The Day Life Died My Hope Became Alive

When I saw Him die on the cross, hope died inside of me.
When I heard Him say, "It is finished", I whispered, "Yes, it is".
When He breathed His last, I sighed with deep sorrow.

When the ground shook, I felt every bit of my insecurity.
When they pierced His side, it was like a dagger to my heart.
When they brought His limp body down, my heart sank with it.

No sign of life; life was pronounced dead.
And with it, the life I lived for hope.

When they carried him to the tomb, my dreams were carried with it.
When they sealed the tomb, they did so with my destiny inside.
When the third day came, my bones began to waste away.

You said you came to bind up the broken-hearted; the lost to seek and save.
You got my hopes up, only to be lowered with You in the grave.
You were our plan A-Z; it was supposed to be easy like 1,2,3.
Why have you abandoned me?
Are you the God you claimed to be?

Then I hear a voice say, "I Am", and the voice is familiar to me.
Then I open my eyes, I see a man; I feel like I know His face.
Then he picked me up, "For" he said, "I Am Risen".

"No sign of death; death has been pronounced dead.
For life cannot die, but it can put death to death."

"Oh, but I saw life die three days ago, I said.
I heard it breath it's last.
I felt the ground shake.
Then it abandoned me."

Did I not say 'where I go, you cannot follow me'?
Life died to give you life, but don't you know life cannot die?
Hope died to give you hope, but it is impossible to lose hope!
The day life died, is the day hope became alive!

Romans 5:5 "And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." 

Running Faithfully

 I love the Olympics, and especially enjoyed them this year. To me it feels like that special moment when the whole family is together on Sunday after a long, busy week. The whole world stops, comes together, and watches in awe as the top athletes wow us with their skill, endurance and strength.  And then it's over. No more silly YouTube videos of swimmers who thought they were the next Michael Phelps (If you didn't see those you need to). No more constant buzz centered around how many gold medals each nation has compared to another. No more speculation over who would win volleyball; the Brazillians or the Italians. And everyone goes back home; back to Monday.

I think we forget what Monday must look like for the athlete. Somehow we freeze frame them as standing on the stage with tears in their eyes, overcome with emotion with the realization that they accomplished their goal; they won the prize. Don't get me wrong, it is an amazing moment to remember. This picture rightfully sticks in our minds as a great symbol of where discipline and determination can take us. But we forget that it doesn't end there for these athletes. When they step off the stage, the stadium lights dim, the cheers die down, and Monday comes, they are back at it again. The same inspiring determination and discipline that got them to the "good part of the story", lands them right into the start of a new chapter. And they start preparing for their next climax; their next success. 

I grew up with a desire to run, but I was honestly never very disciplined about it. I would get inspired, make a bunch of goals and then quickly get discouraged or lazy or both. I would give up, and then pretty soon the cycle would start again. But finally last year, a friend challenged me to start somewhere. So I set my first goal; I signed up for a 5k. Having that goal gave me a reason to run; an accomplishment to reach. I know a 5k seems like nothing, especially in light of all the talk about Olympic athletes. :) But since my previous attempts at running had ended in failure, this was a big
 deal to me. You see it had to do with more than a race; it had to do with my life. The same awful
running cycle seemed to be the way my spiritual life would go. Inspiration, failure, discouragement, and then defeat. Signing up for the 5K was about more than a race; it was about letting the Lord teach me lessons through this training. I could almost feel the Lord running alongside me; encouraging me like a coach would. "You can do this, Christen. I made you to run. I am pleased when you do it for Me. Take it one day at a time. Give it everything you have."

