The Adventure of Hand Holding

Girls, there's a deep nervousness involved in sitting next to a boy you like. You think about holding his hand and you wonder if he thinks about holding yours. It's this crazy butterfly feeling that threatens to tear you apart from inside but at the same time is magically exhilarating. Your stomach does cartwheels every other second; the feeling is nearly addictive. Your eyes dart to from his face to his hand when he's not looking. You wonder if he would pull his hand away if you went for it... but you have a feeling that he wouldn't.
There's so much emotion in a moment like that.
You decide to go for it, and he embraces your hand in an awkward way that says he's been thinking about making the same move and he's glad you did.
Chills run through your body and suddenly you are very aware of every twitch your hand makes, every subtle squeeze he makes to affirm you in this vulnerable moment.

I love this feeling--the adventure of going out on a limb I'm not sure is capable of holding me from falling off and hitting all the branches on my way down. It is wonderful to seize a moment that has every potential to go drastically wrong. It's probably like going skydiving the moment before you pull the cord for the parachute. "This is so awesome!! and I, uh, really hope the parachute works." I don't know for sure, I've never been skydiving, but 'm fairly certain those thoughts would be at the top of my brain as gravity pulled me past the clouds and back down to earth.

Risk is grand. I think God designed us all for adventure... even in hand holding.

Someone calls you out in the middle of your awkward nervousness, "Are you holding hands?"
Your face reddens and you're sure that your hand just got disgustingly sweaty or something. You feel like a spotlight is on your intertwined hands in the middle of a desert. Incredibly exposed. But you still don't want to let go, because every anxious moment is worth it.
"Nope," you reply and grin.

Those Three Little Words

Recently, I have pondered over this quote:

"Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him." C.S. Lewis

And, as usual, I found Lewis to be extremely wise. Also, I came to a new conclusion. I don't think this is exactly what he was trying to get at, (Here, Lewis is discussing the importance of loving our neighbors even when we do not want to--when we feel we do not love them. Please take the time to investigate his words yourself, they are wonderful.) but thinking on this quote led me to thinking about love...

I decided that love is more a verb than a noun. As a noun, it becomes nearly impossible to describe. It becomes a feeling, oftentimes a fleeting feeling that no one can really explain or wrap their minds around. It is beautiful as a noun, but as a verb it becomes concrete. Let me explain...

I know there are different kinds of love and different terms used to describe each kind--I can appreciate that. For now, I am going to lay all that aside and speak in general terms: When someone says, "I love you," what does that mean? As Lewis points out, we love people through our actions--possibly kind words, but it needs to be reinforced through action.

"Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." 1 John 3:18

I believe that when someone says, "I love you," it should be a statement of the obvious. When I say those three little words to people, I expect them to not be surprised. When I tell people that I love them, I want to say it all day long through the actions I take, not just the words spilling forth through my lips. I want them to know that I love them and to know it without a doubt. I don't want them to question my love for them; they should not need to hear me say those words. When I choose to say the words audibly, I don't want to make people do a double-take. I'd rather they smile with a look that says, "Lauren, I already knew that." I don't think there is anything magical in actually saying the words. Hearing them sometimes is music to the heart, I know this, but if there are no actions to verify the words as truth, they quickly are discovered to be hollow.

It is much more difficult and original to tell someone you love them without words. To be in love is mystical. To love someone is fact. I don't want to fall in love--I want to love and be loved. For now, I am going to view love as a verb. It is time for us, brothers and sisters, to close our mouths and let our hands do some talking.

Ten Days

I always thought I would die at a young age.

I can't explain why... it was just a feeling. I thought that I would get to heaven before most people I knew; I honestly never expected to make it this far. Yet here I am, ten days from my twentieth birthday.

Nathan died exactly ten days away from his twentieth birthday. It's strange to think that this could be my last day; any day could be. It's been an awful day, but thinking about eternity has a tendency to put things into perspective...

I'm still here for a reason.

As long as I'm on this planet, God has purposes for my life that I have yet to fulfill. For me, tomorrow and everyday after will be a day that Nathan never got to see. It's strange to realize your own fragility--strange and sobering. Am I living everyday like it could be my last? No, not really, but I'm trying.

I want the people I care about to know that I care about them. I want the world to know Christ. I want what I do today to matter in eternity. When I am called to accountability for what I've done with my life, I want to be able to look around heaven and see faces of people whose lives I've touched.

John Piper said, "My joy grows with every soul that seeks the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. Remember, you have one life. That’s all. You were made for God. Don’t waste it." He sums up the purpose of our lives well in his book Don't Waste Your Life: "to live and speak in such a way that the worth of 'Christ crucified' is seen and savored by more and more people."

This is my passion...the beat of my heart.

I desire, more than anything, to take part in God's plan by seeking out lost souls. I want to do life with people, and then I want to do eternal life to the fullest with people.

I believe this was also Nathan's passion. It has been such a blessing for me to be able to look around earth and see the faces of people whose lives he has touched and to know that even if I were to die tonight, I would see them again.

