Gold

1 Peter 3:1-7

Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives, when they see your respectful and pure conduct. Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening.

Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered.

I find this passage a bit intimidating to write about. The same standards apply as always. Is it true? Will I
obey it? Of course it's true and I hope to obey it someday. Much of it applies to me whether married or not. Do I define myself by my appearance, by gold (or maybe cheaper stuff) or my clothes or even my weight? Yes. Do I sometimes spend more time on those things than on what is going on in my heart? Yes. Is my spirit quiet and gentle? Do I have to answer this online? Ouch. This is how holy women who hope in God adorn themselves. Do I hope it God? Husband or not, this is an intimidating and convicting passage. People usually get caught up in their reactions to the subject to husbands part and miss the fact that the rest of it is far harder. And the men don't get off easy either. They can get their prayers hindered by how they treat their wives. That's scary too.

Shattered

1 Peter 2:18-24

Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.

Betrayal is one of the most painful things.
Believe me; I know. Hopes, dreams, trust, it all shatters in your hands all of a sudden and the shards leave you bleeding in a million places. When you've done good, that which is universally seen as good and then... Well, it's not easy. But how small has my suffering been compared to what my God has gone through for me? He chose his betrayer to be in his close circle. He knew he would betray. He ate with him the very night that the kiss was given. These are the steps we are to follow in. Jesus was faultless, doing only good. And yet God called him to face this. And he faced it by entrusting himself to the one who judges justly. He entrusted himself and his own will to the Father and to the Father's plan. Why? We were lost. And the shepherd bore betrayal, bore a thousand thousand tiny cuts all for us. All to heal us.

Honor

1 Peter 2:13-17

Be subject for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good. For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor.

As Americans we hate authority. We think freedom means having no authority, which is wrong. People get worked up especially with regards to government. But this passage, and others like it, seem pretty clear that you are to honor governmental authority. But here in the US most of us have very few run-ins with the government, as much bad-mouthing might go on. So how about we get practical.

"Honor everyone." That's pretty all inclusive. What about the husband and wife who make porn in their basement? How about the gay couple that wants to adopt? How about the sullen goth teenager or the haughty businessman or the annoying neighbor? What about your sinning parents, siblings, spouses, children? That practical enough for you? Do we even need to move on to: Love the brotherhood, Fear God, Honor the emperor (president)?

I was taught to ask two questions of scripture: Is it true? Will I obey it?

Sometimes I find myself getting so caught up in the confusing parts of scripture that I forget the clear parts. There are more than enough clear parts to spend a lifetime learning to obey. What about this? Honor everyone.

Light

1 Peter 2:9-12

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation.

 It's a rather strong contrast here from the stumbling disobedience of the previous verses. We are not that anymore. Rather a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's possession. But none of this is without purpose. This is all so that we may proclaim God's excellencies, his glory for what he has done for us. And what has he done? Called us out of darkness into light, made us his people, given us mercy. These are grand things. 

Next, rules. What? Why rules now? Because the passions of the flesh wage war against my soul. It is for my own good. Also, good conduct is one of the ways I can proclaim what God has done and thus fulfill part of my purpose. When I am spoken against as an evildoer the people will see my good deeds and glorify God. It isn't for my own glory. It's for God's glory. This is why I am set apart, for this work, for God's glory. 

Stumbling

1 Peter 2:1-8

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander. Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in Scripture:

“Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious,and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

So the honor is for you who believe, but for those who do not believe,

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,”

and

“A stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense.”

They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.

What goes into me? Malice? Envy? These are the things contrasted with the pure spiritual milk. What is this milk?  It helps me grow up into salvation, just as a mother's milk grows a baby. But the metaphor continues... "if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good." Is this the pure milk, the Lord's goodness? Have I tasted such things. Yes. I have. And the remembrance and thankfulness for those things are what has brought me comfort and stability often in my life. God is good. 

I come to him like a living stone built into his house, to be a holy priesthood. Others stumble, rejecting the cornerstone, refusing to be built into the house of God, refusing to make the sacrifices, refusing to believe, refusing to obey.

Isn't this so often my own struggle. Even though I know I'm of God's house, Jesus' words still sometimes make me stumble. I refuse to step over them, accept, obey them. Rather, trying to go my own way I run into the wall.  But when I remember God's goodness to me, the preciousness of the stone that he is, when I look upon him, I do not stumble. I see and adore. 

Word

1 Peter 1:22-25

Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God; for

“All flesh is like grass    and all its glory like the flower of grass.The grass withers,    and the flower falls,  but the word of the Lord remains forever.”

