into a form of garbage, and ourselves into garbage collectors. Like the sorcerer's apprentice, we are awash in information without even a broom to help us get rid of it. Information comes...at high speeds, severed from import and meaning. And there is no loom to weave it all into fabric. No transcendent narratives to provide us with moral guidance, social purpose, intellectual economy. No stories to tell us what we need to know, and what we do not need to know."

-Neil Postman, chair of the Department of Culture and Communications at NYU

♥ this song

Adele-

If It Hadn't Been For Love.

i wonder...

what more He would need to say, need to do, for me to surrender all.

-----------------

Jim Elliot, one of my heroes, a missionary to an unreached people group, once prayed, "Father, make of me a crisis man. Bring those I contact to decision. Let me be a milepost on a single road; make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another on facing Christ in me."

I've never met this man, never heard his voice, but I can still feel the power in those words, in that stirring prayer to the Father. God answered Jim's prayer, and continues to use his life as a milepost throughout generations.

For Jim's life to become that prayer, he had to give up everything. Literally. One day, that surrender to love included his physical life, although I bet all those who knew him would say that he was already dead to himself, wrecked by encountering Love.

Moving words are easy to craft if someone just pays a bit of attention to language and to what speech patterns have worked in the past to move people's emotions. And those words may move man, but are they moving heaven? Are the words birthed in the secret place, where communion with God transforms a person's prayers into their actual life?

The words that matter in heaven--those are the ones I want to use. And I want to take the prayers I am saying seriously, because there is power in them. In those exchanges with the Father, there is an invitation to become...

Completely His. Fully alive in Love. Laughter bubbling up, joy unspeakable, full of glory.

to live like this...

"So, friends, every day do something

that won't compute. Love the Lord.

Love the world. Work for nothing.

Take all that you have and be poor.

Love someone who does not deserve it."

-Wendell Berry's Mad Farmer

(in his poem "Manifesto: The Mad

Farmer Liberation Front")

"Open your mouth for the speechless,

In the cause of all who are

appointed to die.

Open your mouth, judge

righteously,

And plead the cause of the poor and needy."

-Proverbs 31:8-9

"Pure and undefiled religion before

God and the Father is this: to visit

orphans and widows in their trouble,

and to keep oneself unspotted from

the world."

-James 1:27

powerful thought

"On my best day, I fear little enough to love a little...on God's worst day, He is Love."

-Jason Upton

mysteries that are impossible to explain

Yesterday, my dad had to go into the hospital because of chest pain. They kept him overnight, doing various tests to check his stress levels and enzyme levels. His heart is fine, although the stress test may give some insight into the pain he was experiencing. A trip to the hospital still gets you thinking about how much living is actually being done within the time given, prompting questions that are easier to avoid when life is comfortable and all is healthy.

Loss often holds mysteries which are impossible to understand or explain--at least for me. Sometimes, I find myself responding to the inevitable reality of loss with fear, wanting to protect all that I hold dear. If I were to be honest, my own life is on the top of the list of those I want to protect and keep safe. Humorous how that often results in stunted growth and dysfunction as I try to build a safe world where I am king and master, instead of my life becoming a canopy of protection, a safe place that resides under the shadow of His wings. And that safety looks so paradoxical to what the world says is safe.

Instead of living, I go into survival mode, where every moment is a possible tragedy, every person a possible lost friend. And the result? I don't live fully alive, embracing the beauty of every moment I've been given, rejoicing in every friendship and falling in love with the wonder of each person's story. I put walls up, stop taking risks, write people off as possible perpetrators of betrayal, with me the victim of being misunderstood and abandoned once again. There is no fear in love, so that kind of mindset makes it impossible to really love.

That's not the story that I want to live, and God knows that--which I think may be why He is confronting this fear in me so strongly right now.