The race day came! My goal was not to finish first, but run at a steady pace and not stop. It went well! There was such a great feeling of accomplishment that came, knowing that I prepared for something, and then did it! But just like Monday comes after Sunday, and a new week begins; it came for me. And it hit me hard. Months went by, and I ran less and less; my strength deteriorating little by little. You see I was prepared for the race, but I wasn't prepared for Monday. Many times we are told to set a goal and go after it, and that I did! But after our greatest successes we can land right back where we were before we set out, or even worse if we are not careful. We can focus on our
accomplishment, and want to stop there. But the reason Monday comes back around, is there is still
 life to be lived! There's still another race to be won! What I didn't realize was that along with the end of a great accomplishment, was the opportunity for a greater one. You see, for months Monday has been depressing me, but now I know it's only because there's something greater to prepare for! In the grand scheme of things, the 5k will be a start, but if I let it end there, it would be a pathetic tragedy.
So I signed up for a 10k this fall, and you better believe I'm going to prepare for it. I'm excited about all the things the Lord will teach me along the way! But this time, I'll be ready for Monday. 

Real Reality

So many words,
So many thoughts,
Appearing in front of me,
So much so that I can't see
Reality

These labels are innumerable,
These boxes insufferable,
Trapping me in their cages,
Throwing me in their boxes.
Suffocating my...
Reality

Not wanting to show,
Afraid that I might grow,
Find a new way of life,
Free of anger and of strife,
Wanting to keep me in
Their reality.

The words are shouting,
The thoughts are overtaking,
The labels are sticking,
The walls of these cages are closing,
These boxes they give are growing.

Further and further
Lower and lower
Heavier and heavier
I'm losing touch with
Reality

You see, their reality would say,
I'm still locked up in chains,
The lies they would speak,
Is that freedom I can't keep.
The reality you think you've tasted,
That you think your eyes have seen,
Is. Not. Real.

But wouldn't that simply be,
Exactly like the enemy?
Twisting what we know,
Making it a, "Well, maybe so."
Fighting tooth and nail,
Until our loves for Him grows stale?
Lying to us until we are unsure,
Taking advantage until we are impure,
Twisting reality to make it unreal?

No more; I want the real reality.
To listen to the sound of His sweet symphony.
The one that even if no one else hears,
If it was made just for my ears.
It doesn't even matter how long,
I'll wait tail I hear the sound of His sweet song,
Let it be my real reality.

Voices

I hear the voice of Guilt,
The guilt of centuries gone by,
Senseless hatred, unchecked greed,
All-consuming lust...
This voice of guilt is heard by all.
It sounds the gong of the fall.
When we were separated from our Father.
This voice is the cry of humanity.

Then off in the distance
Amidst this steady cry,
I faintly hear another voice
It's the sweet cry of a newborn baby.
And suddenly, with startling volume, I hear a chorus of voices.
The voices of an angel host shouting,
"Glory to God in the Highest
And on earth peace and goodwill
Toward men!"

But I also hear the voice of Pain.
It is ridden with sorrow
For sin goes both ways.
It is not merely inflicted upon us
But also by us; serving to compound
And multiply the volume of these voices.
For it continues to separate us from our Father.
We are getting farther and farther.
This voice of Pain is the groan of humanity.

Wait, listen! Do you hear this private conversation?
Between a Father and a Son?
For the baby grew up.
Now His time has come.
He is ready to fulfill His purpose.
But listen to His groan.
So similar to ours.
He does not know Guilt or Pain personally,
But their voices reached the Father's ears.
Now the Son groans,
Because of what His Father has asked Him to do.
He must take Guilt and Pain,
And die in our stead.
He groans because He too
Will be separated from Father.

I watch as the Son carries the weight of the world
He climbs the Hill of Calvary in silence.
The voices of Guilt and Pain are still deafening.
They seem to mock and taunt me.
Getting louder and louder.
Meanwhile the Son is carrying the cross.
It's getting heavier and heavier.
Guilt and pain tell me there's no way out!
"You are guilty!"
The guards nail Jesus' hands to the cross.
"You are wounded!"
They put a nail through His feet.
"IT WILL NEVER END!" they shout.