And this word is the good news that was preached to you.

Now what? Now that we don't have to live in fear of judgement because our Father is judge, what should we do? Be obedient to the truth. Love one another earnestly from a pure heart. Why? Because we have been born again. And this type of born again isn't just a temporary thing like the rest of life. Everything dies. But God's word doesn't. 

At my church after the pastor reads the sermon scripture he says, "The grass withers and the flower falls." Then the congregation responds with, "But the word of the Lord remains forever."  It's easy to tie this phrase to Scripture. And it is, but it's the premise in this argument. Because God's word is imperishable, the seed of it planted in us will grow strong and not fade or wither. 

Holiness

1 Peter 1:13-20

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.  As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”  And if you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.

Holiness. I spent a long time searching into this concept of holiness a few years ago. I wish I had come to more conclusions instead of opening the Pandora's box of questions. To be holy in all your conduct is one of those commands that feels so far from possible that most of us just want to give up. This passage can feel overwhelming. It gives instruction on being holy: being sober-minded and setting your hope where it belongs. It speaks of God's judgement. But it also points to the solution and the hope. We hope in grace, we hope in one whom we call Father, we hope in the precious blood of Christ. We don't put our hope in fond wishes or fleeting breath or a distant stranger. We hope in the one who gave himself for us, who spins planets, who paints sunsets over wheat fields, who loves with compassion that is even more unfathomable than the commands we are given. If our hope is in the right place then we can conduct ourselves without fear.

Attention

1 Peter 1:6-12

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory,  obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories. It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look. 

The patience of the prophets is what has always struck me here. They knew a Messiah was coming and they knew it was coming out in the future. I suppose it isn't that different from Christians waiting for Jesus' return. But I feel that we have the salvation they looked for while we wait. They didn't have that. Also, to add wonder to the salvation we have you get the perspective of the angels. As humans we tend to revere angels for their beauty, power, closeness to God, and the like. But what we have outshines even them. They long to look into the mystery that is the gospel. If this gospel is so anticipated throughout history and so fascinating to the heavenly beings, shouldn't it garner my attention as well? Who am I to so casually take it for granted? These are convicting things. 

Joy

I keep coming back to 1 Peter. I'm not sure why. I tried memorizing it once years ago and failed miserably. I only made it through the first chapter. But I love it and I'm going back to visit my old friend for a few weeks. 

1 Peter 1:1-7 (ESV)

Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood:May grace and peace be multiplied to you.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,  to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you,  who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

My favorite part of this passage is the jubilation. Even before the word "rejoice" is mentioned we are given a growing avalanche of wonderful words that buries us in happiness. 

• great mercy
• living hope
• resurrection of Jesus Christ
• inheritance
• imperishable
• undefiled
• unfading
• kept in heaven for you
• God's power
• guarded

These are all words that extend so far as to be overwhelming. Resurrection is no small thing. We in the church have become numb to it because of its centrality to the gospel. We tend to ignore the magic of the miracle of resurrection. Think about it for a moment. Have you ever imagined what it would mean for a dead person to come back to life, really? And this isn't in some creepy zombie way either. Fully alive. What in the world could ever be called imperishable and even unfading? Our inheritance is described this way. It won't disappear on us. It is ours now, kept in heaven for us. And we have free access to heaven because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

I've become an artist...

There have been days in my life where I wondered what I would become. When I was a kid I won coloring contests and wished that I could grow up to color within the lines. So I became a teacher and did a lot of coloring in the lines. But never did I think that artist would be a title I could apply to myself. While I still don't consider myself an artist in the truly grand sense, I'm going to try to make a go of some of my "art". I doodle. I like it. So, today, here... is a pumpkin. Happy October!

Old Poem Found in a Stack of Papers

A desolate abandonment

A lightened shadow cast below

As greasy blackness fully spent

Its wrath upon its foe.

And eyes as teary as the sea

Gaze at the waves of woe.

But few of these begin to see

And even few know

Of those grand armies watching there

And of their glory glow.

And my eyes are filled with light

Please gently wrap me round

With scarlet-hued humility

Like him with thorny crown

Grasped not at which was his

But made the lost his found.

Instead he loved and lived and wept

And poured his blood upon the ground.

Oh, to be like him, Jesus mine,

That his glory would abound.

Dubai 2008

The Problems with Being a Writer...

People ask me what I do. I tell them I'm spending the next couple of months writing. And then they assume that I am a writer (which I am... because I write) but also assume a bunch of other things that make me feel like a failure (which I'm not--I'm just not a success... yet).

