Let's Look at Faith

[Hebrews 11:1 (NLTse)] Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.

So, here I sit at the computer asking God some interesting questions about my life, my future, my calling, and about things I just can't see...Ah, FAITH.
I have a difficult time liking FAITH, because I enjoy seeing things actually happening; and actually seeing things gives me assurance. If I see the chair, I am secure in knowing I can sit down on it. I will even approach it and confidently sit down.

FAITH is like being blind-folded, having someone tell me they will lead me to a chair and positioning me right next to it, telling me to sit down. Now, it really matters WHO I am placing my faith in; who I am placing my trust in; who I am placing my hope in. So now I am really asking myself an interesting question.... Who am I listening to and who am I placing my FAITH in? This world is so backward. Think about it, the physical realm-earthly realm is 100% "real" and the spiritual realm-heavenly realm is 100% unseen. Yet, this "real" world is only temporary and full of smoke and mirrors and the heavenly realm is what is REAL!

So, I am learning about FAITH differently as I ponder this with you...FAITH is the real deal and I need to place it in the REAL God, allowing Him to guide me to sit down in an imaginary chair that will hold my weight because GOD says it will. FAITH in the wrong person (myself, the world, the enemy) will not work, I will still be guided to sit down on an imaginary chair that will not hold my weight because only God has to power to uphold me.

We all have FAITH...the real question and answer is WHO do we place our FAITH in!
There are insane people who have FAITH, and there are people full of FAITH following the world or false gods...they are even willing to die (and take others with them) because of their FAITH.

So, as I put my FAITH upon God, and as I am learning to trust and hope in Him, I can place my FAITH more and more securely in Him and He does grow my FAITH in balance with the amount of trust and hope I have in Him. I am holding on to promises from God because I do trust Him, and as my walk with God has grown over time He has consistently told me to sit and I have found myself sitting comfortably in His presence, waiting upon the Lord.... and I am becoming more and more FAITHFUL and strengthened in my FAITH, LOVE, and HOPE in the Lord. There are things I am told will be mine one day, I look around and don't see it at all, not a shred of real evidence that this will come true. Now because these promises came from God; I have the FAITH to believe the reality of God's Word over the "reality" of the things I currently see myself in.

Then I wonder how to grow my faith. Is it something that I build up, something God can give me, and is it something that I can pray to have more of? I believe the answer is yes, to all three questions.

When I prayerfully intercede for others or pray for my own stuff it helps build my faith. When God stuff manifest in my life and in those around me, it builds my faith.

Since God is the source of all good things, then it is God that gives me faith. I do believe He will either place me in positions and situations where I can "see" the supernatural occur and it will grow my faith, in increasing measures as I see more and more often, and I do pray for more faith opportunities.

There are times when God will manifest things into the earthly realm, in answers to my faith (and prayer) and this will cause me to grow in faith and more confident in my hope of things yet unseen...cool stuff.

I love praying for more faith, more faith opportunities (putting it to the test), AND praying for more confirmations of right-placed faith to make sure I am calibrated and plugged in to what God is doing and wanting to do in and through my life.

Some people may say that it is weak to ask for signs; that Gideon's fleece test is not a sign of a "mature" Christian. Well, okay, I'll take that one, and pray that I grow to the point where I can always simply move in total faith. Not seeking confirmations, or revelations, until then, I'll ask the Lord for wisdom, I will seek His counsel, and I will take bigger bites of faith in the dark. Okay, maybe with one eye open on occasion...getting better at this along the way.

I'd even say that my faith is much stronger and bolder than even 9 months ago, so looking forward to where I'll be in my increasing measures of faith in 9 years from now. Again, cool stuff.

So, where am I at now?

I am more and more willing to have faith in the miraculous, to have faith to pray for the miraculous, and have more faith to want more of the miraculous, even when a prayer for the miraculous previously didn't manifest--it in fact gives me faith to even pray more and for bigger things...how exciting for I want to put all my faith to action now!

Let's hook up and corporately and in intimate settings and seek increased measures of FAITH! You are always welcome to get ahold of me to pray for you, pray with you, to intercede on your behalf...just ask me.

hmmm, curious to get your thoughts and impressions...

