For whatever reason, the topic of homosexuality keeps coming up in my life lately.

It's one of those "hush-hush" topics in religious communities.

[well, in much of society, really. remember "don't ask don't tell"?]

But when it does get brought up, it's one of those subjects that is almost always discussed scornfully.

This past week, the women's soccer coach at one of the schools where I work was forced to resign when she told her team that she and her female partner were going to have a kid together.

Get this: Not only is this woman preparing to be a first-time mom, she's now unexpectedly jobless.

And that's when it really struck me: Why does it even matter whether homosexuality is "right" or "wrong"?

Are we not called to love?

Are we not called to accept?

Are we not called to respect all people?

Are we not called to not pass judgment?

Yet overall, Christians are the people who shun this particular community more than any other group does.

"But if we are the body, why aren't His arms reaching? Why aren't His hands healing? Why aren't His words teaching?" --Casting Crowns

Can we not live a life where we love all people, regardless of circumstance, past choices, or personal convictions?

Why do we feel we have a right to judge?

"Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone." --John 8:7

It seems to me that the issue isn't as much with homosexuality itself as it is the way Christians choose to treat their fellow man.

the Kelsi bubble.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that you aren't the only one with problems.

Although I suppose it's natural to get wrapped up in your immediate surroundings, it's certainly not healthy.

The past couple weeks have been rough.

I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease nine years ago.

Three weeks ago, I spent time in the hospital to have some testing done.

Two weeks ago, I went to my doctor to follow up with the testing.

The testing showed that my Crohn's is more active and more aggressive than my doctor anticipated. This means I need to change my treatment, which is always an uncertain and scary thing.

We discussed the two treatment options I've yet to try:

The first option is a combination of 2 meds. I've been on both medicines before without much luck, but sometimes medicines behave differently when paired with other meds. One of the medicines, though, made me so nauseated the last time I was on it that I had no desire to try it again.

The second option is a relatively new medicine that often causes a brain infection which is usually fatal.

I left that appointment not knowing how to process this information. I had three choices: continue to get sicker, compromise my quality of life by constantly being on the verge of throwing up, or put myself at risk of a fatal brain infection.

I prayed.

I journaled.

I cried.

I thought.

I researched.

I discussed.

But still, neither option seemed great.

And then I started talking to Sarah.

Sarah has Lyme disease.

Now, I didn't know much about Lyme disease before I talked to her, but it's not as treatable as one might think.

Sarah plays violin.

Her Lyme disease is affecting her brain in ways that limit the mobility of her arms and fingers.

Sarah likes people.

Her Lyme disease makes it so she often can't process what people are saying to her.

Sarah celebrates holidays.

Some days she feels fine. Some days she literally can't function. She's had to stay at home by herself for the past several major holidays just because those have happened to be days where she has been especially sick.

Sarah smiles a lot.

She would never let her Lyme disease prevent that.

Today I went to my doctor.

We decided on an alternative therapy for treatment, although it would require me to give myself a shot each week.

I was looking at my calendar to see which day of the week would be best, and I chose my shot day based upon which day of the week intersected with the fewest holidays.

And then I thought about Sarah.

She has to give herself 3 shots every day. On Christmas. On her birthday. On Valentine's Day. On her wedding day.

And that's when I realized what's so terrible about chronic illness:

There's no reprieve. Ever.

It's a constant battle. It's always in the back of your mind. It's always a source of worry.

For 9 years, Crohn's Disease has been somewhere in my brain at all times.

Every single day.

"Any idiot can face a crisis; it's day to day living that wears you out." --Anton Chekhov

Then my dad called me to ask how my appointment went.

I filled him in, and then asked him about his most recent trip to Haiti.

[He got back last night.]

His response was, "It's hard to tell people that they're going to die when their only sin is that they were born in the wrong country."

And here I am being all concerned about whether my meds were going to make me feel nauseated or not.

It's interesting how my circumstances seemed unsurmountable and bleak until I put them next to others.

Next to what Sarah deals with every day, Crohn's Disease is cake.

And when placed side-by-side with dying for lack of accessibility to treatment, the relative unpleasantness of Crohn's Disease is microscopic.