But then I hear the faintest whisper.
It comes from the lips of the Son.
And His words I will never forget.
For when they left His mouth
The ground began to shake,
The veil in the Temple was torn.
And the most beautiful thing took place.
The voices of Guilt and Pain were silenced.
All because of what the Son whispered that day:
"It is finished."

Now what do I hear, you may ask?
What voice do I listen to?
Well, sometimes I hear Guilt and Pain.
They're like ghosts coming to taunt me.
They are like lions without teeth.
They have no power; no validity.
So I remind them every so often,
"Um, excuse me, you're dead!"

Now the voice that I hear is the voice of Victory.
It's the voice of the saints that cry out to the Son.
Adoration fills their voices as they say,
 "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain,
And to Him who sits on the throne
Be glory and honor and power and praise.
Forever..... Amen."

Eyes of Faith

There's something in the way, it's in my line of sight.
It seems to be so stubborn, it's putting up a fight.
But I'll rise to the challenge and prove that I'm strong.
It's going down, you'll see, not before too long.
Whatever comes my way, I'll rise to the challenge.
Living life for what is right, into righteousness I'll plunge.
Nothing can stand in my way, my future is so bright.
I'll do it in my strength, and do it in my might.
All the while, even though I don't realize,
I'm sinking deeper, and at night my soul cries.
It's the faintest of whispers, dancing across my mind,
That says, I've believed in a lie, and I'll soon find,
If I fight alone, it's a losing battle.
But I can't face that, it will ruin my man-made castle.
With just a little gust of wind and rain.,
Nothing good in my life will remain.
However, this too is a lie I have believed.
And as long as I do, the enemy is relieved.
For He knows if I fall, and cannot stand,
God will reach down and take my hand.
Strength will flow from His heart to mine.
It won't be about me, but about Him.
On this earth He came and trod.
The paths of death and sorrow.
He shed His blood for tomorrow.
For a brighter day, and a new way.
He conquered my sin.
Soo.... this something in the way,
My God did already pay,
The price it would take to redeem.
So that I would have the freedom to dream.
And see with the eyes of faith. 

When My Back is to the Light

There's pounding in my ears, like... thud thud thud.
The sound of my feet slipping through the mud,
And rain drops hitting the ground like so many beats.
There's the wind howling like a dog,
It's hard to see for all the mist and fog.
Away, away from everything I run.
No looking back, I must run.
But now the sun starts to fade, dimmer dimmer.
My chances of finding my way back are slimmer.
Because in the darkness I can't see the road.
And my legs are weakening under my load.
But gritting my teeth, and taking a breath,
Reminding myself, I'm in control, even to my death,
Away, away from everything I run.
No looking back, I must run.
Run away from the light that so easily consumes me.
Run away from forgiveness that will set me free.
Run away from love that will always satisfy me.
I run into darkness, hiding from the light?
I run into bitterness, refusing forgiveness?
I run from love, from His love that never fails me?
And as I run, it hits me, knocking the breath out of me!
Like a kaleidescope, I was all turned around.
Since when did fighting for my ambitions,
And standing for all my silly traditions,
Take the place of what I set out to do?
The very thing I want to do, is the very thing I can't.
And the very thing I do not want to do, is the thing I do.
I set out to run for Him,
And find I'm running from Him.
I set out to change the world,
And find the world has changed me.
I run towards the light,
Only to find my back is against it.
But even as the sun goes down, so it rises.
And even when I chase the sunset,
His mercies come with the blessed dawn.

White, Black or..... Red?

My hair might confuse you,
My eyes tend to fool you,
My accent won't give me away,
You can't know by what I say.

The color of my skin,
Does not tell the story within,
You would never know,
Because it's doesn't really show,
Even now I'm where "I belong",
But I don't feel so strong.
I want to go home,
On my heart God's sewn,
Africa


I know I may not look African,
But I still drink tea every day,
And those cravings for Ug,
Oh yes, those definitely are there.
And those little phrases I still say,
Like, "Ati what?" and "Hayaye!"
Because I'm Kenyan.
For it heart still seems to beat,
And every single time I breath,
I miss every single thing.

