ARTICLES BY COLLEEN CHAO

Category: Love

Category: Love

Community

Dear Younger Self

Dear Younger Self—I know it’s cliché,But I would go back if I couldTo say: Make yourself small,Don’t resent being weak—Humility before GodWill set you free. Practice his presence:Listen and rest—A quieted heartHears his voice best. Don’t go it alone.Seek wisdom to knowWho to keep closeAnd who to let go. Gratitude strengthens.Counseling helps.Measure your beauty,Measure your wealth In joy,In friendshipIn laughterIn pain.In lossesIn crossesIn wakingAgain. Love as he loves you,Don’t fear what folks think.Forgive (you’re forgiven!),See what he sees. Don’t be surprised—More suffering’s to come.Grief will undo youAnd seem to have won…. But his Word will grow sweeter,His nearness will beYour joy and your good—Your everything. And when Death comes knockingYou’ll look back and seeLife had more purpose thanAll your first dreams. For each pain invitedYou into his LoveFurther and deeper And more than enough. (Written between March 2020 and Fall 2022)

Read More »
a person sitting on wooden planks across the lake scenery
Love

Everything my heart craves

Before the foundations of the world were laid, you saw me and knew me and knew my days. You had already determined the era of history, down to the very environment, I would live in. You knew that I would enter a toxic world, a world riddled with crisis and cruelty—but a world of breathtaking beauty and wonder too. You set me in an age of indoor plumbing and technology, overcrowded cities and racial strife, advanced health care and incurable cancer. You brought me into being though you knew I would be your enemy from the first day—born into sin, enslaved to Self, hating your ways. You knew my greatest suffering would come from within, not without. You foresaw the brokenness and the beauty (of myself and my world), and you tenderly, tenaciously placed me in the thick of it—to write a story of surpassing goodness. Even as you have allowed pain to have its wanton way with me these many years, even now as you have let rampant disease, racial division, and political upheaval change the shape of our days, I praise you for you have also—moreso— revealed the path of life to me (Psalm 16:11) made my heart glad (16:9) hemmed me in behind and before (139:5) helped me, sustained my life (54:4) rescued me from every trouble (54:7) fulfilled your purpose for me (57:2) upheld me and exalted me (18:35) delighted in me (18:19) hidden me in the shadow of your wings (17:8) increased strength within me (138:3) loosened my bonds (116:16) turned your ear to me (116:2) given me a confident heart that is not afraid of bad news (112:7) supported me with your faithful love (94:18) made me happy by disciplining and teaching me (94:12) never left me nor abandoned me (94:14) made me rejoice by what you have done (92:4) welcomed me into your house (5:7) been my refuge in times of trouble (9:9) listened carefully to me (10:17) seen my trouble and grief and taken it into your hands (10:14) provided safety for me (12:5) counseled me when my thoughts trouble me (16:7) given me a beautiful inheritance (16:6) satisfied me with your presence (17:15) led me along the right paths (23:3) guided me with your faithful love (26:3) God, you are Love itself, and in you I have found everything my heart craves. Teach me to love you more. (All quotes from the Book of Psalms, Christian Standard Bible)