1. People ask how many books you've published. (Me: 0)
2. Then they assume you are a blogger. (Me: Well, I have a blog but I'm not a "blogger")
3. They assume you spend all day in a coffee shop. (Me: Not yet.)

Those problems come from other people perceptions. They are really very minor because if you are writing from home you don't actually meet very many people who will ask these questions. The bigger problems are more internal.

For me, the biggest problem  is--

You have to let your inner voice and creativity loose. (Me: Scared spitless.)

I have spent the last year and a half drowning my inner dialogue out as much as possible. Imagine the small child with its hands over its ears singing "la la la la la". Yeah, that's me.

At first I think it was the memories, the fear, the loss. All of that had to be quiet so that I could figure out how to just do the basics, like not getting lost in a new city. There's not much time for inner dialogue when you are still trying to figure out how people dress and what you can make for dinner using ingredients you haven't used in six years.

Then later on, those things became normal again. The produce section was no longer terrifying and the rest of the grocery store didn't wear me out for a whole day. (I do admit that I still avoid the cereal aisle and the laundry detergent aisle. I bought my laundry soap online last time.) At that point, there was enough space in my life. I could have stopped yelling. But I didn't. I was afraid.

I still am afraid. I'm a master escape artist. I know how to get away from myself; I've had plenty of practice.

So this is me... calling out the fears and lies for what they are. Nonsense. Sure--I'm weird, wacky, ugly-beautiful, and all sorts of other things on the inside. I will kneel down and meet face to face the monster that lives under the bed and helps to protest for the rights of dust bunnies. There are spiders in the attic and they are big enough to be heard at night. The floorboards creak and light bulbs flicker. But I am not alone.

More on the Hats...

I spent the last couple of days photographing my hats for my Etsy shop. I liked some of the pictures so well I decided to post some of them here. I was having fun with the bokeh in some of them.

Survivor

Two sticks of butter are sitting on the island in the kitchen. I must make sure they are not voted off by the press-pot and the coffee stir spoon before my roommate gets home to make cookies. They are safe there for now. The ant army hasn't made it that far yet and my assault on them this morning has been a considerable setback in their advances. There is still no sign of them returning through the front door so the only stronghold left appears to be around the kitchen sink. Any and all possible food supply has been cut off and a wintergreen scented foam was launched against them; we will gain victory in the end.

Final victory was accomplished one one front. It was against a large red wasp that had been  unwittingly caught behind enemy lines. The large purple fly execution device proved only partly effective. The insect managed to fall into the AC vent while in the throes of death so I am afraid that it's demise was rather more prolonged than I would wish, even for such an enemy as a large red wasp. I wonder if the AC is strong enough to regurgitate its carcass onto the carpet. I hope not.

With such  successful morning as a soldier of the realm of the house, I wonder if perhaps, just maybe a period of R and R may be allowed. But no! The butter must remain and so must I.

I wake up and...

I'm on a train. The blur of greenish scenery catches in my peripheral vision. We're going fast, faster than I thought it would be. Is this an Express? I didn't mean to get on an express. No. These people seem nice. I like the train. I did get on this train, didn't I?

Back in college I was asked to teach two high school classes as a small non-traditional school. I hate speaking in front of groups. I planned to tell them no as politely as I could when I went in to meet them. I left the building with a stack of books and not remembering ever having said yes. Classes began in a month. Thus began my adventure into teaching. I love teaching.

This train though, it's nice. It makes my heart race and I smile. The rumble through the floor is familiar somehow and the jerking jostle constantly keeps you steadying yourself every other step. Where is this train going anyway? The blur is only getting blurrier. My eyes water. I blink.

There was less than a year between when I first heard about the teaching job in Iraq and when I was standing on the over 100 degree heat at 6am in the Middle East. I was interviewing teachers and prospective students within days of my arrival. My "expert" teacher's opinion was required for decision after decision. I remember praying asking God, "I don't know whether A or B is the best choice, but I'm being asked to choose right now. God, I'm going to choose at random as far as I can tell because I really have no idea. Please make the choice the right one."

The people on this train are nice. They seem to know where we are going so quickly. I like trains. I like adventure. But this, this is terrifying. I've been on fast trains. I can't tell how fast this one is going. The train is familiar, but the scenery has shifted and I don't know where I am. Is this ok? Should I pull the break cord? When is the next stop? Should I get off? Is this an overnight train for me?

