You Will Be Free Indeed.

The Fourth of July is our national holiday set aside for the celebration of our great "Land of the Free and Home of the Brave"--and we honor it with parades, barbecues, Stars and Stripes, patriotic music, family, friends, and fireworks.

I spent most of my day yesterday looking out at this view...

...and making (and enjoying) American Flag pavlova...

...and thinking a lot about what it is that makes my America such a happy place to live and American freedom such an exciting thing to celebrate.

Those of you who know me well know that I care deeply about our nation. I am fascinated by its history, government, and politics. I felt a bit like Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington the first time I ever saw D.C.. I sometimes watch C-SPAN in my spare time. And I'm at college double-majoring in History and Education because I think I might like to spend the rest of my life educating, empowering, and investing in the lives of high school students who might be the next generation of leaders for this nation.

 

So, yes, I think America is pretty great. (Not that we don't have our flaws). I'm just really grateful that I get to be a part of a nation founded on ideals of liberty with a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

But this American liberty and these freedoms that we hold so dear, were not simply dreamed up by benevolent men and implemented for the sake of their fellow Americans. I firmly believe that God, (and not just any god, but the God of the Bible) was both the active orchestrator and the vital center point of American freedom:

In 1775, Patrick Henry made a call for colonists to trust God in their looming fight for independence: "There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us."

In 1776, our Declaration of Independence made claims for freedom on the basis of "inalienable rights" that were "endowed by their Creator." 

Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin both wanted the fight for American Independence to claim the motto: "Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God." Instead, a more popular rallying cry of the Revolution rang out across the nation: that America would honor "No King but Jesus!"

Our freedoms exist because our government was founded on the idea that God intended for men to be free. In that sense, I firmly believe that our nation's freedom is only as sure as our reliance on God for His provision of it. So I long for godly leadership for America and pray that our nation will cling to Jesus as Lord.

And I find assurance in the knowledge that whatever the future may hold for my government, my America, and my political freedoms--my ultimate personal freedom is dependent on Jesus alone. And that freedom is freedom from the law of sin and death (which is even more exciting than freedom from tyranny if you ask me!).

"For the law of the Spirit has set you FREE from the law of sin and death."

Romans 8:2

"For FREEDOM in Christ has set you FREE; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."
Galatians 5:1


"So if the Son sets you FREE you will be FREE indeed."
John 8:36

So I celebrate freedom, both the political freedom of our nation and the Gospel that forms the foundation of it.  And I rejoice that the glory of the Calvary offers the profound, awe-inspiring, all-encompassing freedom of new life in Jesus. The Son has set me free; I am free indeed.

Whether in Ireland or in Alabama

On June 11th, I boarded a plane bound for Dublin, leaving behind my home, my friends, my country--just about all I'd ever known. I was excited about what lay ahead for me, but I knew little of what to expect of my time in Ireland.

Yesterday, I boarded my return flight and left behind incredible new friends, beautiful countryside, sweet fellowship, innumerable blessings, and a little piece of myself. I never dreamed I could grow to love a place or people so very much in such a short time. To say it was hard to leave Ireland would be the understatement of the year--but I know that I left changed for the better by the three weeks I spent there.

In the coming days I'll post more about my adventure in Ireland--it was so richly filled with blessings that I want to record.

But for now, I'm writing about my flight back from Dublin.

The trans-Atlantic flight lasted eight hours and I spent it happily re-reading one of my very favorite books, John Piper's Don't Waste Your Life. In his book, Piper writes that "God created us to live with a single passion: to joyfully display [Christ's] supreme excellence in all spheres of life." Reading those words, I was reminded of all the ways that I was blessed with nearly constant encouragement to live out the good news of the Gospel of Grace in my daily life over these past few weeks. (To all of you who have loved me and encouraged me in that way, I can't thank you enough.)

But reading that call to place the blazing glory of the cross at the center of my existence also made me think about the difficulty of allowing Christ to reign as pre-eminent even in the midst of the ordinary ebb and flow of daily life. All too often I allow myself to be distracted from the ultimate importance of the cross. Insignificant activities and little responsibilities all too often and all too quickly take up residence as the center of my focus. And I don't think that I'm alone in this battle. 

Writing on the condition of modern professing Christians, David Wells writes that despite proclaiming belief in God's existence, many people "nonetheless consider him less interesting than television, his commands less authoritative than their appetites for affluence and influence, his judgment no more awe-inspiring than the evening news, and his truth less compelling than the advertisers' sweet fog of flattery and lies." What a tragic commentary that offers on the state of ourselves that we might consider the almighty God of the universe to be less interesting than the mindlessness of television. What sort of message do our lives send to the world around us when we only allow Jesus a space at the periphery of our existence?

