July 19th, 2009 Boulder, Colorado

The sign flashed 5:22, and just below it on an old wooden bench a man grizzled and weather worn stared up at me behind thick prescription lenses.

“You know you’re lucky you get to wear your uniform in public. When I was in if we wore our fatigues, which is what they used to call ‘em, I’d get shit thrown at me, spat on, and screamed at.”

It wasn’t difficult to figure out.

“You were in Vietnam?”

‘Yes sir I was.”

I walked over to him and offered my hand.

“Thank you for what you did. It means a lot to me when I hear about how it was to serve when you were hated for it. I can’t imagine the hell you went through coming home to that, but let me tell you that my generation knows the real story behind it and we’re all thankful.”

His hand shook independent of his controlled movement with a slight hint of tremors, and his voice reflected the same term.

“You’re welcome. We did what we had to do, it wasn’t pretty but we knew it was important. Have you  been to Iraq and are coming home?”

I knelt down to have the conversation with him at his level.
“You know sir, I haven’t gone yet, but I wouldn’t hesitate to go if the opportunity arose.”

“Well son, that kind of attitude is important. It means you’re exactly where you need to be. Here, I want you to have this.”

His hand shook as he pulled out his wallet.

“Now I know what you’re going to say, they all say it. They tell me ‘You don’t need to do that’ when as a matter of fact I do. I need to do this because I want to thank you in advance for your career in the US military son.”

I swallowed and my mind sped at a million miles an hour, all kinds of emotion welling up. I didn’t deserve this, he couldn’t afford this, how do I say no, what should I do? But no answers.

He pulled out a hundred dollar bill.

“No sir, I can’t take that. I’m only doing my job, its what I want to do.”

“Now you listen here. You are serving, and at some point you’ll need to accept others saying thank you. I do my part in supporting you boys out there, I send you all care packages out in the field and put in a word to the good Lord on your behalf. I want you to take this and take that lovely girl out to dinner. Somewhere real nice. That’s what I want you to do. Now take it.”

His voice was thick and raspy and his hand shook a little, then he spoke the words that made me turn cold.

"It would give me real joy if you'd take this from me son. My hand's getting tired."

Numbly I reached out and grabbed the largest sum of money a stranger has ever given me.

“Now go’on. Isn’t that your bus? Don’t miss it, she’ll kill you ya know. Don’t keep those women waiting.”

I grasped his hand with both my own and was surprised how much my own voice shook. I thanked him again for setting the standard in serving that I get to follow, and ran to catch my bus as it was pulling away from the curb.

All the most beautiful, right words fled me when I needed them the most. 

I was left without them when I could have used them to build into an old man’s life, but instead he used them to build into me. I sat on the bus silent. Staring out the window and going over and over in my head through every range of human emotion known to man.

There was a million things I could have said or done differently to show him how much I appreciated him, I could have missed my bus and taken the next one as we sat and talked about life, how I wasn’t able to be deployed for at least another year -- I could have asked him about his life and his children, grandchildren, and perspectives on faith...

But I didn’t.

I got on the bus incredibly blessed by someone I spent six minutes of my life with, and wasn’t able to properly thank. 

I’ll never understand why it works that way.

an act of forgiveness

Rarely does an article or essay hand me what I've come to affectionately term as a "stay of heart" or "pause." The following is an excerpt from an article I read three days ago on CNN.

"I cannot tell you that I am an innocent man. I am not asking you to feel sorry for me, and I won't hide the truth," Mark Anthony Stroman said from Texas death row at the Polunsky Correctional Unit in Livingston. "I am a human being and made a terrible mistake out of love, grief and anger, and believe me, I am paying for it every single minute of the day."
The 41-year-old prisoner is scheduled to be executed Wednesday for a murder he once said was fueled by "patriotism," but which the state argued was motivated by pure hatred. 
The admitted white supremacist was convicted in the deadly shooting of an Indian man, part of a killing spree that began just after the September 11 terror attacks. His target: those he believed were of Middle Eastern background, in revenge and retaliation for the worst domestic terror incident in U.S. history.
A Pakistani man was also murdered and a Bangladeshi man was seriously wounded in separate attacks.” -CNN

It's not hard to imagine--a man, furious at the genocide carried out own his own countrymen in a vicious surprise attack lashes out, robbing and killing essentially the first people he comes across that look like they're from the same people group as the terrorists. 
A self-proclaimed white supremacist with a long history of violent crimes, his response was nothing if not natural. As he stated himself, he is "a human being [who] made a terrible mistake..." 
There was little extraordinary about it; the man was what my dad would call "a bad person who hurt a lot of people" and it was just another set of vengeful if not misdirected killings.


