lord, save us from ourselves.

if you've been around me for longer than five minutes, you've probably heard me wax philosophical about how perfectly strange the bible is. i don't mean that in an irreverent way. i love the bible both because of and in spite of its continual oddities.

i've been reading judges lately, which is absolutely brilliant in its quirkiness. it contains everything from the story of a fat king who pooped his pants when stabbed by a left-handed israelite to the story of a prostitute murdered in the style of jack the ripper. no, i'm not making this stuff up. with all of its often graphic, violent, and always weird content, it's no wonder that the main story we focus on is about a guy who was strong enough to single-handedly kill 1000 men with the jawbone of a donkey--that is, until his no-account woman cut all his hair off.

i came upon a particularly famous character in judges, a guy from the wrong side of the jordan river named gideon. if you grew up in church like me, then you are probably familiar with his story, and would explain it something like this:

israel is oppressed by the midianites.
god chooses gideon to deliver his people from the midianites.
gideon assembles a large army to fight them.
god tells him to fire most of his soldiers, leaving only 300 fighting men.
gideon leads the 300 men to fight the midianites and win.
the people rejoice.
having saved the day, gideon rides off into a super-holy sunset on his super-holy stallion.

as i was reading the story for the first time in a long time the other day, i was struck by the fact that the truth was very little like what i had just written. gideon, instead of being some intimidating rock star of the faith, quickly became someone i could very much relate to in his uncertainty and penchant for kicking and screaming.

here's the scene: israel has been disobedient (story of their life, seriously), and as a result are oppressed by the midianites. gideon is out and about one day trying to hide his wheat from the oppressors when a messenger from the lord shows up and calls him out, addressing him as a "mighty man of valor" and claiming that the lord is with him.

this is when i start to relate to gideon. he gets all pithy with the angel and essentially whines like a little baby, "yeah, well, if the lord is with me, then can you explain to me why i am out here hiding my food from people who want to take it and be jerks to me?"

to which the angel responds, "yeah, about that. you're going to save israel from those guys."

imagine gideon's reaction. after arguing with the angel for a bit about his newfound responsibility, he works out a deal. "listen," he says, "before i'm signing my name to anything, i'm going to need a sign. nothing too flashy--just some supernatural crazy something-or-other. i'm gonna head inside, and make you a meal. while you wait, come up with something that will impress me, alright?"

when gideon comes back with the food, the (i'm sure fed up by now) angel smited (smote?) the meal and burned it all up before completely vanishing into thin air.

the bible sums up gideon's reaction better than i ever could: "then, gideon perceived that he was the angel of the lord." thank you, captain obvious.

did i mention i relate to this guy a lot?

as if this weren't enough, gideon demands two more signs of the lord before committing to do what the lord has asked. he gets a fleece and puts it on the floor and tells the lord, "if you want me to deliver these people, then make everything in here but the fleece dry from the dew in the morning." when he wakes up to find the fleece wet enough to wring water out into a bowl, he says, "wait, did i say i wanted the fleece all dewy? what i meant was i wanted everything else dewy and the fleece dry." and because the lord is better than any of us ever deserve, gideon awoke the next day to a completely dry fleece in a wet room.

gideon gets a lot better in the verses to come, and he actually gives me hope. he gathers an army of about 32,000 men and trusts the lord as he gets rid of all but 300 fighting men by the time they fight the midianites. one major sneak attack and four captured kings later, gideon has all the makings of a pretty epic biblical hero. and this has me feeling pretty good, because although i always kick and scream when the lord sends me somewhere scary, i start to believe in myself a little more as gideon mans up.

after he has conquered the midianites and freed the israelites and generally been a butt-kicking hero of the faith, israel is so gaga over gideon that they ask him to be their king. my love for him expanded exponentially when i read his response, and practically made me feel like a conqueror alongside him, "i will not rule over you; the lord will rule over you." kudos, gideon.

but then he did something a little weird that i didn't expect. instead of becoming king in return for his heroism, he makes an odd request of the people: he asks them for their earrings. they gladly oblige. upon receiving them, gideon does something i would have never expected. he melts all the gold from the jewelry down and makes himself a golden get-up (called an ephod), and the people end up worshiping it as an idol.