Read More »
woman s hand using a pen noting on notepad
Beauty

Love List

At the risk of sounding morbid—I hope I’m buried with this Love List someday. I was 20 years old when I compiled this collection of God’s promises, and I’ve returned to it time and again in the two decades since. Its truths have held me through life’s best and worst. The world says, “Love yourself.” But by nature we’re shabby lovers—even of ourselves. Do what makes you happy, you deserve it, and take care of you first can’t fulfill the deepest desires of our hearts. When you compare that kind of self-love with the Love described below, it ends up looking like a comatose patient on life-support. But the Love we find bleeding through the pages of Scripture claims to be better than life itself.  It’s perfect. It’s infinite. It always knows what’s best for us (even when the best is painful). And it doesn’t originate with or depend upon me. It is the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, freely poured out into my heart in such a way that it overflows to everyone around me. No need to drum up sweet-nothings for myself. I’ve seen every single one of these Bible promises fleshed out in real life these past 42 years. And after a year of battling cancer, I can say it again with fierce conviction: God’s love is the real deal. God is who he says he is, and he does what he says he’ll do. Every single time. ~ ~ ~ He has engraved me on the palm of His hand. Isaiah 49:16 He carries me close to His heart. Isaiah 40:11 He holds my hand. Psalm 73:23 He will do abundantly more than all I can ask or imagine. Ephesians 3:20 He daily bears my burdens. Psalm 68:19 He thinks of me constantly: His thoughts of me outnumber the grains of sand on the sea. Psalm 139:17–18 He gives me life, beauty, and dignity. Ezekiel 16:1-14 He is intimately interested in my life. He even knows how many hairs are on my head. Matthew 10:30 He has planned out my days. Psalm 139:16; 118:24 He prays for me. Hebrews 7:25; Romans 8:26 He freely forgives me. 1 John 1:9; Psalm 103:12 He rejoices over me like a bridegroom rejoices over his bride. Isaiah 62:5 He protects and rescues me. Psalm 91 He understands my disappointments, sorrows and weaknesses. Hebrews 2:17–18 He gives me the power to live like Him. Romans 8:9–11; Philippians 4:13 He delights in me and rejoices over me with singing. Zephaniah 3:17 He teaches me what is best for me. Isaiah 48:17 He helps me. Isaiah 41:10, 14; Psalm 118:13; Deuteronomy 33:26 He created me for a special purpose and designed me to be His wonderful creation. Psalm 139:13–14; Jeremiah 1:5; Ephesians 2:10 He will fulfill His purpose for me. Psalm 138:8; Philippians 1:6 His love for me is as high as the heavens are above the earth. Psalm 103:11 He makes my path level and smooth. Isaiah 26:7 He is always with me. Psalm 73:23 He guides me with His counsel. Psalm 73:24 He gives me wisdom. James 1:5 He keeps record of all my tears. Psalm 56:8 He satisfies my hunger and quenches my thirst. John 6:35 He holds me in His hand. John 10:27 He gives me life to the fullest. John 10:10 He laid down His life for me. John 10:11 He gives me good and perfect gifts. James 1:17 He listens to me; He hears my cry. Psalm 145:19 He fulfills my desires. Psalm 145:19; 37:4 He has compassion on me. Psalm 145:9 He cures me of backsliding. Jeremiah 4:22 He makes me pure. Ezekiel 36:25–26 He makes me happy. Psalm 16:11; 36:8 He has made me His child. Romans 8:14; Galatians 4:5; 3:26 He has given me fullness in Christ, and I am complete. Colossians 2:9-10 He has qualified me to share in the inheritance of the saints. Colossians 1:12 He has given me a home in heaven. Colossians 1:13; Ephesians 2:6 He has lavished on me all the riches of His grace. Ephesians 1:8 He longs to give me His very best. Isaiah 1:19 He is distressed in my distress. Isaiah 63:9 He lifts me up and carries me. Isaiah 63:14 He leads me through the depths and the darkness. Isaiah 50:10 He directs my steps. Proverbs 20:24 He chooses to forget my sins; He buries them in the deep sea. Isaiah 43:25, Micah 7:19 He has given me an inheritance far beyond my imagination. Psalm 47:4; Ephesians 1:18, Colossians 1:12 He gives me the strength to serve Him. 1 Peter 4:11  