Rob Bell is now famous (or infamous) for popularizing the statement "love wins." While he treats it as a form of entitlement to the Kingdom of Heaven, many disagree that the entrance fee to permanent residency behind the "pearly gates" can be paid in full with that statement alone. 
Controversy aside, Jesus was nothing if not decided when he said in Corinthians 13:13 "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."


Barnes speaks of the sheer power behind Jesus' statement in his concordance of Corinthians 13:13: "[Love is] more important than faith and hope, because, although it may co-exist with them, and though they all shall live forever, yet love enters into the very nature of the kingdom of God; binds society together; unites the Creator and the creature; and blends the interests of all the redeemed, and of the angels, and of God, into one."


The Lord also spoke through the author of Galations saying, "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (5:6).


Since the crimes were committed in Texas, the criminal would be facing the death penalty for his violent crimes. Wondering if that would really ever happen in this “day and age” I started to move my mouse to the glowing red dot that would close the web page out, when something caught my eye.
There, tucked away at the bottom of an article I almost didn’t finish, was an astonishing ray of light that pierced through my laptop screen diving directly towards my heart.

“One of Stroman's biggest supporters is the man who survived his ordeal and testified against the defendant. Rais Bhuiyan is a devout Muslim who came to the United States to pursue his education. A decade ago, he was about to be married and was working an extra job.

He says a large "angry" man wearing a bandana, sunglasses and a baseball cap approached him in the store and asked, "Where are you from?" Confused, Bhuiyan asked, "Excuse me?" Immediately afterward, he remembered being shot, "the sensation of a million bees stinging my face, and then heard an explosion."

Bhuiyan believes that his attacker does not deserve to die and has created a website, worldwithouthate.org, to urge Texas to spare Stroman's life.

"In order to live in a better and peaceful world, we need to break the cycle of hate and violence. I believe forgiveness is the best policy, which helps to break this cycle," he said, calling himself a victim of a hate crime. "I forgave Mark Stroman many years ago. I believe he was ignorant and not capable of distinguishing between right and wrong. Otherwise he wouldn't have done what he did."

Bhuiyan traveled this month to Paris to urge the European Parliament to step in and file a formal request for Texas to commute Stroman's sentence to life in prison." -CNN

Romans 5:20-21 states clearly ^“The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

“Grace might reign through righteousness?” 
“…to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord?” 
These statements are so direct, so cutting and powerful. No matter how “bad” the evil is, even a man who goes on a rampage and kills several random and completely innocent people, love still wins. Even as sin reigns in death, it's by definition limited. Life given by Jesus is limitless, and grace brings that to us. Limitless life given to us by him. Righteousness. 
It is grace that brings righteousness and eternal life to the throne. The darkness can't stand against the light.

Love is not arbitrary. It is not a word with a broad meaning and gratuitous generalities that allow for it to “transcend all religions or faiths.” It can function that way, but carefully defined in scripture is how we experience the triumph of love in all circumstances -- even the darkest of evil acts. 
Romans 5:1-2 “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.”

“Breaking the cycle of hate and violence” will help to create a better, more peaceful world. Mr. Bhuiyan was right. But it is Jesus alone who can do that, and he promises he will. In forgiving the man who shot him in the head, Mr. Bhuiyan exemplified the love that Jesus has for his children, and the role we are to play in his kingdom.

Who am I supposed to forgive? Who am I supposed to love, that I might be able to boast in the hope that is our being a part of the glory of our Father -- a right given to me by Jesus?

And this is only part of the story.

new name for an elite group of an experienced crowd.