How did I get to a point where the only thing that matters is what's happening to me?

When did I allow myself to get so wrapped up in my own life that I forgot that God is bigger than any of it?

Where along the way did I dismiss the fact that my life isn't about me at all?

"I turn off the news when I don't like what I see. It's easy to do when it's population: me." --Matthew West

lenses.

Several months ago, I was coffeeing with a friend, and she and I got onto the topic of international travel. As we discussed various cultures and Americans' views on those cultures, I realized how pivotal our attitudes toward the outside world are in the way we treat others.

Since that point, I've been focused on the concept of the lens through which the individual views the world. I've applied it almost exclusively to culture, and have used this principle in countless discussions of how ethnocentric Americans tend to be.

Every morning, I start my day by checking my email from my phone.

[I check it on my phone so I can stay in bed a few minutes longer.]

I'm on a mailing list where I get a Bible verse and mini-devotion sent to me each morning. That's generally the first email I read.

This morning's verse smacked me in the face. I reread it 4 or 5 times, and then proceeded to grab my journal and write about it. Even still, six hours later, I can't get its words out of my head.

"To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted." Titus 1:15

Basically, your outlook on life and your perspectives about others reflect the essence of who you are.

DANG.

A few nights ago, I had a conversation with a friend which led to him talking about how his knowledge of God is limited by the finite capabilities of his human brain. It basically took my obsession with the cultural lens to a whole new playing field: the human lens. As humans, we can only comprehend God through our lens's limited understanding.

Why I'd never thought to apply the lens concept to religion is beyond me, but it makes so much sense. My frustrations over others' apparent cultural ignorance are no different, fundamentally speaking, than the way in which I'm ignorant about the complexities and mysteries of God.

And then came this verse.

My prejudices about others are a reflection of my own shortcomings.

Something I dog on a lot is cultural Christianity.

[you know, people going to church because it's what everyone around them does, and do just enough to keep them from feeling guilty.]

But according to this verse, I perceive cultural Christianity to be prevalent in society because it's the way I operate. My lens is reflecting what's inside before allowing me to see out.

Is this really true? Have I been so sucked into a culture where Christianity is the norm, that I've been living it simply because that's what's socially acceptable? And because it's so mainstream, am I living cultural Christianity without realizing that's what I'm doing?

They say that bringing out the good in others is the best way to bring out the good in yourself.

By Titus 1:15, though, you can't bring out the good in others until you've found that equilibrium in yourself,

OR

conversely, does bringing out the good in others create a rightness within you?

It goes back to a verse in Matthew I came across yesterday: you can't wash the outside of a dish and assume that's made the inside clean as well. It has to start with the inside, and then the outside will end up being clean (Matthew 23:25-26).

So then. I suppose I don't have room to evaluate how accurate (or inaccurate) a person's perspective might be. I need to work internally, and everything else will fall right where it should be.

...easier said than done.

Albert Einstein can't call ME lame.

I came across a quote today that grabbed my attention:

Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind. --Albert Einstein

At first I got all offended.

After all, it's been pounded into me my entire life that "faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." (Hebrews 11:1)

Nope, no science necessary for faith, Christianity, or religion in general.

But then I thought about it a little more.

Something I've been discovering about myself over the past several months is that nature is one of the most concrete ways in which I see God.

Nature is one of the most-studied things by scientists.

And then it clicked:

God is the God of science.

He created the elements on the periodic table.

He created every atom, molecule, and quark that humans haven't learned to see.

He created the process of photosynthesis.

He created meteor showers.

Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind.

There's really no way to go through a day on this planet without experiencing God through science, whether or not we choose to acknowledge it.

The two are so intermarried that there's no way to untangle them.

In our culture, there is much separation among various disciplines.

But God created it all, and it's all a reflection of His image.

So as usual, Einstein is right: there's really no reason to even try to separate religion from any other aspect of life.

How can I stand here with You

And not be moved by You?

half a year later: still trying to understand.

It's been 6 months.

The world has moved on.

Healthcare Reform.

The World Cup.

The oil spill in the Gulf.

Greece's financial crisis.

Sure, there are other valid things to focus our attention on.

But there's still need in Haiti.

