Lust for Life!

I recently had a wonderful Skype call with a beloved Dutch friend (who happens to be next to me in the picture above). We share the same heart for God, and it was a joy to catch up and be able to pray together. During our conversation, she mentioned a Dutch word for which there is no English counterpart -- Levenslust. Literally, it can be translated as lust for life, but a close approximation is perhaps the French joie de vivre. 

As my friend shared that this is the way she wants to live, my heart proclaimed a resounding Me too! We aren't here to just survive this life, although sometimes it can certainly feel like it. We were created for joy, for passion, for love. When fear enters our lives, it robs us of our levenslust. I'm not in the habit of finding deep meaning in country songs (maybe in my next post I'll quote some profound poetry, just for literary cred), but every time I hear the Kenny Chesney song "Can't We All Just Get Along?" these words really hit me:

Get along, on down the road
We've got a long long way to go
Scared to live, scared to die
We ain't perfect but we try

For so many years, I lived my life that way -- Scared to live, scared to die. I didn't know there was any other way. Truthfully, I wasn't really living. Moments of joy were fleeting. Peace was nearly nonexistent. I wanted to live, but I didn't know how. Every day seemed like a slog, and I certainly wasn't experiencing abundant life. Have you ever felt that way? Maybe you're stuck in that place right now.

So what do we need to do to escape the day to day cycle of fear and experience levenslust? I'll share a little secret -- Nothing! We can't escape fear and find joy by doing. The key lies in being. It is only by taking a posture of rest that we can receive what we need to live differently. It's a heart thing. Our hearts were made to be in connection with our creator, and it is through this connection that we discover whose we are. When the connection is damaged, or non-existent, we miss out on his impartation of love. It is this love that is essential for defeating fear, and there is nothing you can do to earn that love. But it does require an open and willing heart, a heart that yearns for connection. So what is your heart telling you? Is there something deep inside you that wants to experience a lust for life? To be free from fear? To live your adventure?

This is where true identity and freedom are found. No need to measure up. No need to have your life all sorted. No need to be perfect. Just be. Rest in his presence. Ask him for more love. (His supply is infinite!) Peace and joy are inextricably tied to that love. It's a beautiful package. Are you willing to let go and receive the greatest gift that God can impart? Are you ready to LIVE?

If this seems like an impossibility right now, it's okay. God is patient. He'll walk with you one step at a time, and he'll never stop loving you. Jesus said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." (John 10:10). He means that. He wants you to experience the quality of eternal life that can only be found in the Father. He won't give up on you, today or ever. But whatever your circumstances, wherever you are along the journey, let this be your prayer...

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. (Psalm 27:13-14)

Hold Tight to What God has Given You

Do you have a special scripture passage? A life verse? Maybe something that God highlighted for you during a difficult time? Words of hope that you were able to cling to when darkness loomed large?

For me, it's Jeremiah 29:11-13.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

I know, those seem like everybody's verses these days. You see verse 11 in particular plastered on half the decor items at Hobby Lobby. It shows up on t-shirts and mugs. I suppose you could say it's become 'basic' in some Christian circles. But whether trendy or maligned, those verses still hold significance for me.

Not long after my son was born, I became ill. It hit me suddenly, and the whole thing was rather mysterious. It started with a strange feeling of weakness in my arms and legs. My body started to hurt everywhere, and I developed odd bruises up and down my arms. I also began dropping things -- water bottles, keys, plates. Nothing wanted to stay in my hands. After a while, I couldn't even effectively  hold a fork. I already struggled with fear and anxiety, and this illness just amplified my struggle. With no concrete diagnosis before me, my mind began to wander into the worst possible places. Suddenly, every worst-case-scenario became a forgone conclusion.

One night, I sat at the kitchen table with my Bible trying to find some peace before heading to yet another specialist the following morning. I knew more tests would be ordered, and I didn't think I could handle the answer. Panic seized my heart, and I flipped through the pages of scripture looking for some words of comfort. I was desperate. I cried out to God, but I couldn't hear anything through the fog of fear. Suddenly, I had a feeling I should get up from the table and walk to the kitchen counter. I don't really know why; it was just an impulse.