"The yard" as it's called, as they're all called, was seven feet by thirty feet. Cold, mold-covered and entirely unromantic mortared brick shot up on all four sides several stories, interrupted once by chain-linked fencing spread roughly across the top. It served to discourage any climbing urges as if any were possible--not just denied by the physics of the enclosure but also by the ages of the four men that paced and stood in the small area.
The air was fresh, not filtered by air conditioning and consequently much, much warmer than the cells inside. It was also virgin lighting, if you could call the x-shaped patterns of shadows on the ground that. Light. Light and interaction, maybe. For whatever reason men need to be able to see the sky, albeit through a fence, each day. In this country anyway.
"Can we get some coffee out here?" The question was posed to the young male that stood behind me, tattooed arm holding the door that had no outer handle on it in front of me open.
"Probably" was the quiet, calm answer of a passive person. Which I immediately found ironic, as it would be difficult to end up here because of a passive act.
My orange clothing moved in flopping motions as I stepped into "the yard."
"What size are you?" they'd asked.
"Medium."
"Extra-large or double-ex-L?"
"XL."
My hands moved to my now brightly-clad hips and I lifted the orange pants up slightly as my feet dropped in the puddle one after the other.
"What are you in for?"
I looked up and waited for a moment, thinking carefully before I answered. Not in any literal sense, but when men first meet each other, as I'm sure is the same with women, they measure each other. This was a completely foreign and unsafe surrounding, which was paradoxical as it was the most protected environment anyone who isn't a world leader can experience.
"FTA" I said, then glanced at the other men who were standing around gathering first impressions of their own. I didn't need to expound, it would've been as pointless as trying to walk back out the door that'd just closed behind me. Of course every one of them knew what it meant, a failure to appear was as common here as neon-colored apparel.
"Aw, that ain't nothin" he said coldly. "I've been in here for four months. Allen here's been in for fourteen. We're both named Allen. Allen's my middle name, it's his first. What's your name?"
I was no idiot. Had I made a previously stupid choice to not follow through with the court as I should have? Yes. That didn't mean it was a pandemic of bad choices that needed to be made daily. I had been clearly given the answers to the exam, there was no reason not to get an A or pass, however the grading system here worked.

"Allen."

and they're off.

One of my really good friends grabbed my shoulder at the bachelor's party and shook it as he spoke, in effect tripling the sincerity of his words. "James, marriage is the best thing that ever happened to me. Apart from Jesus, I mean. But you knew that. I know you're ready, you're going to love being married. You got this."
It was a man moment. Encouragement from a man, to a man, and there was no debate, denial or affirmation needed. That was all, Shawn had spoken.
And he was right.

No one really says anything more than "it is weird, waking up next to someone else." They don't mention about not wanting to go to sleep until he or she is there with you. I hadn't been priorly introduced to the small facts about watching someone else wake up, or even finding out who woke up first. Or who shut the lights off. Who slept on their side, and who snored like the soundtrack opening to a Steven Spielberg film.
As if waking up next to your brand new spouse isn't a unique enough experience, I woke up the next morning after the wedding looking at my wife of one day who was staring at me, exhausted and shaking her head as she asked "do you know what you said last night?"

I looked at her with what I heard later were still fevered, bloodshot eyes. "No, what'd I say?"
"Well, you were delirious, for one" she stated matter-of-factly, "and when you weren't singing made-up songs about how much you loved me, which was really sweet, you said things that made no sense."
"Like what?" I wondered, out loud enough for her to hear.
"You said "I'm so sick of that Stitch, always ruining the pictures." No sense!"
My murky, throbbing mind paused, then brightened a little. "No, it does make sense. Remember how in Disney World we had to stare at a spot on the ground and pretend like he was there because the Disney people-gnomes were going to add him in afterwards?"
"Yes."
"Well he wasn't really there. I was mad at the time because I thought since it was Disney World he should really have been there. I guess I was saying that."
She paused, unimpressed. "I accidentally called 9-1-1 last night while you were hallucinating you know."
I let the silence hang, mostly because my head felt like it had all four hotel pillows shoved in my cranium.
"I'm sorry sweetie, were they mad or something?"
I've never heard of a 9-1-1 operator being mad. Ever. Over anything. Not sure why I asked that, maybe it was the four pillows in my brain that I was finding out also had throbbing abilities.
"No, they were fine. I just hung up."
"Good."
"Not good."
"Oh, not good."
"Right. The hotel desk called me back and they were mad."
"Not good."
"They were all upset and asked if everything was alright up here, and I said yes, it was an accident I didn't mean to call them, but my husband was really sick with a high fever and I asked if they had any tylenol or aspirin or anything. They had Tylenol PM, so I gave you some."
"Perfect."
On my wedding night at midnight my wife went downstairs to the hotel lobby and got Tylenol PM for me to take so my fever would go away, then the day after her wedding drove for the first five hours of our road trip.

