an unpoetic life.

I have a life that is ordinary. It is nothing special. I do not head off into the sunrise each morning looking for prince charming, nor do I seek out grand adventures around each bend in the road. Rarely do I find myself face to face with danger and never have I been the damsel in distress in any story.

However, though my life may be ordinary, I have found One that has changed how I view every aspect of the life I live. He has become such a part of me, that I now see each day as He sees it. I have caught a vision of a life that has been given to Him, and all that He would make it to be. No longer do I view any day as mundane, as having nothing of worth in it, for each day He has granted me to live is a beautiful journey in all its ordinary beauty. Each sunset I witness, each bow I draw across my violin's strings, each note that floats into my ears, the flowers in all their colorful dress, the lakes and rivers and oceans that ebb and flow and rush, the laughter and imagination of four wonderful kiddos, all of it is a grand ordinary adventure. It's beautiful, this ordinary, plain, uneventful life.

I know it will not always be so. For my life is His. His to do with as He wills and when you live a life completely given to an extraordinary God, it will not remain ordinary for long. What joy there is in the waiting, in the glorious task of only focusing on falling ever more in love with He who gave all for me. So, I suppose I already have begun the epic journey that He has scripted. And it begins with the beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking honor of learning ever more who He is.

Perhaps my life, my adventure that I've just begun to live will take me to far away countries. Perhaps it will require all that I have and gladly I will give it. For as Jim Elliot once said, " He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." That is the end of the adventure, the prize that I am striving for, to gain my Jesus. For if I have only Him, I can never lose all that means the world to me. As long as I have Him, the adventure will only become more epic with each passing day.

"Every man's life is a fairy tale written by God's fingers."

               
                                                                                   -Hans Christian Andersen

there.

I want to fly away. Let me go, let me glide to the world beyond my dreams. Hidden there, beyond my imagination, beyond all remembrance, is a place so beautiful it hurts. 

A world so full of joy and and childhood, it is only found by the purest in heart. Do you not know how to get there? Come, I will tell you, but you must not listen with your ears, but with your soul. Your ears will do you no good in the place we're trying to reach. Nor will your eyes, for you cannot see this world with the eyes, they are far too grown up for such things. No, you must see it with the eyes that belong to your heart. If you can accomplish this, then finding this place will be no feat at all. 

First, you start with a beautiful thought. The kind of thought that is so beautiful, it seems to make you soar just from the thinking of it. 

Next, we must find the perfect place to soar away from. Perhaps it's a swing on a lazy, sunny afternoon.

Maybe it's a clear, cool, star studded evening, when to stare out your window into the twinkling sky is worth more than anything in the world at that moment.

It could be a small room, lit by soft, glowing light, while your pen swiftly runs across a blank page, or maybe your fingers are tapping out a dance with the keys they know so well.

It's highly possible that the moment to fly away is when that perfect book has perfectly cast the vision for the place we're looking for. A forest where it is always winter, but never Christmas, a maiden flight, taken with a boy who never grows up, a dinner eaten with a mole, toad, rat, and badger, or a night spent with a small red headed orphan, any of these and so many more can create the place where it is easy to soar away from.

                            

 Come, take my hand and let's soar together. 

 Can you see it? The first glimmer, the tiniest pin prick of light, the smallest hint of air that is clearly not here. Air filled with things that are almost too wonderful to imagine. Air that is warm, filled with spices like cinnamon and nutmeg,  heady, welcoming spices. Air that is cool and crisp and full of life and laughter and frosted cranberries with a hint of hot chocolate. Only a place like this could have air so enchanted.

                              

Can you see it? We're diving, twirling, weaving, here, there, around, beyond. We're alive. Breath in. Breath out. We are not in our own world any longer. Joy, laughter, hope, they just bubble up and out and spill forth soaking us in all that they are. The light is growing ever brighter and...we're there...

in the wee hours.