I stood at the counter and began thumbing through a pile of mail. Somehow, this ordinary act was able to momentarily distract me from my panic attack. Within the stack of mail, I saw a newsletter from a Christian ministry that was unfamiliar to me. For some reason, I flipped it over to look at the back. There, in a 3x2 inch box, was an ad for a Christian counselor. Underneath the ad, in tiny letters, was printed Jeremiah 29:11. It jumped off the page at me, and I ran back to my Bible to look it up. As I read that verse, along with the two following, peace flooded over me. I knew God was speaking to me in that moment. I even laughed. For the first time, I knew that my future was in his hands, and he really cared for me. I didn't know what the outcome of my doctor's appointment would be, but I knew he would get me through it.

Recently, I've read a slew of articles talking about why we aren't supposed to apply these verses to our own lives. We're guilty of taking them out of context. I understand, we modern Christians often decontextualize Biblical passages to suit our own purposes. And I agree, this can be a problem. After all, it's important to understand that these verses were written, as Jeremiah 29:4 tells us, to those God "carried into exile from Jerusalem into Babylon." His original audience was a very specific people group. But are we not also a people to whom He desires to speak?

Personally, I have a problem with limiting the ways in which God may speak to us. Who are we to assume that God can't use any passage of scripture to speak to us as individuals? If we acknowledge that scripture is God's inspired word, and we also accept that God is omnipotent, then shouldn't we also allow that God can use scripture, even that which was originally addressed to a different audience, in ways that may speak directly to us in a specific circumstance today?

First, we can learn something about the nature of God from the above passage. He has knowledge about his people. He listens to them when they pray. He is able to be found. Even while keeping in mind that these words were intended for a different audience, I can take comfort from the truth it conveys about God's nature. That in itself is valuable.

But I also know that God has spoken to me in a myriad of different ways throughout my life -- an encouraging word from a friend, a strangely detailed dream, a glorious sunset, a paragraph from a 19th century novel, a train ticket from a stranger. Why must we feel it necessary to limit the ways God speaks to us, especially when it comes to scripture? Isn't God's love for us able to transcend even the very context of a passage.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying scripture can say anything we choose. Truth is not subjective. But I firmly believe that an omnipotent, omniscient and LOVING God can (and will!) use absolutely anything to reach us when we have fallen into darkness and fear. So let's not put him in a box for fear of making a mistake. His grace is big enough to cover our errors. If we've misunderstood him, he'll gently let us know. Friends, don't let the skeptics and naysayers steal something from you that God has used for good. If you have a verse that is precious to your heart, don't let it go. Rejoice that you have a Father who knows you and can speak directly to your heart with comforting and encouraging words in whatever way HE chooses.

Do You Dare to Dream?

I've always been a dreamer. In part, it comes from the way I was raised. My parents never told me that my wild childhood dreams were unattainable. For years, I dreamed of being an astronaut. When I wanted to be Sally Ride for Halloween, my mom made me the coolest NASA flight suit. Well, NASA is obviously not where I ended up, but my parents never once dissuaded me from that dream. My change of direction from science to music was my choice and driven by my passions. Later on, my redirection from music to politics was also my own decision. I have to think most parents, not bearing the name Kennedy or Bush, would not encourage their child to pursue politics, but mine always supported me.

On some level, I believe being a dreamer was wired into me. I can't remember a time when I didn't long to travel to foreign lands. I loved the colorful postcards my grandparents sent me from their travels. CS Lewis' Narnia and Madeleine L'Engle's Wrinkle in Time trilogy (not yet a quintet in my day) captivated my imagination. I lived in the flatlands of Illinois but my heart longed to see snow-capped mountains and vast cerulean seas. When I had the opportunity to travel with my choir to Eastern Europe only months after the fall of the Iron Curtain, my heart soared. I felt I was made for adventure.

But life happens. Everyone experiences things that make certain dreams seem unattainable. This realization hit me hard in my early thirties. My husband was in seminary, we had two young children, and I was struggling with autoimmune disease. At one point, I remember being challenged during a prayer meeting at our college to give my dreams to God. I'm going to be honest. That was HARD. My first thought was But these are MY dreams. I didn't want anyone else in control of what I felt was my last shred of hope. Truthfully, I didn't trust him with my dreams. What if I gave them to God, but he didn't give them back the way I wanted them? My heart wasn't completely in it, but I prayed. I told God he could have my dreams, but I'm sure I added some conditions. Deep down, I knew I would have to come to a place where I could let go and trust him.

