a pinch of encouragement, a dash of inspiration, and a sprinkle of hope.

Almost every morning I leave the apartment for class at 8:30. Recently, I’ve tried to rouse myself out of bed and leave ten minutes earlier. Why, you ask? Because I have become
inspired.

If I leave my house at just the right time, I have the privilege of seeing one of the most magical moments. Every weekday around 8:35, a man, about 50 years old crosses the bridge. He is grandfatherly, but still young spirited, with a short graying beard, light steps, and cute black rimmed glasses. Unlike many here in Spain, this man walks with a smile, which was what first caught my attention. But that is just the beginning of my magical moments.

The sunrise is much later here than at home. So at 8:35, the sun has just stretched over the buildings in Sevilla. Most people are briskly walking, heads down, rushing to their already busy days, but not this man. Every morning, he walks about halfway across the bridge and then stops.. He turns and takes in the beauty of the sun over the buildings, the clouds reflecting in the water, and the skyline that I’m sure he’s seen for years. But then comes my favorite part.
He smiles, pats his heart, and keeps walking.

This whole ordeal only takes about 10 seconds, and others may not understand, but that man has become such an inspiration for me. Taking the time every morning to be thankful for another sunrise, stopping and making up his mind that today is another beautiful day, and although he doesn’t know it, he is reminding everyone else to do the same. He has taught me that I have to take the time every day (often times more than once a day) to remind myself that this is a beautiful life I’m living, that I have the opportunity to see, and do, and be something beautiful.

Today, was the first rainfall in Sevilla. It was damp, dreary, and overcast. Like every other morning I tried to leave a little early to see “my magic moment”, but I started worrying the closer I got to the bridge. Because of the clouds and the rain, the sky wasn’t very beautiful, you couldn’t see the sun at all, and the water looked sinkingly green and grey. I saw him walking from the other side of the bridge, so easy to pick out his happy stride from the herd. What would the old man do when he turned to see the disappointing view? I’m glad you asked.

He turned.
And looked.
And looked some more.
Searching the skies for about twice as long as usual.
Then he smiled, patted his heart, and continued walking.

At first I didn’t know what to think of this moment. Was he disappointed by the view? Why did he stare for so long? What exactly was he thinking? Of course, I can’t read his mind, but this is what the old man taught me today.

When you turn and you find yourself surrounded by dreary sky, when the view isn’t as inspiring as it was yesterday or the week before, when the clouds and the road look dark ahead, keep looking. When things seem ugly, keep searching for the beauty in your skyline. It might take you a little longer, or much longer, but there is beauty to be found in any and every situation. Even if it’s just that tomorrow’s forecast calls for sunshine. How beautiful that we have tomorrow to look forward to.

So smile because you’re able,
 pat your heart ’cause you’re still breathing,
and keep walking forward. 

Seven Years Rule.

Every seven years our body sheds and replaces every single cell of our being. 

 

Before you say nothing will ever change, wait seven years. You and everyone around you will be entirely different beings.

I thought you should know.

After three years of dragging myself around, my feet are picking up again.
When I saw your photo with her the other day, with that smile I hadn’t seen you wear in so long.
I really thought that would kill me. I really thought I’d hit the floor.
Lose myself like I did before, every time your knuckles found my door.
But after a moment of whatever that feeling was– shock, raw, lonliness–
I smiled.
I thought you should know.
Can I tell you that yesterday I watched a romantic movie and felt… good.
I didn’t cringe at the specifics of a love I thought could never be.
I thought you might want to know.
Today, I almost listened to an entire love song– of course one of “ours”
And something remarkable happened.
I didn’t think of you at all.
Of course then I thought about how I wasn’t thinking about you.
But I can count on one or two fingers the times that has happened in 3 whole years.
So I thought maybe you’d want to know.
Today I realized I can do nothing but thank you for that simple photo.
I don’t even know how I saw it,
But I did.
And it was beautiful.
And I’m so happy for you.
And I’m even more happy for myself.
Because you finally let me go.
And I’m smiling now, really smiling at the freedom of it.
So I thought you should know.
Tomorrow I will smile at something else. Not that I haven’t smiled a million times a day.
But it will be a carefree smile with no regrets.
A smile with no invisible strings pulling at the ends.
A smile that doesn’t have a past.
I’m smiling right now.
And I thought you should know.