the result? "all israel whored after [the ephod], and it became a snare to gideon and his family."

wait, what? this is not the end of the story i've been told my whole life. we always stopped right after the defeat of the midianites. we politely skip over the whole "gideon-made-an-idol-with-the-gold-he-earned-from-following-the-lord" part, because it's messy. and it's heartbreaking, to be perfectly honest. and it just doesn't make sense.

if i were to be an editor of an edition of the bible, i think the title i would use for these few chapters would be "gideon: a cautionary tale." because that truly seems to be the case. we are told the story of an average, working class, underdog sort of guy who was used by the lord in huge, immeasurable ways and became a national hero for it. he had the world at his fingertips, and he screwed up, big time. and if he can make such a royal mess out of things, then i certainly can. and that's a little scary.

this is the kind of story that leads me to a real place of humility. after seeing myself in gideon throughout his journey through fear to courage, it really jarred me to see the story end this way. but it does. and that is significant. none of us are so holy or spiritually set that we are safe from the messiness of life. none of us are perfect. none of us are incapable of messing up, big time.

and because none of us have it together, we all must cling to jesus, realizing that he truly is our only hope. he is our only salvation. he alone holds the power to save us from ourselves.

& i'm preparing every part for you

"so, sometimes i feel like god and i are in a bad relationship, and i'm definitely the bad girlfriend."

yes. in all of my obvious clear headed-ness, i legitimately made this comment to my best friend last week. she understands how i so often live in my head, so she simply humored me, looked over and asked, "why do you think that is?"

i had been in the sort of mood to examine some of my past relationships on this day. i thought a lot about what worked, what didn't work, the heartbreak that could have or couldn't have been avoided, the lessons learned in the end. i thought about my role in the life and death of all these, and whoever had been my significant other's role as well.

and there was one in particular that i couldn't stop thinking about. let me get this straight, i was by no means perfect in this relationship. by no means. sometimes i wonder if i caused more harm in this person's life than good, though i hope to god this is not the case.

but i couldn't stop thinking about the way in which i loved this particular boy. i loved him best when he was broken, flawed, and vulnerable. it drew me to him like nothing i had ever experienced. i wanted to love him and fix him, and i wanted my love for him to compel him to be the man i knew he was. and the more i loved, the more i hurt when my love didn't change things.

still makes me feel a little wistful to talk about it, to be honest. it doesn't take much for that heartache to touch the surface again.

anyway, during my nostalgic mental trip down memory lane, i had a small thump in my chest as i wondered why my love wasn't enough for him. and it felt a little something like this,

oh, wait. that sounds all too familiar.
this isn't just about an old flame, is it?

and it clicked.

how often is god's love just not enough for me? i kick and scream and run and refuse to change or grow. all the time, every time. but at the end of the day, his love for me is mind-numbingly relentless.

this, of course, led to this: i am a horrible girlfriend, and if i were god, i would get out of this unhealthy relationship immediately. i don't know if that is a spiritual enough way to put it, but it's at least honest.

but praise the lord that he hasn't dumped my sorry behind. and he won't. ever.

my high school boyfriend promised me at one point that he would never break up with me, and that we would spend forever together. but feelings faded, minds changed. we both moved on with our lives. and looking back, that seems like such a silly promise for him to have made.

but god makes this same promise to me, and in spite of myself, i believe him. i believe him with everything i've got.

fear not, for i have redeemed you.
i have summoned you by name; you are mine.

you pull your children up from the dust.

honestly, my biggest fear isn't being alone, or being unhappy, or loss, or even something silly like spiders or snakes. my biggest fear, without question, is being boring.

maybe this is a misnomer or misclassification, but i don't think so. sometimes i think it's about people's perception of me (i want others to think i'm interesting), or maybe my perception of myself (i want to be someone i can be proud of), or maybe even god's perception of me (i want him to think i am making the most of the time i've been given). but at that end of the day, the thoughts that nag me throughout the day and keep me up at night normally have something to do with this very real fear of being boring.

i think this explains a lot of things about me.