I had dinner with a friend last night who just got to the US from Haiti a few days ago. She told me that there are still entire villages in Haiti that haven't received any help at all. None.

"Exactly 6 months ago 220,000 people died and 300,000 people were injured... All the money in the world couldn't fix that."

--@akagstrom

Yet a lack of help is almost literally adding insult to injury.

Today, I spent time watching, reading, and listening to several updates on Haiti's earthquake's aftermath from several different news sources.

People still don't get it.

The thing that struck me most was that relief workers and organizations are imposing American standards on this Haitian calamity.

Organizations are funding the building of houses on empty land.

Great. That's awesome that they're doing what they can to help.

[And no, that's not sarcastic in the least. Honest.]

But what they haven't taken the time to learn is that Haitian communities are extremely close-knit. You know how when you endure hardship with a group of people (or even just one other person), you automatically have a bond with those people? Take that concept, and apply it to an entire community who's experienced generations of starvation, disease, and the struggles of everyday life. Do you really think they're going to leave that community just because a more sturdily constructed house is offered to them? Not a chance. Sure, that might seem illogical to Americans, but that's the way it is.

We aren't meeting the people where they are. We aren't catering to their needs. Instead, we're meeting the needs we think they have.

Is that really helping them?

I'm not convinced that it is.

photo credit: Troy Livesay

"I know the problems are endless and the needs are great. I know the mountains are large. People are suffering. Things seem not to improve. It feels almost insurmountable.
But I also know ...
As the love of Christ compels us, we must recognize that He gave us all hands, hearts, and gifts that are even more endless. We must believe that our ability to advocate for others is great. We cannot turn away from what hurts us to see. We cannot give up on things that frustrate us. He is bigger and more able than we know - if we all respond with His generous love - things will change. I believe it."

--Troy Livesay

"6 months later, it is still difficult to understand, to describe, to convey...what's happened here. Pa bliye Ayiti. [English: 'Don't forget Haiti.'] Pray, hope give."

--@jen_halverson

grace.

God has been hurt by me.

I've caused God pain.

I've caused God sadness.

I've caused Him grief.

Who am I to feel as though I have the right to mistreat God?

The Creator of infinity.

The Lover of all.

The only One who won't ever hurt me.

Yet I've hurt Him.

And I've been selfish enough to think that I have a higher agenda than what He has for me.

Awesome. Why do I do this?

I defame His name. His existence. His creation. His world.

It's all so sacred. It's His Love. His bridegroom. The one thing He loves more than anything else.

And I treat it as insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. Worth nothing.

He experiences human emotion. And I've caused Him to experience some of those emotions that no human wants to have to endure.

If no human would want to endure them, surely we wouldn't wish them on a God who has never been anything but good.

But we do.

Not only do we wish them upon the One benevolent God, we inflict them upon Him.

I am the cause of God's grief.

And He is the cause of my joy.

There's nothing that's fair about that.

But I suppose that's a prime example of the character of God.

While I was choosing to hurt Him, God chose to be humiliated and brutally murdered for me. [Romans 5:8]

It's not fair.

But that's grace.

It's overwhelming sometimes.

"God didn't come to make bad people good. He came to make dead people alive."

-Aaron Bryant

a more different blog on love.

Apparently my brain is getting stuck on topics lately. I've blogged about water twice in the past month-ish (although I think I might've only published one of them? I don't remember), and now I'm writing about love for the second time.

But it's such a deep topic. It's one of those that could never be overanalyzed. Love is so multi-faceted, and can signify so many different things.

It's interesting to me that there's only one word in the English language for love.

[my inner word nerd is coming out...]

There are four words for love in the Greek language:

agape (αγάπη) is most commonly used in modern day Greek, and refers to real love. You know, like the kind of love where you would do absolutely anything for the person.

eros (έρως) is a sensual passionate love. i.e., getting to know someone in the "Biblical sense".

philia (φιλία) is friend love. It can refer to loyalty among friends, comfortable familiarity with family, etc.

storge (στοργή) is acceptance. Sometimes it has the connotation of a begrudging acceptance, but it's almost always used in reference to an unearned affection.