Over time, I began to see that as I gradually loosened my grip on my dreams, I could trust God with these prized possessions. You see, he already knew my dreams, but in many cases he had much better ways for those dreams to be realized than I did. Some things that I let go have simply fallen away as they've seemed less and less important. Other things, like my dreams of global travel have been realized to an extent I never thought possible. My husband and I now work with a missions organization that sends us to love people in places that had never entered my dreams. And the organization we work with is one I'd never even heard of a year ago. Seriously, what we get to do is so much better than I'd imagined, but if I'd been the one trying to put the pieces in place, it never would have happened.

Fifteen years ago, my small dreams seemed like all I had left. How wrong I was! God had so much more, but I had to let go and trust him with the details. I'm not saying everything always works out the way we think it should. Scripture is clear that we will have struggles. We all suffer disappointments and loss. But when we meet him in those places of struggle, he brings healing, transformation and restoration. The things we think are so important look different from his perspective.

He knows our hearts. He knows our hopes and dreams. And he is GOOD. When we take the step, even just a tiny one, to trust him with our treasured pieces of self, we give him the opportunity to show his faithfulness -- to realize our dreams in ways we couldn't imagine. He's not sitting around waiting for an opportunity to smite you. To the contrary, he loves to give good gifts to his children. Are you ready to receive?

Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!  Matthew 7:9-11 (NIV)

Do You Trust the Tug?

Lately, I've been trying to listen more to that little tug in my heart. You know the one. It says, "Go say an extra thank you to that cashier." Or "Go help that woman with her bags." Sometimes we ignore the little tug because we feel self-conscious about what it is asking us to do.

A few months ago, the tug said to me, "Go hug that police officer." What? This was at the end of a church service, and my attention was directed to the female police officer standing at the side of the sanctuary providing protection during the service. (Sadly, that's a necessity in today's world.) Well, I knew this suggestion was not coming from me. I don't just get the urge to hug people I don't know. So I wrestled with it. I meandered a little closer to where the officer was standing but continued to argue with the little voice. Really? Why me? You know I'm not a hugger. After a few minutes, I couldn't fight it any more. Fine. I'll do it. I had to trust the tug more than my own inhibitions. I took a deep breath and walked up to her. "Excuse me. May I give you a hug?" To my surprise, she beamed back at me, "I'd really like that." And so I hugged her and walked away. I could see that it had made her happy; and that, in turn, filled me with joy. In reality, it was a simple thing, but I could so easily have ignored it. How often do we ignore the tug when it requires stepping outside of our comfort zone?

That little tug is usually described as our conscience -- an internal feeling or voice that guides our decisions. But what is it that guides that tug? I would suggest there are many things that can guide it, but what it really comes down to is the inclination of our hearts. When we are completely self-focused, the tug usually goes unnoticed. We are too busy or too distracted to pay it any heed. It can also become warped by our attitudes and beliefs. Either we think too little of ourselves (No one needs what I have to offer), or too little of others (They don't deserve what I have to offer) or sometimes, both.

The truth is we can choose to connect the tug to something, someone, that makes all the difference -- the one who is Love. Things like conscience and intuition are hardwired into us as a way to connect with our creator. Through these, we experience his voice and his will. The more we submit our own thoughts and judgments to him, the more we are able to clearly discern and respond to the tug.

Being an introvert, I tend to find the tug especially challenging because it usually involves engaging with people. You see, God asks us to love others. He doesn't ask the extroverts to love others and say to the introverts, It's okay if you only want to be around books, coffee and cute animals. Now, I'd be just fine with that, but God wants us to grow. He wants us to step outside our comfort zone and engage with what he is doing. And honestly, what he's doing is always much more fun and fulfilling than anything I would have conjured up. Plus, it takes the pressure off me to figure it out. It allows me to step out in his love one day at a time and wait with expectation to see who he will put before me. The other day it was a refugee family at the airport. For my husband, it was the server at a local pizza place. It can happen anytime, anywhere. Sometimes it's just offering a kind word or a smile. Maybe it's buying coffee or a roll of Lifesavers for a stranger. Other times, it's picking up the phone to call an old friend or delivering a surprise package to a neighbor. Getting to know God's heart makes it easier to discern what the tug is telling you, to trust that it comes from his will.