As I am returning to the normalcy and routine of daily life here at home, I want to be intentional about placing Christ at the center of my identity and my existence. I want to reject my sinful tendency to allow Jesus to take a backseat to the daily distractions of the world around me. I long for my life to be proof that my Jesus is more precious than life.

Despite my best intentions, I know that at times my sinful nature will interrupt my focus on the glory of the cross. But I set out to place Christ at the very center of all that I am with the assurance that even when I fail, his love for me is unfailing. And it is the beauty of this redemptive love that demands my life, my all, whether I am away in Ireland or at home in Alabama.

All Things New.

With parties, fireworks, and the ball that drops in Times Square, we celebrate the end of the old year and the beginning of the next. There is something uniquely beautiful about a year that has not yet had its time to collect its sorrows or disappointments. Something enticing about the newness of a year filled only with hope and possibilities.

Last night I got to spend my New Year's Eve with my family and a few good friends watching the Vanderbilt and Auburn bowl games and then playing Spades at my kitchen table. It was a simple celebration, but I couldn't have been much happier. As the hours passed and midnight approached, we carefully checked the time to make sure we would be ready to welcome the new year. But when the clock turned from 11:59  to 12:00 and 2011 became 2012, the remark was made that the turn to the new year was "anti-climactic".

Anti-climactic. It definitely was. The world did not end, as the Mayan calendar predicted, with the coming of 2012. And life did not feel any different than it did last year. I couldn't help but think about how funny it is that we stay up to watch the clock change when, in fact, the new year is not inherently different from the old.

So it is not a tangible difference that draws us to celebrate, instead it is our fascination with the idea of what a "new" year means. We like the idea that with a new year we begin with a fresh slate and leave the failures and mistakes of an old year behind us.

And we like the idea that even though we begin this new year as broken and imperfect people, that a fresh start offers the opportunity for change and self-improvement. In fact, we like this idea so much that 45% of the population makes New Year's Resolutions to promise changes in the coming months. 34% of people set resolutions related to money and another 38% of people set resolutions regarding weight loss. But these promises to improve often fall short. As people we are flawed, so even in the face of the promise of a new year, only 8% of people regularly meet the goals of their resolutions.

In this world broken and tainted by sin, the promise of newness is wonderfully appealing. But in this life, the promise of a new year, in and of itself, will never be satisfying. For in this new year, time marches on as it always does and happiness and triumphs are often accompanied by sorrows and failures. Such is the reality of life in our imperfect world.

But there is a promise of newness that does not disappoint:

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." 2 Corinthians 5:17

"Therefore Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, since a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions committed under the first covenant." Hebrews 9:15

"But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells." 2 Peter 3:13

"And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”" Revelation 21:5


We have a God who is making all things new. And through our surrender to Jesus, we will be made as new creations, no longer dead in our sins but newly alive in Christ. And for those who are in Jesus, we are also promised a new heavens and a new earth that will replace this broken world.

Although a new year is not tangibly different from the old, and 2012 will surely have its share of both joys and sorrows (just as every year before it has always had), we are promised the chance to be made new in a beautifully transformative and permanent way. The promise of new life in Christ is not transient, but a lasting reality both in this lifetime and in eternity.

So in this new year of 2012 I want to place my focus on things that matter and place my hope in the lasting promise of new life through my Jesus.

Worship Even in the Storm

After an hour long drive, our bus pulled to a stop under the train tracks. Entry to the tiny, rural Alabama town of Cordova requires a police escort. This protective measure was implemented in response to the sky-rocketing crime rates there ever since the devastation of April 27th's storms. Their police station was blown away (it has since been replaced by a FEMA trailer) and looters have been running rampant in the city. So our bus-load of students stopped and waited to be led by Cordova police to the heart of the destruction.

About a week and a half ago, terrible storms ravaged the Southeast. It is estimated that more than 190 tornadoes touched down in the state of Alabama alone. Little Cordova was ripped apart by one of these funnel clouds.

It was this destruction that brought me to Cordova on Saturday morning. I had joined a team hoping to provide relief to the residents of the city by offering our help with tornado clean-up. Earlier that morning I had met friends in my church parking lot and boarded the Cordova-bound bus, armed with sunscreen, work gloves, a limb lopper, and the sack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I felt that I was ready for the day's work, but I was wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the utter devastation of that place only an hour's drive from my home.

After we had secured our police-escort, we made our way to the heart of the town. We passed about six blocks of little brightly colored wooden houses before we crossed the path of the storm. It started out as downed trees in the yards of little houses, but soon gave way to enormous piles of debris standing where homes and businesses had once been. The storm that ripped through Cordova was an EF-4 tornado. The strength of its winds was powerful enough to reduce the buildings of downtown and its surrounding areas to stacks of rubble.