My point of focus the past couple days has been agape love. It totally blows my mind. It's quite possibly the most beautiful and unselfish thing I've ever witnessed.

There's an older couple at Madison Park (my church in Anderson) who have been married for a lot of years. Over the past few years, the wife has become more and more affected by dementia.

I first met them a couple years ago when I started to become more involved in the worship arts ministry at Madison Park. At that point, the wife was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's. She would say the same things to me every Sunday (most Sundays she reminded me that she plays violin and would then give me a high five because I "deserved it"), but was otherwise self-sufficient.

By the time I left the church the following summer, she had become somewhat socially inappropriate, and was no longer mentally capable of driving, but was still able to play violin in the orchestra and be an active member of the church choir.

I hadn't seen or thought about her since I stopped attending Madison Park eight months ago, but while I was in Anderson this past month, I couldn't help but notice her in the church choir there.

You see, she kind of stuck out. Not only was she the only female standing smack dab in the middle of the men's section, but she also wasn't really singing. She'd stare off into space for a few minutes, then sing a few words that weren't necessarily a part of the current song, and then she'd look around some more.

It was honestly kind of sad to watch, but at the same time, it was really a neat thing to see. Her incompetence wasn't the neat part; it was the way her husband was there to support her. She probably shouldn't have been in public, but her husband was right there with her watching her every move and making sure she didn't harm or embarrass herself (or anyone else).

Her husband has literally devoted his entire existence to enabling his wife to live the life she wants to. She was standing in the men's section so he could keep a closer eye on her. He stands in her shadow and watches from a distance. If she does anything inappropriate (which is frequent), he gently guides her away from the situation.

She's obviously a very different person now than who she was when they got married.

But he wasn't kidding when he told her,

"For better or for worse.

In sickness or in health.

Until death do us part."

I was looking through the four Greek loves to try to identify which of these was most closely linked to the love I saw this man show his wife, and I couldn't decide on just one. His love for his wife is so deep that it encompasses all four of these loves. Sure, there's probably not much eros in their relationship at this point, but he displays the other three loves in an unmistakeable way.

The interaction between this couple is the closest thing to God's love that I can ever recall seeing. Sure, a lot of people are of the opinion that God is a harsh and critical deity. But all I know for certain is what I've experienced, and what I've experienced is that God is a god of unconditional, unmerited, irrational love.

Regardless of what I do or how far away I try to run, God's never stopped loving me. He's never stopped providing for me. I don't understand it. But I can't deny its truth.

Love always protects,

always trusts,

always hopes,

always perseveres.

-1 Corinthians 13:7

lately.

I've done a lot of driving lately.

{Seriously. Close to 1500 miles in the past 11 days.}

I've started learning Russian lately.

{So far I know the alphabet and numbers 1-10.}

I've tried to start reading again lately.

{I've read maybe 100 pages within the last year. And that's probably being generous.}

I've been learning to love lately.

{It's harder than it looks. It's also more rewarding than I could've imagined.}

I've been worrying about money lately.

{I guess that makes me normal.}

I've gotten really into fresh fruit lately.

{It just tastes so good.}

I've been skyping a lot lately.

{It helps me to miss my faraway friends less.}

I've been learning lately.

Learning about myself.

Learning about others.

Learning about God.

Learning about peace.

Learning about contentment.

It's funny how you can have all the degrees in the world, but there's always going to be more to learn.

I guess that's why we have God.

Friends.

Experiences.

Pain.

They shape us into who we are. They teach us things we couldn't learn any other way.

I was listening to the radio today as I was driving. The question was posed, "How can I know God loves me?"

Sunday School answer?

Jesus loves me this I know,

For the Bible tells me so.

(Or I guess there's always Romans 5:8... "God demonstrates His love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.")

Real answer?

I'm not sure.

The question is so simple and so fundamental that we tend to gloss over it.

It's one of those things that I've always accepted as truth without questioning it or giving it much thought.

I got stuck on this question.

I thought about it for a while, discovered I didn't have any conclusions, and then promptly dismissed it.

And then I started reading some old journal entries of mine.

I came across one where I'd written, "Bondye konnen tout bagay. Bondye komprann tout bagay."

God knows everything. God understands everything.

