I gave up facebook for Lent.
I've never participated in Lent before. I grew up eating fish sticks every Friday for school lunch because my Catholic classmates couldn't eat meat on that one day of the week. In high school, I listened to friends talk about giving up pop or candy or other things for this mysterious religious practice, but I never knew much about it myself. My Baptist heritage didn't teach me much about it.
This year I decided to partake. Life is so hurried, and months come and go before I'm even aware of them. Easter is my absolute favorite holiday, and I didn't want it to suddenly come and go without being ready for it.
So I decided to give up facebook, as it was probably the largest time-sucker of my day (minus my job). I was quite successful and have not logged on once in the past forty days. (After my dad died, my brother would read what friends had posted on my page, so in that sense I may have cheated a bit.)
But the main question is this: Was my participation in Lent successful in drawing me closer to Jesus?
I have to admit, I'm not sure I can say that it did. Each time I consciously avoided logging onto facebook, I was reminded that Easter was fast approaching. So it did help prevent me from being swept away in the hustle and bustle of daily life, and I was much more aware of my favorite holiday.
But I did not substitute my time online for time with God. I found other things to do, and I realized how much time I waste online. But I can't say I deliberately spent that extra time in prayer, meditation, Scripture, or anything else holy.
Is this something I would do again? Probably. Is it something I will do as a spiritual discipline rather than a religious activity? I sure hope so.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Restore NYC
A few months ago God burdened my heart with the reality of human trafficking. As I learned more and read statistics and saw pictures, I desired more and more to help. Here is some of what I've found:
Then a friend pointed me to Restore NYC. This is a non-profit organization based in New York City that seeks to provide support and healing to women of sex trafficking within the city. They're doing everything I can't, and I like that a lot. In fact, their current focus is to create a safe house for these women, because no such place currently exists in NYC.
Not only are they offering an escape and a safe place to go, Restore is also committed to walking hand-in-hand with women through their entire recovery. They will seek to meet immediate physical needs of food and clothing, restore spiritual brokenness, and provide training and education for the women to return to society successfully and independently.
To offer hope to broken and shattered women, donate here.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sources:
www.restorenyc.org
http://www.gems-girls.org/ganfs/home.html
http://www.polarisproject.org/component/option,com_frontpage/Itemid,1/
http://www.dreamcenter.org/new/images/outreach/RescueProject/stats.pdf
- Over 12 million people worldwide are trafficked for forced labor or sexual exploitation
- Each year, 1 million children worldwide are exploited by commercial sex trade
- Each year, over 200,000 children in the U.S. are at risk for sexual exploitation
- Of the women trafficked, 30% are victims of forced labor, 70% of sexual labor
- NYC alone is home to more than 2,200 children who have been sexually exploited.
- Average age of entry into prostitution: 12-14
- Total yearly profits of human trafficking: $32 billion
Then a friend pointed me to Restore NYC. This is a non-profit organization based in New York City that seeks to provide support and healing to women of sex trafficking within the city. They're doing everything I can't, and I like that a lot. In fact, their current focus is to create a safe house for these women, because no such place currently exists in NYC.
Not only are they offering an escape and a safe place to go, Restore is also committed to walking hand-in-hand with women through their entire recovery. They will seek to meet immediate physical needs of food and clothing, restore spiritual brokenness, and provide training and education for the women to return to society successfully and independently.
To offer hope to broken and shattered women, donate here.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Every few months I will feature an organization that is dedicated to carrying out Christ's Mission here on earth. My purpose in this is to raise awareness of various needs throughout our world and to challenge my readers to join together and participate in helping these organizations carry out the Mission. All throughout Scripture we are commanded to "look after orphans and widows" and "share with God's people who are in need" (James 1:27, Romans 12:13). Most of us live in abundance. It is our duty and pleasure to help those with nothing and thus share the love of Christ. I will donate financially to each organization as I present it here, and I ask and encourage you to do the same. (I know I have at least eleven readers who receive my posts via email. If each one of you donates $20, that quickly becomes $220 that will go out to reach all corners of the earth.)
Thank you.
Sources:
www.restorenyc.org
http://www.gems-girls.org/ganfs/home.html
http://www.polarisproject.org/component/option,com_frontpage/Itemid,1/
http://www.dreamcenter.org/new/images/outreach/RescueProject/stats.pdf
Friday, April 2, 2010
Out of Suffering Comes Hope
Four weeks ago I spent the weekend in a hospital room and watched my dad die a horrible death from a horrible disease.
I would watch him try unsuccessfully to sit up, watch his hands shake from weakness as he tried to hold his own water bottle, watch his lungs struggle for each shallow breath.
I watched these things, and I would plead with God. Please, God, take him soon. This is too much suffering.
