Ultimate Ice Bucket Challenge

My beloved niece nominated me to join the ranks of million others who have participated in the "Ice Bucket Challenge" -- supporting the quest for a cure to treat ALS patients, a most worthy cause. 

I accept the invitation . . .

to love
to pray
to donate
to empathize
to increase awareness

. . . and whatever else the Father of mercy and comfort leads me to do and endure for His higher purposes.

Sadly (for some, perhaps), no video of my drenched body is accompanying this post.
I apologize.

Allow me still to say I do not consider it beneath me to dump ice and icy water all over me nor do I deem the trend wasteful. Human beings long to matter and this activity has frayed a glimmer of hope through the dense fog of despairing apathy that plagues our species. And since ALS patients are all too often relegated to non-visibility, I am highly grateful that this popular challenge has stirred humans (at least in this corner of my world) to think more highly of others less fortunate than they are. It has also given people the opportunity to relate to ALS patients (even if it is for a few seconds) as they experience what it is like to feel trapped in one's own body/

To think compassionately of others is always a good thing in my book . . . in God's book:

"If [anyone] is hungry, give them food to eat; if they are thirsty, give them water to drink." -- Proverbs 25:21, NIV

My ALS brothers and sisters are in dire need . . .

. . . so are my Iraqi Christian brothers and sisters being injuriously treated by ISIS members.

. . . so are my unborn brothers and sisters being killed daily because of inconveniences and injustices inflicted upon women.

. . . so are my hastily and unjustly profiled African-American brothers who get shot long before their executors realize (if ever) their error.

. . . so are my other brothers and sisters -- neglected children, mocked parents, bullied teens, derided foreigners, gang-raped victims, battered wives, ostracized liberals, misjudged conservatives, betrayed colleagues, stage 4 cancer patients, clinically depressed friends, suicidal individuals, etc. -- who daily long to be known and loved.

. . . so are you who are dealing with difficulties that no one knows about.

. . . so am I whose grief has lingered for quite some time.

This long season of grief has done many productive things for my mind, spirit, and body. Chief among them is the reminder of the brevity of my time on earth and the urgency placed on said time to drink from the Source that can quench all thirst and to "do unto others" as I would like to be treated.

Well, I know I would like a cup of water when thirsty, a slice of bread when hungry, a hug when lonely, a shoulder upon which to lean and cry when grieving. Most of all, I know that given the choice between the whole world and Christ, I'd rather have Jesus because He is my true need.

May I do no less for those in need around me. May my eyes be opened to see and my spirit heartened to meet needs with the resources the Father has granted me. May I speak on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves, walk twenty extra miles in the shoes of another, render visible those who are all too often unseen and unloved by the masses. May I not be dragged into the currents of complacency in doing nothing for my neighbors in whatever need they face. And above all, may I be used to point them to Christ -- the One who has accepted the ultimate "Ice Bucket Challenge" on the Cross to meet the true need of humanity!

"But the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one." (2 Thessalonians 3:3, NIV)

He is faithful.
His grace covers us.
He will lead you and me.

God Cares When We Don't

Logic tells us, "When others treat us like they don't care, we should believe them because they don't." 

Pride tells us, "If they don't care, why should we?"

Confession states, "When we treat God like we don't care about Him or His Word or His Will or His Way, He believes us. We don't."

But, oh, am I grateful the story doesn't end there. 

Grace asserts, "He believes us. He knows we don't care . . . physically. However, He knows deep down we have a need, a spiritual need, an overwhelming void that only He can fill, though we don't deserve it."

And so . . . 

He cares when we appear not to.
He loves when we decide not to.
He listens when we prefer not to.

He chose us when we didn't choose Him.
He offered Himself when it was our death sentence.
He emptied Himself when we had nothing to pay our debt.

O, perfect love!

Might we, in turn, do the same when others treat us like they don't care?
Might we believe them yet choose not to take the road of pride and revenge?
Might we, instead, tread the narrow lane of loving grace and patient forgiveness?

God Is Here

God is here.

God is there.

God is everywhere.

He's in Tokyo.

He's in Toledo.

He's in Toronto.

God is in joy.

He is also in sorrow.

God is in the one you see as friend.

He is also in the person you deem a foe.

Fields of learning abound:

Art

Math

Music

Dance

Sports

Theatre

Science

Painting

Reading

Religion

Business

Literature

The sphere boxes Him not,

encompasses Him not,

disproves Him not,

excludes Him not,

exhausts Him not.

He is here.

He is there.

He's everywhere.

Individuals roam the universe:

Tall people

Short people

Brownish people

Pink-hued people

Strong-willed people

Mild-mannered people

The varieties of leanings,

skills, and expressions

of all humanity

graciously point to a Creator

who delights in stamping

person, animal, and plant

with His awe-inspiring mark.

Can't hear Him?

Listen.

It's raining somewhere.