Such a simple couple of sentences. But such a comforting concept.

I realized that was my answer.

How can we know God loves us? He knows everything and understands everything.

He has it all under His control. He knows what's happening, even when we don't. (Especially when we don't.)

He knows everything. He understands everything.

Everything.

My finite mind can't even understand the concept of everything.

But who cares? God knows it. He gets it.

Of course He does; He made it.

And He loves His creation.

"But what is man that You are mindful of him?"

--Psalm 8:4a

agua. l'eau. wasser.

Over the past couple months, I've found that one of the most concrete ways I can try to understand God is in water.

(Don't you worry, I'll explain.)

It's always been difficult for me to comprehend how God can be so many things, so many characteristics, all at once. A couple weeks back, I was walking around Radnor Lake in silence with a friend when I had the epiphany that water, like God, displays multiple characteristics at once.

Think about it:

in the context of a waterfall, water is powerful. majestic. dangerous. terrifying.

at the base of that waterfall, the water is still. calm. serene. refreshing.

the same waterfall creates mist, which is almost unnoticeable, but is certainly there if you choose to be aware of its presence.

water is what we drink to sustain our physical bodies. those bodies are composed of 60% water.

it can freeze into a solid. ice in itself can do many things. it can sink the titanic. it can bring relief to an injury. it can enable humans to walk on the surface of a pond.

What a fickle friend, that H2O.

Over the past several days, the town where I live has experienced the worst flooding in its history. Water has become the enemy.

it's killed 30 people.

it's ruined hundreds, if not thousands, of people's cars.

it's left a lot of people without electricity.

it's filled the grand ole opry.

it's picked up houses and carried them away.

photo credit: Lonnie Fowler

I was personally unaffected. Well, for the most part. We lost power for a day, and our water heater is out of commission, but otherwise my house and roommates have come away from the flooding unscathed.

But the water is still everywhere.

It isn't forcing itself on me.

It's stayed out of my house.

But it's very present.

How God-like is that?!

He's all over the place.

Our very existence screams His name.

Yet He allows us to ignore it if we choose to.

If we want, we can deny His presence.

We can choose to drive on the roads that aren't flooded.

But that doesn't change the fact that He's there.

photo credit: Lonnie Fowler

Open up the sky; rain down Your love.

I don't care if I never get enough.

I just want to be caught in that flood

So open up the sky.

love... or something like it.

For whatever reason, I've been obsessed with the word love today.

Not the romanticized, chick flick type of love our society places so much emphasis on.

No, I've been more focused on real love. The kind of love that I should be showing to everyone. Unconditionally.

Unbiasedly.

Uninhibitedly.

I went to my iTunes, and searched "love".

94 songs came up.

Everything from "Love Shack" by The B-52's to David Crowder's "Amazing Love."

It's interesting how humans have perverted the idea of love.

"I love pizza" is said as flippantly as one might say their birthdate or shoe size.

This human meaning of love is something that can be wonderful, yet simultaneously agonizing.

Then I went to BibleGateway.

I searched "love".

There were 697 results.

As I read through the first few hundred verses, it dawned on me that love is a choice.

It's about choosing to genuinely care about other people, regardless of their alleged value in society.

This kind of love is "dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal," in the words of Abraham Lincoln. [Thanks Mr. Hartzell for making me memorize the Gettysburg Address in 10th grade.]

I'm not the Savior.

I can't do anything for anyone, except to show them that their life matters.

All I can do is show love.

That's it. Period.

"The entire law is summed up in a single command: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

-Galatians 5:14

still.

The past couple weeks have been interesting.

Interesting... could I be more vague? [I guess I could be more vague if I made up a word. The past couple weeks have been lubarious. Yep, now you have even less of a clue what I'm talking about. I'll try this again.]

The past couple weeks have been some of the most emotional ones I've had in quite a while. It's been made up of some of the lowest lows I can ever remember having, but it's been counterbalanced with some incredible highs that have kept it both bearable and quite interesting.

There's that word again. Interesting.

I guess the bottom line is that I don't know how to process everything that's gone on. I've become very emotionally fragile. By the time I deal with myself, I have nothing left to give away. I can't invest into other people like I want to.