God speaks to every person in a unique way, but we all know the tug. Some describe it as a voice. For others, it's a feeling or something that appears visually highlighted. Occasionally, I've experienced it as an inexplicable wave of emotion resulting in tears. Never having been much of a crier, this immediately grabs my attention. It feels like God is giving me a window into his compassion and mercy.

How did you respond last time you experienced the tug? What would your life look like if you paid more attention to it and even looked forward to it with expectation? Does it make you uncomfortable? That's okay. Our hearts don't grow without a little discomfort. Dying to self is never easy, but what God cultivates in place of self is so much more beautiful. I encourage you to take that step. Let go and see where Love takes you.

Listen carefully; Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal. (John 12:24-25, The Message)


Photo Credit: Evan Kirby

The Bride of Christ is a Hot Mess

I've been a priest/pastor's wife since my husband's ordination twelve years ago. I've done a lot of church, and not just in my own denomination. There are things I love within a wide variety of ecclesiastical traditions. To me there are few things more beautiful than a traditional Anglican Lessons and Carols service, but I also love the freedom of worship in the Charismatic tradition. As a child, I sang in a Presbyterian church choir. Years later, I studied at an evangelical Church of England theological college, but my husband and I chose to send our children to a Roman Catholic school. My teenage daughter and I have enjoyed attending Bethel's Spirit-filled women's conferences together, but I've also been part of a women's Bible study at a large Bible church that does not embrace the gifts of the Spirit. As far as church traditions go, I've been around the block, and I rather like my somewhat eclectic approach to Christianity. But wherever I find myself on a Sunday morning, the one thing that breaks my heart is encountering Christians who don't know they are loved and don't know how to love others.

This is a real sickness within the church. And it is this sickness that makes non-Christians run the other direction. Mahatma Gandhi supposedly said, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." While the authenticity of this quote is highly debatable, it makes a valid point. What do people outside the church see when that look at us? What do they experience when they enter our sanctuaries? If the answer is something antithetical to love, then we're not living the Gospel, and we're missing the whole point!

When I speak to non-Christian friends about their view of Christianity, words like 'judgmental' and 'hypocritical' are frequently uttered. Sometimes these are just words that have been picked up from their cultural milieu, but too often these ideas come from personal experience. So many people have been wounded by the church, the very body that is supposed to be the hands and feet of God's love.

The truth is wounded people, acting out of their own pain, wound others. As humans, we are all broken, wounded people; but those of us in the church should be on a path of healing. Sure, we're all at various stages of healing, so no church is going to be full of perfectly transformed people. But we could be doing so much better.

When churches fail to be a place where wounded, hurting people can be honest and transparent about their struggles, everyone suffers. People end up hiding their wounds in order to look like 'good Christians,' and authentic relationships become impossible. The carnage is even worse when we don't allow church leaders to be vulnerable. Immense pressure is placed on leaders, across the theological spectrum, to look like they have it all together. When a leader struggles, as they all do, the temptation is to put on fig leaves -- to cover up what is wrong and play the part. Honestly, how many pastors or elders or missionaries have someone they can turn to when they struggle with something like depression or substance abuse or pornography...or even just plain old doubt?

So I could ramble on about being better at loving, and that's fine. But the core issue is much deeper. We can't love because we don't know we are loved. 1 John 4:19 says, "We love because he first love us." Do we really know we are loved? Not just with our heads, but with our hearts? Do we see ourselves as worthless sinners or as new creations? I can promise you that if your answer is the former, you're not going to be very good at loving the people God places in your path. I've done the worthless sinner thing, it doesn't bear good fruit. It robs you of the hope, joy and peace that Jesus died to give us. It leaves you with nothing to offer. Am I saying I've got this all figured out -- that I no longer sin? Of course not. But that is no longer my identity. More and more, I am coming to understand what it means to be a beloved child of God. It's a game changer. No longer do I feel the need to strive, to do things just to win approval from God or others. I can minister to others from the overflow of His love instead of trying to do it on my own strength. So. Much. Easier.