And almost immediately, the Father would gently remind me of another - of His own Son. Images of Jesus filled my mind. Jesus, beaten and bloody, bruised and dirty, exhausted and wounded, hanging on a cross.
He reminded me ever so softly that this present suffering does not compare to the suffering Jesus endured. The dying body of my dad isn't even a shadow of the dying body of Christ.
This is why I rejoice this weekend. This is why last night's church service left a heavy weight on our souls. And this is why, as the weekend passes, the joy of the LORD will build in my heart until I cannot carry it any longer and it bursts forth like the glorious Sunday morning dawn!
Four weeks ago my dad left his earthly home on the farm and moved into a new and glorious land that shines bright with the glory of God. He celebrates Easter in the physical presence of those nail-scarred hands and the spear-pierced side. I celebrate here in the Spirit, in the new and living hope given by Jesus on that cross, in full knowledge that I, too, will one day stand at His side and see those scars that bore my name.
He is risen!
I would watch him try unsuccessfully to sit up, watch his hands shake from weakness as he tried to hold his own water bottle, watch his lungs struggle for each shallow breath.
I watched these things, and I would plead with God. Please, God, take him soon. This is too much suffering.
And almost immediately, the Father would gently remind me of another - of His own Son. Images of Jesus filled my mind. Jesus, beaten and bloody, bruised and dirty, exhausted and wounded, hanging on a cross.
He reminded me ever so softly that this present suffering does not compare to the suffering Jesus endured. The dying body of my dad isn't even a shadow of the dying body of Christ.
This is why I rejoice this weekend. This is why last night's church service left a heavy weight on our souls. And this is why, as the weekend passes, the joy of the LORD will build in my heart until I cannot carry it any longer and it bursts forth like the glorious Sunday morning dawn!
Four weeks ago my dad left his earthly home on the farm and moved into a new and glorious land that shines bright with the glory of God. He celebrates Easter in the physical presence of those nail-scarred hands and the spear-pierced side. I celebrate here in the Spirit, in the new and living hope given by Jesus on that cross, in full knowledge that I, too, will one day stand at His side and see those scars that bore my name.
He is risen!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Winds of Change
Seems like it was just days ago I was curled up on my couch, weighted down under multiple layers of clothes and a blanket. Snow drifts as tall as me lined either side of my snow-packed driveway, and sub-zero temperatures ensured I made good use of my car's auto-start each morning.
Now, I sit outside as the sun is setting, still wearing multiple layers, but this time with flip flops instead of thick fuzzy socks. The snow is all but melted, save for a few small drifts across the street. The birds are singing loudly, kids are down the street playing, Gracie is taking a few timid steps outside the house, and I just drug my trash can down a driveway without any ice.
I can't believe how things are changing so quickly. The seasons are a constant reminder of life's continual cycles. But somehow I forget that more changes in life than just the weather.
This month has brought dramatic changes to my life, to my family's life. I can accept it, but I don't often embrace it. Instead, I cling tightly to my routine, trying desperately to hold onto what I recognize. I crave the familiar. I function poorly outside of what I don't know.
But God once again patiently whispers to my soul, gently reminding me that change is necessary. He is not a God of routine, of sameness. No, He is a God of creativity, newness, life. He is a God of restoration, beauty, purpose.
The winds of change have swirled around me like a hurricane. They are subsiding, but not ending. They still rustle the leaves on the trees of my life, as if to tell me that we're not done yet. They dance around me, ever-present, but not taunting. They are like a fresh-smelling breeze that warms the soul on a spring day.
Change brings storms. Thunder and rain, snow and wind. But no change happens that has not already happened before. Winter is gone but will come again, with destructive winds, dangerous temperatures, and snow that halts daily life. But the combination paints a beautiful landscape of white and rolling hills and sparkling trees. Spring is coming, and with it much flooding from melted snow. Soon there will be thunder and lightning and rain. But then comes the beauty - green grass, beautiful flowers, new life.
Change brings new life.
Now, I sit outside as the sun is setting, still wearing multiple layers, but this time with flip flops instead of thick fuzzy socks. The snow is all but melted, save for a few small drifts across the street. The birds are singing loudly, kids are down the street playing, Gracie is taking a few timid steps outside the house, and I just drug my trash can down a driveway without any ice.
I can't believe how things are changing so quickly. The seasons are a constant reminder of life's continual cycles. But somehow I forget that more changes in life than just the weather.
This month has brought dramatic changes to my life, to my family's life. I can accept it, but I don't often embrace it. Instead, I cling tightly to my routine, trying desperately to hold onto what I recognize. I crave the familiar. I function poorly outside of what I don't know.
But God once again patiently whispers to my soul, gently reminding me that change is necessary. He is not a God of routine, of sameness. No, He is a God of creativity, newness, life. He is a God of restoration, beauty, purpose.