Thirsting for More

I am thirsting for more...

Psalm 42:1-2
As the deer pants for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I come and stand before him?

I want to be filled to overflowing with the living waters of God. I want the Holy Spirit to pour out His gifts and His strength into my life, so that His will and purposes will come to manifest from the heavenly realm and into my earthly reality.

I want the LORD to impart more of Himself in my life and most importantly THROUGH my life.

The questions I pose…

How are you feeling?

What is your sense of things?

Do you feel there is something going on here in Hawaii in the spiritual realm? If so, give us some specifics…

Have you felt or seen a greater impartation of the Holy Spirit in your life?

Hearing from God: Life in His Voice

In the Beginning... God created everything we know and everything we don't know yet... all by His speaking it all into existence. You gotta admit, that is pretty cool stuff!

Jesus, divinely God, and also man in the flesh said, “... For I say only what I have heard from the one who sent me, and he is completely truthful.” He had the CLOSEST relationship possible with God as man. Over and over Jesus spoke of how he only obeys what the Father has spoken, moving in healing and ministry as God directed. Jesus never went somewhere God did not precede him in word.

I so desire to move in absolute intimacy and congruency with God's voice... that would be cool stuff!

In our lives, God speaks into our lives, into our situations, into our circumstances, and He speaks to us. Are we listening, have we ears to hear? Are we so caught up into our “stuff” and into hearing from other sounds that we have cut God off? Hmm, something to ponder and chew on.

There are many hindrances to our hearing from God, and hence receiving life from His voice.

Man, you gotta admit that the world is very loud and very distracting. The TV, radio, print media, all those things challenging God's perspective and God's will for the earth. What we got right now is now what God spoke; it is what we have spoken.

Yeah, so often my own flesh speaks so loudly and I am so familiar with it that I easily respond to the desires of my flesh. I am selfish; I am mean-spirited; I pass along the other side of the street from the needy. I am judgmental, and I am unforgiving... my flesh is self-destructive and carnal only wanting pleasure and self-fulfillment. There must be one serious reason that the Lord speaks of the dangers of the flesh so much...I am fighting against my flesh so much.

The enemy of God is dead-set against us. They don't want to bless us, or even want us to follow them. They want to use us up like fodder and food. They hate what God loves and God loves us. We are hated. Even the biggest sinner is not loved by the enemy; they are just being used up.

My conscious disobedience; making choices contrary to the Word of God, and to His voice is also another way I've shut down the life in God's voice. Silly really, to know what is right and make a decision to go against what is right, perhaps it's the discomfort of having to apologize; of having to make a tough choice; a big sacrifice; or because there are sins that I love committing...of course I can't hear God when I have put in earplugs by being willfully disobedient.

All God has ever wanted from us is an intimate relationship with Him. He created us to show love, and to enjoy evening walks together, talking as intimates; Creator and His created. He so wants to walk with each of us in the garden again... like in the very beginning.

In this intimate relationship He wants to be conversational, wanting to not only hear what we have to say, He wants to share the many wonderful things He has to say to us and about us... He loves us.

God continues to speak to us; sometimes it is directly through His Word—the Bible. It one long and fascinating love story, and it is us He loves.

His Word also says to pray without ceasing. Prayer is the means to intimate conversations and develops and intimate relationship with God. That is cool stuff// Prayer is direct conversation with the Creator and if we train ourselves up and even open up to the reality that God speaks we may even sense or hear His still small voice.

I don't hear an audible voice, it is a clear sense of something and I am getting better and better at discerning when it is God, when it is my own flesh, the world, or the enemy. His still, small voice is not something that happens everyday, but nearly so.

God will also speak through the prophetic words and counsel of others... each part of the body has a function and we need to be open to it...

Choose to live a life striving to hear God better and better. Strive to be open and obedient to what He says and look for more opportunities to practice “hearing”. Get with others to pray and ask God for clarity and you will seek Him and find Him when you seek Him with all your heart... fun stuff.