The bus pulled to a stop and we unloaded into the midst of the destruction. It's still hard for me to wrap my mind around what we saw. In any direction you turned, there were crushed cars, warped homes, felled trees, and bricks, shingles, and steel beams strewn all across the ground. It's impossible to articulate the way that disbelief, fear, and awe combined as I gazed out across the acres and acres of land that had been leveled by the storm. Quite simply, it looked as though the peaceful town of Cordova had been bombed. It was that kind of war-torn desolate destruction.

In that moment in Cordova, I struggled to comprehend how my sovereign, all-powerful God could allow a storm to lay waste to an entire city like that. But at the same time, I was humbled to realize that this tornado, of such raw and unstoppable power, was in its own way a reflection of the power and force of God's glory. I was reminded of John Piper's words in his book Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ (it's phenomenal, you should read it), speaking of the experience of surviving a hurricane with his family, Piper wrote "Beneath the wreckage of such wind you have two choices: worship or curse."

In the face of the destruction of Cordova, worship seemed an almost impossible choice, but devastating winds are not unique to our time or place. In fact it was wind that killed Job's ten children: "And behold, a great wind came across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young people, and they are dead" (Job 1:19). 

In such a heart-wrenching circumstance, a response of anger and rebellion against the God of the wind would be understandable, but Job chose a different approach: "Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD" (Job 1:20-21).

To worship and bless the name of the LORD as Job did seems unbelievable until 2:10 when he explains the reasoning behind his response: "Should we accept only good things from God and never anything bad?" Chapter 37 articulates the reason we ought to approach adversity with a worshipful response: "[Whirlwinds] turn around and around by his guidance, to accomplish all that he commands them on the face of the habitable world. Whether for correction for his land or for love, he causes it to happen...Stop and consider the wondrous works of God" (Job 37:12-14).

Remembering the words of John Piper and the Biblical example of Job, I was moved to worship in the midst of devastation in Cordova. On April 27th, God's might was displayed for all to see. It brought massive trees falling from the sky, and it blew houses to shambles; demonstrating the supremacy of God's power over both the natural and man-made fixtures of this earth.

I spent my day in Cordova working with a team clearing debris from homes and businesses that had been destroyed. Sadly, many of the homes in the town that were still standing had been condemned and were unsafe to enter. Most of the assistance we were able to give was just dragging piles of bricks, beams, and tree branches to the roadside so waste management could more easily clear the lots.

Most of the homes in Cordova must have been around for quite a while. The mountains of debris that we worked through were filled with old keepsakes, black and white photos, antique books, and other elements of the material life that we so fiercely gather around us in our time on earth. At times, I felt that the things I was leafing through were too personal, as though I was delving too deeply into someone else's life to be finding wedding pictures and My Little Pony dolls under shingles and felled trees in the yard.

But at the same time, I was humbled to see the power of the winds to lay to waste so much of what we view as "important" in this lifetime. All too often money and the possessions we can buy with it serve as the driving force behind our decisions: what degree we will pursue, what career path we will follow, and how we spend our time. Yet, in the midst of the destruction left by that tornado, I couldn't help but feel that things aren't nearly as important as we seem to think they are, for in a moment, a lifetime of possessions can be swept away in the storms that God commands.

Ultimately, we are left with two things: a God who commands our worship, and the people he commands us to love. All else is temporary, fleeting, and unworthy of our time and attention.

And after a long, exhausting day's work we boarded the bus parked near what had once been the town's baseball field, and began the hour long drive away from what is left of the town of Cordova. As we pulled away and passed under the town's train tracks, I realized that even though I was the one who had arrived to "help" the town that I had received much more from that place than I ever could have given to it. I provided a Saturday of service to Cordova, but in return I was given a glimpse of God's might, so powerful that it challenges my perspective on this life and my purpose in it: I am the child of the God of destructive might, but whatever may befall, I am redeemed. No force of this world, no destruction on earth, and no loss of property of life, can ever separate me from my calling as a follower of Christ.

Plans for a Hope and a Future

Done.

After spending way too much time in Vanderbilt's Central Library these past couple weeks (I'm now on a first-name basis with the security guard who closes the library at midnight), I can proudly say that I'm done. I finished my last final this afternoon. Now all that stands between me and summer is the kind of terrifying task of packing up my dorm room. It wouldn't be that difficult except...that it's absolutely crammed full of everything that's been my life for the past 8 months.