The winds of change have swirled around me like a hurricane. They are subsiding, but not ending. They still rustle the leaves on the trees of my life, as if to tell me that we're not done yet. They dance around me, ever-present, but not taunting. They are like a fresh-smelling breeze that warms the soul on a spring day.
Change brings storms. Thunder and rain, snow and wind. But no change happens that has not already happened before. Winter is gone but will come again, with destructive winds, dangerous temperatures, and snow that halts daily life. But the combination paints a beautiful landscape of white and rolling hills and sparkling trees. Spring is coming, and with it much flooding from melted snow. Soon there will be thunder and lightning and rain. But then comes the beauty - green grass, beautiful flowers, new life.
Change brings new life.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Cars, Books, and Testimonies
"Yer readin' the wrong book," he said to me as I stood up to leave. The repair man had just briefed me on the status of my car after I had spent the past hour and a half settled into the overstuffed sofa in the waiting room of the auto shop. Two men had sat across the room from me during this time, talking about their NCAA brackets and contemplating where the broken screw came from that was in one of the man's tires.
I looked down at the book in my arms. Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I looked up at the man who had spoken.
"Yer readin' the wrong book," he repeated. "You should be readin' the one about the Big Guy Himself."
Ohhh, I thought. Whew. I wasn't quite sure what direction he had planned to take with his original comment.
"I do read that book," I told him.
"Do ya? Good." And then he proceeded to launch into his testimony. He was in a car accident back in '79 and messed up some of his facial nerves. It took a few years, but God finally got a hold of him and he turned his life around. Now he loves God and has been following Him ever since.
"Well, I'm proud of ya," he said to me after I listened to his story and stood there like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to say. I mumbled a "thank you" and left the shop, head spinning and feeling a little ashamed of myself.
I'd spent the last who-knows-how-many weeks fighting with myself for not being more bold and verbally sharing my faith with any of the hundreds of people who cross my path each week. I beat myself up over not taking advantage of any and every opportunity to speak the Name of Jesus to my patients and co-workers, yet try to lessen my self-damnation by making excuses of justification.
The truth is, this process itself is a form of procrastination, an excuse I use to put off executing the command Jesus gave to all believers. After all, I can't go share my faith when I'm still trying to figure out all the "rules" and "methods" and "right ways" of getting it done.
Right?
Yet here was a man - totally relaxed, chatting with his buddy, out in public - who didn't hesitate to expose his faith to me. It's not like I handed him a huge opportunity by walking up and asking, "Can you tell me how to get to heaven?" (I'm finding that as a general rule...most people don't make it that easy.) He happened to notice the title of the book I was reading, and he found a way to make something happen.
I spend too much time thinking and no time doing. I desperately hope that the lost will somehow see Christ shining through my life...but really, how am I living in a way that they aren't? I live in a rural community. Everyone is nice to each other.
But so many are lost.
So many souls all around me are going to hell when they die.
I hope the lesson this man taught me doesn't fall flat.
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. 1 Peter 3:15
I looked down at the book in my arms. Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I looked up at the man who had spoken.
"Yer readin' the wrong book," he repeated. "You should be readin' the one about the Big Guy Himself."
Ohhh, I thought. Whew. I wasn't quite sure what direction he had planned to take with his original comment.
"I do read that book," I told him.
"Do ya? Good." And then he proceeded to launch into his testimony. He was in a car accident back in '79 and messed up some of his facial nerves. It took a few years, but God finally got a hold of him and he turned his life around. Now he loves God and has been following Him ever since.
"Well, I'm proud of ya," he said to me after I listened to his story and stood there like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to say. I mumbled a "thank you" and left the shop, head spinning and feeling a little ashamed of myself.
I'd spent the last who-knows-how-many weeks fighting with myself for not being more bold and verbally sharing my faith with any of the hundreds of people who cross my path each week. I beat myself up over not taking advantage of any and every opportunity to speak the Name of Jesus to my patients and co-workers, yet try to lessen my self-damnation by making excuses of justification.
The truth is, this process itself is a form of procrastination, an excuse I use to put off executing the command Jesus gave to all believers. After all, I can't go share my faith when I'm still trying to figure out all the "rules" and "methods" and "right ways" of getting it done.
Right?
Yet here was a man - totally relaxed, chatting with his buddy, out in public - who didn't hesitate to expose his faith to me. It's not like I handed him a huge opportunity by walking up and asking, "Can you tell me how to get to heaven?" (I'm finding that as a general rule...most people don't make it that easy.) He happened to notice the title of the book I was reading, and he found a way to make something happen.
I spend too much time thinking and no time doing. I desperately hope that the lost will somehow see Christ shining through my life...but really, how am I living in a way that they aren't? I live in a rural community. Everyone is nice to each other.
But so many are lost.
So many souls all around me are going to hell when they die.
I hope the lesson this man taught me doesn't fall flat.
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. 1 Peter 3:15
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