As I was mulling over all of this in my mind and heart, I was reminded about a story in my family history. When my parents were trying to have children, they experienced a miscarriage and a still birth. More than anything in the world, my mom wanted to be a mother. She carried the second pregnancy eight months, doing all the right things that a pregnant woman does to keep the baby healthy. She ate well, went to her regular check ups, sang to the baby in her tummy, prayed for her, dreamed about all that God had in store for her life. Then, a few weeks before full term, the devastating news arrived. Hannah, the name that they picked out for her, was no longer living. My mom still had to deliver and give birth to a life that was loved, but dead. Depression hit hard, but God faithfully healed her heart and gave her the courage to dream that a baby would come, that she would be a mother. Then, the news came that she was pregnant again. That baby was me.

And I think to myself: what if she would have allowed the depression to cripple her heart, too afraid to love again with the same intensity that she loved the one lost in the womb? My siblings and I wouldn't be here. I don't understand why Hannah didn't make it. But I'm so glad that my mom loved her every day of that pregnancy, and even before she was conceived. I'm glad that my mom dreamed about her and for her, even though she had no way of knowing whether the baby would make it or not. Some how, in some way, those dreams were not wasted. That love for a baby that went straight to heaven was not in vain. I don't understand. I just know that those eight months were worth it.

It makes me think about the dreams I have in life. Sometimes I find myself afraid to believe for certain things because, God forbid, they don't happen. And because I know that a dream I've embraced and stirred up and acted upon is a part of who I am, the idea of failing at something I've loved and cared for feels devastating--too risky. The possibility of loss leaves me disabled, with a lack of passion and compassion. To invest into something unproven stirs up my insecurities, revealing the places where I lack faith because my faith is solely in my own ability to make it and protect myself and get to the end with a small semblance of dignity.

The truth is, I don't want my life to be number one on the list anymore. I want to live Jesus' simple instructions: lose your life, then you'll find it. I don't even know what that means or what it looks like, but I know that He'll show me. He'll show me how to live where self protection is gone and all I do is listen to Him and do what He says.

So my prayer is this: Holy Spirit, lead me into truth. Change the way I think so that I can love and trust and embrace the wonder of the moments I've been given. I want to dream the dreams of the Father, even without knowing how it will all turn out. I want to live in open fields, not in a locked up jail cell. I love You. I don't know what I'd do without Your love for me that cares enough to chase me down so that You can set me free. Thank you. Words will never be enough to tell you thank you.

thoughts on words

Tonight, I was thinking about words and their power based on who is using them.

I was thinking about how flippantly I write about human rights issues, basing all my information on a fact sheet that I read or a few stories that I heard.

But for the girl who just escaped human trafficking, trauma isn't just a word used as a synonym in order to avoid redundancy in an article or academic piece. It's real. When she uses it, she owns the meaning of that word. Or a man back from war, diagnosed with ptsd. That isn't just a word found in a medical journal, used to define symptoms. For him, it's real. He lives it every single day, and not even sleep gives him an escape. The girl who gets made fun of at school, she knows what worthless feels like, experiences the emotions of that lie every day. When she uses the word worthless in the context of her perceived identity, the accompanying emotions will be strong.

However, when she gets healed, her story will hold the power of that history and that victory...something that can't be taken from her.

dreams that remain underground

silent to the outside world until it is time to emerge...

those are the dreams that can shake the world. but the carrier of the dream; he determines, based on the character and integrity of his heart, which way the shaking will go...