My desk drawers are filled with fun little mementos like ticket stubs and wristbands from the fun Nashville concerts I've gotten to experience.

The top shelf of my closet houses my feather boa from my "flapper" costume that I wore for Halloween.

Brightly colored strands of Mardi Gras beads and an AOII hat are hung from my bedpost, fun reminders of Bid Day.

Tucked under my bed is the hand sewn quilt I found at a flea market last fall; it's been my study blanket while I've enjoyed pretty weather on the quad.

A pair of red work gloves lie at the bottom of my sock drawer: a reminder of my spring break trip to a Virginia farm.

And tacked to my wall are countless pictures, notes, and letters that encompass most of my experiences from freshman year.

As I look around my room, at all of this stuff that needs to be packed into the back of the Birmingham-bound mini-van tomorrow, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything I have had the chance to experience this year. I am so thankful for Vanderbilt. Around this time last year, I was still uncertain about whether I had made the "right" college choice. But now, I can hardly imagine living my college life anywhere else; I'm so grateful that God made his plan for this part of my life clear.

The idea of packing up all of this and leaving for the summer seems surreal. I moved in to this dorm room in August, as a college freshman reluctant to leave home and uncertain of what life at Vanderbilt would hold. As I prepare to leave this place, I realize that I have been blessed almost beyond comprehension with an incredible freshman year, and with better friends than anyone should ever get the chance to ask for. 

So to those of you who have shared your lives with me over coffee, in a classroom, or at a football game; to those of you who have claimed me as your sister and loved me as family; to those of you who have made this campus my second-home, I can never say thank you quite loudly enough. I love you all dearly.

As I prepare to leave here tomorrow, I rejoice in the wonderful gift that my freshman year has been. And I am reminded of the dear and familiar promise of Jeremiah 29:11 "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."  Though this verse is an often-quoted source of reassurance, I know that I do not dwell on it often enough.

By nature I'm a planner; I like to know what I'm doing later tonight and tomorrow and next week. But in moments like these, when I face the end of my freshman year of college and I am surrounded by tangible reminders of how wonderful it has been, I am humbled. For in moments like these, I can't help but realize that plans I dream up for myself could never compare to the plans that God has for me.

So I'll surrender to His control and acknowledge that I'm ready for whatever adventure He has planned next.

Dear Friend,

It breaks my heart to see you live the way you do. You were raised in the church, and you say that you've known Jesus for a long time. But it seems to me that you've forgotten grace. I can hear it in the defeated way that you talk. In the way you view late nights and fraternity parties as the defining features of who you are. You are worth so much more than that.


You are made for more than crazy nights forgotten by morning.
You were created with a unique and glorious purpose.

You are made for more than a one night stand.
You are meant to be loved: fiercely and unfailingly.


You are meant for more than fleeting satisfaction.
You were created for unending and immeasurable joy.

Your thirst is one that excessive alcohol will never quench.
You were made to drink of the Living Water.


You don't need tight clothes and a short skirt to be noticed.
You are beautiful; the King is enthralled by your beauty.


And know that I speak to you out of love, not judgement. For I know, that more important than the struggles you face:

You are worth more than the sum of your choices.
You are the prized child of our King. You are Redeemed.

A Mighty Fortress

 Saturday moning my alarm went off at 6:00 (and in the world of a college student that's unreasonably early). After a few minutes of getting myself ready and finishing some last minute packing, I grabbed my duffle bag, my pillow, locked my dorm room door, and went outside to meet the car-load of near-strangers with whom I'd spend the next eight days. It was the start to my Spring Break, and I hate to admit it, but I was kind of nervous.

In the fall, I signed up for Vanderbilt's Alternative Spring Break program. for those of you not familiar with ASB, it's a program designed to give students the opportunity to travel to one of thirty-seven sites in North America to provide some sort of community service with a group of 10-12 other Vanderbilt students. I was placed on the "Wagon Wheel" site in the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. The focus of our service is on combating homelessness and poverty by partnering with the organization Volunteer Farms. The name kind of says it all: Volunteer Farms relies on the labor of volunteers to run the farm which grows food for food banks. It's ultimate purpose is to provide nutritious, healthy food to hungry people in the Shenandoah Valley.

In short, I signed myself up for a week of manual labor on a FARM for my spring break...and as I climbed into that silver van full of the strangers I'd be working on a farm with, I began to seriously doubt my sanity.

I couldn't help questioning: WHY didn't I choose to go to the beach like a normal college student on spring break...or WHY I didn't choose to go home to spend time with family and friends...and perhaps most importantly, I was asking myself WHY farming EVER sounded like a fun spring break activity.