Irresistible Revolution #2: Freaky Jesus

I had an epiphany:
I am a Jesus freak because Jesus was a freak. Ha!

But that's because the revolution is irresistible.
You must be wondering: What revolution? And why is it irresistible?

The revolution is the one that Jesus started when he stood on the mount and delivered a sermon with radical, "freaky" directives.  And it's irresistible because it's so freaky that it's funny... or more succinctly put, it's fun. It's a movement that laughs.

Check out this directive from Matthew 5:38-42
38"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.'[g] 39But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. 40And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. 41If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. 42Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

Thanks to Jordan's sermon last night, and my cool footnoted Bible, I realize now that the whole "eye for an eye" rule was a rudimentary measure that God gave his people to limit the extent of their retaliation. But people came to use this measure to justify seeking revenge for the injustices they faced.  When Jesus came along, he corrected this misunderstanding by invoking the principle of love.

I'll admit, when I first read this passage, I thought Jesus was saying that we should let ourselves be used and abused. So naturally, I didn't particularly care for this part of his sermon!  But when Jesus tells us not to resist an evil person, he is NOT saying that we should let people trample all over us.  We were not created to be doormats for others to wipe their dirty shoes on!

Instead, Jesus introduced a new way to deal with injustice. The old way was to confront wrongdoers by teaching justice rather than love. (Well, depends how we define justice... I think "the world" sees them as separate concepts)

This is Shane Claiborne's (author of The Irresistible Revolution) interpretation of Matthew 5:38-42:

"When hit on the cheek, turn and look the person in the eye. Do not cower and do not punch them back. Make sure they look into your eyes and see your sacred humanity and it will become increasingly harder for them to hurt you. When someone tries to sue you for the coat on your back and drags you before the court, go ahead and take all of your clothes off and hand them over, exposing the sickness of their greed. When a soldier asks you to walk a mile with them and carry their pack, don't throw your fist in the air like the Zealots, just walk with them two miles instead of one, talk with them and woo them into your movement by your love."

Jesus opposed both passivity and violence.  Instead, he advocated love. As Walter Wink said, "evil can be opposed without being mirrored."

In times of injustice, the most unexpected element we think we'll find is love.  Love comes as a surprise. 

Criminologists teach that one of the quickest ways to diffuse violence is with surprise, according to Claiborne:
"When victims do something that surprises [criminals], it throws the whole plan out of whack. Jesus is always doing weird things in the midst of conflict, like when the men are about to kill the adulteress, he bends down and draws in the dirt until eventually they all drop their stones. There's that time the soldiers come to arrest Jesus, and Peter pulls out a sword and cuts off a guy's ear. Jesus rebukes him and then grabs the dude's ear and puts it back on. That must have been a little awkward for everyone, especially the soldiers. How do you arrest a guy who just put your buddy's ear back on? Jesus' theological stunts and prophetic imagination surprise and disarm. They make people laugh and catch folks off guard, even folks who wish they could hate him. And of course, there's the dazzle of the resurrection. That's got to be the best one ever. Colossians says that in his death and resurrection, Jesus "disarmed the powers and authorities" and "made a public spectacle out of them." (Col.2:15)"

Claiborne also says that "When someone keeps us laughing, we don't even think to become defensive. We are disarmed by a gentle revolution."


All this has left me wondering: What if we made our enemies laugh!
Imagine explosive smiles instead of explosive anger!  Imagine if we brought them simple, carefree joy!  Then they wouldn't be our enemies any longer.  Duh!

So how do we get someone to laugh with us?
My first guess is that we could start by not taking ourselves too seriously. We could avoid being all snooty & religious. We could be way-makers rather than gatekeepers.

And we would have to exude love.   Love would have to infect us like a contagious disease.

We could hop on Jesus' revolutionary bandwagon by joining the "movement bubbling up that goes beyond cynicism and celebrates a new way of living, a generation that stops complaining about the church it sees and becomes the church it dreams of. And this little revolution is irresistible. It is a contagious revolution that dances, laughs, and loves."

Like being a Christian, it won't be easy, but it will be SO worth it.