a letter from Paris, 1903

Paris February 17, 1903 Dear Sir, Your letter arrived just a few days ago. I want to thank you for the great confidence you have placed in me. That is all I can do. I cannot discuss your verses; for any attempt at criticism would be foreign to me. Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings. Things aren't all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsay able than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life. With this note as a preface, may I just tell you that your verses have no style of their own, although they do have silent and hidden beginnings of something personal. I feel this most clearly in the last poem, "My Soul." There, some thing of your own is trying to become word and melody. And in the lovely poem "To Leopardi" a kind of kinship with that great, solitary figure does perhaps appear. Nevertheless, the poems are not yet anything in themselves, not yet any thing independent, even the last one and the one to Leopardi. Your kind letter, which accompanied them managed to make clear to me various faults that I felt in reading your verses, though I am not able to name them specifically. You ask whether your verses are any good. You ask me. You have asked others before this. You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems, and you are upset when certain editors reject your work. Now (since you have said you want my advice) I beg you to stop doing that sort of thing. You are looking outside, and that is what you should most avoid right now. No one can advise or help you - no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must", then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to Nature. Then, as if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose. Don't write love poems; avoid those forms that are too facile and ordinary: they are the hardest to work with, and it takes a great, fully ripened power to create something individual where good, even glorious, traditions exist in abundance. So rescue yourself from these general themes and write about what your everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty Describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don't blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is no poverty and no poor, indifferent place. And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world's sound - wouldn't you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attention to it. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. And if out of , this turning within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor will you try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it. So, dear Sir, I can't give you any advice but this: to go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to, the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you, without trying to interpret it. Perhaps you will discover that you are called to be an artist. Then take that destiny upon yourself, and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what reward might come from outside. For the creator must be a world for himself and must find everything in himself and in Nature, to whom his whole life is devoted. But after this descent into yourself and into your solitude, perhaps you will have to renounce becoming a poet (if, as I have said, one feels one could live without writing, then one shouldn't write at all). Nevertheless, even then, this self searching that I ask of you will not have been for nothing. Your life will still find its own paths from there, and that they may be good, rich, and wide is what I wish for you, more than I can say. What else can I tell you? It seems to me that everything has its proper emphasis; and finally I want to add just one more bit of advice: to keep growing, silently and earnestly, through your whole development; you couldn't disturb it any more violently than by looking outside and waiting for outside answers to questions that only your innermost feeling, in your quietest hour, can perhaps answer. It was a pleasure for me to find in your letter the name of Professor Horacek; I have great reverence for that kind, learned man, and a gratitude that has lasted through the years. Will you please tell him how I feel; it is very good of him to still think of me, and I appreciate it. The poem that you entrusted me with, I am sending back to you. And I thank you once more for your questions and sincere trust, of which, by answering as honestly as I can, I have tried to make myself a little worthier than I, as a stranger, really am. Yours very truly, Rainer Maria Rilke

Sometimes Love Gets Gross

Nanny (my grandma) and I were home alone yesterday, and today I had to make sure that she was packed and ready to go with one of her nieces for a weekend adventure in Annapolis. (Adventures at 90! So amazing.)

As we were packing her bag, she told me to go into the bathroom and drain her denture container and clean off the dentures. Instantly, I went into cringe mode, trying to figure out if I could get out of that one. I really appreciate healthy teeth (maybe obsessively), but I have a huge aversion to other people's teeth. Becoming a dentist was never a dream of mine.

I did it anyway, singing and laughing to make it less painful. When I was done, I texted my mom to tell her of my heroic deed. She texted back, "Love gets gross a lot of the time!"

Indeed. Another lesson learned. Another moment to steady my compass and open my eyes to see a bigger picture. Love is much more than words, and the working out of love gets messy and often uncomfortable. Today, it was dentures that needed to be cleaned so that Nanny could have peace in her heart about going on the adventure. Tonight, it might be cleaning the kitchen or some other unknown task ahead. Ten years from now, love will continue to look like something, or it's not love. My conclusion: a lazy, tidy lover is no lover at all.

Cup-O-Noodles and Chopsticks

Today was one of those unforgettable, crazy days. Which is only proper, considering that it is St. Paddy's Day, one of my absolute favorite days of the year. It is well deserving of memory making treatment.

I woke up to breakfast in the making, with oatmeal on the stove. Even though I eat oatmeal almost every morning, this time it felt different. It felt Emerald Isle-ish! My mom put in an album called Irish Tenors, and my grandma started singing along to "Smiling Irish Eyes" and wishing me a happy day in gaelic. It was a lovely morning. I also read an article about Saint Patrick, the abolitionist. An inspired life that man led. A God lover to the core, totally surrendered to the will of the Father. Now that's true Freedom. I want to live with that much intentionality, that much vision, that much obedience.

My pondering can't last forever. Practical tasks need to get done too.