We made it to Florida in the wee hours of the next morning, a gigantic team effort that would've made Mega Python and Gatoroid proud, and over the next few days enjoyed the beach, finding the most leathery tan on a live human being, throwing fish food at house church meetings of alligators, and eating at restaurants with personalities such as "Sunset Grill" and "Barnacle Bill's."
If you're married, I give you two thumbs up. Way up. Isn't it awesome?
If you're single, I highly recommend getting married. But not too soon, take ye yer time!

In the wise words of the elderly Chinese gentleman of the Millenia, "pick not you someone who isn't the best of the chopsticks. Instead hold fingers out to the sun waiting for the rain to fall as little rice kernels into the open mouth of your water buffalo to see what tastes you smell in utmost discernment."
Or as the American translation goes, "Wait for the right one. Otherwise your life will suck."

That's why I married Jessa. Not only because she is an incredible woman of a caliber rarely seen in mere mortals who serves relentlessly and has a soft, gentle heart, but also because I get to pick which translation I like best, which in this case would be the Chinese one.

If the first week of our lives was any indication for the future, our life together will be an adventure with plenty of difficulties along the way. But I couldn't ask for a more perfect bride to take on the world with. God is so good.

Just a future reference for those who "prepare" the car for newlyweds. 

Baby powder all through the a/c vents is hilarious, little stashes of it on the visors is a riot, and I roared with laughter when it came crashing down on my laptop. But when I opened up the gas door and it poured out...

You see, there isn't a way to get it really completely out from around the lid so that you can unscrew it without any powder getting in the tank. Fear not, no damage was done. But in the future, in order to maximize the laughs, you might think about filling the newlywed's trunk with manure, or the back seat with dead fish instead.

baking in a storm.

It isn't always raining.
And sometimes, I don't believe it.

Clarisse is in seventh grade. A bright, beautiful girl, she's tall for her age. Just over five and a half-feet tall. Her smile comes both quickly and often, a combination that's not necessarily seen in the tumultuous stages of Junior High School.
Her family is moving, her dad took a position as one of the vice presidents at the Colorado Christian University school and they're leaving in just under a month.
It's tough moving, and it's even tougher when you're in junior high or high school. But ask Clarisse about it and she'll flash a smile and tell you honestly she's still 50/50, back and forth.
Today she made cookies. "Grammy Morgan's recipe" she explained, giving tremendous weight to the statement. Saying she was making "Grammy Morgan's recipe" was like telling some street art collector you had an original Banksy, or finding out that your son or daughter had a full ride scholarship to Harvard. Even though Grammy had passed away more than a decade ago, her legacy, stories, and recipes have lived on.

This wasn't tomorrow, next week when they'd be gone visiting a state she knew very little about, or next month when they'd officially be moved out.
Today Clarisse was beaming as she made cookies that she knew were going to be incredibly tasty.
As her positive attitude, choice to keep her head high, and carefully measured and mixed ingredients baked slowly in the oven the house began to fill with warmth and delicious smells.

Too often what's coming, the unavoidable, the upcoming difficulties or anticipated struggles alight on my shoulders and start to weigh me down before they've actually happened.
I stare intently at something and how tough it's going to be to deal with and allow it to get me "down", distract me, or take my focus away from the present.

---

It was thundering every few minutes outside, the rain absolutely pouring down.
But inside where Clarisse was baking, it wasn't raining. Not yet.
Taking the mixing bowls full of flour, salt, eggs, sugar and various other ingredients firmly off the counter and putting them into the sink to wash, she was entirely focused on the task at hand.
Colorado could wait, Grammy Morgan's cookies wouldn't bake themselves.

disillusioned.

Don't ask me why, but today I started thinking about about how the stories and books I'd heard, read, seen, or had read to me in my completely overactive imagination as a child have made me realize and even un-learn some of the most basic truths growing up.
---
Steam shovels (or tractors) do not make great furnaces to grow old next to after a single day's hard work. In fact, to use the engine of a tractor to warm a public building would be more than irresponsible. It would almost immediately, within minutes, hospitalize every occupant in the room quite possibly killing many of the people attending the Town Hall event.
Firemen do not leave the scene of flames "too early" and it is not realistic to think that the oldest member of the fire fighting team should remain for hours upon hours to stare at a field waiting for that one ember to burst out and re-burn everything again, negating all previous valiant efforts to save the forest.
Mice, beavers, badgers, squirrels, otters and birds are not good, and stoats, weasels, snakes and foxes are not bad. Nor is it the opposite. They are neither good or bad, they're animals and none of them talk or train to fight battles against each other.
Bullies aren't conquered by solving mysteries, you call their Mothers and they lie about beating up on you then grow up to be the mayor of New York or pro wrestlers.

