Eternity.

It's a long time. A seriously long time. I mean, just try and think about it for a second.

e...t...e...r...n...i...t...y....

It goes on forever. It never ends. It makes today seem like a millisecond. It makes my life seem so short-lived. Really, it's something I'll never fully grasp.

However...

Despite its ambiguity, I do know one thing, and one thing for sure.

I will be spending it in heaven with Almighty God.

Woa.

When all is said and done, my eternity, my forever, my always, will be with the God of the Universe. With the Maker of heaven and earth. With the one true God who's hesed is indescribable. unattainable. incomprehensible.

WOA.

In a time where it hurts me to watch the news and see the utter wickedness of the world today, I take comfort in knowing that one day, and one day soon, I will be in a perfect and peaceful place--where love and grace abound, worries and strife are no more, and reconciliation with God and one another are forever restored. This is my future. This is my everlasting. This is my hope.

And I can't wait.

Or can I?

If I'm honest with myself here, most days I can. While in theory I "can't wait", I can't help but notice that my actions and thoughts prove otherwise.

You see, while I know those things await me, I live my life as if they don't. I live for the now, the comfortable, and the easy. I make silly plans for the day, the week, the month, the year. I go about this life as if this was it. To put it bluntly, I love my life on earth way too much to live with a deep eternal perspective.

Shame on me.

Maybe you think I'm being too hard on myself. I don't think I am. For if I truly claim to be a follower of Jesus, then my life on this earth is not about me. My life here is not about personal satisfaction. My life here is not about being comfortable, being safe, or being easy. It's not about how much money I can make, how big of a house I can buy, or even how well liked I am. No, my life, my whole life, is to be about eternity. It's less of me, more of Him.

It makes sense. Why invest in things that don't last? It seems silly. And a waste of time. But we all do it.

Example #1: Steven just spent the last two years building a bridge. He worked hard. Really hard. We're talking long hours, driving in way too much traffic, dealing with difficult people, and having to put up with an ungrateful wife who just wanted him home on time for dinner. Two years of his life went into this bridge. But what if there's an earthquake tomorrow and the bridge collapses? All the hard work, the blood, sweat, and tears...for nothing.

You see, bridges are not eternal.

Example #2: I spent two years teaching high school. At first I wanted to teach in the inner city--you know, really help the disadvantaged and forgotten kids. I wanted to help them get out of their messy situations. I wanted to show them that there was a better life out there to be had. It seemed like a good cause--but then I had this thought. If I just teach them a way to have a better life here on earth, but don't teach them of the eternal life they can have through a relationship with Jesus, what good am I really doing for them?

You see, even life, a good life, is not eternal.

Example #3: We put a lot of money into our 401K. It's the smart thing to do. When we're old and gray, we'll be taken care of. We won't be a burden on our kids. We won't be a burden on society. But, the thing is, that money could be gone. Last year, all you heard about was how peoples' life savings were cut in half over night as the stock market plummeted. Even our savings, what could have been spent to help feed and clothe a child, was not what it used to be.

You see, money, security, is not eternal.

Example #4: I shop a lot. I try and pretend that this is okay because I shop at "cheap" stores. In reality, I have more clothes than I know what to do with. (Just take a look at my brimming closet...it's quite ridiculous) I also spend a good deal of time complaining, fixing and examining my body. I'm either "too this" or "not enough that"...It's always a new diet, new work out plan, a new goal weight. But why do I spend so much time in vain? Why do hours of my life get poured into what I'm wearing and how well I'm wearing it?

Thank God, our bodies are not eternal.

Example #5: Facebook, TV, sports. How they occupy our time, consume our thoughts, and waste our energy. Sure they entertain, for the moment. Sure they're fun, for awhile. But they quickly fade from one thing to the next--new technology to newer technology, tv series to tv series (oh LOST, how I will miss you..), football season to baseball season. Most of these things seem so important at the time, but quickly become distant and vague memories.

You see, most of the things I do are not eternal.

So what is?

The way I see it, there are only three things that will last forever.
-God.
-The Word of God.
-And the souls of men.

These are the things of eternity. These are the things I need to be pursuing.
These three things deserve my life.
-Knowing God intimately.
-Growing deeply through His Word.
-And inviting others to do that same.

Period.

All other things are done in vain. Yes, the above examples are sometimes necessary parts of life. Obviously, I'm not saying "Let's quit our jobs, never watch sports and forget all about working out!" Those things in and of themselves are not bad. What is wrong is when we give our lives to such things. What is sad is when those are the only things we care about, the only things we live for, the only things we are.

People think it's a tragedy when young ones go early. But isn't it just as tragic to die of old age, but to have given your life to nothing of value?