1) have you ever noticed i'm always busy? i'm terrified to not be, honestly. i want to fill up my days with as much activity as possible so that i won't be bored or boring.
2) i love to tell stories. to write stories. somehow, i think that if i tell them, i give value to them (and maybe to myself? who knows).
3) i don't sit still very well. at all. ever.
4) i crave new things and new experiences like an addict.
5) i am one of the most commitment-phobic people in the world. in relationships, yes (ask just about anyone i've ever dated, i'm sure they'd agree), but in almost every other area of my life as well.
6) etc, etc, etc.

and honestly, sometimes i think i prefer the crazy, difficult times of life to the still, quiet ones. and that's a rough thing to admit. as i type it, i think i sound an awful lot like a drama queen. or maybe even a masochist. maybe that isn't so far from the truth.

and as i think about this, and pray about this, i'm honestly very torn.

it seems to be a good thing to be afraid of being complacent.
it seems to be a good thing to be afraid of being lazy.
it seems to be a good thing to be afraid of living without purpose.
it seems to be a good thing to be afraid of not seeking challenges.

but is it a good thing to be afraid of being boring?

in his providence, the lord has placed me at an interesting point in my life. things here are much more settled than they have been over the past month and a half. no funerals, no hospitals, no daily brushes with life and death. and for that, i am grateful. really.

but settled, for now, means without activity. and, as previously mentioned, i don't do so well with lack of activity.

and i completely relate to little david from david after dentist (who, by the way, i met this summer [see, i'm totally not boring, right? boring people don't meet internet superstars.]) i feel like i am in the backseat of my life's car, drunkenly asking an invisible father,

is this real life? is this gonna be forever?

and though i know the resounding answer is yes to the first and no to the second, it feels like the opposite. i (dramatically, i know) feel like the only unemployed, single, and completely (ok, somewhat [again with the drama]) aimless 22 year old recent college grad in the world searching for significance.

so i'm home at least until january, in the silence of my hometown. trying to figure out the next step. judging whether each day mattered or not, and feeling guilty and shaken and empty when many of them don't.

so do we make meaning out of the silence?
or do we fill the silence with something meaningful?

i guess that's a question i'll have to struggle with for a while.

rejoice and lament

Wanda Kelley Jones was born February 22, 1935, to Straight and Mabel Kelley in Newton County. She graduated from Newton High School in 1953, having played in the band and been elected by the student body as Homecoming Queen and Class Favorite. After graduating, Wanda moved to Silsbee where she worked for the Texas Highway Department and Dr. Poshtaskie. While working for Dr. Poshtaskie, she met the love of her life, Richard Elton Jones. Upon seeing Wanda for the first time at the doctor’s office, Richard asked her for a date on the spot. After Richard graduated from Texas A&M University two years later, Richard and Wanda married in a small ceremony on July 22, 1955.

Within a few months of getting married, Richard and Wanda began their journey of life together by being stationed in Virginia and Tennessee with the United States Army. Soon, however, the pair traveled across the world and served in Germany, returning to the States in late 1957. A month after returning home, Wanda gave birth to their son, Robert Martin Jones, on December 23, 1957. The Jones family began managing the family business, Buck Jones Lumber Company, and several years later on December 30, 1960, they welcomed a daughter into the world, Lou Anne Jones Parish.

While Wanda worked at the family business in the years to follow, most of her time was spent as a devoted and loving mother and wife. She was an active member of First Baptist Church, Silsbee, where she often taught Sunday School and Bible School classes. However, in the following years Buck Jones Lumber Company transitioned into Jones Decorating Center, and Wanda was able to practice her talent of home decorating as she took a more active role in the family business.

Wanda welcomed her first grandchild, Robert Justin Jones, in 1980, followed by her two granddaughters Elizabeth Anne and Caroline Amanda Sweatt in the years to come. Known to them as “Memee,” Wanda rarely missed a sporting event, awards ceremony, or musical program, devoting her time to her three beloved grandchildren. One of her favorite things to do, with Richard leading the way, was to gather the whole family together on a trip to Louisiana or Mississippi to tour plantations or other historical sites.

In recent years, Wanda’s health declined, but her love and devotion for her family did not. She still enjoyed spending time with her friends and family. After battling a brief but serious illness, Wanda passed away on October 10, 2009 at Harbor Hospice in Beaumont. She will be greatly missed by her family, friends, church, and community.