So whatever your church background, it is important to remember that we are ONE body. Jesus himself prayed that we all would be one. We are ONE Church, the very bride of Christ. We need to stop looking like such a hot mess. (And no, I'm not advocating putting those fig leaves back on just so we look respectable. I'm talking about taking a serious look at the condition of our hearts.) I have to think that Jesus wants to return to a bride that is actually capable of loving. So, starting with our own hearts, let's build ourselves up in love. Let's show the world what real love looks like. Let's live lives worthy of the calling we have received, for it is nothing other than a call to love.



Photo Credit: Kelly Sikkema

Rescue Me...I Don't Mind

What does it mean to be rescued? In our contemporary, highly-individualistic culture, the word "rescue" carries many negative associations -- weakness, a lack of self-determination, impotence. Particularly for women, it calls to mind an image of the princess trapped in the castle waiting for her prince to rescue her. I don't need any of those archaic ideas, we proclaim. I am strong. I am self-sufficient. And those qualities are fine, except for one thing. We are human. Both women and men. We all have weaknesses. And we need to know that it's okay to ask for help. Sometimes, it's an absolute necessity. 

Several years ago, my husband and I took an anniversary trip to Kauai with the aim of hiking the famed Na Pali Coast. Arriving at our hotel, I posed on the terrace in the golden light with the mystical coastline behind me in the distance. We couldn’t wait to get started.

As I looked for this photo today, I realized I didn’t know the whereabouts of most of the photos we had taken on that trip. Probably because neither of us have had much desire to look at photos from an adventure gone horribly wrong. My husband had hiked this same coastline years before while on a summer student trip. He'd loved every moment of it and was eager to share the stunning views with me. However, we were there in February — the rainy season. 

The sky was spitting as we started on the red, muddy trail. We weren’t bothered. A little rain and mud makes for a good adventure. Our plan was to hike into a canyon to see some dramatic waterfalls, and we estimated we could accomplish that in a few hours. How wrong we were!

We crossed the mouth of a river near a stunning tropical beach and began to wind our way into the canyon following the path of the river. Soon, the sky opened and we were caught in a tropical downpour. Water gushed down every side of the canyon, and the river began to rise. We made several crossings until it was clear that it was no longer safe to continue. Trapped on a sliver of land between two branches of a raging river, we were cold, wet, and I was beginning to lose the feeling in my hands and feet.

Other stranded hikers began to arrive on our little island. At first, we laughed gloomily at our own stupidity and made a meager effort to build a shelter, but nothing was dry and no one had adequate supplies. Eventually, the reality of our situation began to dawn on us. The threat of hypothermia loomed large. Did anyone know we were there? Would someone send out a search party? We had to make a choice. Would we stubbornly try to control an uncontrollable situation, or would we seek help? I don't know about anyone else on the island, but my husband and I were praying for wisdom and divine intervention.

After assessing our situation, we determined that someone would need to go. A Seattle firefighter, who was amongst our group, courageously volunteered to attempt to cross the angry river and look for help. He was not equipped for such a feat in his flip-flops, so my husband contributed his hiking books to the effort. We tied branches together to help him cross and prayed for him every perilous step of the way. We all knew that one false step would mean death. We breathed a collective sigh of relief when he was finally able to take off running from the other side.

It turned out no one knew we were trapped in the canyon. It was close to sunset, and our firefighter made it to a lower camp just in time to notify authorities of our situation. Had he been any later, it would have been too late for them to reach us. A rescue helicopter was sent that could remove two of us at a time. I'll never forget the moment I saw the chopper hovering above us lowering a rope basket. Hope, at last! And I never imagined I could be so completely confident that a hovering rope basket was where I wanted to be. So much better than the only alternative.

The rescue turned out a little different than I'd imagined. There would be no hot shower or cozy hotel bed for me that night. As it was getting dark, the chopper only had time to move each of us to the other side of the river. We were then forced to hike down to the next camp to seek shelter for the night. Cold, wet, and in some cases, bloody, we arrived at a tent where some through-hiking Canadians literally gave us the shirts off their backs. Fifteen of us crammed like sardines into a seven-person tent. It was utterly miserable, but it was warm, and we no longer feared the worst. At first light, rescue workers arrived to help us cross the mouth of the river so we could hike back the rest of the way. 

One woman died that night. She was swept away near the same place in the river where we crossed with rescue workers in the morning. I will always think of her and the family she left behind. Her sister, whom my husband had the opportunity to minister to, will always wonder why her sister was the one who hadn't been rescued. Only God knows.