Rooms needed cleaning. The arrival of spring brings with it the motivation to downsize and sweep out the dusty hidden places. So I started in on that task, playing music to inspire the mission. A text message arrived offering me a babysitting job, so I took it and went on my way in my mom's chrysler convertible. As soon as I picked the little girl up from school, she was excited to put down the hood and turn up some Adele as we sipped on Shamrock shakes from McDonalds. Mmm...a girl after my own heart. We got home, ate dinner, drove to the park. Almost instantly after getting out of the car, she was on the playground playing tag with kids she's never met. I was in awe, literally. If only I had such an easy time in the social department.

Once she was done, we piled back in the convertible, hood down, music up, and drove the short distance around the block to her house, where the trampoline in the backyard was patiently awaiting our return. We jumped for a few minutes, with my weight making her fly through the air. I think the fact that I know how to make her feel like she's flying is why she behaves for me. I'm glad I've figured out the secret to success in that department. Then, her friends came over, but their dad's truck got stuck in the driveway. While he was trying to call his wife and figure out what to do, I was suddenly looking out for three extra kids. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and I came to the conclusion that if I ever do get married and have kids, I want to have tons of boys because they are hilarious and so much fun.

I got home later than usual, but felt a random extraverted side bubble up in me. I suddenly had the compulsion to round up some friends and eat some sushi. Then it hit me that all the people who would usually be game for such an adventure live far away. Not many people, besides maybe my sisters, know that social moods rarely hit me, and when they do, they must be seized. Often, socializing feels more like an obligation to me, which then becomes more like torture for all parties involved. But there are times where the desire to just hang out and laugh overcomes all my introverted tendencies. I like those times, but I don't like them when there is no one around.

So instead I went to the cupboard to find something else that could be eaten with chopsticks. Cup-o-Noodles. That's all I could find. Oh the memories. I put some hot water in the styrofoam cup (which makes me feel the opposite of environmentally friendly), wrote a fb status about wanting friends close by to eat sushi with, and decided to write this blog.

Now, I will open up a book on medicine...and read til my eyes won't stay open.

What an exciting life.

another find:

March 5, 2008

I keep seeing a picture of a big dark abyss, with people down there in darkness. There are two girls standing on the ground, looking in. They know truth. One looks down, and turns to the other saying something like, "Ah, too bad for them." The other says, "I'm going down there." The first responds, "But, why?" The other turns to her and says, "Because that's where Jesus wants to go, and I can carry Him down there."

looking through old journals

always turns up hidden and buried treasure. (at least treasure to me). I found this while reading through a journal that I kept during March 2008:

I want to dance, write, sing, preach, pray, praise, etc--

like me.

Not like you. (even though I do think you are cool).

Cause I wanna be who He's made me to be and stop trying to recreate history. Lewis, Wigglesworth, Kuhlman...they were great.

But the world already experienced them. What the world needs now--is the Jesus in me, in you. The way you express your love for Him, without fear or shame.

Pursuing Love

‎"I find three deep sources of poverty that conspire to keep me & my good neighbors on the sidelines in the great struggle against evil: a poverty of compassion, a poverty of purpose, and a poverty of hope."

-Gary Haugen

My sister Brianna made me aware of this quote (via facebook, of course). It totally struck a chord of conviction in me. How often do I have my heart broken by injustice, and then continue talking about it without devising an actual course of action? How often do I surrender to a poverty of compassion, purpose and hope without even attempting to kindle these elements in my heart?

Gary Haugen is one of my heroes. He has been for a long time, with his constant example of love that challenges me to not only be excellent in all that I pursue, but to be passionate. Excellent, not so that men applaud me, but so that others can be touched through the gifts that God has placed in my life.

As one who recognizes that I do not have the ability to excel in every skill set, I get so excited to see people in a diversity of fields who not only love what they do, but have a conviction of using those skills to bless others. That excites me and inspires me. It starts to stir hope in my heart, that it is possible to change things that are unjust--that it is actually possible to see an end to poverty and a cure for terrible diseases like AIDs. That it is actually possible to develop cities of refuge for those who have been enslaved, brainwashed, and left to die. And as I think of that hope, compassion and purpose inevitably follow. It's my responsibility to stir those things up, to cultivate a heart that desires to love. As I pursue love, God fills my heart with the love that only He can put inside of me--one that doesn't get tired or let up--a love that is willing to pay the price and endure to the end.

old stride You're breaking,

dreams remaking.