Wanda was preceded in death by her parents, Straight and Mabel Kelley, brother Harold Kelley, sisters Vera Mae Brennaman and Berniece Henson, and her beloved son Robert Martin Jones. She is survived by her husband Richard Jones, daughter Lou Anne Parish and her husband Robert, of Silsbee, grandson Justin Jones and wife Kristen, of Beaumont, granddaughter Elizabeth Sweatt and fiancé James Parsley, of Beaumont, granddaughter Caroline Sweatt, of Silsbee, step-grandson Rocky Parish, of Laurence, Kansas, step-grandson Scott Parish and wife Whitnie, and great-granddaughter Audrey, of Groves, sister Bobbie Smith and husband Drannon, of Newton, brother Odell Kelley and wife Barbara, of Katy, sister Shirley Choate and husband Butch, of Mineola, and numerous nieces and nephews.

rock of ages, cleft for me

i had a dream that i was alone on top of a cliff.

i sat near the edge of the cliff, looking out over the landscape. and i was upset.

i started crying and kept crying.

i was so frustrated that i just started screaming at the top of my lungs off the edge of the cliff.

and all of a sudden jesus shows up to my right. curly brown hair, white robe and all.

with tears in my eyes i glanced over at him. and he looked forward over the edge of the cliff, and he started screaming too.

so there i was, screaming at the world with jesus on the edge of a cliff.

it was a really good dream.

your kingdom come, your will be done.

so, tomorrow morning at 7am i am speaking at my old high school's see you at the pole. it's a little bit daunting to be going back to high school and sharing the message of christ--i am constantly aware of how completely unworthy i am to be the bearer of his story. so, i am going to write my way through this before tomorrow.

i met a kid this summer at our daytona event. i was working the compassion table during worship, and i saw a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy wandering the lobby of the convention center in a daze. after pacing back and forth around the hall, he eventually stopped at my table.

"do you know where a vending machine is?" he asked, obviously a bit disoriented.
"well, no. we don't really allow food or drink in the worship room, but feel free to use the water fountains if you are thirsty."

he paused, and continued, "i was down at the front of the room right in front of the stage during worship, and all of a sudden i felt the lord telling me to lay facedown on the ground and just pray as hard as i could. so i did. and i prayed and prayed and prayed, and i knew that if i looked up then i would be blinded by the light of god, so i wouldn't look up. and i kept praying and praying. i felt like i couldn't get up at all. then, after a really long time of praying, i felt god's hand touch my back and tell me that it was okay to look up and stop praying. so i did. and now, i need a vending machine."

i blinked at him, puzzled, before answering again, "well, we don't really have a vending machine, but we do have water fountains."

i don't want to judge this guy too harshly, but i do think that far too often we are like him in our approach to christ. we have these big, life defining, dramatic spiritual moments where we lay it all down for jesus and decide to take up our cross and follow him or give up television and the internet and any movie that doesn't involve kirk cameron or move to africa and reach an unreached people group singlehandedly. and then we go home, and our spiritual buzz fades, and we want to know where the nearest vending machine is.

and we completely miss the point.

in the first chapter of isaiah, the lord addresses his wayward people, saying,

what to me is the multitude of your sacrifice?, says the lord.
i have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of well fed beasts.
i do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats.
bring no more vain offerings; incense in an abomination to me.
new moon and sabbath and the calling of convocations--
i cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly.
your new moon and your appointed feasts my soul hates.
they have become a burden to me; i am weary of bearing them.
when you spread out your hands i will hide my eyes from you.
even though you make many prayers, i will not listen.
your hands are full of blood.

harsh words, right? this passage became pretty convicting for me this summer as one of our worship leaders put it something like this,

i hate your summer camps. your youth revivals. your "spiritual highs." what are they to me?

ouch.

the lord continues, however, offering the remedy for these shallow spiritual experiences:

wash yourselves, make yourselves clean;
remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes.
cease to do evil.
learn to do good.
seek justice.
correct oppression.
bring justice to the fatherless.
plead the widow's cause.

isn't that insanely beautiful?

the truth of the matter is simply this: true christianity is not lived out in the epic mountain-top experiences of summer camp or see you at the pole or an annual youth revival or disciple now. it isn't even lived out every sunday morning and wednesday night. following christ is a day to day journey, a continual acting out of one's belief. it is, as james would later tell us, caring for orphans and widows in their time of need and keeping ourselves unstained from the world. christ is worth more than our words or even our best worship services. he is worth our entire lives.