But I swallowed my fearful, doubtful, questioning attitude and climbed into that Virginia-bound van with a smile. And I'm happy to report that from our little house in the middle of the Shenandoah Valley this Sunday night that coming on this trip has been the best decision I've made in quite a while.

Yesterday we made the long car ride from Nashville to Fort Valley, Virginia--complete with lots of group bonding and an epic Taylor Swift marathon of ever song she's ever recorded. So. Much. Fun. After a late-night game of Apples to Apples, I knew without a doubt that it was going to be a good week.

Today was our free day to enjoy being in Virginia together (don't worry...we'll start our farming tomorrow). We all went together to explore Luray Caverns, a gorgeous maze of underground rock formations filled with enormous stalactites and stalagmites.

From above ground, the caverns looked like they wouldn't be anything more than a hokey tourist trap (and believe me...there are plenty of those in the town of Luray, VA). We pulled into the parking lot and passed a giant maze of hedges, an automobile museum, and a gift shop. I did not have high expectations for the caverns. But upon venturing down the flight of stairs from the building's entryway into the heart of the caverns, I was astounded by the intricacies of the natural rock formations.

I couldn't help but feel that Luray Caverns is an impeccable example of the way the handiwork of mere people will never match the beauty of the creation of our great God. In an attempt to make the caverns a more appealing place to visit, someone had constructed a huge parking lot, and several really unappealing tourist-y buildings. However, the caverns, an uninterrupted example of God's work, were absolutely awe-inspiring. His greatness is unfathomable, and it's humbling to experience even a glimpse of God's glory in the work of His hands.

As we made our way through the caverns, I found myself smiling to think of what fun God must have had designing some of the more notable rock formations, like the stalactites that look like a water fall, the stalagmites that form the shape of "a big shaggy dog," or these little rocks that look just like a pair of fried eggs:

As funny as the fried-egg rocks are, the most impressive part of the Caverns is without a doubt the room dubbed "Giants' Hall" with it's massive naturally-vaulted ceilings, surrounded on all sides by some of the largest stalactites in the caverns.

As our tour group made our way into "Giants' Hall" the guide asked us to gather into the center of the room so that we could witness the playing of the "Great Stalac-pipe Organ" (the world's largest musical instrument, comprised of stalactites spread out over 3.5 acres within the caverns that each chime a different note when struck by a rubber mallet).

Within moments "Giants' Hall" was flooded with the resonating tones of Martin Luther's beloved hymn: A Mighty Fortress is Our God.

     "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;

     Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
     For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
     His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
     On earth is not his equal.

     Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
     Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
     Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
     Lord Sabbath, His Name, from age to age the same,
     And He must win the battle.


     And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
     We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
     The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
      His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
      One little word shall fell him.


     That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
     The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
      Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
     The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
     His kingdom is forever."

And in that moment, I was moved to worship. A more appropriate song could not have been played by the deep, reverberating tones of the stalactites. "A mighty fortress is our God...His kingdom is forever." Our great God is Lord of all Creation, and He leaves beautiful reminders in the work of his hand to draw us to rejoice in his glory. And right now I'm thankful for spring break. For a trip to Virginia. For a house full of new friends to spend a week with. For Luray Caverns. For stalactites. For Martin Luther's hymn. But most of all, I'm thankful that each aspect of this adventure is filled with opportunities to simply revel in the goodness and glory of my God.

To Make Much of You

 

I just got back from RUF Winter Conference, and I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my weekend. On Friday afternoon, after class, we loaded up the cars and left Nashville--bound for Fall Creek Falls state park in Pikesville, TN.

As we pulled out of the Vanderbilt parking lot, I was still feeling more worried than excited. I wasn't worried about the conference itself or any of the wonderful things it entailed: time with friends, the chance to worship to absolutely incredible worship, or spending time outside in the gorgeous spring-time weather we've been getting to enjoy here in the middle of February. Instead, I was worried about the days following the weekend: Monday and Tuesday. In the first two days of my week, mid-terms will hit with full force.

But as we continued to drive across East Tennessee on our way to Winter Conference, I slowly began to let go of my worries and enjoy the trip. The sun went down not long after we started our drive, and bright pin-points of starlight broke up the dark night sky. They were such a welcome sight because in my little corner of Nashville, the city lights are usually too bright to see the stars.

In our two hour drive, it was as though we fled civilization. We left the bright bustling city of Nashville, and when we reached East Tennessee we departed from the interstate. We drove through little country towns where fields full of sleeping cows lined the roads. And finally we entered the state park and drove slowly up into the mountains on a road bent and broken with countless hairpin turns. We even got lost for a little while and followed the incredibly long "scenic route" that actually wasn't very scenic in the dark.