I'm unlearning the definition of no.

thoughts from Ron Dart

"The Divine Life is for those who die to the demands of the ego. Such people will inhabit the Kingdom of Heaven."

...the first Beatitude promises us a taste of the Divine Life if and when we are willing to let go and die to the ego. The journey through many a dark night and darker cave points to other white-capped peaks on the far side of the valley. We are offered the opportunity to live in a kingdom that is infused with justice and peace. This Beatitude is not about spiritual individualism, and a private journey. Mature spirituality is both communal and political, and this is where Jesus is pointing. Such a communal and political journey is lived in time and history while looking beyond both. If the Divine Life and God's Kingdom are promised if we turn our backs on the toxic nature of the ego, what does this Divine and Kingdom Life look like in more depth and detail? If we are called to empty the cup of the ego and banish the thieves in the home of the soul, with what will the cup be filled, and how will our homes be renovated and decorated?

excerpt taken from Ron Dart's book "The Beatitudes: When Mountain Meets Valley".

101 Wisdom Keys

(Thank you, Heather Lundberg, for sending these to me)

1. Never Complain About What You Permit.

2. The Problem That Infuriates You The Most Is The Problem That God Has Assigned You To Solve.

3. Those Who Unlock Your Compassion Are Those To Whom You Have Been Assigned.

4. What You Are Willing To Walk Away From Determines What God Will Bring To You.

5. The Secret Of Your Future Is Hidden In You Daily Routine.

6. Your Rewards In Life Are Determined By The Problems You Solve For Others.

7. When You Want Something You Have Never Had, You Have Got To Do Something You Have Never Done.

8. All Men Fall..The Great Ones Get Back UP.

9. Intolerance Of Your Present Creates Your Future.

10. Those Who Cannot Increase You Will Inevitably Decrease You.

11. You Will Never Leave Where You Are Until You Decide Where You Would Rather Be.

12. You Will Only Have Significant Success With Something That Is An Obsession.

13. Give Another What He Cannot Find Anywhere Else And He Will Keep Returning.

14. Your Assignment Is Not Your Decision But Your Discovery.

15. When Fatigue Walks In, Faith Walks Out.

16. If What You Hold In Your Hand Is Not Enough To Be Your Harvest, Make It Your Seed.

17. You Will Never Change What You Believe Until Your Belief System Cannot Produce Something You Want.

18. You Will Only Be Pursued For The Problems You Solve.

19. Champions Are Willing To Do Things They Hate To Create Something They Love.

20. You Will Never Possess What You Are Unwilling To Pursue.

21. The Only Reason Men Fail Is Broken Focus.

22. Stop Looking At Where You Have Been And Start Looking At Where You Can Be.

23. You Will Only Be Remembered For The Two Things; The Problems You Solve Or The Ones You Create.

24. Those Who Transfer Knowledge Are Also Capable Of Transferring Error.

25. Your Seed Is The Only Influence You Have Over Your Future.

26. Loneliness Is Not The Absence Of Affection, But The Absence Of Direction.

27. You Cannot Be What You Are Not, But You Can Become What You Are Not.

28. False Accusation Is The Last Stage Before Supernatural Promotion.

29. Your Seed Is A Photograph Of Your Faith.

30. What You Repeatedly Hear You Will Eventually Believe.

31. God Never Consults Your Past To Determine Your Future.

32. Satan Always Attacks Those Next In Line For A Promotion.

33. Power Is The Ability To Walk Away From Something You Desire..To Protect Something You Love.

34. Anything That Does Not Change You Is Unnecessary In Your Life.

35. When You Discover Your Assignment, You Will Discover Your Enemy.

36. What You Respect, You Will Attract.

37. Men Decide Their Habits..Their Habits Decide Their Future.

38. You Cannot Correct What You Are Unwilling To Confront.

39. The Proof Of Desire Is Pursuit.

40. Crisis Always Occurs At The Curve Of Change

41. If Time Heals, God Is Unnecessary.

42. Your Seed Is Anything That Benefits Another While Your Harvest Is Anything That Benefits You.

43. Satan's Favorite Entry Point Into Your Life Is Always Through Someone Close To You.

44. What You Hate Reveals What You Were Created To Correct.

45. Losers Focus On What They Are Going Through While Champions Focus On What They Are Going To.

46. When You Let Go Of What Is In Your Hand, God Will Let Go Of What Is In His Hand.

47. Pains Is Not An Enemy But Merely The Proof That One Exists.

48. When God Wants To Bless You, He Puts A Person In Your Life..When Satan Wants To Destroy You, He Puts A Person In Your Life.

49. Currents Of Favor Begin To Flow The Moment You Solve A Problem For Someone.

50. The Seed That Leaves You Hand Never Leaves Your Life..But Enters Your Future Where It Multiplies.

51. Each Act Of Obedience Shortens The Distance To Any Miracle You Are Pursuing.

52. The Quality Of Your Preparation Determines The Quality Of Your Performance.

53. Champions Make Decisions That Create The Future They Desire..Loser Make Decisions That Create The Present They Desire.