This morning I walked up to a group of strangers, without my common contact. I was stretched. I walked with strangers. I chatted in the home of some super sweet Kurds. Struggling through my wrong Kurdish dialect, I was hugged and kissed by an old raisin of a woman and it made me want to cry with joy. I had to speak aloud to all the strangers, then sing in front of the strangers. Commitments are made. Appointments stack up. One week left of my "real job" and I see how my days could fill out into the future.

Will I stay on this train? I'm not sure. Part of me wants to. It's thrilling. Part of me is uncertain. Is this where God wants me? Part of me is scared. This is so moving dang fast.

It's All About the Shoes

I read some question on an online survey today. I'm not sure what the questions were for, it was connected to a company I was researching. One of the questions was "How satisfied are you with your life?" Numbers one to five. Then right after "How much would you change about your life if you could?" Hmm... Wow. I am so happy. I am quite satisfied. I feel like I might actually fit into the idyllic clouds outside that look too much like a painting.

My teenage self would cringe at me now. Some of my hair is blue. I live in Nashville (with no aspirations of being a country music star!). I have lived in Iraq. I like wearing fake tattoos. One ear has a second piercing. I'm actually more like a picture of something much less traditional. But I'm ok with that.

But I may have gone a step too far the other day. I was at target and a pair of orange and grey and blue and black striped flats caught my eye. They were cute and I wear a lot of orange. I tried them on as well as I could, taking mini steps, crippled by the three inches of  stretchy elastic and the large tags. Those are my best excuses for what happened next. I bought them. They were comfortable and cute... I thought.

The next day at work I wore them into the office. About half-way through the day I rolled out my chair and stood, stretching out the kinks of too long at a computer. Sitting down I looked at my feet, admiring my the shine of the orange on my new shoes. Turning my foot to the side, I saw them. A whole row of them. Little grey skulls and crossbones grinned back at me, mocking me. I laughed out loud. Then I texted my sister. This sort of hilarity cannot be suffered alone.

Today I wore the shoes again. Ah. Why not?!

Learning In the South

1. What on earth does it mean when someone says they want to "hug your neck"? I know it's meant well but every time I hear the phrase I can't help but imagine them coming over and trying to strangle me in the crook of their elbow.

2. I was introduced as an official member of the church this morning. Afterwards I had several ladies (whom I had met before) welcome me to the "family" and say they were so happy to have a new "sister". This I found ridiculous. It frustrated me to the point of silence. Don't be mean to the well-meaning dears... Bless her heart. But really, people, I was a sister and part of the family before today, honestly. You'd have thought I was pagan before today when I did nothing more than stand in front of the church smiling. If only they cared that much about those who are actually pagans.

3.  Fireflies, or lightning bugs, as they are termed here, are just about the most enchanting things. I sit staring out the window and the outdoors sparkle in the night. How cool is that? When I drive home at dusk it's a fairyland of glitter floating and blinking in the air. Only the children have the sense to run about wild chasing the magic bits of light.

4. I laid on the grass in the rain last week. It was hot out. The rain was warm. This feels like a complete and total impossibility and yet it is true if my senses are not completely unreliable. Warm rain? Warm air while it's raining? God was brilliant to have invented this. I imagine children would want to run about in the rain, but I have never seen any so I think their parents must worry about them getting struck by lightning. I am not fazed by this possibility, but I still don't carry a metal umbrella.

5. I downloaded twenty-five podcast lessons in Spanish. Who knew that the South would inspire that in me, eh? But after being filled with joy at corralling a handful of four-year-old's who didn't speak English, I was in love. And in love with the possibilities. There's nothing like last minute fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants chaos filled laughter and snuggles and smiles to make life good and Spanish worth learning.

6. I like fresh honey.

Aborting Our Lives

The reason our culture accepts abortion so easily is that adults have ceased to live.

People are told that sex is life and when that doesn't satisfy there is nothing else to be done. Rather than having a kid who has a hard or even average life we say that abortion is better because it would be better for them never to be born. I think many people wish they had never been born. If we truly lived and were fully alive then we wouldn't look at even a hard life as something of no value.

Even Christians who fight abortion seem to have no answer to the suffering ache and grief of life. We stand useless, the screen door on the submarine, wondering at our own lives and failing to live. I know because I do the same more often than I would like. I forget to find the joy in the pain, the hope of God in the nauseating sorrow, and instead work to drown in all out with another book, TV show, or row of stitches. I am willing to seek numbness rather than face the sharp pain of joy. I am willing to trap myself in a small cocoon world and stay there instead of living life the way God has meant it to be, full of fire and glory.  