A lion is roaring somewhere.

A girl is weeping somewhere.

Can't see Him?

Look.

There is a rainbow in the sky.

A beggar's palm is open before you.

Your neglected spouse is waiting for you at home.

Can't taste Him?

Salivate.

The salt of the ocean is in the air.

A barbecue is calling your name.

Delicious mangos are on sale.

Can't smell Him?

Inhale.

A fragrant peony and a red rose are in the yard.

A baby's freshly washed and powdered skin is awaiting.

The neighbor's recently mown lawn is activating your allergies.

Don't miss Him.

Don't limit Him.

Do not look past Him.

God is here, friend.

God is also there, bud.

God is, oh so, everywhere.

Sorrow and Love

Sorrow and love always do meet in every relational transaction. The only consideration worth its grain is a matter of intensity or level -- i.e., how much do we love or how much do we give?

Those who invest much grieve and rejoice even more.

Those who sacrifice little grieve and rejoice even less.

No wonder Christ was overcome with grief and passion in the Garden of Gethsemane. He is the One who invested the absolute most in His relational transactions with us who so often sacrifice very little on behalf of our fellow man.

Love

Sorrow

Could this co-existence of sorrow and love in the Son of Man be part of the reason leading Christ to summarize the Law and the Prophets with a singular  command: To love God and neighbor with wholeness of heart, mind, soul, and strength? Could this call to experience grief and passion play a vital role in our becoming more Christ-like?

Loving God completely inevitably leads one's feet to tread rocky and thorny paths that unearth much suffering on this side of heaven. Likewise, loving neighbor wholeheartedly leads one to experience hurts and wounds the likes of which sting more than do flaming darts. Still, the depth of joy and elation that is available to those who love sacrificially is referred to by David as "eternal pleasures at God's right hand." (Ps 16:11)

Therefore, no shortcuts are granted to us.

True love:

the height of joy is reached,

the depth of grief is plumbed,

North and South are extended

in equal measure.

I had no idea what was awaiting me when I prayed, asking the Lord to fill me with an undying love for Him and His bride. He began teaching me to love His Word, to love prayer, to love His people, to love His plan. With each aspect, I have had to look sorrow square in the face. A love for the Word, prayer, God's people, and God's plan does not materialize without tests and trials and torments and tribulations.

Hence, my life has been peppered with . . .

jabs
jeers
insults
delays

and most recently,

losses.

Within the span of less than two years, five relatives of mine have died, three of whom are my father and two beloved siblings. Each death feels like a stab in my gut. Each loss begs for more time to allow recovery to occur in my affected spirit and body.

Yet life does not stop.

Tick-tock goes the clock . . .
                          . . . and life moves on without deference to bruises, scars, or tears.

Sixteen days ago, my dear sister stopped breathing due to complications related to her vicious triple negative breast cancer. Of course, everything else stopped while arrangements were made for us to pay our last respects to her.

However, now is time for me to go back to work. Twice I have been on campus but haven't been able to make it all the way tony office. The pain of losing my sister is still too fresh, too hard for me to delve into the thick of academic work. The memories of multiple hospital visits spent alongside my ailing sister, countless talks with her oncologist and other health care providers, late night outings to the ER, and end-of-life talks will forever remain etched in my memory -- issues that have pulled on my heart strings and that demanded a great deal from me.

Truth be told, at this point in my life, I am honestly weary. I am worn out from my seasons of suffering, my seasons of affliction, my seasons of colossal losses. This weariness that has invaded my veins is a direct result from my perennial distress which pleads to go on and on, with no end or relief in sight.

I am not alone in this.
Believe me!

As I read through the psalms, I find in David someone who expressed a similar soul weariness from the suffering that plagued his own life. True to form, he declares in Psalm 6:6,

"I am weary with my moaning;

every night I flood my bed with tears;

I drench my couch with my weeping."

(Oh, isn't that verse describing my faucet-like eyes!?)

David further says in Psalm 69:1-3,

"Save me, O God!

For the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold;

I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.

I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched.

My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God."

(Oh my!

I readily relate.)

I am weary . . .

with the tears

with the affliction

with the suffering

with the deep waters

with the sweeping flood

with the terrifying quicksand

with the quake and the surging

                  . . . and feel . . .

overwhelmed

overstrectched

overextended

. . . as if the losses are sweeping over me, drowning me.

Yet there is hope.

God was David's rock and refuge.

Likewise, He is my foundation, my foothold.

When I'm dim, He is my light.

When I'm weary, He is my rest.

When I'm poor, He is my wealth.

When I'm down, He is my summit.

When I'm weak, He is my strength.

" . . . He restores my soul."

-- Psalm 23:3

In my weariness and brokenness and woundedness and neediness, may the Lord reveal Himself to me as the place where my soul can find repose and restoration!

I will not love any less.

I will not give any less.

I surrender my sorrow and love to Him.