Could we live for something more? Could I live for something more significant--something that reaches beyond myself? If I can't take most of what the world offers with me when I die, why waste so much of my little time.

Let us ask ourselves...
What would it look like to really live a life for God and for bringing others to His Throne? What priorities, hobbies, plans would need to change in order to live a life of eternal significance?

What if I stopped living for today, let go of my need for immediate gratification, and started seriously living for eternity?

Oh, how the world would change. And oh, how e.t.e.r.n.i.t.y would then change too.

Deal with it.

Oh, but I don't want to. It's uncomfortable and it's so much easier to ignore. I'd rather pretend the questions aren't there.

Besides, what if my questions just lead to more questions? Or the answers lead to something I don't want to know? Will my foundation be shaken?

Ya, I don't really need answers. I'm okay with the whole "living by faith" thing. That's what the godly do anyway, right?

Plus, who am I? I'm no theologian, no biblical scholar, no expert. I don't know all that I should or even all that I want. There's gotta be someone else--someone smarter, someone braver, someone better to do it.

I don't have to deal with it, do I?

...SIGH...

I think I do. Deep down, I know God wants me to wrestle with these questions. I know He doesn't want me to turn off my brain in order to follow Him. I know He is inviting me to know Him deeper, pursue wisdom and grow in my faith.

I know God wants me to deal with it.

So, with no more excuses (but with a little kicking and screaming), I'm diving in. Here goes nothing....

Question 1: Was the earthquake God's judgment on Haiti?
It's one of the big questions I've been asking myself these past couple of weeks. It's a question that comes up in my mind, heart and soul every year or so when another disaster hits. It's scary to say it out-loud, to admit that I question God's role in it all. But there it is, waiting to be dealt with.

I've heard many Christians answer with a resounding YES. This answer, their answer, kind of makes me sick. Or at least it makes me squirm a little. While I don't necessarily disagree with their opinion, I strongly dislike how they make it seem like a known fact. It's the way they answer so quickly, without much thought, like it's a simple question with a therefore simple answer. Is the sky blue? Yes. Was the earthquake God's judgment? Yes.

To me, it's not so easy. To me, it's not a 'yes' or 'no'. It's a maybe. (And that's not a cop-out. I promise.)

This is what I mean...

As hard as it is for me to say, I can't deny that the earthquake could have been an act of judgment by God. If I were to deny this, I would be neglecting the many times that God has used natural disasters as a form of judgment in the past. I would be ignoring characteristics and actions of God that are essential to His being. I would be creating my own god, fitting him into what I think he should be or do. It's me taking control, telling God that I know better than He does. That's dangerous.

Look at Noah & the Ark. It's not the happy story we've twisted it into. It's God's judgment on the wickedness of the people.

Genesis 6:11-13 "Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence. And, God saw the earth, and behold, it was corrupt, for all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth. And God said to Noah, 'I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence through them. Behold, I will destroy them with the earth."

If I believe the Bible, I must then believe that God has done this in the past and can continue to do so today.

And what about Sodom and Gomorrah?

Genesis 19:24-25 "Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire from the Lord out of heaven. And He overthrew those cities, and all the valley, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and what grew on the ground."

Seems to me that God isn't being shy about taking the credit for destroying the two cities. If He's taking the credit, I must give it to Him.

The truth is, I don't want to give it to Him. Plainly put, the thought of God causing the earthquake in Haiti just seems so mean to me. It doesn't seem like an act of God's hesed.

And this is what I was scared of. This is exactly the reason why I didn't want to deal with such questions.

So this is where I usually run away. Where I usually back off and just say "God, you're in control and I choose to still believe in You." I suppose that's not a bad thing in and of itself, but it is when I use it as a cop-out.

Deal with it, Lauren. Dig deeper.

Okay, let me just think about it for a second. Let me try and understand it in a tangible way. Again, here goes nothing...

To me, God's judgment can be seen to be a lot like a parent's punishment. Now, all you theologians out there, just chill. I'm not saying it's the same, I'm just saying that I see some similarities. Work with the analogy here. God is the parent and the world is the child. The world has rebelled and sinned against God, much like a child disobeys and sins against its parents. Now, would it be loving or even wise for the parents to never discipline their child? Discipline and punishment with consequences are often necessary. No one can argue that. It teaches, molds and guides--even though it doesn't seem very loving from the child's point of view.

I know this because whenever I got in trouble as a kid, I always wanted to blame my parents and feel sorry for myself when they punished me. They were the mean ones for not letting me get away with it. They were the ones that caused my misery. Instead of taking responsibility for my actions and asking for forgiveness, it was so much easier to blame...blame anyone but myself. And even when I knew my punishment was completely justified, being grounded still didn't seem like a very "loving" approach.