"The only thing harder than hatred is love. The only thing harder than war is peace. The only thing that takes more work, tears, and sweat than division is reconciliation. But what more beautiful thing could we devote our lives to? Until the courage that we have for peace surpasses the courage we that we have for war, violence will continue to triumph, and imperial execution rather than divine resurrection will have the final word."
- Shane Claiborne

Miracle Child

In the garden of life
I hold the naked miracle
Of my first child
Against my fertile heart,
Which pulses in gentle rhythm
To a lullaby sung by God.

She is a fresh rosebud
Anointed by the morning dew.
She exhales heaven's warm fragrance
As the colors of this world
Slowly fill her mind.

I am in awe of her beauty,
Intimidated by her innocence.
Lord, protect her, I pray.
Guide me, introduce her soul to mine,
For only you know us both.

He tells me to have courage,
So I boldly set her adrift
On a current of outstretched time.
The cradle of my love,
Certain as the ocean's tide,
Constantly pulls her near.

I will be her childhood harbor
And heaven will always be her home.

(HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!)

Roses Need Da Rain

I was hiking home through da valley,
All stiff from one study session,
When it started to rain.
I was small kine pissed off
Cuz I neva like my laptop get wet.

So I started whining to God.
I know yeah, where da respect!
I told him, "How come you make um rain?
You no can wait til I get home?"

I neva expect one answer
Cuz as you can tell,
I been talking so lousy
Dat I think I was making God sad.

But he wen' sing one funny song
Dat cheered both of us up.
You know da one by Keahiwai?
It's called "Like Roses Need the Rain."
Das da one he wen' sing!

"Roses need da rain, sistah.
Das why I like sprinkle on top you right now.
I've been shining on you so bright
Dat looks like you stay burnt out.

You coming blind already,
Not even watching fo' all my blessings!
I gotta refresh you.
Sistah, you need da rain."

Den God wen' send da wind - 
My umbrella stay cheap, dam ting no can handle,
So it wen' blow inside out.
I stood there getting soaked,
All ready fo' cry,
Wen' I heard God laugh and say, 

"You stay from Hilo or what?

You was born in da rain!"

I wen' laugh too, and den I saw 

Dat da sun was still shining.

Even wen' da devil 

Tried fo' drizzle all ova Israel's joy,
Da earth came slippery and moist -
But it neva come dark
Cuz God was still there.

He showed me dat a little bit of rain
Helps da faith grow.

I no kid you,
God put one rainbow inside my heart!

Bedtime Prayer

Lord, grant me dreams,
unloose a torrent of truth
onto the landscapes of my imagination.
Make the melancholy light brilliant,
let spring burst through the shadows.
Boil the latent passion within my soul
until it swells inside me and gushes from my pen.
Speak newly invented words,
build me a library of miracles.

Sprout wings upon my shoulders -
I will sprint across moonlit rooftops,
I will fly above mangrove canopies.

Make me wispy as your breath -
I will rise beyond the burning rye,
I will shimmer with the stars.

Transform my heart -
I will swath the world in your romance,
I will love every creature
born in the eternal blue of sea and sky.

Short Story: Sparrows and Lilies

Okay, so it's a long short story, or a short long story, something like that.  If you make it to the end I'll give you a hug =)

Sparrows and Lilies

ISABEL dropped a coin into the hand of a hunchbacked man, who for a small fee deciphered palms and dreams from a mound of filthy cushions in the back corner of the park.

"You will die an old woman," he told her.

She believed him, even as she settled in for the night on the frosty sidewalk, her body curled against a wall that smelled of beer and urine. But by the time the last of the customers stumbled out of the nearby bar, Isabel had fully renounced the nickel prophecy. She was freezing. The cold had pierced her flesh like needles, seeping mercilessly into her bones, and her lips had darkened into a deep blue, the color of the bruises her mother would hide beneath long sleeves.

"Look at what that animal has done to me," her mother whispered to her on the eve of her second birthday.

By then, Isabel had already learned the complexity of her mother’s love. She understood her pain intuitively. In the shadow of a locked bathroom door, her mother revealed to her the fresh imprints of a large man's fist. Silently enduring her soiled diaper, Isabel sat next to her on the cool tile and watched her slip away one pill at a time.