I used to fight the fact that I'm so white,
And I can still put up a fight,
To anyone who would challenge me.
Because they only sum up what they see.
Moving away from where I'm from,
Wasn't easy and it wasn't fun.
I wanted to scream at the differences,
I would cringe in certain instances.
I will not conform, I will not change,
I'm African,
I'm Kenyan!

But the longer I'm here,
The more my hand tightens it's grip
I don't want to let go for fear,
That if I do, I'll realize this isn't a trip.
It's not a visit, but I'm here.
I will have to face reality,
Which is... that I can be both.
I can be Kenyan.
I can be American.
And yet these are surfacy things,
They don't make me, me.

It's neither the color of my eyes or my hair,
The color of my skin, that's fair.
It's not the way that I talk,
Or the way in which I walk.
It's not about whether I can speak Swahili,
Knowing that Sunday is Jumapili.
It's not even about how much tea I drink,
Or the cultural context in which I think.
Because these things of which I speak,
Only tell an external story,
Of a white girl who claims to be black.

Those are only outcomes of the girl within,
For every present there's a gift.
And on the inside I'm neither black nor white.
I'd like to think I'm red....
Washed by the blood of the Lamb.
That's what defines me.
I'm a daughter of the King,
In Him is my identity,
And outside of that fact,

I don't have to worry about a thing.

The Circus

Colors shoot out and hit their mark.
The lights drawing them in like flies.
Cheers, clapping, laughter... all sending a message.
This is fun! This is life! This is where it's at!
It's the circus.
People with faces made of plastic,
Faces that seem to smile,
But only because of paint,
And not because of heart.
They do it for their guests,
They must draw them in,
And they must keep them coming back.
It's the circus.
But let me not get ahead of myself,
For there is much more to this place,
Than just the clowns with their masks.
There are dancers who sway back and forth,
Lulling spectators into a sense of calm.
Acrobats who walk a thin line,
Saying, "You can do it just like me!
It's not hard, and you don't need any help!"
And the music... the music!
Such a key element to the circus.
It's like the oil that makes a machine run,
The wind that makes the windmills turn.
It captivates each guests' mind.
Filling it with euphoria and abandon.
And blinding them to the real story.
What is the real story?
It takes place when all the guests are gone.
The clowns all breath a sigh of relief,
Winding down like a wind up toys.
The masks come off, the dancers stop,
The acrobat falls, the music comes to a stop,
And the lights... the colors go dim.
What is left is nothing, nothing at all.
Just a facade...
For under the masks of the clowns are real faces.
Faces that frown.
And the lights are not real,
But can be turned off with a switch.
When the dancers stop, so does the "peace".
The circus is like one large magician.
It fakes reality,
By creating an illusion.
But my heart goes out to the guests,
Who tell their friends what reality is:
They say with excitement in their eyes.
"It's the circus."

Choose Life

Just a whisper through the trees,
The leaves dance to the tune of the breeze.
Just a candle through the night,
The darkness hides from the light.
Just one word spoken with malice,
And the heart can form a callous.
Just a thought in the mind of a child,
Forms a dream so big and wild.
But with just a small taste of "reality",
It can shrivel up and die in totality.
Small things, little things.
So many times considered unimportant,
But whether given with medicine or poison
They're always potent.
One moment can be the difference between...
Light or dark,
Good or bad,
Heaven or hell,
Life or death.