We finally arrived at the Fall Creek Falls Inn, deep in the heart of the park, and without cell phone service or city lights it felt so far away from the rest of the world. Making it absolutely the perfect place to retreat from all of my stress about all the little things that populate my life.

After unloading the car, we made our way inside the main part of the Inn. As we walked through the doors we were greeted by the sound of hundreds of voices singing in unison to the old, familiar "Arise, My Soul, Arise." Worship had already started, so we hurried to join in. From the back of the room, I noticed so many familiar faces. Winter Conference was open to RUF groups from across the southeast so many of my sweet friends who go to Auburn and Alabama were there. Surrounded by my new college friends as well as close friends from back home, I couldn't help but smile. And as we all worshiped Jesus together, I knew that it was going to be a really incredible weekend.

In the few days of Winter Conference, we enjoyed sunshine and seminars, game nights and large-group worship. The whole weekend was wonderful, but one moment in particular stands out against the rest.

On Saturday afternoon, we were given free time that lasted from just after lunch until it was time for dinner. The free time activity that my friends and I chose, was the hike to the park's namesake waterfall: Fall Creek Falls.

In celebration of a sunny 70 degree hiking day in the middle of February, I donned Chacos and running shorts and set off down the trail with my friends. The trail we chose winds its way down a wooded hillside, through an open green valley, ultimately arriving at the base of the falls.

When we rounded the final bend in the trail and the falls came into view, I was absolutely taken aback by the torrential downpour of water, thundering over a dark rock-face, and landing in a deep blue-green pool below.

In that moment I was so humbled, to realize that this waterfall, with its natural beauty and power, is just a diminutive reflection of the beauty and power of my God who created it. To see the continually flowing water cascade nearly 300 feet down the face of the falls, reminded me of how big God's hand is in creation and how small I am in comparison. It was one of those refreshing moment when I realize how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things.

In the routine of everyday life, it's so easy for me to get swept away in the stress and responsibilities of meetings, tests and papers. It's easy to feel like my success at these sorts of things is the end-all-be-all of my existence. It's easy to forsake the things that really matter for things that are far less important.

But to stand and gaze at the wonder of creation that reflects the wonder of my God, I couldn't help but feel that the things I worry so much about are actually incredibly insignificant. In a moment like this, I can't help but feel my own insignificance.

And normally that would be a painful realization. Our society tells us that we must prove our significance through our success so that we will be worthy of love and attention. But in truth, I am not ever going to be able to earn significance. I am unworthy, but I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am the precious creation of my God, my all powerful and fully loving Creator. And even in the midst of my sinful insignificance, Jesus loved me enough to redeem me. Without his love I am unworthy, but through his redeeming love I am made worthy. And it's moments like this that remind me that it's when I'm faced with my insignificance that I can see more fully, the be beauty of my God.

" 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."
                       2 Corinthians 12:9

Yes, I will boast all the more gladly in my weakness, for when I see my comparative insignificance I become more fully aware of the glorious significance of my God.

I'm reminded of Steven Curtis Chapman's song, "Much of You":

"How could I stand here

And watch the sun rise

Follow the mountains

Where they touch the sky

Ponder the vastness

And the depths of the sea

And think for a moment

The point of it all was to make much of me

Cause I'm just a whisper

And You are the thunder and

I want to make much of You, Jesus

I want to make much of Your love

I want to live today to give You the praise

That You alone are so worthy of

I want to make much of Your mercy

I want to make much of Your cross

I give You my life
Take it and let it be used

To make much of You

"How could I stand here...and think for a moment the point was to make much of me?" When I come fact to face with even the slightest reflection of the glory of my God, I am humbled by my insignificance in comparison to Him. And I am thankful for that. I rejoice that my God is strong when I am weak. My God is sovereign when I am powerless. He is loving when I am bitter. His grace is persistent when my heart wanders. And my God is faithful when I am faithless. His perfection covers my flaws, and my insignificance is made worthy in Him.

So I will rejoice, and make much of Jesus. I will celebrate mercy, grace, and unfailing love. I will rest in the knowledge that my God is greater and more glorious than I can fathom, and yet he loves me unconditionally. I have no need to prove my significance, for when I am weak, His power is made perfect.

Truth Isn't Always Safe

Nights like tonight are by far the best part of getting to live in the city of Nashville.

Nashville has been dubbed "Music City USA" and it is deserving of its name. From the country music that flows unceasingly into downtown from the doorways of honky-tonks and dance halls, to the young guy who serenades customers outside Sweet Cece's (the local frozen yogurt shop), to the Bridgestone Arena--Nashville's music venue with a seating capacity of 20,000, live music absolutely permeates this city.