Read More »
people walking on the sidewalk near a brown building
Hope

Surprised by Oxford

I just spent an unforgettable week in Oxford, England, whisked away by the articulate pen of Carolyn Weber. It’s no easy task to hold my attention captive for 450 pages, but this book did just that. In her memoir, Surprised by Oxford, Weber invites the reader to journey with her through her conversion story in the mid-1990s among the world’s academic elite. By organizing her book according to Oxford’s three academic terms, and describing the historical town in rich detail (stomping grounds for the likes of Lewis, Tyndale, Latimer and Ridley), Weber creates a portal to the past, making it easy to walk in her footsteps and feel the forcible nature of God’s goodness in her story. She begins by sketching dark portraits of her life before Christ—a broken family, her anxieties and insecurities, her quest for perfection. For a majority of the book she describes the push-and-pull of her spiritual battle, and speaks openly of her longings that were for something more than “the meaningless exchange of bodily fluids, sweating among strangers, maneuvering amid pseudo intimate relationships.” But as the book progresses, its pages feel less and less dark, then less mottled, and by the final chapters there is exhilarating light and joy. One of my favorite aspects of this book is “meeting” and learning from the believers who loved Weber to Christ. The Christians in her life are not perfect by any means, but they are utterly compelling. She describes them as “…deliberate. They were pursuing despite being persecuted. They were deliberate in discerning and knowing their own hearts, confessing their own faults, desiring forgiveness, and being grateful for grace. They were then deliberate in exercising the same forgiveness that had been granted to them…” But despite her friends’ authentic faith, Weber describes her antagonistic spirit towards them. She made it anything but easy for them to pursue her, to continue dialoging about the good news. But underneath her prickles, behind all of her acidic arguments, was a steel-trap heart being undone. “That is the bizarre thing about the good news: who knows how you will really hear it one day, but once you have heard it, I mean really heard it, you can never unhear it. Once you have read it, or spoken it, or thought it, even if it irritates you, even if you hate hearing it or cannot find it feasible, or try to dismiss it, you cannot unread it, or unspeak it, or unthink it.” Try as she might, Weber couldn’t dismiss her Christian friends’ joy (“no one else has it in such abundance”), couldn’t shake their good news, couldn’t stop the rising tide of Grace. Ever wistful and compelling—told as only a literature professor can tell—Weber’s story is a striking reminder that Christ’s message is for our world today in all of its antagonism and plurality and chaos. The message cannot be unheard, so it needs to be told. If you are praying for an unbeliever in your life, if you are asking God for greater courage to share His good news with those around you—this book is for you. If you are agnostic or atheistic or cannot fathom how academia and faith can be inextricably bound up together—this book is for you. If you need to remember the beauty of the good news, need to revisit “the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4)—this book is for you. Of all the incredible books I’ve read in 2017, this one is by far my favorite, and I owe a debt of gratitude to Carolyn Weber for serving as “a bridge spanning poles, [she] crossed over to others and embraced.”

Read More »
beach daylight motion ocean
Community

“The sacred art and mystery of forgiving”

Forgiveness may just be the hardest thing we do in life. At times it can be downright agonizing, amen? But agony meets ecstasy, and forgiveness is an enviable invitation into the very heart of Christ. When we forgive at great expense, dying to ourselves and our desire for self-justification, we know Him better. We experience the miracle of His life in us. We wade deeper into the ocean of His love. And what does His love look like? C.H. Spurgeon put it beautifully in his sermon on Ephesians 4:32: All our transgressions are swept away at once, carried off as by a flood, and so completely removed from us that no guilty trace of them remains. They are all gone! O ye believers, think of this, for the ALL is no little thing: sins against a holy God, sins against his loving Son, sins against gospel as well as against law, sins against man as well as against God, sins of the body as well as sins of the mind, sins as numerous as the sands on the sea shore, and as great as the sea itself: all, all are removed from us as far as the east is from the west. All this evil was rolled into one great mass, and laid upon Jesus, and having borne it all he has made an end of it for ever. When the Lord forgave us he forgave us the whole debt. He did not take the bill and say, ‘I strike out this item and that,’ but the pen went through it all—PAID. It was a receipt in full of all demands, Jesus took the handwriting which was against us and nailed it to his cross, to show before the entire universe that its power to condemn us had ceased for ever. We have in him a full forgiveness. Dear one, I have too often been the hypocrite—the one who was freely pardoned $1,000,000,000 only to be caught violently demanding repayment of a $5 debt. To put it another way, if my sins were all the sand of the world’s seashores, your offense against me would be a solitary grain of sand. When I withhold forgiveness from you, I betray the fact that I don’t understand calvary love at all. But what of the times I’m obediently forgiving—yet tempted to make much of it in my heart? Do I secretly believe I’m the only one being wronged, the only one perpetually pardoning others? Again, Spurgeon says it so well: [Ephesians 4:32 says] ‘forgiving, one another.’ One another! Ah, then that means that if you have to forgive to-day, it is very likely that you will yourself need to be forgiven to-morrow for it is “forgiving one another.” It is turn and turn about, a mutual operation, a co-operative service. In fact, it is a joint-stock business of mutual forgiveness, and members of Christian churches should take large shares in this concern. You forgive me, and I forgive you, and we forgive them, and they forgive us, and so a circle of unlimited forbearance and love goes round the world. There is something wrong about me that needs to be forgiven by my brother, but there is also something wrong about my brother which needs to be forgiven by me, and this is what the apostle means—that we are all of us mutually to be exercising the sacred art and mystery of forgiving one another. Let us begin our Christian career with the full assurance that we shall have a great deal to forgive in other people, but that there will be a great deal more to be forgiven in ourselves, and let us set our account upon having to exercise gentleness, and needing its exercise from others, ‘Forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’ Who have we received forgiveness from today? Who do we need to forgive today—in such a way that “no guilty trace remains”?    For more thoughts on forgiveness, read 5 Ways to Pursue Peace in a Difficult Relationship. 