I was laying in bed this morning, trying to process everything, when a crystal clear sentence cut through the jumbled mess that was in my head:

Be still and know that I am God.

It wasn't a phrase I'd thought of recently, nor was it anything that's ever held exceptional meaning in my life, but it was precisely what I needed to hear.

I realized I've been trying to take things into my own hands.

(How human of me.)

As soon as this Psalm entered my mind, my entire demeanor changed. I felt myself physically loosen. I stopped analyzing every tiny detail of the past couple weeks. My brain simply stopped.

And I was still.

And I knew.

I knew.

That God is sovereign.

That God has everything under control.

That God is in charge.

That God won't give me anything that I can't handle.

That God allows struggle in order to enable growth.

That God is molding me.

That God has never and will never give up on me.

That God is love.

So I will be still.

And I will bask in the peace that I will never fully comprehend.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress." --Psalm 46:10-11

trying to understand.

You'd think I'd be somewhat over it by now.

It would make sense for me to have moved on with my life.

But it still haunts me.

I still see the impact on my life of the earthquake in Haiti.

Every day.

It has truly changed the way I live.

It's been a lesson in self-discovery.

I didn't realize how crucial the Haiti aspect of my life was to my overall contentment.

I can't not have that as a constant part of my existence.

This morning, I listened to a speaker who was comparing Haiti's earthquake to 9/11.

I was honestly surprised at how strongly I reacted.

My whole body tensed up.

I was legitimately angry at him.

I shouldn't be angry. I realize that he just doesn't understand.

But I couldn't shake it.

2,819 people died in 9/11. [0.00001% of the US's population at the time.]

230,000 people died in Haiti. [2.8% of Haiti's population.]

The estimated cleanup cost from 9/11 is $600 million.

The projected cleanup cost in Haiti is $1 billion.

1,506,124 tons of debris was removed from the World Trade Center site.

An estimated 60,000,000 tons of debris is yet to be removed in Port-au-Prince.

source: nymag.com

I'm not trying to diminish the calamity of what happened on September 11, 2001.

I realize that the scope of thousands of people's lives was forever changed on that day.

There is no way to rectify or justify the attacks.

But please understand, there's no comparison between the two events.

Port-au-Prince has essentially ceased to exist.

"When arriving at a large tent city downtown, our police escort said, 'There is no more Port-au-Prince.' Heartbroken, she stayed inside the truck." -@troylivesay (January 21, 2010)

the famous one.

I've always liked famous people.

I've not really ever had a reason for it, but if someone is famous, I find myself drawn to them.

Last night, I went to a writers round. There were five people participating. I don't typically like writers rounds all that well; I mostly went for the social aspect of the show.

The third time through, one of the people I know played a song of his that nearly everyone in the room knew. It was one of those experiences where music took me to a place that I couldn't understand. It brought me to a mentality that transcended the dingy room where I was sitting.

It was in that moment that I realized that I'm not drawn to famous people; rather, the pull is that of talent. Something of which fame often happens to be a byproduct, but isn't necessarily part of it at all.

I thought of my closest friends, and realized that they're extraordinarily skilled in what they do.

My best friend from high school is one of those people who brings joy to everyone she encounters. She's a master at it. It's rare to have a conversation with her and not feel better afterwards.

My closest friend in college is the most talented violinist I've ever heard. She can make that instrument sing in ways that I can't understand. It goes beyond simply music to a realm that makes you forget anything else exists.

I don't care about fame; I want to surround myself with people who nurture the talents they've been given to make them reach their full potential.

And then a song came to mind. A song I hadn't thought about in years.

You are the Lord, the famous one,

Great is Your name in all the earth.

The heavens declare You're glorious,

Great is Your fame beyond the earth.

God is the master of His craft. Everything He does is perfect, and His renown is well-deserved.

His fame is more than a human response to what He's given; it's the only logical reaction. When faced with that unsurpassed flawlessness, there is no option but to sit in awe and wonder at the fame and beauty of God.

There's nothing more complete and all-encompassing than the works of God. The very essence of who we are is a reflection of Him. We're living in a world we can't begin to understand. Sure, scientists try. Philosophers try. But our finite minds can't begin to scratch the surface of the intricacies of God's creation.