But in the six months that I've been in school here, nothing else quite measures up to the way that I got to experience "Music City" tonight. I didn't pay a lot of money for a ticket and I didn't attend a crowded concert in a trendy venue. Instead, I made my way to Bongo Java East, a little unassuming coffee shop that hosted a few local musicians tonight.

Anyone who walked through the doorway of Bongo Java tonight was greeted by the warm smell of coffee and warm smiles from everyone in the room.

The performers at the coffee shop tonight were all singers and song-writers who have established themselves as Christian artists. And the crowd of believers that gathered to hear them shared a strikingly sweet community. Hugs, and smiles, and laughter characterized the crowd, and as people filtered through the door one or two at a time, everyone was greeted warmly by an elderly man who sat by the door saying simply "Welcome, brother" or "Welcome, sister" as people walked by.

As the music started, I settled down into a little coffee shop chair in the second row of the audience. As the opening performers played, I sipped a chai latte and slipped into a comfortable mindset of worship as I listened to the songs sung as praise to Jesus.

It wasn't long though, before my level of comfort in the feel-good aspects of Christianity was challenged. When Tiffany Arbuckle Lee of the band Plumb took the microphone, I was expecting a rather simple, but pleasant rendition of songs of hers that I've heard on the radio. I was so wrong. Instead, she chose to preform her new, and as of yet, unrecorded song "Unlovable." Written as a challenge to the modern church, "Unlovable" speaks from the perspective of an outsider, someone who has been rejected, rather than embraced in love, by followers of Jesus:

               "Why am I not welcome in your company?
                 Why do you treat me like an enemy?
                 If you believe the way you say you do,
                 Then why am I unlovable to you?"

Wow. Anyone else feeling convicted? I know I'm unable to read those lyrics without being brought to absolute humility in the face of my inability to love people in a way that demonstrates even a reflection of the love of my Savior.

To be honest, these lyrics even make me feel a little bit uncomfortable. I know that they speak truth, but they provide such a striking challenge to the way that I, along with most other believers, live my life. It feels safe, comfortable, and predictable to associate with people that are like us. I think it's this tendency of our hearts that draws us to choose friends and neighbors that are just the same as we are. And this same tendency of our hearts overflows into our spiritual life and leads us to join congregations, participate in Bible studies, and worship with people that are like ourselves. Often, our churches look like we do--and I'm particularly convicted to think about the wonderful campus ministry I've gotten involved with here at Vanderbilt. I love it dearly, but for the most part, it is filled with people that look and think and act (and are even in the same sorority) as me. I love to gather and fellowship and worship Jesus with those people, but there's something missing in the picture when too many of the people we love are just like we are.

The Gospel is so much bigger and so much more powerful than our proclivity to love and associate in simple, comfortable circles of same-ness. We are loved with a radical, unceasing love. We are sinners loved immeasurably by a perfect God. And when we have been captivated and transformed by that love, the mark of being a new creation in Jesus is supposed to be our love for one another.

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples."
              John 13:35

We are called to love as Jesus loves, and his love is a love that transcends boundaries of race, age, and religion. His love is a restorative love that binds broken hearts. His love is a forgiving love that looks past our imperfections, to see who we are rather than what we've done. He has loved us with a perfect love. And although we are sinful and imperfect, even a broken love that emulates Jesus' love is powerful enough to display to the world that we are followers of Christ.

All too often though, we as the church of Christ, do not demonstrate the love of Christ. Anyone is capable of loving someone who looks and thinks and acts the way they do. I think it's time for us, as believers, to embrace Christ's new command and love one another--even love those people that are different or disagreeable or hard to love. For if we have been loved unconditionally, how can we not love in return?

In a simple three minute song, I was drawn out of my comfort-zone and challenged to step away from a "safe" approach to Christianity. Through a few lines of lyrics, I was called to embrace the teachings of the Jesus of the Bible, rather than the teachings of a white-washed over-simplified version of religion. Christianity is radical. It isn't always safe, and it isn't always comfortable...and I faced that truth more than once tonight.

I faced that truth again in the final performance of the night. The last musician to play in tonight's line-up was Derek Webb. I pretty much grew up on Derek Webb's music. When I was little, Derek sang with Caedmon's Call. Their music was like the soundtrack to my childhood. I can remember so many nights of talking with my parents while they washed the dishes and songs like "There You Go" or "Thy Mercy" played in the background. (To this day, "Thy Mercy" remains my favorite song of all time). And  I have such vivid, happy childhood memories of dancing with my Daddy in the kitchen to the song "Hands of the Potter."