54. Creativity Is The Search For Options; Concentration Is The Elimination Of Them.

55. Seed-Faith Is Sowing What You Have Been Given..To Create What You Have Been Promised.

56. The Seasons Of Your Life Will Change Every Time You Decide To Use You Faith.

57. Someone Is Always Observing You Who Is Capable Of Greatly Blessing You.

58. Giving Is Proof That You Have Conquered Greed.

59. The Season For Research Is Not The Season For Marketing.

60. What You Fail To Master In You Life Will Eventually Master You.

61. Go Where You Are Celebrated Instead Of Where You Are Tolerated.

62. The Broken Become Masters At Mending

63. Your Significance Is Not In Your Similarity To Another, But In Your Point Of Difference From Another.

64. You Will Always Pursue The Friendship That Solves Your Most Immediate Problem.

65. The Worth Of Any Relationship Can Be Measured By Its Contributions To Your Priorities.

66. You Will Never Conquer What You Refuse To Hate.

67. Injustice Is Only As Powerful As Your Memory Of It.

68. Every Relationship In Your Life Is A Current Moving You Toward Your Dreams Or Away From Them.

69. You Will Never Be Promoted Until You Have Become Over-Qualified For Your Present Assignment.

70. Money Is Merely A Reward For Solving Problems.

71. Your Reaction To Someone In Trouble Determines Gods Reaction To You The Next Time You Get In Trouble.

72. What You Can Tolerate, You Cannot Change.

73. The Waves Of Yesterdays Disobedience Will Splash On The Shores Of Today For A Season.

74. You Will Never Outgrow Warfare..You Must Simply Learn To Fight.

75. Nothing Is Ever As Bad As It First Appears.

76. The Evidence Of God's Presence Far Outweighs The Proof Of His Absence.

77. Patience Is The Weapon That Forces Deception To Reveal Itself.

78. One Hour In The Presence Of God Will Reveal Any Flaw In Your Most Carefully Laid Plan.

79. Never Spend More Time On A Critic Than You Would Give To A Friend.

80. Those Who Do Not Respect Your Assignment Disqualify Themselves For A Relationship.

81. You Will Never Reach The Palace Talking Like A Peasant.

82. Struggle Is The Proof You Have Not Yet Been Conquered.

83. Never Discuss Your Problem With Someone Incapable Of Solving It.

84. Greatness Is Not The Pursuit Of Perfection But The Pursuit Of Completion.

85. Never Rewrite Your Theology To Accommodate A Tragedy.

86. The Greatest Quality On Earth Is The Willingness To Become.

87. Warfare Always Surrounds The Birth Of Miracle.

88. Failure Is Not An Event, But An Opinion.

89. You Are Never As Far From A Miracle As It First Appears.

90. What You See Determines What You Desire.

91. The Atmosphere You Permit Determines The Product You Produce.

92. Prosperity Is Simply Having Enough Of God's Provision To Complete His Instructions For Your Life.

93. God Will Never Advance You Instructions Beyond Your Last Act Of Disobedience.

94. Anger Is The Birthplace For Solution.

95. Those Who Do Not Respect Your Time Will Not Respect Your Wisdom Either.

96. Discontent Is The Catalyst For Change.

97. Crisis Is Merely Concentrated Information.

98. Silence Cannot Be Misquoted.

99. Those Who Created The Pain Of Yesterday Do Not Control The Pleasure Of Tomorrow.

100. When You Change Your Focus You Will Change Your Feelings.

101. What You Make Happen For Others, God Will Make Happen For You.

my dislike finally makes sense

"Why has Jesus Christ so far not succeeded in inducing the world to follow his teachings in these matters? It is because he taught the ideal without devising any practical means of attaining it. That is reason why I am proposing a practical scheme to carry out his aims." -Woodrow Wilson