Read More »
Hope

Painting

My dirty, sweaty 5-year-old is sitting on the back porch happily humming and throwing fistfuls of birdseed on the lawn. We’ll have an aviary here by morning. And my heart swells with joy as I take in this moment. Little boys are magic-in-the-raw. They’re a composite of lizards and sticks and rocks and snails. They climb and jump and track mud into the house and never flush the toilet. They leave Legos in high-traffic areas and half-eaten apples in hard-to-reach places. They eat as if the grocery budget is made of gold. Well, at least mine does. He’s all boy and I love it. And sometimes these boyish moments make me catch my breath with the beauty of it all. But I know there’s life beyond the back porch. Motherhood isn’t a quest to secure an idyllic, protected existence for my son. But then what is it? What makes a good mom? And how do I prepare my child for the hard knocks and deep wounds and a world that wages war on the truths we cherish in our home? ~ ~ ~ ~ I occasionally paint for the enjoyment of it, for the way the colors and patterns and repetitive brush-strokes relax me (definitely not because I’m gifted at it). And while I know very little about the technical aspects of painting, I do know you need some raw materials, including paints and brushes and canvas. When my son was born with multiple health complications, my world went spinning. Nothing prepares you to watch your child writhe in pain, gasp for breath through the wee hours of the night, and live with food allergies that ostracize him in social settings. It’s taken us five years to begin getting clear diagnoses of his conditions, and still we have unanswered questions. And though we haven’t faced anything life-threatening, there have been moments in this journey that have wrecked me. But it’s been the desperate days that have given me a dark canvas on which to paint bright truths of a good God. When my son tells me how it feels to be the only kid without an ice cream cone, or when he has to go for more blood-work or begin a new treatment, those moments are gifts: I get to hold him tight and remind him that Jesus sees and understands and cares. He suffered too so He knows how to comfort us in our own sufferings. I tell him how I see God growing him in courage, and I retell him stories of men in the Bible—like Joseph and Daniel—who learned to be courageous because God was with them. It’s easy for me, as an inexperienced mom with a myopic paradigm, to get sucked into the whirlpool of endless parenting resources, opinions, and methodologies. And while those can be of some help, they won’t hold me through the toughest days of motherhood. (And the toughest days may be yet to come.) I need to keep before me, and my son, a great God who does great things. ~ ~ ~ ~ As a painter looks long at a landscape, imitating each color and shadow and line, she does so to let others see what she sees, to let others marvel at what she marvels at. So it must be with my motherhood. At this young age my son will see the God I see, he will begin to marvel as I marvel. The puritan Isaac Ambrose wrote: “I look upon as chief and choice of all the rest [of my duties] the duty I call Looking unto Jesus.” The great work of my motherhood is not in the sum of my daily duties—clothing, cleaning, feeding, instructing—vitally important as those are. The great work of my motherhood is “looking unto Jesus.” And as I look, I tell my son what I see. It’s the very essence of Deuteronomy 6: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. In our human nature we complicate and over-regulate what God has made simple and accessible to us through His Spirit: the command to love Him with all that I am and to let that love shape my motherhood. Keep God constantly before me (like “frontlets between my eyes”), then tell my son about Him daily, diligently—when we get up in the morning, when we’re in the car, when we’re eating, playing, working, resting. What did I learn this morning as I met God in the Word and in prayer? How can we see God’s awe-inspiring creativity in creation today? How have I totally messed up and needed Jesus? What stories from my life show God’s goodness and faithfulness? Whose salvation can we pray for today? How is God working around the globe? Orange and red and turquoise and gray—we parents get to paint pictures of Almighty God on the canvas of our children’s hearts. They aren’t the best nor the truest pictures (we see dimly this side of eternity), but they are invitations to marvel at what our hearts are made for. I can’t control outcomes. I’m not given any guarantees for how my son will turn out. And my motherhood is riddled with weakness. But I can keep my eyes fixed on Jesus. And I can ask Him to open the eyes of my son’s heart—so he too might look and be amazed. Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed. (Psalm 34:8)