The sun did not want to leave this evening. It was as if he was holding on to this day with every grain of his being, lighting the sky on fire in his struggle to stay. Ah, but evening gently crept in, persuading the sun to let go in the end, assuring him that tomorrow would come when he could again blaze and shine forth. Relenting, he rode to the west, and in her ever gentle hand, evening softened her canvass with pale lavender, blues, and pinks of every shade. She allowed the stars to come dancing forth, laughing and winking at the dim earth. I love her, more than any other time of day, for she teaches me with her coming, to wait patiently for the morning. And what glories await in the morning!


There is something magical about the morning, before the sun has rubbed the sleep from his eyes and night is becoming ever softer. Night, just before the morning, is a much friendlier version of itself than the night that has a firm hand on the time between 10-4. The night that I greet so often in those wee hours just after four, begs to be known. It wants to be talked to or talked in. It assures me somehow, that my prayers are unhindered, if a bit groggy. It is in this pre-morning night, that I find the face of my God, that I discover sitting at His feet is the only place I want to be in the whole world. What is it about this time of the "day" that ushers in the stillness of He whom my soul loves, more than any other time of the day? It's quite astounding and beautiful and humbling. 


This is what I'm pondering in the dark of the night as I sit and think over my day. I'm pondering the joys that await with each new morning, with each day that I walk with my Jesus. I'm thinking of the oil of gladness that He was anointed with and I'm anticipating finding this in just a few hours. For to know Him is to be filled with joy unimaginable! 

a splash of red. a story without words.

little girl.

She was six years old. She wore thick rimmed glasses, that made her slanted eyes look all the more prominent. Her eyes were clouded, and even through the thick glass, I could tell that it was hard for her to see. Her mouth was slightly deformed and her black hair was pulled into thin pony tails. She was not beautiful.

I had many beautiful, delicate little girls in my class. They flitted here and there, like decorated butterflies, understanding that to the world, they were lovely. Most of them were as lovely on the inside as on the outside, and I loved each one that danced into my class. They would grab my hands, vying for attention, saying, "Seongsangnim (teacher), look! Look!" And I would look at whatever they had to show me that day.

She was different, however. She tried her best to blend into the background, not wanting to be noticed. Her clothes were not pretty and everything about her screamed how unlike all the other little girls she was. And from the first moment I laid eyes on her, from the first moment she entered my life, I looked into her beautiful, cloudy eyes and saw my Father. For the first time, I felt His heart and met one of the many who will be royalty in Heaven. I looked on this tiny student of mine, and I found that I did not just love her with a human love, I loved her with His heart. I loved her because when I went to bed each night, I ached and cried out to Him for her. And gently, in the dark of the night, when I thought my heart was breaking, He wrapped His arms around me and whispered, "If you ache for her, if you've begun to bear my love for her, it is only in the smallest measure. For as much as you ache, as much as you yearn for her soul to know me, I ache and yearn 100 times beyond that. Beloved, cry for her soul, desire that she knows who I am, and realize that she is only one of millions. If you want my heart, if you want my love, begin to hurt for them all." And in the dark of the night, the very core of who I was began to change.

It was not until weeks later, as I watched her begin to blossom and come out of the shell she had hidden in so long, that I found out she was going blind. It would only be few short years before her world went dark and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it. Oh, perhaps somewhere out there was a doctor who could preform a "miracle" surgery on her, preventing the darkness from closing in, but this was not an option because of the family she came from. So, I wept and wondered why. Each night I lay there, hurting with the knowledge of what was coming for her and my Father gently whispered, "Do not hurt for the darkness that is coming. Hurt for the eternal darkness that will take her if she grows and never knows me. Hurt, ache, yearn, but do this all for her precious soul. For in physical darkness there can be found light. Pray that, though the darkness may come to her eyes, her heart may find me and in me the light she will see will be as bright as the noon day sun."

So, this is what I pleaded and prayed for. Each day she sat in my class and learned about the God who loved her beyond all comprehension. Each day she repeated the verses from the Word, which cuts like a sword through the darkness. And each night I fought in the unseen for her soul to know Him.