Don't even think about wasting your life--"your one and only precious, God-given life" (Piper).

Broken

"God never misses a single tear of the oppressed. He sees our suffering and knows the depth of our need. He anguishes yet He waits... until the tears that have fallen on dry ground or upon the shoulders of others equally frail are poured instead before His throne. He waits--not until the oppressed cry out--but until we cry out to Him."
-Beth Moore

Whenever I come to the end of my rope--whether it be emotionally, physically, spiritually, or intellectually--I know that God is near. I know that when I've failed to do things on my own, that is when God's strength is able to be fully displayed in my life. When I recognize that I can't make it a step further without him, he shows up. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul writes God's words to him: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

When I finally came to the point this week where I could finally admit that I was, yet again, broken, I stopped there. It was like I was crying to the heavens, "Here I am God! I'm broken. I know you desire a broken heart, and I have one." But then I didn't give my heart to him.
I was holding onto it for dear life. I was living as if the process stopped there. I realized this when I was sitting in my room by myself, too "strong" to cry. Finally I gave my heart, shredded into a thousand pieces, to God again. I couldn't even offer it up. I asked God to pry my own clenched hands from my heart and to take it and make it new again. I asked God to wash the stains from it and to pour in his love; to fill in all that was missing.

He did. And again I breathe. My heart beats strong for Him. My strength is renewed. Praise the LORD!

Food for More than Thought

A couple months ago, I watched a sermon online by John Piper, "How the Supremacy of Christ Creates Radical Christian Sacrifice."
But upon watching it for the first time, I wrote down pages of notes, things I wanted to remember--but one thing stands out in my mind. One thing I would have remembered had I never written it down. One conviction really hit home: Piper asked where the people are that count God's word as more important than food, and my heart shouted, "I want to be one of those people!"

Immediately what came to mind was Matthew 4 when Jesus was tempted by Satan in the desert to turn stones into bread. Verse 4 says:

Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

Jesus was quoting Deuteronomy 8:3 when he said this. A couple chapters earlier, in Deuteronomy 6:11-12, the Israelites are being reminded again to not forget God:

"...then when you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the LORD, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery."

Upon reading these things, I fell to my knees. How have I missed this? How could I have overlooked this for so long?
I'm a hungry person. I, like many people, eat at least three meals a day. When I'm not eating a meal, I'm usually snacking on something. My co-workers can attest to this, they have seen my never-ending supply of fruit snacks that I carry around in my apron. I need food to function properly, and I need it often.

But could it be that my physical hunger is an outward reflection of something much deeper--spiritual hunger? I get hungry in the physical sense multiple times throughout the day; why would spiritual hunger be any different? Why have I not counted God's word as important as food, let alone more imporant?
I know that some of you are reading this, and you think I've lost it...that this realization is much too radical. I completely disagree.

Since coming to this conviction, I can feel my spiritual hunger. I can sense my soul longing for food, for the Word of God. I open my Bible and read until I am satisfied. But it doesn't last long, because all kinds of messages are coming from sources other than the mouth of God. Voices on the radio, voices of angry customers, voices of insecurity and doubt clouding my mind, everywhere I go. And these voices are dying of spiritual starvation. I believe that just like our bodies need food, our minds and hearts do as well. We need to hear what God has to say more than we need to hear anything else. I'm sick of starving myself from something I so desperately need, especially when all I have to do is open the Bible and ask God to open my eyes to what He has to say to me that day, in that moment.

I challenge anyone who is reading this to take seriously the concerns of Howard Guinness when he said,

"Where are the young men and women of this generation who will hold their lives cheap, and be faithful even unto death, who will lose their lives for Christ's, flinging them away for love of him? Where are those who will live dangerously, and be reckless in this service? Where are the men of prayer? Where are the men who count God's Word of more importance to them than their daily food? Where are the men who, like Moses of old, commune with God face to face as a man speaks with his friend? Where are God's men in this day of God's power?"

And let's say together, "Here we are."