"I am now giving you the choice between life and death, between God's blessing and God's curse, and I will call heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Choose life!"
                                                                                                                 Deuteronomy 30:19

Shred it, Destroy it, Burn it, Kill it

Tear it apart, to build it back up again.
Shred it, destroy it, burn it, kill it.
Who knew a little crack in the wall,
Could be the result of a serious flaw.
Something was wrong from the start,
It went down all the way to my heart.
Buried so deep, I'm the master of disguise.
I'm dumb as a sheep, because I gave into the lies.
All God has to do is lay His little pinky
And though it may be a little stinky,
All the junk comes oozing out.
But nothing in me is allowed to pout,
After all, I couldn't stand it,
So I asked Him to shred it, destroy it, burn it, kill it.
Shred it with Your Mighty hand.
Destroy it by Your Sovereign power.
Burn it in Your Holy fire.
Kill it with Your gentle Spirit.
So why should I be surprised
When my weaknesses begin to arise,
They rise to the surface,
 Moving towards the furnace.
I try to let go, but I want to hang on,
I've gotten comfortable with the pain,
Don't want to live without the stain,
Without them the difference would be stark.
They've truly become my trademark.
He gives me a look, like that of a parent.
And all of the sudden my sin becomes apparent.
I won't live in shame, or fear, or regret.
But I'll keep on asking it:
Shred it, destroy it, burn it, kill it. 
Tear it up, to build it back up again.








 

Psalm 28:13 "I am confident of this. I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."

Wait. What an awful word.... that's exactly what I thought when I read this verse. I read it in the middle of this kind of prayer. See if you can identify with it. "Lord, I pray that you would show me what you want me to do. Jesus, I want to be used by You. Come and give me a work. Show me what You want me to do. At least give me a little encouragement. I'm desperate for You!" Sounds familiar? Oh and this is during a time when you are full of doubt, turmoil, loneliness. All you need is for God to say SOMETHING! And..... then He gives you Psalm 28:13. Wait. That's the Word. Wait, and seek My face. Be strong, take heart, and wait for Me. That's what God said to me at the beginning of the year. Waiting can bring out the worst in us. Have you ever been waiting in a doctor's office for hours before? First, you decide you're going to keep yourself really busy texting or reading. When that gets out you tap our foot against the floor impatiently, our eyes dart back and forth. After an hour goes by, you make a path in the floor, and thoughts are running wild, thinking... why is it taking this long? Finally you go up to the front desk, and ask his receptionist why it's taking so long. When she smiles calmly and says, "Just 2 more minutes", you feel like smacking her in the face. Waiting is the best thing God uses to reveal our sin to us. If our lives were perfect all the time, we'd probably get a little too comfortable with our sin. One thing about this illustration that I find interesting is that we try to stay busy to make the waiting period go by faster. We don't want to think about the fact that we're waiting. We can even prolong the waiting period by staying busy, because God wants us to come to the end of ourselves. Another thing that occurred to me when I read this verse was that, in order to wait for the Lord, I have to be in a place and position to wait for Him. I can't wait to see the doctor, if I'm sitting at home and refuse to go to his office. I'm definitely in this season of waiting. God just keeps putting it on my heart to stay in His presence. He says, "Wait for me. I'm coming. I have a work to do in this season, but just be strong and wait." And if you're reading this, be strong. Take heart! Wait on Him. Don't try and be busy with other things. Let Him work on You while you wait. We will see the Lord in the land of the living.

Points Back at Me

 Observe observe, and you will see,
All that's wrong with the world will be,
Uncovered because I'll show you,
I'll open your eyes, and you'll know too,
How the world is seen by me.


Hardness hardness all around,
I can't stand the hardness; all this sound,
Like an empty room with hard hard walls,
Every time someone makes a call,
All that's heard is echoes all around.

Shameless shameless that's what they are,
Don't they have morals, or have they gone too far?
No glint of guilt, no sorrow filled eyes,
Even when their deeds are the cause of someone's cries,
All that's seen is Godless, that's what they are.

Ignorance ignorance is what they know,
They think they know, but it's just a show,
Like a clown, he has a mask,
Get him to show his face, quite a task,
Choosing ignorance is what they know.

Why does the world seem NOT to care?