One is the loneliest number.

People say that being alone is the worst place you can be. One is the loneliest number.

I’d have to disagree with the all-knowing “they”. The truth is that you are never really alone. There are two leach-like beings that you can’t get rid of. Even when you’re in the quiet, in the dark, with no one else around, they’re presence is booming. These two have been with you forever and have built up all their arguments against you. The looming creatures are known as the Head and the Heart.

The Heart is a sullen fellow. He seems to memorize your lowest moments and present them to you when you’re down. Like a picture show the scenes race by, one after another, the Heart himself, narrator. And just when you feel you can’t take anymore, like your chest might implode, the Heart delivers his monologue. His pathetic plea for pity. His agonizing attempt for sympathy. He then makes his retreat. Letting his words echo around first in your chest, then sinking to your stomach where they rest. They lay waiting for the next hiccup to bring them forth just for a second, or the next “lonesome” moment when the Heart will pick up his drawing board and start again.

The Head is conniving. He has stockpiles and stockpiles of not only stories, but data: facts of the past, facts for the future. And don’t you dare doubt his figures; he has entire reports to back his claims. Each excruciating account against you sinks you deeper in your chair. The Head never forgets. No matter how much you plea or how big the bribe, he will never forget his charges against you. You can try to salvage yourself. Conduct your own argument for what you did and why. But the Head is as unmerciful as concrete on bare palms.

I’d agree that by definition, one is the loneliest number. But you are never truly alone. 

we all know i’d never really say it…

It’s probably unfair how much I expect from you. But I will never apologize for seeing the remarkable potential in you that no one else seems to notice. So go on, live your day to day boyhood. I’ve decided to stop making excuses in my mind about why you haven’t found the high road by now. Finally, I can be angry. And not at anything you’ve done, but at all the things you haven’t. 

The kingdom belongs to such as these.

This summer at the age of 20 I lead a short term missions trip to a poor community in the deserts of Mexico. The entire journey, from asking my pastor to lead a trip, to crying all the way back to our home airport was the most difficult and beautiful experience I’ve ever had.  First struggling to work with the authorities of different churches, and then being with the children of this village brought a life perspective that I would have never opened my eyes to in my safe suburban US life.

                Singing songs, playing games, handing out food, and teaching God’s love were all a part of our agenda with the children of Las Ladrilleras, a poor brickmaking village about 15 miles into the desert outside of Chihuahua City, Mexico. Pats on the back, hugs, piggy-back rides, countless up-close photos, and many, many kisses on the tops of dirty little heads, however, snuck their way into every piece of our agenda. We could barely help ourselves to not take every pair of big brown eyes home with us! I can almost hear Jesus saying, “Silly little Christians, THIS is how you show my love.”

                On the third day of our trip, we received a call that set my brain and heart in motion. Linda, a mother of 3 and head of the church of Las Ladrilleras called to say, “Gracias, gracias, gracias.” Linda was overwhelmed by the love that flowed through us. She explained that so many of the kids are dirty, diseased, bug infested, all things that anyone could see, but honestly, I hadn’t really noticed. Linda told us that so many people are too worried about contracting these illnesses to even lay a hand on these beautiful kids. This news brought joy at what we were doing, sadness knowing the previous treatment of these kids, and even pleasure knowing we were truly demonstrating the type of complete love that Jesus called us to share.

                I was reminded of this scripture.
Mark 10:13-16
“13 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. 14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 15 Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” 16 And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”

                I tried to picture the scene, Jesus standing and teaching, people crowded around him. It was probably difficult to hear him speak, not to mention those pesky kids in the back. There’s that baby who won’t stop crying, the little boy who’s trying to play tag, and the little girl who keeps pushing through the skirts of people to see what all the fuss is about. These children, like many children were probably sticky from their last meal, dirty from playing and falling, and altogether disruptive to those trying to “follow Jesus”. So what did the disciples do? They shooed them away. They tried to quiet the scene. They were trying to be respectable people. But Jesus not only called these children to him, he laid his hands on them, blessed them, and told them that the kingdom of God belonged to them!