"The fact that what is beyond my understanding is still in front of my eyes is beautiful."

-Bradford Dobbs

Yet we numb ourselves to it. We neglect to realize the thought and precision with which everything in our existence was intentionally fabricated.

Revealed by nature and miracles, You are beautiful.

You are beautiful.

"You have judged many throughout your life. You have judged the actions and even the motivations of others, as if you somehow knew what those were in truth. You have judged the color of skin and body language and body odor. You have judged history and relationships. You have even judged the value of a person's life by the quality of your concept of beauty. By all accounts, you are quite well-practiced in the activity." --Wm. Paul Young, The Shack

it's funny.

Sometimes I can be in a room full of people and still be alone.

I can experience a moving worship experience, and still remain stagnant.

I can sleep all night and still be tired.

I can be in a leadership role and still be a follower.

I can live in a town where I know I'm supposed to be, yet still be discontent.

Funny how that works.

There's a strange dichotomy between what it seems like reality should be, and what reality actually is.

Weird, right?

I've been really into the show LOST lately. [that's an understatement. i've been eating, sleeping, and breathing LOST.] At the point in the show where I am, they're displaying two parallel realities: in one, the plane crashes; in the other, it lands safely at LAX. The characters' lives are completely different in each reality.

It's funny how one seemingly small thing can launch your life in an entirely different direction.

How would my life be different if I'd moved to New York rather than Nashville? Heck, how would it be different if I'd, I don't know, woken up at 8 this morning rather than 10?

Yet there's still a semblance of control in all of this irrationality.

And honestly, that might be what scares me the most.

"All my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began." (Psalm 139:16b)

My decisions are out of my hands. Sure, I have free will. But that's not going to tamper with God's "plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11b)

It's funny how I can feel so far off course, yet still be exactly where I'm supposed to be.

We're still living our lives.

People in Port-au-Prince are still struggling for theirs.

I talked to my dad again yesterday.

The thing that stood out to me the most about our conversation was what he told me about the mass grave.

Several years ago, I spent a couple weeks in a village between Port-au-Prince and Saint Ard (where my family's mission is), called Titanyen.

That's where the mass grave is.

This village where I met some of my closest friends is now the site of a mass grave.

They're taking all the unidentified bodies there by dumptruck.

I can't imagine how it would feel to know that when you died, your body would be unceremoniously placed in a dumptruck among hundreds of others and deposited into a landfill.

photo credit: REUTERS

A family friend who's currently living in Indianapolis received word a few days ago that his entire family was killed in the earthquake. Unless he was able to go to Port-au-Prince immediately to identify them, they would be placed in the mass grave in Titanyen.

But he couldn't go. He doesn't have the means to fly down to Haiti on a moment's notice.

And even if he had been able to get there, where would he have stayed? His entire family is dead.

He had no choice but to allow his parents', siblings', and cousins' bodies to be taken to a virtual landfill.

My youngest brother had a relatively major surgery a month ago.

Yesterday, my dad talked to his best friend in Haiti on the phone. The first thing his friend, Jean-Marie, said, was, "How's Mitch doing since his surgery? We've been praying for him."

His entire world is literally falling apart, and he's concerning himself with the well-being of a spoiled American kid.

There's something amazing about the Haitian people.

A Haitian friend of mine said this the other day:

"Martin Luther said 'Christ plus nothing equals everything'. I guess we have everything."

"Tout sa ki fet si se pou pou yon byen se pou mal tout bagay nan menw." --Rebecca Jean

Translation: All that has happened, good or bad, is in Your hands.

Sunday thoughts.

Today's sermon was about God's sovereignty.

Not really.

It was about Acts 20.

But you know how sometimes God can speak through totally unrelated things to tell you what He wants you to hear?

Today was one of those days.

I still have a lot of unanswered questions about the devastation in Haiti. I still can't understand it. Probably never will. But God wanted me to know today that He has it all under control. He has the entire world in his grip.

I couldn't focus on the sermon. I kept having random Bible verses come into my head.