Sounds silly now, but isn't that how we kind of react to God? When we see something like the earthquake in Haiti, the world's initial response is not one of self reflection and repentance. It's one of projection, self pity and blame. We don't take responsibility. We don't ask ourselves what God could be trying to teach us through the mess, through this wake-up call. We don't turn back to God. We don't examine our sinfulness. We don't ask for forgiveness. We don't see it as a lot of things. And we certainly don't see it as a loving and necessary hesed act of God.

We don't because it's harder to swallow this way. This way, we have to come to the fact that we live in a fallen and sick world. A world that often deserves discipline. A world that sometimes deserves judgment. This way, we are the rebellious child that needs to be corrected, taught, and redirected. This way, we must admit that we only like serving a God who blesses. And we only want to love a God who gives. And gives. And gives. Give me a god who never rebukes, closes his eyes to my sin, and blesses me until I die, right?

Yes, I am still that selfish and immature child.

...SIGH...

Here I was, scared to find out something ugly about God when all I did was discover more of my ugliness and need for Him.

So back to my question, could the earthquake in Haiti, or any other natural disaster for that matter, have been God's judgment? Yes. And I'm finally okay with that answer. But, and this is a BIG BUT, I am still adamantly against stating it as fact. I can't state it as fact. And neither can anyone else. If we do, then we are speaking on behalf of God--something I'm not willing to do and something I should never do unless it is found explicitly in His Word.

How do we know that, without a doubt, it was God's wrath being displayed last week? We don't. Like I said, in His parental hesed, He has done things like this before. But then does that mean that His judgment is in every natural disaster? No. While He always allows things to happen (a necessary responsibility of a sovereign God), it doesn't necessarily mean that He causes them to happen.

My original answer still stands: Maybe.

And I feel good about that not being a cop-out.

Question 1, dealt with. Maybe not the way you wanted me to deal with it, but hey, I told you I wasn't the smartest or best out there. Maybe you need to deal with it more. And if you do, let me know. We'll talk, we'll share, we'll grow.

But for now, I feel a sense of peace even when my questions still continue. And I know that they always will. But I'm starting to be less afraid of them and well, that's a start.

just STOP. and THINK.

I'm usually long-winded, as if you couldn't already tell. I won't be today. Scout's honor. Just give me 15 minutes of your time.

Most days, I don't think I have 15 minutes. I go from one thing to another, activity to activity, meal to meal. And I do it without much thought. Pretty soon the week is over and it's on to the next. Before I know it, a year has ended and a new one has begun.

I move way too fast through life.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, I ask myself..."Lauren, what did you do today that effects eternity?" Most of the time the answer is nothing. I was too busy to even think about it.

So I shoot lower. "Lauren, what did you think about today? Important things that will challenge, mold and change you? Or did your mind search for things that merely entertain, but lack eternal significance?

I could go on...but I promised to keep it short.

So, just give me 15 minutes. No, give yourself 15 minutes. 15 minutes to stop. And think. About what is really important in this thing called life.

Who knows, maybe 15 minutes could change you. Maybe it could change...everything.

Slavery. It's still here.

Yesterday was MLK Day. A day to honor a man who gave his life to fight injustice. A day to reflect on how much progress has been made. It's a day set aside to celebrate the rights to freedom for all people.

But honestly, it's a day I usually skim over. To me, it's just a day that kids are out of school (annoying, longer lines at Panera), some people are off work (awesome, less traffic), and the banks are closed (shoot, Steven wanted me to deposit that check...).

It's a day that I don't really identify with. It's so hard for me to imagine a time and place where people were denied rights because of their skin color. Call me naive. Call me young. But it's crazy to think that less than 50 years ago schools were still segregated. That just sounds so ridiculous, doesn't it? We really have come such a long way.

But the road is long. And even though some battles have been won, the war rages on.

I was reminded of this yesterday.


Slavery. It's still here. And even though I don't see it in my every day life, that doesn't mean it doesn't still exist. It does. And it's worse than ever.

Steven and I were invited to watch a film on sex trafficking last night at the Oak Park Library. Sex trafficking--probably the most intimate violation of someone that I can think of. So there I was, just minding my own business on MKL Day, and getting slapped in the face with this reality.

My head has been spinning ever since.

Like the picture says, approximately 2 million women and children are being exploited in the sex trafficking industry today. 2 million. Let me wrap my head around that number for a second. Houston Texas, the 4th largest city in the US, has 2 million people. So just imagine...taking every single person in Houston and selling them as sex slaves. Seems unreal. Sadly, shockingly, this is really happening in our world today.

