Dead Poets Society

As my friend Mike likes to say, it was more about the journey than the destination.

And so it was, that though the entrance to the forest was five flat steps beyond the path that lead me to it, I went around instead.

On the other side, nestled in a clearing, stood a wall of discarded tree trunks and limbs at least twenty feet high. The snapping of wood as I began my climb only seemed to confirm the dedication to reaching my destination...after all, presumed peril that exists only because I chose it, to a teenager, is still peril.

The branches scratched my legs, leaving stinging red welts. I made it to the top and sat for a moment, studying the trees in front of me. The leather bound book I carried under my shirt pressed awkwardly against me, reminding me of my purpose.

So, despite my fear of heights, I began my descent. Those who know me well know that I fell more than I rappelled.

Finally, I was on the ground. Twenty years have passed since the last time I did this, and yet I still remember everything about it. I remember the damp, mossy smell...the stillness...the silence...and most of all, I remember the power I felt, there in the forest alone.

My true destination was a cement slab that sat discarded in the middle of my sanctuary. I perched myself on top of it, kicking off my shoes. (Those who know, know poetry is best enjoyed barefoot.) Finally, ready, I pulled the book from the waistband of my jeans and cracked it open in my lap.

Tennyson. Whitman. Emerson. Thoreau.

My confidants. My teachers. My friends.

And so their words spilled from my lips. Giving life to that which was immortalized only on paper, I became their voice. I was the Dead Poets Society. And, for that moment, I was complete.

But life and perspective are amazing creatures. Twenty years of life have passed between who I was in that forest and who I am now. As much as I love that fourteen year old teenage girl I was, her emptiness makes me so sad.

Now I understand what I needed back then.

It wasn't twenty minutes of feeling like I had purpose because I spoke the words of those long dead; it was an eternity of knowing my purpose because of the Word.

It wasn't pretending to be okay being alone because I had chosen my own path; it was knowing I am never alone because He walks the path beside me.

It wasn't the blood that ran down my legs serving as proof of my dedication and commitment to the journey, it was Christ's blood spilled on the cross serving as proof of His dedication and commitment to me.

I didn't need the dead poets, I needed Christ.

I still love reading poetry barefoot. I still love the feeling of old leather books resting in my hands. I still love giving voice to the words of long-gone men and women who shared their hearts with the world.

But they no longer define me. That experience no longer completes me. Because I know the One who loves me so much that He sent His Son to die for me. The One who gave us the Book that truly guides our paths. The One whose Holy Spirit indwells within us so that we are never alone.

He is my confidant, my teacher, and my friend.

The Dead Poets Society has been replaced by the Living God.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." (John 3:16)

Crying Out

I was so mad.

All I wanted was a picture to capture the sixth birthday of my oldest child.

All I wanted was for everyone to just cooperate. Sit still. Smile. Please just at least pretend that we are all having a good time.

He wouldn't listen to me. He didn't want to sit still; he wanted his mommy.

I was so mad.

Looking at this picture now... with the perspective of eight years, an understanding of autism, and episodes of his life and struggles that play randomly through my mind...all I want to do is go back in time.

I want to tell my old self to put the camera down. To tell all the kids to go have fun playing with the new toys. I want to tell Joseph that one day soon I will know how hard it was for him to have so many kids around him...to deal with the noise and the commotion. I want to scoop my two year old baby up in my arms and tell him that I will never, ever, leave him.

I think of all the times, after this party and after the diagnosis, when I layed next to him on the floor as he screamed for me to help him with something I couldn't understand. To fix something I couldn't see...crying with him because I felt so helpless.

This is the saddest photo I own. He needed me, and I didn't care. I just wanted the pretty picture. The fact that he was crying out for me was just a huge nuisance.

As much as I hate this picture, as much as it reminds me of my failures, I am also reminded of the One who always hears us.

Each time I look at it, I think to myself that there are times in my life where this is what I must have looked like to God. Crying out to Him...reaching for Him...needing Him to pick me up and carry me because everything was just too much.

Except He always listens to our cries.

"Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.

From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe." (Psalm 61:1-2 NIV)

"Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7 NIV)

“Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.” (Psalm 27:10 NLT)

It's too late for me to change the choices I made and the feelings I had in 2003. I could only allow it to change me as a person going forward.

And on the days where it seems like the past or the present wants to drag me into despair, I remember that I can always cry out to my Father. (Deut. 31:6a)

It's About the Cross

I'll never forget the feeling that washed over me as I sat in the health office of my college. It was January of 1996 and I was a sophomore at SUNY Cortland, living up college life as a somewhat reclusive 19 year old. (Right, Holly? ;) ) What many didn't know was that I was also in the tenacious grip of anorexia...a horrible attempt to control something when my life felt like it was slipping from my hands. My health had gotten pretty bad, and I finally reached the point where going to a doctor was more necessary than hiding my secret.

Within moments of arriving, a ketone test betrayed me. "What have you been eating?" the nurse asked.
"Carrots." (One) "A Sandwich..." (Lie) "I am eating fine, just maybe a touch of the flu or something." (Lie)
"We're going to run a pregnancy test, just as a precaution," the nurse said, patting my hand.
"I'm not pregnant. There's no way I could be." (Lies...more lies)

And that test betrayed me, too. I sat there waiting for forever. When the nurse returned, she brought two women with her. Apparently it's hard to tell a teenager that her life as she knew it is over.

"What are you going to do?" they asked me, as if I should have any idea.