Lions in the zoo don't have the personality of Jesus and haven't ever met a White Witch. They have no personality at all and spend most of their day either sleeping in the sun or pacing back and forth talking about sports with each other or complaining about politics.
The flooding in the Midwest right now isn't the fault of a little boy who got bored or quit keeping his finger in a little hole in the dam because it hurt. This isn't Holland.
Parents don't usually understand if you've had a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day. You get disciplined for lashing out in anger to your sisters and if you mention Australia they smile at the reference and still ground you from playing outside after church for being incredibly disrespectful, but you still have to go to soccer practice.
Old jalopies that backfire and are driven by fat funny kids aren't that cool, nor is it cool to get kidnapped or knocked unconscious by a blow to the back of the head and wake up tied to your brother in a lighthouse while felonies are being committed.
It isn't possible to turn the air conditioner in your house down to 32 degrees so it starts snowing and makes your Mom wear gloves when she plays the piano, and if you did own a penguin, much less a dozen of them, the State would take them away, arrest you, and you'd be on the news so everyone could hate you.
The same goes for a pet alligator. A fat lady who walked down the street with one on a leash would be spending most of her future money paying off tickets, bail, court fees and PETA.
Slithertongue doesn't exist and if you try to speak it to a snake in a glass tank at the zoo they won't even give you the small victory of a blink.
Nothing in the world can make you invisible. Not even rings.
There's no point in treating your stuffed animals kindly or making sure they always face up on the bed and are arranged comfortably, because when you leave the room they won't come alive.
A cat would not sleep on top of a dog that was on top of a kid that was on top of an old lady. Ever.
Grasshoppers are not evil and ladybugs aren't little men.

Children can't live in a museum and take baths in the water fountain picking up all the change everyone threw in there to pay for their future meals.
If you smoke a cigar as a child, fall off the edge of a ship and no one notices, you do not have any further adventures. You die.
Children do not go to schools in buildings with a deceitful number of floors and spend the rest of their lives attending classes and going in between levels, never going home again. If you manage to escape somewhere like that you need to skip writing the book and tell the police and CNN so that many, many adults can spend the rest of their lives in jail.
Dogs that wear party hats make people sad, not happy, and they do not drive around town.
A bunch of children that skip school to fish and swim down by a creek who end up drinking from the same tin cup that had always been down there by the creek end up in the hospital, not solving crimes.
Living in a boxcar would not mean that you had clean purple and light blue clothing each day.

to those who party hard--you know who you are.

This afternoon Jessa went to a wedding shower -- her second -- and today, for the second time in several weeks, after she pulled up to the house I walked out unsuccessfully fighting back tears.

There in the driveway sat our car that her parents have selflessly allowed us to use as our primary vehicle, full from the rear bumper to the front dashboard of gifts to encourage and start us off in our lives together.

It started out with my grandparents and hers: each couple more than fifty years ago made vows to each other and have not broken them. 

It was under that priceless heritage our parents were raised, and combined they have over fifty years of marriage as well bringing to our generation a combined total of over 250 years of covenant example.

In Christ alone is the hope found to stay true to such a mammoth commitment as marriage entails.

Today I stared at a 1990 Oldsmobile Delta '88 sedan that now held for the second time, the beginnings of a home inside. My beautiful bride-to-be came inside after the wedding shower with her eyes glowing in a blaze of joy: the women who had surrounded and affirmed her that afternoon had done far, far more than purchase dozens and dozens of our excited ideas we'd picked out carefully in an afternoon of quivering anticipation. 

This was now the second event in which a group of women strong with the presence of the Kingdom and warriors of prayer, encouragement and service gathered around my Princess to tell her what only they could.

"We love you Jessa. We as a community of women want to hurl you heavenwards in every way possible and show you that what you're doing and where you're going with all it's challenges, frustrations, fears and unknowns, is both good and ordained by the Father."

There is no substitute for something like that. 

Each and every woman, toddler, teen and college graduate that have attended her wedding showers have built into her something that can't be taken away. Those who couldn't come have sent letters or cards that serve the same purpose; they boost my Sweetheart and I into the upcoming season of changes with more confidence, more reliance, and more affirmation from the Most High.