Worse yet, children are sold for as little as $20 bucks. $20 measly bucks. A life, a soul for just $20 dollars. I spent more on my new hat. These slave children, as young as 4 years old, are being turned into commodities--disposable and cheap. And half the world has no idea.

Oh, how the war rages on.

This stuff should break my heart. Doesn't it break yours? But last night, as the movie ended and as the horrific images of young girls being sold into prostitution came to an end, I had no emotion. Now those of you who know me, know that I show emotion quite easily. I cry far too much, feel way too deeply and get excited about the littlest of things. (Just ask Steven, he doesn't understand how so much emotion can exist in one person) So this response, or lack there of, came as a shock to say the least.

Why didn't I feel more for these girls? Why will I likely forget about them when life gets busy? How can I call myself a follower of Jesus--a lover of people and justice--and just continue on with my mundane life?

Maybe I was overwhelmed. Maybe I was paralyzed when thinking about the task at hand. This kind of slavery is so evil. So embedded in sin. Where does one even begin? And how will one person be able to make any sort of dent in an industry that makes 32 billion dollars a year? It's too much. The task too hard.

Maybe I showed no emotion because sex trafficking hasn't directly effected my life. Isn't that how it usually goes? We only care about the things that effect us. It's our self-absorbed mentality at it's best. Or worst. But just think about it. Why do so many people raise money for the Susan G. Koman Foundation? Why is there a whole month dedicated to breast cancer awareness? Because so many peoples' lives have been effected by it. Their mother, their spouse, their wife, their mom, their friend. It's personal and it hits close to home. What if the we cared to stop sex slavery as much as we cared to find a cure. What if we raised awareness for the sex victims like we raise awareness in October.

What if it was my child that was taking in 3 men a night...
What if sex trafficking was my life...
Maybe then my heart would truly break.

Maybe I had no tears because I don't value life as much as I should. No, wait. I value my life an awful lot. Just not others. I'll go out of my way to make sure justice is served to me, but for others? I could take it or leave it. I'd rather concern myself with...well, me. You know, important things like what I'm cooking for dinner tonight, or how much weight I think I need to lose, or what's on tv. It's shameful and true. I do not value others' lives like I should. I do not risk for them. I do not sacrifice for them. I do not live like they are eternally significant.

Good thing my God does.

God's heart is for people. He's about sacrifice--just look at the cross. He's in the business of saving the souls of men. God's all about being eternally significant.

I laid in bed last night, tired and frustrated with myself. Oh God, what do you want of me?

I had this thought, 50 years from now, being old and gray, holding my precious grand-daughter in my lap. What would I say to her if she asked me what I did to fight the injustice in our world today? Would I shamefully look away and regretfully say that I ignored it? Or would I tell her stories of the lives that were changed because I decided that doing something was better than nothing?

My mind went further. What will I say to my Heavenly Father when I stand before Him on that glorious day? Will my love for Him and His people be proven genuine? Oh, how I hope so. For how I long to hear Him say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Oh, how I hope to lay Micah 6:8 at His feet and say that I did this the best I could.

He has showed you, O man, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

So here are my small steps towards acting justly. And they're not just for me, they're for you too. Enough talk. Enough blogging. Enough procrastinating. Let us do what the Lord requires of us. Let us be found faithful. Let our hearts break for the broken-hearted. And then, let us seek justice.

Listen.
Shop smart. Shop justly.
Fight sex tourism.
Fund the cause.
Get educated.
Get involved.

SPREAD THE WORD.

Meet Yuki.

An 82 year old with the energy level of a teenager. A lady who can work a room like no one I’ve ever known. A woman with a boisterous laugh. A determined spirit. The most optimistic outlook on life.

She’ll make strangers feel like dear friends—and to her, they really are dear friends. She’ll stay up and bake bread til 3 in the morning just so her hairdresser can have a fresh loaf. Seriously. She’s kinda crazy—but a great kind of crazy. She’s a true servant, generous giver, lover of people kind of crazy.

This is Yuki. This is my grandma.


She’s a joy--a role model to many. And to me, she’s hesed.

Let me explain. This past weekend it was her 82nd birthday. Now, I know that on my birthday I like to be “pampered”. I want Steven to take me out to a nice dinner and serve me even more than he already does. (I realize that I sound somewhat like a brat at this point, but hey, just keeping it real. Isn’t that what we all want on our birthdays?)

Most would assume that an 82 year old would want this as well. Better yet, after 82 years she deserves to be pampered on her birthday. But no, not Yuki. My grandma’s idea of a birthday is having the whole family—25 of us rugrats—over to her house to cook for US.