There were two that wouldn't leave me alone:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. [Proverbs 3:5]

Be still and know that I am God. [Psalm 46:10]

I still don't know why this is happening, or why it's happening in the country I love more than any other. But I do know that what seems to be chaos is actually under complete control.

It's so easy for me to overlook the fact that this world is a fleeting moment.

photo credit: dailymail.co.uk

"When the visible world of concrete and computers seem to be the real world--I lose touch and have my doubts." --Wm. Paul Young, The Shack

Haiti stuff.

It's all sinking in. I'm discovering that life must go on.

While it's important to continue to pray and help as we can, it's not fruitful to dwell on what we cannot control in a country we aren't currently in.

There are issues that will result in longterm problems: things like disease caused by decaying bodies, lack of food and water (although when is that not a problem in Haiti?), and the country's financial inability to repair what was destroyed.

If anything, this has raised awareness that Haiti is a place in need of help, not just now, but always.

photo credit: Troy Livesay

Some responses that I've found helpful:

A friend's band who's worked closely with a missionary in northern Haiti.

A 17-year-old family friend who lives in a suburb of Port-au-Prince.

An American family who lives in Port-au-Prince.

A friend's facebook status that I really appreciate.

View of the destruction from a photographer friend's perspective.

Maybe more later? Not sure yet.

Bondye konnen tout bagay.

Bondye komprann tout bagay.

a second attempt at processing.

My brain is full.

My heart is saturated.

My eyes are overwhelmed.

but somehow I can't stop watching videos on cnn.com

It's one of those things where you want to stop watching, but you can't.

I talked with my dad on the phone tonight. My dad is a rock.

Tonight he was weak. Spent. Empty.

People rely on him for answers. They come to him for help.

Now he has no answers. Today he doesn't have a way to help.

He was telling me about the interviews he's doing.

There were a couple for newspapers today.

Tomorrow he's getting called by some news stations.

Then there's Samaritan's Purse, and he's working on a press release with one of Indiana's senators.

He's being interviewed about the very thing that's draining the life from him.

He's forced to think about it. Talk about it. Provide insight on it.

All day long.

No wonder he's emotionless.

On a more practical level, a lot of people are asking about my family's friends in Haiti.

Most of the people we know are safe, although there are still several people we've yet to hear from.

(but no news is good news, right?)

Our hospital doesn't seem to be damaged, aside from relatively minor things such as shelving being overturned, things falling off the walls, and equipment being damaged.

We haven't heard from any of our hospital's staff, although we've heard that the neighborhoods where they live were completely demolished.

And I think that's all I know.

I'm still not sure how to understand it all.

trying to process.

Maybe I'll start blogging again.

I've tried journaling.

It's nice, but I have trouble writing for myself. I need to know there's the potential for an audience. Maybe it's the ESFP in me?

Yesterday afternoon I got a text from my best friend from Haiti. It was really choppy. Really unlike her. She's usually so composed. [you kind of have to be if you've grown up in Haiti.]

It said, "A 7.0 earthquake just hit Haiti. My family is all okay, but please be praying for them and those in the very structurally unsafe surroundings."

Ok yeah, fine. Earthquakes happen all the time. Whatever, nbd.

I guess I didn't realize that 7.0 was a sort of ridiculous number.

I guess I didn't realize that the epicenter was only 20 miles from my family's place.

I guess I didn't realize that there would be an estimated 100,000 dead.

I guess I didn't realize that this would be of a similar magnitude, globally speaking, to the World Trade Center incident on September 11, 2001.

except 30 times as many people died.

And now there's nobody to place the blame on.

There's not a scapegoat this time.

How could this happen in a place where there's no hope for them to ever fully recover from such a blow? They don't have a system set up that's capable of cleaning any of this up.

There are no bulldozers.

No morgues.

No hospitals.

The news reporters can't understand it. They say the country is in turmoil, that there are people lying on the side of the road. That's normal in Port-au-Prince. But this devastation is far worse than that.

This country won't recover.

They were down for the count already. They can't just bounce back. They don't have the resources to.

I can't describe in words how painful it is to know there's absolutely nothing I can do to help. My brain is in Port-au-Prince. My body is in Nashville. The disconnect between the two is almost unbearable.

All I know to do is pray.