To see the God of the Universe is like Isaiah said it was: There was incredible pain and shame and humility at seeing his own sin in the presence of God's holiness. There was joy at being spoken to by God. There was pain at the fire of the hot coal being pressed to his lips. Then joy at being cleansed and ordered by God. And then sorrow at the sins of the people. And finally joy at the coming of the Messiah. 

One does not come without the other, they are inseparable. And when we choose to see only the pain, life itself feels unendurable. When we only listen to the sad part of the story and forget the parts of the story to come, we live without life. And in doing so, we abort our own lives, the gifts God has so graciously given us.

How Dr. Who Helped Me Fall in Love with Jesus (More and Again)

I know, I know, it sounds crazy. Maybe I'm crazy. If so, I'm ok with that. I tell people that I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.

Life gets hard sometimes. Sometimes, no matter how much God has given you, you go through a period of wondering where he went and whether or not you can make it for however many days God has you left on this earth. Sometimes nothing makes sense and God feels distant. I'm not saying he IS distant, I'm just saying it feels that way. And all the little lies (you'd see the big ones!) start to creep in, and like little bits of fog they cloud your vision of the Almighty. Yeah. Sometimes life is like that. And you need a reminder, a concrete picture to remind you of this father, king, lover, brother, husband God. And God uses different things, often the things we don't expect to show us that he's there and to remind us that he is who he's always been.

So, I've been watching Dr. Who. And there's an episode where (spoilers alert) the Doctor stands out as a

Christ figure. Shortly after coming back to life (sort of) the Doctor begins to speak to the criminal, called the "Master". Now the Doctor has been tortured for a year while this Master has been routinely slaughtering a large portion of Earth's population. And the Doctor says, "You know what happens now. Because you wouldn't listen. You know what I'm going to say."

            And the Master flees crying out, "No! No! It's not fair! No!" He cowers against a wall.           

            And the Doctor goes over, wraps his arms around this murderer and says, "I forgive you."

            The Master begs to know what will be done with him, and the Doctor says that he will come and live with him in the Tardis (his spaceship) and the Doctor would take care of him. When someone shoots the Master he has the choice to heal himself (regenerate) and live with the Doctor or to die. The Doctor pleads for him with tears. And the Master, refusing the forgiveness and the new life offered him, dies. And the Doctor weeps.

And in this, I see massively unconditional love. Forgiveness which is certainly not deserved. An offer to spend the rest of time with the healer and protector. I see Jesus standing over Jerusalem, weeping and saying that he has longed to gather them as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but they would not. If you've met that Love, how can you refuse it? If you've known it, seen it, felt it, not even a cloud can make you believe it's not there. Now, I'm not saying Dr. Who is Jesus. But here, he was a Christ figure. And when Dr. Who pointed, I saw more clearly whom he was pointing at. 

Compassion

It was my little brother who first made me think that supporting a kid through Compassion International was a real possibility. After all, if a penniless college student could find a way to scrape together $38 a month, then anyone could.

Really, the decision was easy for me. I knew I wanted to give back. After all, so many people had given to me over the years, and I loved being able to give to kids. Here in Nashville that's one of the things I miss most: my kids. So signing up for a Compassion child was one of the first things I did after acquiring furniture. Like I said, the decision to do it was much easier than actually picking a child.

There's not enough to know about a child or who a child will be from the short blurbs. You know what they look like, how old they are, where they live, and how long they've been waiting. But with so many, how do you even begin? I visited the Compassion website multiple times over the course of a couple of weeks, praying. They don't have Iraqi kids.

Then I remembered. Firm dark hands, hope from a meal, a magic show on the spreading flat roof of the house, and trying to convince the watermelon man that I really did want ten watermelons, not 10 kilos of watermelon. The Bangladeshi workers were a poignant blip in my Iraqi time. Their slave trade in the country was largely inhibited through the influence of several NGOs drawing a bit too much attention to the workers. One of my teammates even visited Bangladesh and came back wearing the Bangladeshi man-skirts in a blue plaid that made everyone think of sheets.

Anyway, my thoughts traveled down those same paths and farther (because I let them), and then I knew. I also loved the Bangladeshis. I'd prayed for them for years. So, I picked a girl from Bangladesh. Her birthday is the same day as my man-skirt friend, so it will be easier to remember. Her name is Sushri and she's only five. I'm excited to see her grow and watch what God does in her life. I'm really happy and I've gotten a couple of letters from her.

But now? One is not enough... I'm not going to find another girl in Bangladesh with that birthday.

How would you choose?