so, as a heart check, may i pose this question: do the people around you get a better picture of who christ is because of your life?

do they see that you strive to live a life that is pure?
can they tell that you are daily learning to do good?
is it obvious that you are seeking justice for the oppressed both near and far?
are you caring for the orphan and the widow?

if not, then the first passage probably should have made you shudder.

as christ followers, we must be a people who act out the gospel in every aspect of our lives, whether at school or at work or even at an amusement park or movie theater. christ's sacrifice on the cross should permanently stain our hearts and change everything about us. in short, it should move us to action. it should move us to compassion. it should move us away from apathy and toward sacrificial service to others. god's radical, crazy love for us should really mess with our heads and transform our lives. if it doesn't, then we may not really understand the core message of the gospel.

when jesus showed up on the scene two thousand years ago, he just couldn't seem to stop talking about this thing he called "the kingdom of heaven." over and over, he would try to explain this kingdom through all sorts of different parables and stories and analogies. in fact, his first words as he began his ministry were about the kingdom, "repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

and although the depth of discussion we could have about the kingdom could fill an ocean or two, i think part of what jesus is getting at is something like this: being a follower of christ quite literally means that you aren't like everyone else. you are no longer just an average person who wears a name tag or a t-shirt that says you are a christian. rather, you are a citizen of a different nation. you are fundamentally set apart. you are different. at your very core you are unlike the rest of the world.

i hope this idea really messes with you. i hope it messes with you when you have a moment of realization that you look a whole lot like everyone else. i know that messes with me a lot.

as people of the kingdom, we are sent out as ambassadors in a land that is not our home. we are commissioned to engage our schools, communities, and countries with the bigger-than-life love of christ. we are a people with a mission, a purpose for each second of every day. we are to act out the gospel with our lives so that people will recognize the king of our kingdom through our actions.

scripture tells us that as jesus went around to different cities and people preaching the kingdom, he acted out the compassion he felt by healing their diseases and caring for their afflictions. he then gave this challenge to those who followed him,

the harvest is plentiful,but the laborers are few. therefore pray earnestly to the lord of the harvest to send out laborers into the harvest.

then, scripture tells us, jesus gave his disciples the authority and ability to do just as he had done. he empowered them to be able to heal the diseases and afflictions of the people of this world. and he sent them out to do just that.

today, our king is sending us out to do just this. let us pray to the lord of the harvest to send laborers into the harvest. let us realize that we are those laborers and we are equipped to follow in christ's footsteps as people of the kingdom of heaven. let us not be those who will encounter god and walk away unchanged, looking for the nearest vending machine.

let us live as people of the kingdom.
let us engage this lost and dying world with the hope of christ.

in my life be lifted high.

it is absolutely irresponsible for me to be up writing right now. i should be going to sleep to prepare for tomorrow.

but i've spent so much time in my head lately, thinking about the different stories i've collected from this summer of ministry. the reality of life colliding with the beauty of redemption on a daily basis. i have so many things to share, i don't even know where to begin.

so i guess i'll start with brokenness.

i'm an observer to the core. i sit silently more often than not during the summers and just watch people. students having a camp experience are so incredibly interesting. almost predictable at times. and for someone like me who has attended six camps and staffed 24, it is so incredibly easy to become cynical. you cease to be surprised when you see a student raise their hands in worship and then relentlessly tease someone on the rec field that next day. it just becomes par for the course.

so, whenever i saw a brawny, faux-hawked, too-cool-for-school football player 16-year old boy, i quickly placed him in a nice, neat box. he would have a poor attitude. he would think he is too cool. he would not be affected this week. easy call.

i was not surprised when our speaker, sam, asked him to read a passage of scripture from philippians, and he casually read it as if it were no big deal.

then sam asked him to read it again, with more passion and volume.
and again,
and again,
and again,

he read.

for it has been granted to you on behalf of christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.

as he repeated these words over and over, you could almost visibly see the message sinking in. these words were becoming so much more than type on a page. they were life to him.

he began to sob as he read each word.

for it has been granted to you on behalf of christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him.