"For James" read the hastily scrawled and unmistakably clear, direct message as only Bonnie Crafton could deliver so tastefully and classily on the mop. 

I'd honestly rather have received a broom because I don't mind sweeping, but then again I'm sure there was a grandmotherly intuition present with her when she put it back on the shelf swapping it for the mop, one of my least favorite housework tools.

I'll vacuum, dust, wash dishes, fold laundry and actually enjoy cleaning the bathroom. But mopping? It makes the least sense out of everything. Seconds later feet re-appear returning the pathogens to their now shiny workplace and fresh breeding ground.

Maybe it's because I still haven't learned that mopping in socks is a bad idea. But mop I shall.

Unless we get an apartment with every square inch of floor covered in CARPET.
Blam.

Caleb leaned over to me and said "Dude. You didn't open the trunk yet."

Therein laid a big, gorgeous box with bold, confident lettering on every one of the six sides.

WEBER.

My grill. 

The same size and model as my Dad has.

"Call me Peggy. Do you like to cook?"

Her shock of short, perfectly tamed and domesticated white hair swam slightly in the current of her forceful words, penetrating stare that peered through thin glasses and no-spin zone attitude that gave no ground.

"Yes. That's why I picked out the 7 quart crock pot! I mean, what can't you cook in that?"

She ignored the too apparent logic, she didn't play by the rules. She didn't have to.

"7 quarts?"

You would've thought I told her I registered for a hive wasps from the way she advanced on the information with bayonet drawn.

I popped my head back in my shell and threw out a random spray of response fire that didn't come anywhere near her.

"A half a pig. Either half. You can take that crock pot and cook which ever half is the most tasty, that's why I got it."

It was over. 

"No one would ever do that, or want to do that. But I'm glad you enjoy cooking! That's good."

She conceded me that small, consolatory victory and moved on to other larger, more important battles.

"James, Peggy has done more for this family than we could ever hope to realize" Grandma Pat said as Peggy strode towards the kitchen, not changing step one bit as she snorted the compliment off immediately, which proved only so effective as I noticed she had draped across her arms the wrapped bundle of my fiancee's wedding dress she was going home to take in.

"I'll see you later then sweetie" she said to Jessa "And I'll find a way to get this dress back to you when I'm done with it."

Jessa's sister-in-law was the first home. She shut the swinging glass door behind her slowly and looked a little pale as she smiled tiredly. "Whew. Those women have more energy than I could ever imagine. I couldn't keep up with them, not even close!" 

Bob Parette, resident licensed Grandpa and Director of Transportation for All Family Members on All Continents chuckled. "Yep, those women are somethin'." 

Case closed. 

My Chinese Flower looked up at me with fiery eyes and quickly extinguished them almost completely as she put on a mock-serious face and said "why didn't you come with me?"

"Take all away. I am content to know
Such love is mine-for life is all too brief"

    -Ruth Bell Graham

---

To every woman and family who has poured into Jessa's and my life, thank you.

Thank you for giving us more than you realize and more than we could possibly ever put into words.

The most important part of a home is it's foundation, so thank you for investing relentlessly in ours. The many creative ways you've blessed Jessa and I will continue for a long, long time and we look forward to sharing it with many others and investing in them.

In Jeremiah 1:11 the Lord asks Jeremiah what he sees. Jeremiah responds "the branch of an almond tree" and the Lord responds in verse 12: "You have seen correctly, for I am watching to see that my word is fulfilled."

As our friends and family, we are excited to offer you that place beside God, watching to see how his word is fulfilled in our lives in the upcoming weeks, months and years together.

Jeremiah 30:22  

  “‘So you will be my people, and I will be your God.’”

Okay my people, who's hungry?

---

in defense of marriage.

In an article on the Fox News Editorials page, Dr. Keith Ablow seconded the brusque attack of a celebrity on marriage. It was astonishing, infuriating and depressing.

             "First, the involvement of the state in marriage has been a colossal mistake. The

 granting of marriage licenses by government debases an institution which is actually the proper domain of churches, temples and other entities focused on God and Spirit." 