After an evening of sirens and flashing red lights, of strangers in navy suits asking her father questions, and of being spoon-fed apple sauce by a bony, unsmiling woman, a sleeping Isabel was whisked away by a large, expensive car.

"Stop stop stop," the woman said to the driver.

The shrillness of her voice woke Isabel. She recognized the woman, on whose rigid, narrow lap she happened to be sitting, as the same woman who had fed her. They stared awkwardly at each other, neither knowing what to say or do.

The driver guided the car slowly through the entrance of a tall gate. Isabel felt her heart clench like a fist, so struck was she by the carefully manicured lawn, the flowerless trees, and the stiff marble statues.

"Isabel, this is Radford Estate, your new home. I am your mother's eldest sister. You may call me Aunt Nelle," said the woman, not bothering to remove the hostility from her voice.

"Mommy! Where's mommy?" Isabel asked, tears lodged in her throat. She tried to squirm out of Aunt Nelle's snake-like arms, which firmly held her captive.

Not understanding what the child was struggling to say, Aunt Nelle squeezed tighter. The band of her gold watch dug into Isabel's chubby leg, causing her to burst out and spray her agony onto Aunt Nelle's stunned face.

"Hush!" Aunt Nelle shouted, scaring Isabel and making her howl even louder.

The car stopped outside a fantastic stone mansion, its bland walls the color of a November sky. Aunt Nelle passed Isabel to Anna, the petite maid who came running to greet them.

"Come here, little darling. Look at you," Anna said. She grazed her finger up and down Isabel's round, damp cheek.

"Don't fuss over her, Anna. Just take the girl upstairs and clean her up."

Anna nodded obediently and hurried into the house. Once out of sight, she stopped to kiss Isabel tenderly on the forehead.

"My poor, poor child."

Immediately enchanted by Anna, Isabel reached for her wispy red hair, which flowed in loose, untamed waves down her narrow back. Isabel wrapped her fingers around a vibrant flyaway, playing with it as though it was a whip of fire.

Until the age of ten, Isabel remained invisible to her aunt, who made it clear that she had no tolerance for children. She spent most of her time with Anna, who had taken on the additional title of private tutor. But whenever Anna was busy with chores, Isabel would play under the watchful eye of Ernie, the bent, white-whiskered gardener who turned her loose to explore the vast yard. Every now and then he would look up from whatever hedge he was pruning to watch Isabel color the structured, joyless flora with her wild spirit.

She was returning from an afternoon of storytelling with her favorite garden creature, the stone-carved tortoise, whose carapace had been desecrated by an army of pigeons, when Aunt Nelle demanded her presence. Isabel bounded into the long dining hall, where her aunt sat with a maroon portfolio.

"Where on earth did you come from? What a disaster. It's a good thing you're finally old enough for a proper upbringing," Aunt Nelle said.

Isabel flinched as Aunt Nelle reached over to pluck a lady bug from her dark, unbrushed hair. She began to squeeze the bright insect between her thumb and index finger, nearly bursting its bulbous back.

"Wait! Don't hurt her, Aunt. Ernie said she's lucky. He said she's the only splotch of color in the garden!"

"Nonsense. I won't have creepy crawlers on my property - and I certainly won't have them living in my niece's hair."

The thought of insects taking up residence in her hair delighted Isabel. She tried to stifle her giggles, but her imagination got the best of her.

"What is the matter with you, child? I will certainly be glad to have you out of this house!"
"Out?" Isabel asked, gulping down all of her laughter.

"Yes, out. You'll be starting the fourth grade next week at St. Anthony's Academy. And you'll be boarding there with good Catholic girls from families of high standing, so I expect you to represent Radford Estate well, do you hear? You may go upstairs now.” 

She thrust into Isabel’s arms the deep red portfolio, its front cover adorned with golden block letters and a large, impressive cross.

“You mean I’m not going to live here anymore?”

“I already told you that you will be living at the Academy. Run along now, I’m tired of looking at you, you filthy thing.”