I can imagine what I must have looked like. Twisting my fingers in my lap, I threw up a wall and smiled. "It will be fine." (Lie) "I just have to tell my boyfriend."

Two thousand years before I received the news that would change my life forever, another girl was told the same:

"Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the descendants of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary.

"The angel said to her, 'Do not be afraid, Mary; for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name Him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end.'

"Mary said to the angel, 'How can this be, since I am a virgin?'

"The angel answered and said to her, 'The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy Child shall be called the Son of God.'" (Luke 1:26-27, 30-35)

Immaculate Conception. (Truth)
Her life changed in an instant...and I can imagine, Mary might have said, "It will be fine." (Truth)

She just had to tell her boyfriend.

Mary committed no sin and was chosen by God to carry His Son. It took an angel visiting Joseph to convince him that she had not been unfaithful.

"And Joseph her husband, being a righteous man and not wanting to disgrace her, planned to send her away secretly. But when he had considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.'" (Matthew 1:19-21)

I reaped the consequences of my sin. My life changed. My world, for a while, grew smaller. I conquered anorexia after being told my baby was not growing as she should be. I walked down the wedding aisle five months pregnant and Steve and I launched into the dance of trying to grow up while trying to raise a child. There were days when I didn't think our marriage would make it. There were even days when I wondered how I could keep going.

But being born wasn't the most amazing thing that Jesus did. Performing miracles, healing, calming the storm...it all pales in comparison to what He did when He offered up His sinless life on the cross so that our sins would be covered.

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believe in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life." (John 3:16)

One year after my baby was born, I was saved through the grace of Mary's Son. My life didn't suddenly become perfect, but I was filled with a Hope and the knowledge that God loved me.

By His love, we are connected.

Christmas is about the cross.

Called

A couple of my best friends arrived in Texas yesterday. It is the beginning of the end of one phase of their lives, and the end of the beginning of a journey that many people really don't understand. In fact, as supportive as I have been of them (because I love them) and as hard as I tried to understand (because I love Christ), it wasn't until recently that I really GOT it.

My friends are in Texas with their two small children because they need to buy a house. They need to buy a house because they have sold or given away most of what they own here in Wisconsin in order to follow the calling that God has clearly placed on them to go and share the gospel with the people in and near Monterrey, Mexico.

God called them, and they went.

It hasn't been easy. There have been many tears shed...their friends are here, their families are here. But God so clearly called them that they knew their only choice was complete obedience.

They go to join my friend's cousin, who is a pastor in a church that he has built with missions teams near Monterrey. I spent some time with him this weekend, as he is in the states for a few weeks. He is an amazing man. His wife stayed in Mexico, and twice when we were visiting with him, he got a phone call from her detailing an abduction near their church...it is dangerous territory.

My flesh says, "Leave! Go be safe somewhere....anywhere!" But where would that leave the people of these towns? How would that fulfill the commandment that God has give for us to go and make disciples of all the nations? (Matthew 28:19)

More than anything else, what sought me to look for answers was the overwhelming peace I see within my friends and my pastor friend. Are there concerns? Yes. Worries? Sinfully....sometimes. But peace....the underlying peace...the peace that surpasses all understanding...the peace is there. (Phil. 4:4-8)

Then I read this quote from an amazing book that is changing my life. I encourage everyone to read it. The name of the book is Radical: Taking Back your Faith from the American Dream by David Platt.

Your life is free to be radical when you see death as reward. This is the essence of what Jesus taught in Matthew 10, and I believe it is the key to taking back your faith from the American dream.
The key is realizing-and believing-that this world is not your home. If you and I ever hope to free our lives from worldly desires, worldly thinking, worldly pleasures, worldly dreams, worldly ideals, worldly values, worldly ambitions, and worldly acclaim, them we must focus our lives on another world. Though you and I live in the United States of America now, we must fix our attention on "a better country-a heavenly one." Though you and I find ourselves surrounded by the lure of temporary pleasure, we must fasten our affections on the one who promises eternal treasure that will never spoil or fade. If your life or my life is going to count on earth, we must start by concentrating on heaven. For then, and only then, will you and I be free to take radical risk, knowing that what awaits us is radical reward. (pg 179)

This speaks to me on so many levels. It makes me realize that I have spent the majority of my Christian life focusing on the benefits of my earthly life...and fearing death because it ends what I have here. But if, instead, I focus my eyes heavenward...not looking for death, but ceasing to be afraid of it...if I trust that my Heavenly Father will bring me home only in His perfect timing...what good can I do here for Him?

It is a scary thing, to truly say...."Here am I, send me." (Isaiah 6:8) To MEAN it when we say it. He might call us to our community. He might call us within our country. He might call us to give up everything and be a light to His people in a country we barely know exists. He might call us to die for His names sake.

My friends are called, and are being blessed because of their obedience. My prayer for myself and my family is that we are open to God's calling in our lives.

Radical seems to be the new "buzz word." But truly, Christ has been radical since the day He was conceived. Maybe what is actually "radical" is our obedience to His teachings.

Dear Heavenly Father, I pray that you would make your will clear in our lives. I pray for the missionaries who have followed your calling, that you would place a hedge of protection around them as they seek to minister to others. Lord, I specifically pray for my friends and for the ministry in Mexico...I pray that you will use them mightily. Thank you, Lord, that we live in a country where we are free to pray and worship openly. Thank you for the countless blessings bestowed on us here...help us to see the needs elsewhere. Amen.