             "A second reason marriage is a dying institution is the invention of oral contraception. Once human beings understood that they could express themselves emotionally, romantically and sexually without necessarily creating multiple families and perilously dividing their assets, the psychological pain of living without sexual passion (even by choice) was significantly intensified. And, make no mistake about it, marriage that includes cohabitation is a really tough environment in which to preserve such passion. The vast, vast majority of men and women, in fact, are no longer physically attracted to their spouses after five or ten years (that’s being kind), if they have seen one another most of that time. Human beings just are not built to desire one another once we have flossed in the same room a hundred times and shared a laundry basket for thousands of days."
.
               "The third reason marriage is a dying institution is because it inherently deprives men and women of the joy of being “chosen” on a daily basis. It’s natural to like the feeling of being wanted (most people thirst for it), and the fact that leaving a marriage involves “lawyering up” and suffering greatly means that most husbands and wives have to wonder whether their spouses really want to stay, or simply don’t want to go through the hassle of leaving."

                "Fourth, our collective experience with marriages failing in such great numbers is itself one of the reasons the institution is dying. No one likes being part of a group of hypocrites. The fact that millions of Americans take vows to stay in marriages for life, then leave those marriages—once, twice, maybe three times—has so trivialized and mocked those vows that many silently chuckle to themselves while listening to them. Once enough divorced parents have wept with joy at the placing of rings on the fingers of their daughters or daughters-in-law, the backbone of marriage as an institution must snap.

It’s only a matter of time now. Marriage will fade away. We should be thinking about what might replace it. We should come up with something that improves the quality of our lives and those of our children. And we should keep government out of it, if we know what’s good for us."


After writing and point-by-point destroying Dr. Ablow's editorial piece, when I was finished I closed my laptop and walked away. Several hours later I returned, opened up the screen, and deleted everything I'd written. 
Every frustration, every defense, every angry retort and trashing of his views disappeared with a single highlight and keystroke.
Below is all I had left once I'd taken me out of it.


---

1 Corinthians 7: 1-16

Now for the matters you wrote about: It is good for a man not to marry. But since there is so much immorality, each man should have his own wife, and each woman her own husband. The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. The wife's body does not belong to her alone but also to her husband. In the same way, the husband's body does not belong to him alone but also to his wife. Do not deprive each other except by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer. Then come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control. I say this as a concession, not as a command. 

Hebrews 13:4-7

Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral. Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said

Matthew 19:4-6

Haven't you read," he replied, "that at the beginning the Creator 'made them male and female,' and said, 'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh'? So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate."

Mark 10:6-9

"But at the beginning of creation God 'made them male and female.'' For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate."

Romans 12: 9-21

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.

When it came down to it Dr. Ablow had pointed out that married couples are hypocrites, tire of each other quickly, have become unfaithful often, lose the desire for one another after only a few short years, and have re-built the marriage covenant into something that brings hopelessness and failure.

Apart from scripture, apart from Jesus and apart from following him, Dr. Ablow is right.

Marriage will, however, not fade away, nor do we need to find something to replace it. One should not replace a wayward child if they become dysfunctional and rebellious, or a parent when they become old, senile and disruptive. 

The only reason marriage ever had any meaning in the first place was because it was ordained by a sovereign God who loved mankind enough to offer him that if he wanted to not be alone any longer. Man could take up a covenant with his bride and the Father would give both husband and wife the grace to live the rest of their lives together under his promise to love and take care of them both.  

Take away the Father and what's left are two imperfect human beings with just as much struggle as those with Jesus, only they don't have hope and must create their own grace. 

In the middle of trying to graduate, plan a wedding and keep up a breakneck pace on both levels, I can tell you that right now my fiancee and I are surviving on grace and hope alone.

http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2011/05/06/dr-keith-ablow-cameron-diaz-right-4-reasons-marriage-dying-institution/

my five.

What does Jesus ponder when he thinks about me? I subconsciously commit the unspeakable heresy He’s become so familiar with of making him human...and then I’m jolted by my own conscience. Often I compartmentalize him so quickly it catches me entirely off guard and without a second glace, I slip into Dr. Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief.
I deny that he would acknowledge me as his the way I am -- how could he ever do that? I pretend he’s happy with me because I’m doing so much better than I have before, I shove my happy Jesus face in his throne room and crack a joke and he laughs -- God loves laughing, right?
One.

Immediately this hits me in the stomach as cowardly, lies, a cop-out. I am disgusting, an awful person for thinking that. I’m so broken, so not right, so entirely out of the whole spiritual realm all the time. I suck at being a Christian more than I’m good at it by an off-kilter ratio of about 85% to 15%, if that. Frustrated at my lack of belief, I apologize to God and tell him that I’m sure he’s angry with me just as I’m angry at myself -- after all, I deserve it, right? I’m sure instead of being the “funny guy” in the throne room, my rare appearance is more like “that guy” and the Seraphim frown at me most of the time.
Two.