Isabel was furious. She glared at her aunt with defiant eyes, holding her fiery stare until a film of salty tears caused her to blink furiously. Aunt Nelle observed her niece with unaffected amusement, saying nothing and showing no sympathy.

“How could you!” Isabel shouted. She ran blindly out of the room and dived straight into the open arms of Anna, who had been trying to listen from in the hallway.

“Oh dear, what happened, sweetie?”

“She, she – she’s sending me away! I don’t want to leave you, Anna! Please don’t let her take me away.”

“Oh sweetie, you know there’s nothing I can do. I’m only a maid,” Anna said. “But you know I’ll always be here for you, hun. I’ll come visit you on my days off. I promise.”


The Catholic campus was on the blustery edge of the largest city Isabel had ever seen. She arrived in a freshly ironed polo shirt and pleated skirt, with her hair neatly combed back and her feet, wide from years of running barefoot, crammed into stiff black clogs. A ghostlike nun, her virtue preserved in an immaculate jar-shaped habit, led Isabel into the classroom. She speechlessly pointed a pallid finger to a seat in the back corner. It was next to Megan, a chubby girl with braces. Isabel was fascinated by the silver chunks pasted onto Megan's teeth. Whenever the nuns had their backs turned, Isabel whispered crass stories and jokes in the hope of getting Megan to spread open her fat lips in hearty metallic glee.

During her first term at St. Anthony's, Isabel missed Anna terribly, the magnitude of her loss hitting her especially hard in the lonely moments that precede sleep. But Anna came to visit often, and the void of her absence was soon filled by the chatter of girls who came to Isabel eager for tales of adventure and romance.  

Isabel didn't mind sharing her stories. She had dreamed most of them into life during afternoon siestas in Radford Estate's colorless garden. Yet she couldn't help but feel that, aside from Megan, who quickly became her favorite friend, the crowd of girls was not quite as good an audience as her beloved stone tortoise, who never fidgeted or interrupted her stories with silly questions.

Time at St. Anthony's rolled by at a tedious pace. The weekly routine of classroom instruction followed by mass was torture for Isabel. By the time she had matured into a slender-waisted teenager, she was thoroughly bored and starved for experience.

During the lunch hour of an early spring day, Isabel listlessly wandered from the picnic table she and Megan regularly occupied. She was drawn to the campus gate, from where she stood watching the people pass, their figures cutting in and out of the metal bars. Then she saw him. The moment was brief, but it was so intense that it lived for a long time in her memory. She caught the hazel eye of a dark-skinned university student who exuded intellect and incomparable beauty. He stirred within her a sense of urgency. And she felt it profoundly.  

"What's up with you?” Megan asked. “Lately you've been so out of it."

"I just - I think I just need to get out of here."

"Yeah, your aunt would love that one." Megan offered Isabel a playful smile, the metal tracks long since removed from her large teeth.

The yearning for life outside of the orderly Catholic realm grew stronger each day. She was lured by the bustle of the city, its strange odors of smoke and sweat, and most of all, by the young man she longed to love.

"Megs, I'm going to do it. I'm getting out of here."

"Uh-huh, you're just going to leave."

"Yes, I swear I am. Tomorrow."

"Don't be stupid, Isabel. What if you get caught? You'll be suspended."

"I won't get caught. I have a plan. Tomorrow is mass. All the nuns go, so when the service starts, I'll just - "

"What am I going to tell Anna when she comes this weekend? Have you thought of that?"

"Tell her not to worry about me."

Early the next morning, while the entire student body filed into the cathedral, Isabel bade her sniffling friend goodbye and slipped unnoticed through the locked gate’s widest crack. She walked briskly, anxious to disappear into the labyrinth of the city. At noon, the sun sat squarely on the flat tops of the tall buildings, causing the shadows in the streets to withdraw. Isabel grew frantic from the heat and the omnipresent cacophony of voices and vehicles. She spotted a park in the distance, and felt a wave of peace when the paved floor of the city gave way to flush, freshly cut grass. The children on the swings, the pink and yellow blossoms on the trees, and the birds that landed wherever they pleased, were to Isabel a wonderland of disorder.