Read More »
woman turning around on green fields
Bible study

I don’t have to scream anymore

They’d been running around in circles all morning, yelling, begging their god to answer them—to no avail. So they screamed louder. Louder and longer. And when screaming didn’t work, the 450 desperate prophets drew swords and started cutting themselves till they were a mob of sweaty, stumbling, blood-soaked oafs, still convinced their god would eventually answer them. An entire nation looked on, with all their money on Baal. These prophets knew how to bend Baal’s ear, so it was only a matter of time before he answered. Only one man stood apart from the motley crew, taunting: “Pray louder! Maybe Baal is relieving himself or traveling or sleeping! Louder!” “They raved on . . . but there was no voice. No one answered; no one paid attention.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Although thousands of years have passed since that showdown on Mount Carmel, Elijah’s culture is reminiscent of ours today. Like Baal, the gods of our age seem always to demand more—so the modern masses run in circles, screaming and bleeding like their pagan predecessors. Theirs are fever-pitched cries that threaten to drown out what we God-fearers hold sacred. They scream against the very existence of God. They run themselves ragged to redefine gender and marriage and family. They spill their womb’s blood at the altar of convenience. And still it’s not enough. Deep down they scream because their gods won’t answer them. Their gods have no voice. And the silence is terrifying. So…. more noise, more running, more blood. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Bible tells us that Elijah was “a man with a nature like ours,” and his fervent prayers worked miracles. He didn’t have to yell or scream. He didn’t throw a fit to make his point. He prayed. He obeyed. He waited on God to act on his behalf. And when the prophets had worn themselves out and Baal didn’t show up, Elijah said, “Now come to me.” And he stacked the odds against God. He put God’s reputation so far out on a limb that only a miracle would do. Then he prayed: “Answer me, O Lord, answer me, that this people may know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you have turned their hearts back.” Only one who knew God well could courageously ask for such things. And in response to Elijah’s faith, God answered with fire. “And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces and said, ‘The Lord, he is God; the Lord, he is God.’” Dear One, we have the potential to influence our world as Elijah did. (After all, he had a nature like ours!) But in our clamor to be heard by the masses—to keep our seat in the political arena, to prove ourselves right, to demand fair treatment—we are in danger of forgetting our most precious position: a seat at the feet of Jesus. He hears us. He sees us. He answers us. Sure, to the world we look foolish and misguided in our faith, and we will be mocked and marginalized. But when we drop to our knees we’re talking directly to Elijah’s God, “the God who answers by fire.” We know the One whose voice “flashes forth flames of fire and strips the forests bare,” so we don’t have to strain our voices to vindicate ourselves. But the godless masses—they have to scream. It’s their only hope of being heard. Their gods, they are forever blood-thirsty, forever demanding more. As one Proverb tells us, “Death and Destruction are never satisfied.” But the One True God shed His Son’s blood so we wouldn’t have to bleed. Christ’s death so perfectly satisfied God that Christ could say, “It is finished.” No more running in circles for us. No more screaming. And oh how the masses are dying to hear that good news. As a former screaming, bleeding enemy of God, I long to reach out to those who are still running frantic and say to them, “Let me show you the God who created you, who hears you, who loves you.” So send us, Lord. Send us to those who are exhausted from crying out to deaf-and-dumb gods. Even today may we speak Your words, may we be those who…. …bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scriptures referenced: 1 Kings 18; Isaiah 64:4; Matthew 11:28; 1 Corinthians 3:18-21; Psalm 29; Proverbs 27:20; Isaiah 52:7; John 19:30