Angry angry that's what I am!
Why can't they understand God's plan?
When will they finally grow up,
And stop drinking out of a sippy cup?
But then I see something like.......

Mirrors mirrors all around,
I cannot see beyond, there is no sound,
It shows the world, and all these things,
And when I raise my finger to point,
It just points right back at me.

Me.... hard, shameless, ignorant, and oh! a bonus one: anger.

OUCH!

A Life

There's a laugh to be heard,
A smile to be cherished.
There's a cry to be soothed,
A tear to be wiped away.
A life.
There's a heart to be loved,
A mind to imagine.
There's a soul to be saved,
A spirit to cherish.
A life.
There's legs to take long walks,
Ears to hear the birds singing.
There's hands to hold,
Eyes to see the beauty all around.
A life.
There's a destiny to be fullfilled,
A purpose for just one.
There's a life to be lived,
A baby to be born.
A life.
But.....
There's a devil who's bloodthirsty,
An evil that seeks to destroy.
There's a plan to be put in place,
A strategy to destroy before it begins.
A life.
There's a mother already lied to,
A father that's absent.
There's a doctor who is hardened,
A nurse who's ready to take,
A life.
There's a law in place,
A procedure that's "safe".
There's a lie that says there's nothing wrong.
A life is taken away.
A life.
But......
There's eyes that see,
A heart that breaks.
There's ears that hear
Eyes that cry for....
A life.
There's hands that hold,
Arms that hug,
There's a place to go,
A Being that cares for...
A life.
There's a God in heaven,
A God who's hates injustice.
There's a Son that lives,
A Son, Who long ago died for...
A life.

This Little Light of Mine

    This world is a funny place. So filled with darkness and pain, yet there's so much beauty and joy. The sorrows are too many and too great, and yet the smallest things like a setting sun, or a budding rose can show you the greatness of God. That He's in control. You can read the news and easily get depressed, thinking about how the world is so messed up! But then see the innocence of a child and know.... there's still something good.
     There's a place called Lamu, and as you may have heard, the darkness there is great. The population is something like 98% Islamic, and there's a spiritual heaviness that rests on that island. You see the ladies dressed in black. You hear the mosques at all times at night. You hear stories of abuse and divorce. You look for God in such a place, and you wonder..... where's the light? But there's a saying that I came to know as true when I went to Lamu, and it says: When it's darkest, God's light shines brightest. Amidst the thick darkness that covers Lamu like a blanket, the light that is there, is so brilliantly light. It's like when a prisoner is used to seeing the same four, blank walls for years and years, and is finally released. When he goes outside, and sees the richly blue sky, and the beautiful green trees, he doesn't take it for granted, but every color and sight is... meaningful. In Lamu, every prayer made, every ounce of love and compassion, is... meaningful. I'm not saying that it's less meaningful everywhere else, it's just so much more obvious there. It's a perfect place to learn about the awesome power and light of God. A place to learn that we posses that power and the light inside of us. The world is a dark and sad place, but God's light shines even in the darkest of places. There's beauty. There's peace. There's grace. There's love. But it's us, His people, that are responsible to bring all that about.
    So it's up to me. I can be depressed by all that I see around me. I can listen to report after report, thinking, "This world is too far gone!" I can choose to dwell on the darkness and the pain and the hurt..... but then it would remain just the same, wouldn't it? But if I stand up, and shine the light put inside of me, be the world changer God made me to be, and tell of the freedom I received when I acknowledged Christ died for me.... maybe this world would be a different place. I don't know... just a thought. :-)