She spent the afternoon exploring the public garden, a slice of land chopped into messy plots for nearby condo-dwellers. There she found every shade of red and purple, and other colors she did not know the names for. It was behind the last plot, its sunflowers overrun by weeds and vines, that she saw the profile of a haggard, mystic man meditating inside of a worn tent. He sat cross-legged on a stack of large silk pillows. Several teenagers, a pregnant mother and a hapless man in a business suit formed a loose circle around his bent figure.

Isabel walked over to join them. Anna had told her about seers and prophets who could explain the mystery of the future, but the nuns had reprimanded her for inventing stories about wise, clairvoyant heroines.

“You sinful child,” Sister Agatha told her. “If you persist in your sin, you will meet an end similar to your mother’s. Your dear aunt told me all about that wretched woman. Repent now, and may the Lord forgive you for your pagan thoughts.”

Isabel cried herself to sleep that night, haunted by her mother’s brokenness and her own inability to quench her imagination.

Even though Sister Agatha’s warning rang loudly in Isabel’s mind, her curiosity about fate got the best of her, and she was desperate for direction. When it was her turn, she handed over the nickel Megan had given her upon her departure, and explained to him her situation.

“I’m lost, you see. But I’m not complaining or anything. I just need to know what to do. I can’t go back to the academy, and I can’t go back to my aunt.”

“Child, that kind of knowledge will cost you much more than a nickel. But I can tell you this: you will die an old woman.”

Isabel was too pleased with the promise of longevity to feel cheated. She ventured out of the park, heading in the direction of the university. She saw a neat row of impressive brick buildings – temples to academia – and her heart skipped a beat. In her mind she saw the broad-shouldered scholar with eyes like the seeds of mustard, a pile of books tucked under a bronze arm. She decided to look for him, trusting the tug in her soul that told her they would meet.

She strolled easily through the entrance, for unlike St. Anthony’s, this campus was open to new ideas and people. She drew several strange looks, for her conservative uniform contrasted greatly with what the other girls wore: tank tops with necklines so low that Isabel feared their breasts would pop out like a pair of muffins, and pants so tight they showed every bulge of the hips and butt. Isabel felt her shapeless body and lamented that all of the looks she drew were from critical, full-figured young women. But when she saw her blurred self in a shiny car door, she was pleased with her waiflike appearance, for her leanness emphasized the tiny pointed 

chin she inherited from her mother.

By the time she had walked the length of the campus, the air was beginning to grow chilly. She crossed the street, drawn by the aroma of grilled meat, realizing only then how hungry she was. Isabel fought the urge to cry, for despite never having felt so utterly helpless, she did not want to look more pathetic than she already felt. But the tears broke loose when her hand emerged from her pockets empty. She was penniless. She had given her last coin to the clairvoyant man at the park.

For hours she walked slowly past the long row of restaurants, hoping someone would take pity on her and offer a hot meal. She hugged her body tightly, her thin bare arms the only things of warmth she had to wrap around her. When she was too weary and cold to walk any further, she found a lighted area on the wall next to a bar, which burst sporadically with the intoxicated cheers of collegiate sports fans.  

She lay there on the cement, too frightened to close her eyes. For the first time, she thought of her mother with envy, and wondered if perhaps it was better not to live into old age, if living meant having to suffer.

“Hello, miss,” said a man enshrouded in darkness.  

Isabel sat up straight. News clips of little girls being raped played in her head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Please don’t be afraid. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Isabel recognized the sincere compassion in the man’s voice. She began to sob uncontrollably.

“No… No, I don’t know where I am. I’m cold and hungry. And I’m homeless!”

“Cool. Did you know that Jesus was homeless, too?”

“What? Cool?” 

Isabel was stunned. She certainly did not run away from a Catholic school only to be preached to outside of a bar. And the only Jesus she knew lived in frozen glory, trapped in the massive, expensive window of St. Anthony’s cathedral.

The man handed her a collegiate sweater and a Styrofoam container heavy with leftover pizza. Isabel wolfed it down, not noticing that he had plopped down beside her. She looked over at him after stuffing the last bite into her mouth, wiping her greasy fingers on her already filthy skirt.