HUH?

Not only that, but she wanted to make her homemade tamales and tacos. Her homemade tamales. This is an act of love. This is an act of service. This is an act of deep, deep hesed.

I know this because this year I helped her make them. One of my New Years resolutions is to learn a few of my grandma’s secret recipes—I want to be able to cook like my grandma some day. Basically, I want to be like my grandma some day and well, I can’t do that without knowing her food.

My grandma’s food is old school. It’s the real deal. It's real homemade. Forget the “boxed cake and homemade frosting” kind of homemade. That kind of homemade actually disgusts her. I remember how I once left a pre-made pie crust in her refrigerator and told her to use it. (I thought I was being nice. Not so much.) She looked at me square in the eye and said “I DON’T USE PRE-MADE”. It ended up in the garbage. (How dare I bring pre-made pie crust into her home. What was I thinking?) My grandma’s homemade is from scratch and I mean everything is from scratch. There is no cutting corners with her kind of cooking.

Don't believe me? Take a look for yourself.

TAMALE MAKING WITH GRANDMA: HESED IN A HUSK


Starting from scratch. Masa, baking powder and salt.


Pour in stock (homemade stock of course) and mix it up with your hands. It's messy. And fun.


Now add the masa mixture to the blender of already whipped Crisco.


Keep adding and blending.


And adding. And blending. How many of these tamales are we going to make, grandma?


Introducing the meat. It's delicious. It's mouth-watering. It's homemade. She made it the day before, so unfortunately I didn't get to see the process. All I know is that it must have taken a LONG time. I mean, 12 lbs. of pork shoulder has to take a long time, right? And yes I just said 12 lbs. Again, how many of these are we planning to make, grandma?


Now it's time to put the masa mixture into the husk. This is where it gets tricky. Grandma's instructions were to put the masa exactly 1/2 inch down from the edge of the husk. If it was any more or any less, it wouldn't be right. I started sweating at this point.


Now add the meat. Not too much, not too little. (Like I said before, there was 12 lbs. of meat in front of me, so I tended to add a little too much meat for my grandma's liking.) I was rushing...and my grandma doesn't like rushing.


Now add two olives. Well, two halves of an olive. "Why two?", I asked her. "Because that's just the way you do it." Well okay then, two it is.


After the meat and olives are placed correctly (phew), it's time to roll the masa together. The two masa edges must "kiss" each other perfectly in order to ensure a good tamale. If they don't kiss, the tamale will fall apart and the meat will spill out. If they kiss too much, the masa will be too thick on the outside resulting in a tamale not up to grandma's standards. Yikes.


Now, wrap the husk around the tamale and fold the empty bottom upwards. And there she is! You're all done. With one. How many more to go, grandma?


"LAUREN. WE'RE MAKING 100. I WANT EVERYONE TO BE ABLE TO EAT 4 TAMALES A PIECE, OKAY?" Since there's really no arguing with grandma, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. (I told you she was kinda crazy...) Oh, and I forgot to mention that 3 days prior to this event, grandma fell on some ice and bruised her chin, lip and cheek. (Hence the bandaged face..) She also fractured her thumb. When I called her to see how she was, she said "The party is still on!" I didn't really call to ask about the party, but I guess that was her way of telling me she was A-OK.

Hmm, so maybe she's not kinda crazy...she may just be straight up crazy.


First batch done. Now it's on to...


Steaming the tamales. For an hour!


And voila! There they are...


DELICIOUSNESS.


Up close and personal.


A bite of heaven.

So there they are. My grandma’s homemade tamales. Hesed all wrapped up in a husk. I realized this afternoon how much love, patience, time and energy goes into just one of these tamales. It’s something that most people probably don’t even think about—mostly because they’re so delicious that they wolf em down in .5 seconds, but still.

I realized something else, too. While I was completely exhausted and needed an hour nap after the day’s events, my grandma, on the other hand, was more energized than ever. She loves this kind of stuff. This kind of stuff is, what I believe, keeps her so sharp and so vibrant at 82 years of age. The excitement for her not only lies in the food itself, but in the atmosphere that good homemade food brings. To her, having everyone over and being able to feed and serve all of us is so rewarding. She loves hearing that “we’re stuffed” and that the “food was the best”. She loves having us all around her house laughing, teasing and hanging out with each other. That’s all she wants for her birthday—that’s all she ever wants.

I so enjoyed this day with my grandma. I feel like I got to experience hesed in a real and tangible way—authentic love played out through food. And I got to taste it too. And even as a picky eater and non-tamale-lover, this hesed tasted oh so good.

Why.

A word I have been asking myself a lot today. A word I ponder most days. But today, today is different. Today I can't get it out of my mind.