Wow, no wonder I dislike his practical scheme so much, "The League of Nations" and no wonder I often disliked some of Wilson's ideas without really understanding why.

Jesus Christ didn't provide a practical way to follow His teachings?!

Uh. Think again, Mr. Wilson.

Mark 10:21 "Then Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, 'One thing you lack: God your way, sell whatever you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come take up the cross, and follow me."

Matthew 5:3-6 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled, ..."

Don't Waste the Pain

This week, I started running again for the first time since I stress fractured my foot several years ago. I could have started sooner, but something mentally wouldn't cooperate with the idea of running again. I made excuses, gained weight, and lost energy. Which is why on Monday, my brain didn't get much say in the decision. It was more a "get on the treadmill and don't think about it" moment. Those seem to be the most productive moments.

Today, I ran one mile, then walked two outside. It was freezing cold and every step felt amazing. My legs are sore now. Like really sore, to the point that last night in my dreams, I was alone on a street where I couldn't walk because my legs hurt so bad.

Yet, something about that discomfort feels good. Forward motion. Growth.

I thought to myself, "I don't want to stop growing in distance and building endurance, because then I would be wasting all this pain. I have to keep running."

And then I thought about how that applies to life. Painful things have the potential of fueling growth--of pushing us into new dimensions, urging us to ignore the emotions that say it's too hard. However, potential doesn't mean anything unless it is seized.

I have to make a choice. The "easier" thing would be to not run at all--to let the current muscle pain AND the painful memory of a broken foot stop me.

But is that really easier? Fifty years from now, will I really be telling people, "I'm so glad I stopped running! I'm so glad I didn't work to expand my lungs, to strengthen my heart, to build my muscles!" Absolutely not. It would probably be more along the lines of, "If I would have just paid the price, pushed past the season of pain...I would still be able to climb mountains and cross big rivers in a canoe. And I wouldn't be on all this medication." That sounds way harder than just disciplining myself to eat right and exercise.

Big picture, Caitlin. Big picture.

I WANT my story to include me climbing mountains into old age. A story where I have paid a price, choosing the narrow way, not because I have a martyr complex, but because I am a VICTOR. That well into my elder years, my spirit is strong and pouring out the wisdom from the journey--the abundant life of the Holy Spirit. That I will have stories to tell the next generation about the fruit of courage and the brilliance of following Jesus, ESPECIALLY in the painful seasons, where discomfort feels like it is eternal.

The truth is, with Jesus in my life, discomfort can't be eternal. Even if every day in this life is hard in the natural, there is such an overwhelming joy in the hope to come--the promise of forever with Him. The eternal perspective that whispers, "the price you pay here on earth is nothing compared to the glories of eternity." Standing for Him--that's what I want to be remembered for by my Father. That determination is gonna cost me something. The narrow road is gonna continue costing me--popularity, time, friends.

But the reward is so great. To live as a daughter, without fear of man. Nothing better.

It's so worth it. It's so worth it.

Don't waste the pain. Push through. There is such glory on the other side of obedience.