Read More »
close up photo of coffee on table
Love

Date at dawn

I penned this almost eight years ago in the midst of a desperate season, when I was hungry for the Word and a quiet space to process my hurting heart. A small booth in the back corner of Panera Bread became my sweet refuge that Spring. This journal entry is a beautiful reminder to me that God knows just how to pursue us, woo us, in every season of our life. (How are you experiencing Him in this unique season of yours, dear one?) April 3, 2009 It’s 6:01 on Friday morning, and I’m at my neighborhood Panera Bread. These days I get up between 4:30 and 5:00 to make it here by the time the doors open. My Bible and C.S. Lewis’ The Problem of Pain sit beside my cup of coffee. There’s a group of old men that beats me to the door every morning. (One of them dresses as if he’ll be attending the Santa Anita horse races later this afternoon.) They take up two tables by the door and talk for hours on end. Another old man sits by himself a few tables away and reads through his Coke-bottle glasses. He carries a manila folder with a big superman-like S drawn on the front. I’d like to know what’s in that folder. Then there’s a quiet Asian woman whose hair is always pulled back into a ponytail and who reads her Bible and journals—then slips out quietly around 6:45. Once or twice a week, six medical doctors convene at the big conference table in the middle of the restaurant. They eat bagels and talk about important stuff. The classical music doesn’t start playing until about 6:15, just about the time one of the Panera employees drags the cafe umbrellas outside. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone sitting outside this early in the morning. It’s too cold. Too dark. Of all the Panera regulars, my two favorites are about to walk through the door: two Redlands High School girls who I became friends with in this corner of the restaurant last Monday morning. I wonder if any of the students at our school would, of their own volition, get up and go sit at a coffee shop at 6:30 in the morning? The periwinkle sky has just caught my eye, and it looks like the midnight’s lighthearted storm left behind some billowy remains. It’s beautiful. Everything is wet and cloudy and peaceful. Just what my heart needs before my day full of responsibilities that far exceed my capabilities. Which is why my favorite part of Panera is the part that’s unseen and indescribable. Unbeknownst to everyone around me, there’s someone else at my table with me. I walk in here every morning in desperate need of more than just coffee. (Although that’s important, too.) I need Him. His words. His truth. His hope. His wisdom. I need to lay my day before Him and ask Him for His strength and joy. And He gives it in abundance. He’s not stingy or tired or grumpy. He’s here with me, eager to accomplish His purposes in and through me today. I want to be a regular with Jesus. I want to know what He’s like and what He’s up to each day. I want to sit and observe and listen and learn. And then do. I want to go from here and obey what He’s spoken to my heart. Thank You, Lord, for this little corner. This healing place. This daily cup of joy…

Read More »
anonymous woman walking in refugee camp
Community

In a world of refugees….

Today I sat with a friend from Romania whose family has suffered upheaval and persecution as far back as she can remember. Her heritage is heroic. Her Jewish grandmother fled to Romania to escape the Germans. Her German grandfather escaped a Siberian concentration camp and endured an arduous 14-month journey home. Her Romanian aunt and uncle—Christians under Communist rule—fled to the United States for religious freedom. Listening to my friend’s stories, passed down from generation to generation, reminded me that I am incurably American in my way of thinking. Security and comfort, that is what we know and prize here. How can I even begin to imagine a world where I must run for my life or tyrants will take it from me? I don’t get this refugee reality at all.  I cringe to admit that sometimes the nonstop needs in my own little corner of this world can overwhelm me, and it’s hard to find time to cultivate compassion for people I may never meet. If I can’t keep up with the people and tasks within arm’s reach, how can I ever care for those a world away? It’s one of the reasons why I need to “abide in Christ”—so I have His heart for both my reality here in California and realities worldwide. I need Him to teach me what He wants me to do with the time and resources He gives me each day. When to give myself to what is right in front of me—and when to educate myself on what’s going on in the larger world. When to make time for mercy that reaches across the miles. Truth is, my heart gets bigger when I remember that I serve the God of nations. He is not a 21st Century American God. And I’m a better friend, neighbor, wife, and mom when my heart beats beyond this country’s borders. My son especially needs to see me pursuing the physically and spiritually impoverished. He needs me to live in the uncomfortable question, “How can we give and sacrifice to love suffering peoples for Christ?” History proves that a refugee crisis is nothing new, and it guarantees we will always have refugees among us. So what will we, the Body of Christ, do to care for them? I’m not saying I’ve got this figured out. Far from it. But God’s working on me, and I love Him for it. So here’s a small way I’m attempting to enlarge my heart this month. I’m having my son join me in: Collecting coins and bills in a jar, the sum of which we’ll send to Samaritan’s Purse in March. Their relief efforts are some of the best on this planet. Watching videos like this one together. And this one. Learning more about the refugees traumatized by ISIS, war, and other forms of persecution. Praying for God to bring the gospel and physical relief to refugees around the globe. (This article!) Chances are, our impact will be infintesimally small. (That’s okay: impact is the Lord’s work, not mine.) But perhaps the simple acts of dropping coins in a jar, of praying while I wash dishes, of talking to my son about people groups like the Yazidi—maybe these are the small faithfulnesses that will grow my love large. In a world shouting loud its opinions of this crisis, would you consider joining us in your own small, quiet way? What if we were all praying and giving as we went about our days’ work, asking God to give us His heart for these who have lost so much—and who need Him so desperately? Photo credit: Vadim Ghirda.