Why God? Why Haiti? Why a country who is already so weak, so crushed, so broken? Why so many lives taken? Why....

It's days like today that the suffering in the world just screams at me. Most days I ignore it. Or forget. Or don't pay attention. Or don't care. But today, I couldn't help but silently cry in my car as my heart broke about Haiti. I tried to put myself there. I tried to just imagine the desperation, the pain, the injustice, the fear. The thing is, I couldn't. Who am I kidding? My life has been nothing but pampered-how could I possibly put myself in their shoes? How could I ever truly know how this woman feels? I started crying a little harder.

Why. Why God? Why me? Why am I so incredibly blessed when so many others are not? Why have I been protected from so much suffering when most know nothing but hurt? Why wasn't I born in Haiti? Why....

This is not the first time I have questioned why God chose to bless me so abundantly. And I'm not just talking about money. Most everyone who is reading this has been blessed in that way. I'm talking about everything that has made up my life to this point.

I realized my unique and blessed life as a little girl, always wondering what it would be like if I had been born into a different situation. Maybe an orphan in Africa. Maybe a child solider. Maybe a slave to the sex trafficking industry. But I wasn't. Yes, I have had an easy life. A really easy life.

I come from an amazing family. My parents love each other and are actually really cute together. I know their love for me runs deep, maybe even a little too deep. I grew up in a safe environment, my parents taught me of God's love at a young age and I was a happy little girl (except when forced to eat all my vegetables...which I still haven't really recovered from, but whatever)

I loved high school. I have always had good friends. I got to go to the college of my dreams and go for "free" (THANKS DAD.)

I married, what I believe, the best man in the world. Turns out, his family is one of the greatest, too. We have two cars, two great jobs, two soft pillows to lay our heads at night. We have never had to go a day without food, never been without comforts, never even lost a loved one. To me, suffering is having to leave our comfy apartment to do laundry in the basement.

I do not know suffering. Not in the least bit.

So, what does a girl, who knows only blessings, do when suffering is screaming all around her?

I don't know.

I don't know if I'll ever figure it out or be at peace with it all. But here is what I do know so far: God wants me to use my blessings to bless the world. This is the purpose behind the blessings. Not for me, but for the world. I repeat. Not for me, but for the world. Jesus says, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked." I think He's talking to me here. I am to somehow use my blessings to impact those around me--near and far. In reality, all my blessings are not really mine anyway. They are God's. I did nothing to deserve them. They are purely examples of God's mercy towards me. So, it seems simple enough. I've been entrusted with a whole bunch, which means now I'm responsible to do a whole bunch.

But this is where it gets even messier for me. (insert more crying here) How do I actually give what I've been given? I could write a check. Haiti needs money right now. But writing a check seems too easy and far too distant. I could pray. Lord knows Haiti is a dark place that has always needed a lot prayer. But honestly, I'll pray for maybe 30 minutes and then I'll move on. I could do a lot of things--but will I do any? And will it be enough?

Maybe that's why it appeals to me to go overseas. Maybe then I can see the suffering. Taste it. Touch it. Live it. Weep for it. Maybe that will give me more answers on how to give all that Jesus demands of me. Maybe Jesus is saying that I need to give my life to the suffering. I don't know.


Today, unfortunately, is a day that doesn't end with a full or complete thought. I still have so many more questions. So many more whys. But for now, I hurt for the woman in the picture. For her family, for her friends, for her country. I pray for her, her family, her friends, her country. And I remind myself that God's hesed is the same for everyone. All His children. I can't imagine how much more He hurt and wept for her today.

I throw a lot of stones.

I pretend that I don't, but I do. I pretend that I love, but I don't. I throw A LOT of stones.

My last massacre took place just last night. Here's the scene:

Walked into a church.
Stone #1: "How much did it cost to build this church? Probably way too much. You want to give to the poor? How about spending half of the money it took to build this place and give it to the sick and the dying right across the street."

Observed people drinking coffee and visiting with friends.
Stone #2: "Why are they here? To worship God? Or to be a consumer?"

Found myself surrounded by beautiful people. No joke, like every single person I saw was really pretty. And not just any kind of pretty, I'm talking about "Abercrombie & Fitch model" kinda of pretty. It seemed so odd to me that so many good-looking people could be in one place. I was really uncomfortable.
Stone #3 (and maybe the worst of all): "These pretty people can't really love God. They're just here to find a boyfriend or girlfriend."

Sat down for the service. The music starts, it's beautiful. The lights on the stage change color. Again, beautiful. The lyrics come up on the big screen with a serene background. Beautiful.
Stone #4: I can't concentrate. I'm struggling. "What is this? Worship? Or a concert?"