this tough 16-year old realized, in front of a crowd of about 500, that his life meant nothing apart from christ. and that to follow christ meant to suffer on his behalf. and that suffering on his behalf was granted to us--oddly enough, it is a privilege. suffering just means that you are doing something right in christ's kingdom.

i realized a few things in this beautiful moment:
i'm a jerk.
suffering is a privilege.
scripture is unbelievably powerful in and of itself.
god moves.
god moves more than i could ever imagine.

i hope that at some point in your life, the lord allows you to witness something like this. it is so humbling and exciting to see students get it; to latch on to the gospel.

it is good news to us.

even in suffering, it is good news to us.

hope is rising.

if i were perfectly honest with you, i would tell you that far too often i just don't get the cross. i know that it is a big deal, i know that it changes everything about me, i know that it colors every aspect of my world, i know that it is quite literally life to me.

but in the moments of my life when i hear about it or read about it, jesus's sacrifice doesn't always register with me.

recently, though, the cross has begun to sneak onto my radar as i hear the stories of students here at camp. daily, i hear stories of brokenness and addiction and divorce and sin and grief and regret. students find out at camp that when they go home, a parent will have moved out. students will tell someone of childhood abuse for the first time in their lives. students will speak out about addiction, lust, pride, fear. students will admit their suicidal thoughts and depressive tendencies.

and in the middle of all this, where is hope? what do you say to a fifteen year old girl who is struggling with guilt and shame because she was raped or a sixteen year old guy who is sinking under the weight of his pornography addiction?

we had a speaker a few weeks ago named sam bhatt. he's a friend, and one of the most gifted speakers i have worked with. he has a penchant for the creative object lesson, and he did not disappoint. one night, he set out two wooden crosses at the front of our worship center and told the graphic, bloody story of jesus's sacrifice for us. he then invited the students to consider what it was that jesus actually did for us that day. christ's death accomplished something (and accomplishes something everyday). what was it that jesus bore for you on the cross? what things in your life do you need to nail onto that cross with jesus?

a flood of about 600 students waited in line to write down on an index card specifically what they were struggling with or what they wanted to lay at the feet of the cross. then, they took their card, folded it, nailed it to the cross, and left it there as they walked away.

the funny thing about being on camp staff is that when everyone else goes home to consider their week, you stay behind and start all over again.

we have the same speaker next week, and we've heard that he will be using the same beautiful illustration with this group of students. we now have a crazy task ahead of us: removing all the nails and index cards from the crosses to make space for new ones to come. it has been an incredibly tedious, invasive, and humbling task. one by one we pull off these sacrificial offerings and reveal what has been given.

most say something like "everything" or "my life." others list general things, "pride," "selfishness." others simply say "thank you, jesus" or "i love you."

but then, there was an occassional index card that would make you pause.

"fear of failure and what the world will think"
"self image"
"my anger and my addiction"
"my fears are too big for me to handle"
"the fact that i was adopted and that you would let my grandfather have alzheimer's and cancer"

and then there were still others that make you stop completely.

"cutting"
"being raped by a guy who i thought was my friend"
"dear god, i am so sorry for what i've done. please don't let me drown here. save me from this."

and the one that i will carry in my wallet from here on out.

"i am a coward."

i ask myself again, where is hope?

and as i removed these notes one by one, i realized what i was missing: the cross they were literally nailed too. even though i didn't see it, each one of these students did. they caught a vision for they hope of nations and their own lives as they ran to the feet of the cross and laid down the most unreachable parts of their hearts.

the cross is good news to us.

it is hope for the broken, the addicted, the afraid, the lonely and forgotten. it is an invitation, "come, those who are thirsty. come to the waters." it is rescue for our souls and life to our hearts. it is the answer to every question--especially the hard ones. jesus's sacrifice on the cross accomplished something in our lives.

i got a call from one of our mission camp community partners yesterday. he hosted a group of our campers at the nursing home he works at this past week. he told me that because of the time our students spent with his residents, one of the older men who had been on suicide watch for sometime was taken off of it. the students literally carried the hope of the cross with them to the community of chattanooga, and it flowed from them so evidently that this man decided that life was still worth living.

do you see it? the cross brings hope to a lost, dying, and broken world.

and that, quite literally, changes everything.