If I don’t quit thinking about how Jesus sees me right about now, the slip into bargaining is seamless. He loves me even though he knows me, I am guilty of being an awful person...so it must be somewhere in the middle. He is happy with me that I made the decision to follow him and give my life to him, but he is not content with where I’m at. He has things for me to work on -- there are so many ways I could be a better Christian. If I seek him then he’ll answer my prayers and actions and soon I’ll be back where I should be. Not a bad deal.
Three.

Why do I even try. It becomes madness; my conscience creates this vile subterfuge of a dialogue between me and an identical voice to mine that plays God and I try and converse my way out of this completely messy room. I know I should change these areas of my life, but I don’t think I can, and he can see that, so why even try? Why do I wonder what he thinks of me, he sees EVERYTHING. Even my innermost being. What is that anyway, an “innermost being”? Is that like your colon or something? Whatever it is it’s bad, and here’s where I eventually either stop conversing with him and just walk away or just stand, wallowing up to my waist in the mud I’ve created.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression...these things wash over me and my heart acts as if there’s no coal to touch my lips and I’ll never be pure...ever. The first four stages of grief are where I so often think my relationship with Christ is at, it makes me feel gross every time I face that fact.
Four.

God created humanity; you, me, us, all of us, to mirror him. He is complex, has more dimensions to his flawless character and personality than we could ever imagine; he feels and is many, many things (Psalm 30:5). He is also constant, unchanging, unmoving and his promises hold true to me no matter what I’ve done (Numbers 23:19 ). Yes, there are consequences for my mistakes, my shortfalls and my altogether-too-often decision to sin. But the blood of the Lamb that his son willingly gave me is what has saved me from not just the world and what it can/has done to me, but also myself.
One through four, I so often cycle through the first stages of grief in my relationship with him. But the whole time I’ve done and continue to do that, Jesus never stops being
Five.

---

One - Deuteronomy 4:31
“For the LORD your God is a merciful God; he will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your forefathers, which he confirmed to them by oath.”

Two - Nehemiah 9:17
“They refused to listen and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them[...] but you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. Therefore you did not desert them.”

Three - Deuteronomy 10:17
“For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes.”

Four - 2 Samuel 22:32-34
“For who is God besides the LORD? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he enables me to stand on the heights.”

Five - John 6:37
“All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.”

More of Jesus’ character:
Numbers 23:19 “God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?”
Psalm 145: 8-9 “The LORD is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.”
Joshua 1:8-9 “Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
Psalm 30:5 “Sing to the LORD, you saints of his; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”
Deuteronomy 7:6 “For you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD your God
has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his
people, his treasured possession.”

Often when someone finds out I'm a medic or studying to be a nurse and aspire to be a physician someday the first reaction -- one might say it's borderline impulsive -- is a question. "How do you handle all that blood and stuff? Doesn't that just gross you out? What about all that vomit, when people throw up?"
Here is my answer.
Yes.

Yes it's no less than absolutely horrifying to take off the bandage of a patient that has stage IV sacral decubitus, or measure body fluids of someone who is coming out from an alcohol-induced coma. I've been thrown up and bled on quite a few times, but it isn't about the smells, the sights, or the horror of it all. If it was about the situations medical personnel deal with then every sick, twisted person and anyone who loves gory, graphic vile depictions of humanity in pain would work at a hospital.
It's about the patient. Someone who works on cars has come to terms with the fact they'll go home covered in grease, oil and dirt that has been on the undercarriage of a vehicle for sometimes decades. Nurses know that in order to provide a living, breathing human being refuge from whatever they're experiencing, sometimes it requires that they get a little dirty.

My job and that of all medics, nurses and physicians will never be to administer Vicodin, suture a wound or perform a palate surgery. A hospital with no people in it is a...medical supply store. It has to be about the patient first, then what needs to be done can be done and if it's in my scope of practice I'll do it.
There are times I've gagged in front of a patient, and there will be more I'm sure. But the moment it becomes about how something bothers me, how gross or awful it is or how I don't want to deal with it I've just lost sight of everything. The patient is everything, it's about them.


Not everyone in the world is made to be in medical care, but anyone can provide it if needed.
It requires the very little knowledge or experience but a lot of will power to put pressure on a huge cut that's bleeding, or sit someone up who's vomiting while they're lying down.