You see where this is going. I'm ashamed to even write this stuff. I'm even more ashamed to admit that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Jesus says in John 8:7 "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." Jesus is addressing the crowd of people who want to stone this woman who was caught in adultery. Jesus' response is brilliant. How can these people, sinful in their own ways, be the judge of someone who is just like them? No one has the right to throw stones, except for Jesus. He had no sin. He could have stoned her and been perfectly justified in doing so. But, He didn't. He extended love and grace.

I throw stones. I don't extend love and grace. Yet another painful example of my failed pursuit of showing God's hesed.

It gets worse. Not only am I guilty of throwing stones, I am guilty of being a total hypocrite. Matthew 7:3-5: "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye."

Let's go back to last night's scene.
Speck #1: "How much did it cost to build this church? Probably way too much. You want to give to the poor? How about spending half of the money it took to build this place and give it to the sick and the dying right across the street."
PLANK #1: No more than 10 minutes prior, I had just bought a $30 dollar winter hat that I did not need. (I have 5 others in my closet at home. But this one was really cute. And new. Totally justified. Ha, ya right.) Worse yet, on the way out of the store, I passed up a homeless guy asking if I had any money to buy him a cup of coffee on this freezing winter's night. I lied, in my cute new hat, and said I had no money.

Speck #2: "Why are they here? To worship God? Or to be a consumer?"
PLANK #2: Lauren, why are YOU here? To worship God? Or to judge and puff yourself up?

Speck #3: "These pretty people can't really love God. They're just here to find a boyfriend or girlfriend."
PLANK #3: I told a friend after the service that I was intimidated by all the pretty people at this church. Her reply, "Oh Lauren, don't be! You look just like everybody else!" Zing. I.look.just.like.everyone.I.was.judging. I looked down at what I was wearing. North Face jacket, UGG boots, a new sweater, one of my 10 jeans, and my new hat. Crap.

The best part about the analogy of the speck and the plank is what Jesus says right before; "Judge not, that you be not judged. For the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you." I feel like I just got a good taste of that. I judge, yet I am no different. I cast stones when stones should be cast at me. I am so busy looking at the little bit of sin in other people when I am consumed by the same sin in my life. The people I judge the most are the people most similar to me. That's crazy. That's stupid. It doesn't make sense.

Or maybe it does. Maybe the reason why I was so uncomfortable last night is because it was a place that was all too familiar. It was a place where I saw my own sin in a tangible way. It was a scary place for me--a place maybe I'm not strong enough to be in.

All this to say, I am broken by my ugliness. I am guilty for taking on a role that I was never intended to have. God is the judge, not me. I need to leave that job to Him. I repent for the people I have hurt through my quick scrutiny. This is not hesed--toward God nor toward others.

It's days like this that the grace of God overwhelms me. Even though I fail time and time again, His mercies really ARE new every morning. Thank God for this. And thank God He doesn't throw stones.

No one ever told me.

Or maybe I wasn't listening. All I ever heard was "You're a sinner. God sent Jesus to offer you forgiveness and give you eternal life in heaven." Sweet. Where do I sign up? I mean, who wouldn't want that? Jesus loves me? Awesome. If I believe in Him and have a relationship with Him, I get to go to heaven for all eternity? Yes, please!

But wait.

There's more.

The second half of the gospel that far too many never hear, face or wrestle with. It's the part that says, "Wait not so fast. While all that previous stuff is true (and nothing short of AMAZING), in return, I get all of you."

ALL OF ME? Like, how much of all is ALL?

Luke 14:25-33
25 Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: 26 "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. 27 And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.

28 "Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? 29 For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, 30 saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.'

31 "Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. 33 In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.

Yikes. Time to count the cost. The way I see it, Jesus is giving us a 3 point check list.

1. "You must hate your own father, mother, spouse, children, siblings, yourself or any other human relationship for that matter, in order to follow me." Seriously? I mean, cmon. That's pretty stiff. It took me a long time to truly understand what He is getting at here. Yes, Jesus wants me to love people. Yes, He wants me to honor my parents. Yes, He wants me to serve anyone and everyone. But none of this is to be above my devotion, my love or my loyalty to Him. Sometimes I mistakenly picture Jesus as this meek and complacent guy who will be satisfied with anything I want to throw His way. Not so much. He spits out the lukewarm and half-hearted. He'd rather have none of me, than my mere leftovers. I guess it makes sense. If Steven had proposed saying that he was only going to commit part of his life to me, I'm pretty sure I would have thrown the ring back in his face. No, not pretty sure. 100% sure. Maybe that's how Jesus feels when I offer Him only the parts of my life that I am comfortable with Him having. I wonder how many bad proposals I have laid before God.