Read More »
Beauty

Ezekiel 16

I remember you before you were beautiful. Before you stopped people in their tracks and made jaws drop and heads turn. You, who are now the fairest of all—were once the pity of all. You were a bloodied and abandoned newborn, left in an open field to die. Rejected. Unloved. At your birth no one cried, “It’s a girl!” No one cleaned you or comforted you or nursed you. They looked at you, covered in your afterbirth and blood, and tossed you out like refuse. But as you writhed and wailed and gasped for breath…. He walked by. He slowed His steps, looked at you and said, “Live!” He loved you with a fierce yet tender love, an unreasonable love. A foolish love. He pulled you out of the heap of blood and briers you lay in, He wrapped you in His arms, and He gave you life. “Live!” was the song He sang over you as He dressed your wounds and clothed you as His own daughter—as royalty. He lavished you with clothes and jewelry and food and beauty treatments as had never been seen before. You were His bride, the apple of His eye, a queen perfect in beauty. And now you were to sing His song of life over others (so they too might live). You loved Him back with an adoring love. Your heart beat happy with salvation and you could not stop singing His song of life. But soon you heard the sound of your own voice over His. Oh how sweet you sang! You caught sight of your own reflection and became enamored by your beauty, your dress, your privileged position. And you forgot. You forgot what He looked like, what He sounded like…. what He’d saved you from. You danced to the song of yourself. Your song deafened you to the cries of the despised and dying around you. They cried out for Life, but you offered them only yourself. (You, once ruined as they are now.) Now the bloodied rise up and cry “Death!” and you, so consumed with self, act surprised. You resent them in their dirty desperation and point a fair finger at their misery. How dare they not love you! Do you not see? Can you not understand? Your own song will not do, faithless bride. Your pageantry and airs will not suffice. The dying need Life himself. Oh that you would run back to Him, cling to Him as in those first days of love, and let Him sing His song over you—that they might hear and believe. How will they believe if they have never heard? You are chosen for this, beloved one. You were saved to go save. The Rescuer is slow to anger and abounding in love, not wanting any to perish but all to “Live!” So return to your First Love. Remember what you were before He rescued you. Hide yourself in Him till your heart beats with His, till your ears are full of His voice and your eyes are alight with His love. Then go and sing His song to the dying: Live! Scriptures referenced: Ezekiel 16, Ephesians 5, Jonah 4:2, 2 Peter 3:9, 1 Timothy 2:1-4, Zephaniah 3:17, Revelation 2:2-5, Romans 10:14-17

Read More »

Category: Love

woman s hand using a pen noting on notepad
Beauty

Love List

At the risk of sounding morbid—I hope I’m buried with this Love List someday. I

Read More »
Hope

Painting

My dirty, sweaty 5-year-old is sitting on the back porch happily humming and throwing fistfuls of

Read More »
Beauty

Ezekiel 16

I remember you before you were beautiful. Before you stopped people in their tracks and

Read More »