                In our time with the children, we had laid hands on them and tried our very best to bless them, but I didn’t quite understand why or how the Kingdom of God belonged to them. The next few days I did my best to observe the children; their attitudes, their words, I wanted to understand what it meant to receive the kingdom “like a child”. Through the rest of our trip, God showed me three ways in which we are to be like children.

1)      Be real and raw with God.
When you have a scraped knee as a child, you run to your parents and cry and sob until it’s all better. When you are happy, you sing, laugh, jump, dance, even to the point of annoyance. God wants us to come to Him with whatever we are feeling. He wants us to be open, without reservation, and show Him exactly what is on our hearts. During the week, one of my favorite little girls fell and hit her head. I scooped her in my arms and she clung to me. She cried, not caring what the other kids thought of her, but she cried until I wooed her back to normalcy. A few minutes later we were laughing and playing. But the point is she came to me with what she was feeling and because of her honesty, our relationship grew.

2)      Totally rely on God to provide.
As a child you are entirely reliant on people to provide you with clothes, a place to stay, and even to provide food for you. You understand that you are dependent and that you can’t do everything by yourself. You need help.  As we grow up we seem to forget our dependency on God for every breath and we find ourselves trying to do everything on our own. The kids in Las Ladrilleras not only depended on their parents for such things, they depended on volunteers like us as well. They relied on our timing, our schedule during the day told them when and where to go. They depended on us for knowledge, purpose, care, and love.  Just as we should rely on God for knowledge, for purpose, for care, and for His love.

3)      Finally, come when God calls you, despite what anyone else says.
We all know that we will encounter obstacles when following God’s call for our life. But what God really spoke to me throughout this journey was that there are going to be some people who tell you, you can’t do it. Some “disciples” might even tell you that you’re not ready, that you’re too young, or that your hopes and dreams of walking something out with Jesus are a bother. I’m sure the disciples in the story were annoyed, I’m sure they thought they were saving Jesus some time when they hushed the little children trying to seek Him. But Jesus knew the beauty of His relationship with each of His children. Disciples, pastors, parents, friends, even mentors may try to deter you from your call. But Jesus called you. And you come when He calls.  

So after a long week in the sun, I realized that while I was trying to teach these beautiful little people about my God, in the end, they taught me so much more. 

Writing from my sophomore year of high school: New York falling.

“When I was a freshman in high school, I took a trip to New York City with our high school band and choir. While there we did a tremendous amount of sightseeing! The “Big Apple” truly is all it’s made out to be! From Ellis Island to Central Park, everything was beautiful! One of the most impacting moments of the trip for me, was spent standing on top of the Empire State Building. At 8:00 at night, the sun is obviously down, but standing over the city you would have sworn that every light in the world was aglow! Each street light, candle, and neon store front played a part in the mirage of the city. However, the best part wasn’t even the lights. Once you built up the courage to step near the caged off ledge of this stone and metal giant you got the scare of your life. My friends and I stuck our hands through the metal bars, let them flail over the city, and felt… nothing. Well lack of something. It’s so difficult to explain, but we were placing our hands over hundreds and hundreds of feet of… nothing. You could feel the extra empty mass under your palms. It was as if gravity wasn’t just a law, but an actual power pulling our limbs and making our arms seem hundreds of pounds heavier! While exhilarating, this was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Stretching my hand through the hazard bars made me realize: this is life. Sometimes we have to push and reach through the bars, the signs that are all screaming “danger!”, and stretch our fingertips into the nothingness. We have to reach, and search, and feel for something! We all feel like there is more out there than our little caged off corner of the world. But the worst part of this analogy is, once you finally put yourself out there, you become insanely and intensely aware of exactly how far you have to fall.”