“It’s you!” she gasped. Delight and horror filled her at once. The scholar she had longed to love was sitting beside her, and she was wearing his sweater.

“Huh?”

“Oh, um, nothing. You just look familiar, that’s all.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

“Can you take me back, please? Back to St. Anthony’s Academy? I don’t think I can make it on my own. At least not yet.”

“Sure, come with me.” He helped her up and led her to his old blue pickup truck.

The drive to the school was quicker than she hoped, for she wanted to spend forever in his passenger seat. She loved him as she knew she would, and she told him everything – about her mother, her aunt, Anna, Megan, the nuns. He listened patiently as she explained that she ran away because she couldn’t stand the regimented orderliness of her life. When the car slowed to a stop outside of St. Anthony’s, Isabel worked up the courage to hug her new friend farewell.

“I think even the guards are asleep at this hour. You should be able to slip back unnoticed.”

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it. As surely as my Father provides for the sparrows and lilies, he will provide for you,” he said. “Take this as proof.”

“Wait! I didn’t even ask you! What is your name?”

“My name is Jesus,” he said, offering a playful smile before pulling away.

Isabel watched him disappear into the city. With his sweater still zipped up over her grimy polo shirt, she felt the exciting warmth that comes only with the beginning of a great love.

For Goodness Sake

There's something leaden clanging in my brain. It's the restless thought that church is becoming a competition for do-gooders, which is great because I doubt there's anything better to compete for than goodness.

But I'm that out-of-shape, out-of-breath loser in last place. I'm not good enough - I'm too selfish and stingy, too lazy and disillusioned.

Even worse, there are times when I catch myself yearning to be recognized as someone who does good. I'd be surprised if that doesn't make me bad.

Are our intentions as important as our actions? The world pays no attention to intention, but God sees everything. He sees that I'm a phony.

He watched me seek improvement so that I could blend in with all the other good-looking people. He saw that my fancy heart was hollow.

But by his grace, he simply told me to cut the crap. Fitting in means not standing out. Didn't he create his children to be outstanding?

God, I just want to love you. And I want to love you while being me.

This shouldn't feel like a conflict of interests. If I was created in your image, then it must not only be possible, but it must be essential.

I believe I am inherently good because you are inherently good.

Uncover me, discover me, recover me. Please.  Let me be radical - true and naked in following you.  When I give, let it be for the sake of giving to you.  And when I live, let it be for the sake of living for you.

Even the most brilliant philosophers knew better than to define "good." They knew that it's something we cannot express in its entirety.

Only our Father has the authority to define goodness.

So I rebuke the societal pressure that tries to change us into something we're not. I rebuke the envy, the comparison, the judgment.  For goodness sake, let those evils be replaced with admiration, inspiration, and a fat dose of Spiritual medication.  Sure, we are a body, but we have different functions, and we work toward being good in different ways.  And if we ask him, God will help us all to be good in his eyes, for he is the God of sinners and losers.

"I am convinced that Jesus came not simply to make bad people good but to bring dead people to life. We can be moral but not alive; a lot of conservatives and liberals have taught me that, and I myself have been a victim of the Pharisaic yeast infection. There are many people who are morally "pure" but devoid of any life, joy, or celebration. For some, "purity" means that we do not touch anything that is "secular," and for others, it means that we don't eat anything that is not "organic."  But if it is not born of relationships, if it is not liberating for the oppressed and the oppressors, if it is not marked by raw, passionate love, then it is the same old self-righteousness that does little more than flaunt our own purity by making the rest of the world see how dirty they are.  No matter where it pops up, this yeast hinders us from seeing God's image in every human being... NO ONE IS BEYOND REDEMPTION."

- Shane Claiborne

"The fact that the Scriptures are brim full of hustlers, murderers, cowards, adulterers, and mercenaries used to shock me.  Now it is a source of great comfort."

- Bono

Jesus said to them,

"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.

I have come not to call the righteous, but sinners."

- Mark 2:17

*** <3