Real

I can't pretend anymore. I want to be real.
I want my life to be about more than just what I feel.
I'm tired of pushing You aside in my heart,
But making sure my mask screams, "He's been the center from the start!"
I worry about what people will think and say.
With every action, thinking, "Well, will it pay?"
If it were all about actions, I'd take a prize
But it's not. It's about the state of my heart in God's eyes.
It's so easy to be a Christian, holy and faithful on Sundays,
But it's also easy to be a Christian, mediocre and untrue, the other days.
It's so easy to think no one will ever know.
And for a time, I'll just put up a show.
But that charade can only go on for so long.
The coming of Jesus, God shall not prolong.
And when He does come, what will I say?
"I'm sorry, Lord! I didn't know you were coming today?!"
I'm realizing there's no time to pretend.
Because soon this life will come to an end.
And when it does I want to know,
That my Christianity was for real, and not just a show.
So I pray that with every breath I'll strive,
To glorify Your Name, and do more than survive.
More than breath, more than see, more than be.
I want LIVE in light of eternity.

The Shattered Mirror

Walking to the mirror that dark, cold night, she raises her eyes to see her reflection.
Just like every night.
Every golden hair in place, skin glowing, and blue eyes shining. Every feature angelic.
She is perfect.
Slowly she raises her hand to touch the glass. Slowly,  gently raising her finger to the reflection of her soft pink cheek. But just as she touches it with the tip of her finger,
It shatters.
It shatters and falls to her feet. It shatters into a million pieces.
She screams!
Her reflection gone!
So attached to that one thing she was. She couldn't go on without it. The one that that gave her peace!
She waled and screamed, panic filling her soul.
What would she do?
What would she do without seeing her angelic reflection every night. Her reflection soothing her. Showing her that YES! She was beautiful. Helping her deny her true state.
She would shatter.
Shatter into a million pieces just like the mirror. Thinking of the glass that lay at her feet, she looked down into the broken pieces at her feet.
Her heart sank at what she saw.
For this time the mirror showed her true reflection.
Her inward one.
A reflection not of face, but of soul. A soul fallen and shattered. A life gripping an image of the physical so as to forget the inward lack of the spiritual.
An image now shattered along with the shattered glass.
But with this shattering, that reached all the way to her soul,
A glimmer of light.
"Light?" she thought.  She looked up and found it was coming from behind where the mirror had been hanging. But what was it coming from... She looked hard, trying to make out its shape.
She gasped.
She knew what it was! It was covered with filth, and dirt. It was battered and bruised. Filled with doubt, and pride. But... the light emanating from it, was...
Beautiful.
More than any image she had seen. Joy filled her soul, and the light became brighter.
She felt peace the mirror had never been able to give her, because she was no longer looking at her reflection.
But her heart.

Hold Out Your Heart

"No!" I don't want to let them in,

With all their baggage and their sin.

With their faith in a theory, an idea,

They come to get, only to get!

They seem to love, but it's only for their own benefit.

They pretend to care, so I hold out my heart,

Only to be left alone, so alone!

"No!" I don't want to let them in.

I want to protect this already bruised heart,

I should'nt have let them in from the start!

Then I see a man walking down a road,

Surrounded by a crowd, yet alone, so alone!

He is beaten, and he is broken,

Yet He holds out His heart and cries,"Will you take it?"

I want to shout, "Let it all go! The pain isn't worth it!"

The Man beaten and broken looks up at me,

His eyes filled with sorrow,

But also a love, such great love!

I gasp, as realization sinks in.

This is Jesus, Messiah, Savior of my soul!

"The pain is worth it,"

He said looking straight to my soul,

"Because they are worth it."

"I bore the cross if shame and rejection;

I shed my blood... because YOU were worth it.

Hold out your heart, it hurts, I know,

To be rejected, to be left alone.

But how else will they know?"

" How else will they know what?"

I ask so painfully aware of my state.

So selfish! I don't want to let them in!"

"How else will they know you are my disciple

If you don't hold out your heart no matter the cost?

So hold out your heart."