2. "Plan on carrying your cross daily." Carry my cross? Like, wear a cross necklace and tell people about Jesus when they ask me about it? Don't laugh, but that's literally what I thought Jesus meant. If only it were that easy... Instead He's saying, "Hey Lauren. You must die to self-will and embrace MINE, no matter what the cost." It means I no longer get a say in how I live my life--for I am a slave to Christ. He calls the shots. His agenda is now my agenda. My heart now beats for the the things that break His. Major paradigm shift.

3. "You must give up everything." As if the first two weren't crazy enough. My money, my talents, my desires, my relationships, my pride, my e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.....

So, what am I getting at here? Sounds like I'm making a case to not choose Christ. I'm not. While it seems like so much to give up at the moment, it's not. I can honestly say that is has been the greatest JOY placing my life, my everything in God's control. It's so much richer, so much fuller, so much more significant. The people who have done it know what I'm talking about. So, what is my point? My point is that I spent the first 20 some years of my life never understanding the full circle of the Gospel. I had not counted the cost. I did not consider all these things before becoming a "Christian". Simply put, Jesus was nothing more than my free ticket to heaven. My Savior, yes, but not my Lord. Truth is, you can't have one and not the other.

I realized my mistake about 4 years ago when I specifically remember telling God that I would NOT be a missionary. No way, no how, not ever. I wanted to live my life the way I wanted and missions was NOT what I wanted. It was at this cross-roads where I admitted to myself that I was not a disciple of Christ. According to Luke 14, I couldn't be. How come no one ever told me?

Maybe this is why we see so much hypocrisy in the church today. It's filled with people that haven't counted the cost. It's filled with people like me--just wanting the free gift of eternal life but never fully realizing that it means giving up your life in this world. Maybe if more people counted the cost we wouldn't have so many people claim to be Christian, but look no different than the atheist. Maybe if more people counted the cost, the "radicals" wouldn't be so far and few between.

Counting the cost. I'm convinced it's the only way to live a life of true hesed back toward God.

Insert Creative Name Here

Yes, that is almost what I called this blog. It’s been a long couple of days, mulling over what to name this new project of mine. It seems silly really. Realistically, no one will probably read this, except maybe my mom (Hi mom!). But still, the name seems like such an important decision. I found myself acting like an expecting mother, trying out all these different names for my unborn baby. I did the whole “saying the name outloud” thing. Does it have a nice ring to it? Is it too hard to say? And what about the meaning? No one wants to grow up with a name that could mean something like, oh I don’t know, “daughter of a tree stump” (yes, that is what my middle name means). This blog name had to hold significance, had to have a purpose, had to be just perfect.

And then it came to me.

Hesed.

I first heard the word in my Old Testament class. Our teacher was encouraging us to pursue it, to fight for its presence in our lives. I was intrigued.

Hesed. It's all over the Bible. 245 times to be exact. Who knew? Turns out its the Hebrew word for "lovingkindness". But it's more than that, so much more. It’s not just some soft, romantic word to throw around--it's a word that is intricately woven with the character of God. Hesed. The consistent, ever-faithful, relentless, constantly-pursuing, lavish, extravagant, unrestrained, furious love of our Father God. Woa, this is worth some deeper investigation.

Hesed. It extends even further. It's grace. It's mercy. It's goodness. It involves intervening on behalf of the suffering, the poor and the lonely. It embraces an active interest and concern for the well-being of others. Again, a defining characteristic of our God. I am humbled to say that I have been redeemed through this hesed of God.

Hesed. It’s grounded in loyalty and truth. It’s how God works with us—His covenant with me through a raw, authentic and mutual relationship. This means that despite my faults, my inadequacies, my sin, God still invites me to His throne of grace. In a world that is filled with unfaithfulness, lies and deception, I want to fight and work for hesed to be known again.

God's ultimate act of hesed: 1 John 4:9 "In this the love (hesed) of God was made manifest among us, that God sent His only Son into the world, so that we might live through Him. In this is love (hesed), not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins." Recap. We did nothing to deserve such hesed from God. Yet, in His infinite mercy and love, God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to bear the sins of the world and pay the price for us all in order that we may be reconciled back to Him. This is the Gospel. This is the hope I cling to. This. Changes. Everything.

God is hesed. --> Jesus is hesed. --> We need to be hesed.

And so this blog begins. Nothing more than a mere reminder to be pursuing such opportunities in my life--hesed toward God and toward others, the way it has been so freely extended to me. Not for my own glory or self-worth, but because I am a daughter of the sacrificial King who has led the way.