Excitement in the Unexplainable

Yesterday I had orientation at the school I'm transferring to, Kuyper College. It was a great day; I got excited all over again about going there in the fall. Today I was thinking about the day I received my acceptance letter from Kuyper and how my heart celebrated when I opened the envelope and confetti spilled out all over my desk...
I had prayed a lot over whether I was supposed to transfer to a Bible school. And when I say a lot, I mean this had been in my prayers daily for ten months straight. I kept asking God what the next step of my life was. Was Kuyper in his plans for me? Right before I sent my application in at the beginning of April, I felt such peace and happiness in making the decision. When I submitted it, I knew that as long as I was accepted, I was going to attend school there.
When people look at my life, when I look at my life, it doesn't seem to make sense at first; some things in my life don't make sense to me at all. However that does not make me worried. In fact it brings me great comfort in the fact that I'm not making decisions based on my own knowledge or what the world sees as "wise." God's wisdom doesn't always make sense to us, we can't always understand his plans, but they are good and his timing is perfect.
Many times throughout this past year I've gone back to Proverbs 21:24 which says, "A man's steps are directed by the LORD, How then can anyone understand his own way?"
This verse explains some of the biggest decisions I've made in the last couple years of my life by simply not explaining them. Because many times, I don't even understand the decisions I'm making.
I began by making a big move... going to a school 800 miles away from the only place I had ever lived. My classmates thought I was crazy and they didn't understand my reasons for leaving Grand Rapids. When I got to Radford, I was asked the same question a thousand times: "You're from Michigan?! Why would you come here?"
I truly felt called there, so I was pretty confused when I found out it was the biggest party school in the state. If there was any "logical" place to find out what being in a relationship with God really means, it wouldn't be Radford University. But that's where I really met God and began to know him more deeply. Radford is the unlikely place where all my head knowledge about who God was became things that my heart finally knew too. On a campus filled with thousands of students who didn't want to follow God, I ran into one who had a heart to disciple women. God very obviously had his hand on my life.
If anyone would have told me two years ago that I would be moving back to Grand Rapids to go to Bible school, I probably would have laughed in their face. I never wanted to come back here; this was not in my plans. As I seek more to follow God's direction for my life, the crazier it seems. So when I don't quite understand my own way, when I can't find words or logic to explain my decisions, I get excited. God's plans are so much bigger than mine. This reality keeps springing up in my life, and I can't wait to see what he has in store for my next couple years at Kuyper.

Delighted In

I ran to the beach again, this time around 10:00am. I was feeling pretty good, and I was excited to see the beach in the morning hours. After getting a drink from the water fountain, I kicked off my shoes without untying them and quickly slid off my socks. I started walking up the back side of one of the sand dunes, plunging my feet into the cool sand. Even though it was before noon, the sun was already very strong and the air was warm. The sand felt amazing on my tired feet, and as I ascended to the top of the dune, I looked out over the water before me. Lake Michigan was a striking blue, a vibrant Crayola original blue that you would get in a three-pack of crayons at a restaurant. The sky was bright and the dune grass was an effervescent shade of light green. The scene before my eyes seemed so perfect, so untouchable. While I wanted to go down to the water, I also felt content to rest in the shade for a while. I lay down in the cold sand, burying my feet and resting my head on the soft pillow of earth. After a little while of catching my breath, I stood up to face again the wonderful scene before me. I ran down the dune—one of my favorite things in the world to do—and then walked to the water. I slowly entered the water, being careful to not get my shorts wet, and went about knee-deep. It was great. No one else was in sight. I turned around to face the shining sun, and I felt like I was in a dream. The water was uncharacteristically calm, and every color around me seemed like it belonged more in the Caribbean than in Michigan. I kept looking around and blinking, wondering if it would disappear, but it didn’t. I walked out of the water, still in a dream-like state. I felt so blessed to have this piece of heaven to enjoy, but there was something very wrong: I didn’t feel part of this scene. I felt like an intruder, like it was intended for someone else to enjoy, or maybe not intended for anyone to see. I stood on the shoreline, and I asked God in a quiet voice, pleading in my heart, “Can I be part of this moment?” I felt like a shy little girl, afraid to even ask.
And suddenly, I felt compelled to move forward again. It was as if God were saying, “Not from there you can’t.” I threw off my shirt and my iPod and burst forth in a sprint into the water. I dove in, letting my entire body be surrounded by the water. It was refreshingly cold, and when I stood up again, I began to laugh. I felt intimately a part of the moment all of the sudden, and my emotions were unsure of which direction to take. The joy was overwhelming and laughter kept spilling from my lips from deep inside me, and then the tears came. I looked around and still I was the only one in sight. I felt like a child and picked up a bundle of water in my arms and threw it as high as I could into the sky between me and the sun. The water split into golden droplets in what seemed like slow motion and dropped in front of me. I was so enchanted! I did it again and again and again. I dove in, letting myself freely enjoy this time.
A wide smile was spread across my face—I could feel myself beaming. “Thank you, thank you!” I started saying over and over again, the tears coming again. “Thank you, God for letting me be a part of this moment. I delight in you.” Unexpectedly, he replied, “Daughter, I delight in you.”
Tears streamed down my face, and I knew that God had answered a question that I never asked with my lips but had perhaps been asking for a very long time with my life. While enjoying my piece of heaven and becoming part of it, God had told me that he delighted in me. My heart could not contain itself with the happiness I felt. I grabbed my t-shirt and iPod and walked back up the beach toward my shoes. All the while, I was asking the question I already had the answer to: “Father, do you delight in me?” And the reply kept coming, “Yes, I do.” I knew deeply that no matter how many times I asked it, the answer was always going to be the same. So I kept asking. While I tied my shoes, while I was running home, and hours later when I was in bed that night, I asked God that question. God delights in me. And even writing that brings a child-like smile to my face.