It has been seven years since I left Korea. It has been seven years since I last saw the little girl who began my journey to truly understand how to carry my Father's heart for someone. I know that by now, unless the Lord saw fit to prevent it, her world has physically grown dark. I have no idea where she is or what she's doing. I have no idea if she is growing to know Him, but I do know that I still ache for her. I still love her with that deep, abiding love that I have come to understand, only comes from carrying His heart for someone. For she was only the first and there have been many since. I pray there will be a great many more as I continue to learn daily to not love from only a human perspective, but from His.

So, I am wondering tonight, who your "little girl" is? Who are you aching for, not because of love alone, but for the love of the Father, who asks you to cry out for their soul? We are called, as the body of Christ to be His hands and feet to the least, the vulnerable, the dying. We are called to love as He loves and in doing so, it means opening not only our hearts but our very lives to whomever He places before us. Are we willing? Are we willing to give up the nice house, the nice car, the nice possessions we have and utterly spend ourselves for those He is calling us to? This is not someone else's problem. This is not something we can neatly brush under the rug and have it go away. No! This is a war and as His hands we are called to fight! We are called to anguish over the lost and dying, who have no hope, no future, no light, because we are comfortably sitting in our homes in suburbia, doing nothing! Oh God, may we understand, may we come to know the full measure of your heart for these little ones and may it utterly and irrevocably change our in most beings.

This is what I desire, I desire to remember my little korean girl every single day because of who she is and who she represents. I desire to be so anguished over the children I hear about, the children who are hunted each night by those who would steal their innocents, the children who are brutally ripped from their families and sold into untold horrors, the children who are taken unborn, with no chance to live, the children living out their childhood in the foster care system, the children who are sitting on the side of the road all over the world, alone, lost, without hope, and I desire that I would not sit here and do nothing. I want to love them so much that I would willingly die for any one of them, because He loves them and He died for them.

What do you desire?

i am small.

The sky is blue and the clouds are rolling in over the mountains. They are stark and clear, jutting up from the earth like proud giants, pointing to their maker. The wind dances across the plains. And next to this, I realize I am small.

The sea runs in and through me when I stand next to it. It's as if my soul can only be still standing here on this shore, digging my toes into the grey, cool sand. As if, this is the only place I can truly breath right. The seagulls soar and dive, crying a haunting melody to the tragic sea. The waves tumble and roll, chasing children away from their reaching hands. And next to this, I realize I am small.

Running, moving, breathing, pounding out my minutes on the hard pavement. Music gently filters through the headphones, and my lungs burn. My heart pumps harder, my blood flows faster, my breath comes quicker...and next to all this, I realize I am small.

She is glowing, and inside of her, life is moving, kicking, pushing. Her tummy swells and her time is upon her. Fighting with every breath, she brings him into the world, and he is beautiful. He cries for one brief moment and then, slowly opening his eyes, he gazes around his new world. I am infinitely happy and infinitely sad, for today life and death begin their war anew for this little life. For this first day, however, he is perfect and pure and utterly sweet. Life is winning on this first day and death has left no mark on this little one as of yet. And next to this, I realize I am small.

I stare up into the night sky. Stars twinkle and laugh while the moon looks on, gently smiling at their mirth. Moonshine pours gently onto a little lake and small field, bathing them in enchantment that only the moon can create. If anything is possible, surely it could happen now, next to this lake and this field. If animals could talk, they would here of all places, if I could learn to fly, I am almost certain I could learn here, in this moment. And next to this, I realize I am small.

The words ebb and flow, a living thing that pours forth like a fountain every time I open this book. I am pierced through, my heart aches and cries out. I am filled with joy, laughter, and my heart rejoices. I am convicted. I am spurred on. The words are in me, tangible and real, a weapon used for this war I am in. They are no longer words, they are the Word, a double edged sword given to me by Him. He placed the sword in my hands and this is what I cleave to. And next to this, I realize I am small.

Jesus. Yesterday, today, forever...next to Him, I am small. Next to Him, I realize I am loved beyond all I can comprehend. Next to Him, I understand that He uses the smallest in His hands to accomplish great and mighty things.

Breath, laughter, tears, life...I am small. But, my God is big. To know this is to not be small after all...