The Feeding Program

Each day is basically the same as I take the same, long walk towards a place that has begun to hold a very dear place in my heart. The first day that I took this long walk I asked a question. A question I later came to find out was not an uncommon one for visitors: Are we there yet? It's not that this place is extremely far, but with the sun, which can sometimes feel like it's multiplied into four, beating on your back, and the sand under your feet, making it difficult to walk, it might as well be the end of the earth! :-) But that first day when I reached this place, sweating profusely and out of breath, my breathing stopped altogether. Not necessarily because of the view, which was very gorgeous, with palm trees and bushes surrounding the property and sand dunes in the near distance. That's not why my breath caught that day, though. It was the sight of 70 kids coming up to us shyly putting one hand over the other and setting them before us to "chum". Someone exlpained to me that I was supposed to place my hand over both of theirs. I did so, and then knew my heart was gone, when they one by one lifted my hand to their lips to kiss it. Every day I would walk that long walk, teach the kids the same thing, and feed them the same uji. Sometimes I would get there feeling so tired from the long walk, only to hear "MADAAM!!!" as soon as the kids saw me walking up the path. How can you continue to feel tired when you see a bunch of kids running to see who will be the first to greet you and carry your bag the whole 3 remaining meters of the journey??

I used to suffer from a heart condition called hardness. The symtons are lack of love and compassion for others. But how could my heart stay hard when looking into the big brown eyes of children who don't know the great and amazing love of Jesus? How could I remain compassionless when hearing my 10 year old student, with hardness in her eyes, tell me how she had been assaulted by a teenage boy? How could my heart remain unmoved and unbroken knowing all this and not being able to share my Savior's love with them? You see.... these beautiful children were born into a Muslim community, where the name of Allah is praised, and the Name of Jesus despised. How could my heart not be compelled to find a way, whether through simply loving them, or through my continuous prayers, to reach out to them?

This place, yes it's far, and you must sacrifice sleep and energy to get there. But sometimes while walking there, I think of how far Jesus had to come to save us. How many sacrifices He made to free us. And suddenly this place doesn't seem so far, nor the sacrifices too many.

Sadly, my time at this place is drawing to a close. And as the day I am to depart draws close, my heart tears a little more. Every face flashes before me, and I know I'll never forget one. Because each face represents a heart that I pray I've changed, and I know has changed mine.

So what's it gona be?

So what's it gona to be?
It can't be both you'll soon see.
My heart is not alive in any way,
because of all the little things I do and say.
I'm here, but I'm so not here,
in all the ways that matter I fear.
It's like standing at a door,
hearing the sound of the desperate and poor,
right on the other side,
but all I want to do is hide.
It's the call of responsibility.
So what's it gona to be?
It can't be both you'll soon see.
No way I can serve my flesh,
and God both. The two don't mesh.
Can you really change this heart?
I think you can, and know in part,
It's up to me.
So what's it gona to be?

Just When I Thought......

Hands help up, but heart hanging low.

Can't figure which is reality, which is show.

Cuz I'm moving, but my heart isn't changing,

And I'm looking but my eyes aren't seeing,

Breathing, but I'm not living.

It's hard so very hard to not look back,

and compare what used to be with this shack,

What happened to the girl with a heart,

a passion, with dreams?

It's gone all gone....or so it seems.

Then I looked up, and You were there... just there,

Couldn't speak, but looking in Your eyes filled with care,

I saw, something out of the ordinary,

Something so incredibly extraordinary,

A new beginning, a clean slate, whatever you want to say,

And suddenly, everything was wiped away.

Right when I had thought there was no hope,

Just when I had started to grope,

And thought the colors of the world really were gray,

You stepped in and made it all okay.

But "Oh, my life!", I cried with such remorse,

"Just when I reach out and make You my source,

Fear fills my heart, things block my view,

Until my mind doesn't know false from true.

I'm afraid, so afraid...could I really be new?

One more look right into His eyes,

He draws me right up to His side.

And tells me to look down on my life,

"Down at your wonderful life" he said,

But all I could see, was a huge tree,

I mean.... I couldn't even see ME!

I was at a loss,

Until he said three words,

"It's the cross."