Occasionally, my husband and I still shake our heads at the fact the we allowed ourselves to get into such a dangerous situation. We could have turned back many times. We could have heeded the advice of a local who mentioned that morning that it didn't look like a good day for hiking. But we are human, and sometimes we make bad decisions. Sometimes we need to ask for help when we've done something egregiously stupid. 

If you know me, then you know that I have a stubborn streak. I don't like to be wrong. But God has done a lot in my heart over the years, and this horrible holiday gone wrong was just one of many times He managed to bring me to my knees begging for help. And I am so thankful that He sends people to rescue us, people to give us the shirts off their backs. It's okay to be weak. It's okay to vulnerable. It's okay to screw up. If King David can stand in a place of complete helplessness and cry out to God to be rescued (just take a look at Psalms 30, 31, 40 and 69), then who am I to think I can walk through this life without help? Be human, it's okay. God made you that way.

He Knows Your Name

Have you ever given a fake name at Starbucks, just for kicks? What name did you, or would you, choose? The name of some famous person? A name that makes you laugh? A name that holds special meaning? I was recently at Starbucks when someone ahead of me gave my name. What? This NEVER happens to me. After all, my name isn't Jennifer or Kayleigh or Sophie. I have to say, it kind of weirded me out. Who was this dude with MY name? I guess I've grown accustomed to being somewhat unique.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the importance of names. Names impart a sense of identity. When our name is unknown to those around us, we feel disconnected and alone. On some level, we all long to hear our name, to be recognized, to be seen. But what about those whose names are erased by acts of evil? Or those whose names are known only to God?

Recently, I had the opportunity to tour the S-21 Prison, which is now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Conceptually, I knew what happened in Cambodia between 1975 and 1979. I knew about the Khmer Rouge's reign of terror and some of the horrifying statistics, but when you come face to face with actual torture chambers and photos of the people who were tortured and executed there, it is no longer about statistics. It is about real people. People with names. People with families. People with their own unique stories.

A common feature of genocide is the dehumanization of its victims. Most of us know about the way the Third Reich employed every conceivable form of evil to strip its victims of their individual  identity. In Auschwitz, this took the form of tattooing serial numbers onto prisoners. In Cambodia at S-21, prisoners were similarly stripped of their individual identity and assigned identifications numbers, which, unlike at Auschwitz, were frequently recycled. Photographs were taken of each prisoner, but even after the atrocities ended, many were never identified.

Both the Nazis and the Khmer Rouge went to great lengths to engender the belief that those whom they opposed were subhuman. Cambodian victims were referred to by a vulgar word that means "things" and were treated worse than animals. Similarly, European Holocaust victims were categorized as "the eternal subhumans" by Reinhold Heydrich, one of the main architects of the Holocaust.

When we begin to view ANYONE as less than human, we are denying the fact that all human beings are made in the image of God. This is to cross over into the deepest form of darkness. A darkness that allows for all manner of evil. ALL human beings, born and unborn -- not just the ones who look like us, think like us, worship like us, vote like us -- have intrinsic value because they bear the indelible image of their creator. Every human is known by God. They matter, and He knows their name.

He knows your name and He knows mine. And He alone knows the names of all of those whom the Khmer Rouge, Nazis, Hutu Supremacists, Ottoman Turks and others have tried to erase. Human history is drenched in the blood of those who were viewed by their neighbors as subhuman. And yet, we cannot live without hope.

Our hope lies in the fact that we ARE known. Known by a God who loves us. We are each uniquely made in his image. And we are made to love. We are made to love God. We are made to love our neighbor. We are made to love creation. We are made to speak the names of those who are forgotten. We are made to bring light into the darkness and hope from despair. He lovingly calls us by name to stand against the darkness. When He calls, how will you respond? Will it be with love or with fear? Will it be with hope or with hesitation?

We have an opportunity. An opportunity to change the world with love. Perhaps this sounds saccharine and idealistic; but friends, we can't just sit here and complain about everything that has gone awry in our world. Love is a powerful weapon -- one we too often fail to wield. Are you willing to heed the call to love fiercely and wildly? To be the person you are created to be? If your answer is yes, you just brought a little more hope into the world. Who knows? Perhaps you were created for such a time as this.