But more recently, Derek Webb split from Caedmon's Call to pursue a solo career. While preforming on his own, his music has drawn great criticism for straying from a "traditionalist" stand-point on the Gospel. I don't know if you're familiar with the controversy, or how you might feel about some of his more recently released music...and to be honest, I don't know if it really matters.

What I do know is that Derek Webb has chosen to proclaim truth that he feels deeply convicted about at the expense of both his financial success as an artist and his popular reception among fans. And I respect that.

The Gospel isn't easy, and it isn't popular. The world isn't receptive to the truth that we are all broken and in need of a Savior who redeems by grace alone. That truth defies everything that our society is built upon, and people don't want to hear a message that calls attention to our brokenness and unworthiness.

I was particularly moved when he sang lines from his song "Nobody Loves Me":

     "I'm a dangerous crusader, because I need to tell the truth"

     "The truth is never sexy, so it's not an easy sell"

     "So I'll say the words that rattle your nerves, words like sin
      and faith alone"

I need to tell the truth. The truth is never sexy. I'll say the words that rattle your nerves, words like sin and faith alone. As I listened, I was struck, full-force by the power of the Gospel and our need to speak its truth it regardless of the way in which we will be perceived by our culture for proclaiming Jesus.

So tonight, I am thankful to live in Nashville. I am thankful for free concerts in my favorite little coffee shops. I am thankful for good music. And I am thankful for the simple ways in which God pulls at my heart, to more fully reveal his truth to me.

As Webb sings, "The truth is never sexy, so it's not an easy sell." The truth of the Gospel is not appealing to our culture. It isn't always safe. It isn't always comfortable. But it is beautiful and essential and life-giving. We have been captivated and transformed by love and our eyes have been oped to this truth that is worthy to be lived out and proclaimed in every chance we get.

Love without Limits

Boxes of Chocolates. Bouquets of Roses. Hallmark Cards. Red and Pink Color Schemes. Sweethearts Candy. Love Songs. Candlelight Dinners. Romantic Movies. Welcome to Valentine's Day, our culture's day devoted to the celebration of love.

Valentine's Day influences every level of our society on February 14th. The CVS down the street from campus has been absolutely taken over by boxes of Valentines, chocolates, and heart-shaped candies. The Vanderbilt dining hall where I ate my breakfast this morning set up tables filled with bouquets of flowers, stuffed animals, and other gifts for students to buy for their boyfriends and girlfriends. The google homepage has been covered in red and pink hearts, and TV channels (not that I actually have enough time to watch TV anymore) have been announcing plans to run Valentines specials all day long today.

Valentine's Day had even infiltrated the middle school where I went to lunch today. (For those of you that don't know...I've gotten involved with Nashville YoungLife. It's awesome. And on Mondays I get to go to lunch with the girls I help to host a Bible study for.) Usually the Monday lunch conversations I get to have with these sweet 5th graders centers around their activities of the past weekend, the play practice that they go to on Monday afternoons, or the awesome last-second  win in the girls' basketball game on Saturday.

But today, the girls didn't want to talk about any of those things. All day long, the guys at this school had apparently been approaching different girls and asking the classic question "Will you be my Valentine?". It was this all-important Valentine's Day match-making that formed the center of lunch-time conversation.

For the girls who had a "Valentine," the girls who had been given little love notes, the girls who had been presented with candy or even a red carnation, it was obvious that the morning had been a really good one. These girls were all-smiles. But there were other girls at the table who obviously were not enjoying Valentine's Day quite as much. These girls had hoped for a "Valentine" but no one had asked them. One of the girls even said "I don't really like boys that much. It would just be nice to know that one of them likes me."

At first, I couldn't help but feel that their dejection was a little bit ridiculous. My goodness, these girls are only in 5th grade. They're just ten or eleven years old. They don't need to be paired off for Valentine's Day. For goodness' sake, I'm in college and I'm not paired off for Valentine's Day. It's okay. But as I thought more about their situation I realized that these girls were just feeling the universal human desire to feel loved and accepted.

"It would just be nice to know that one of them likes me." Wow. This ten year old, in her school uniform, eating Lunchables chicken nuggets articulated one of the deepest desires of our hearts. As people, we are hard-wired to crave affirmation of who we are. We seek confirmation of our worth in knowing that we are loved and cared for. We long for affirmation, affection, sympathy, encouragement, and support.

Knowing that others approve of us feels good. Knowing that we are loved by friends and family feels even better. But even this love doesn't fulfill our desire to be loved completely and unconditionally. No person will ever be able to satisfy us completely, for human relationships are always tainted by shadows of the possibility of rejection or withdrawal. Shadows that stem from the darkness of sin that clouds the human heart. But there is radical good news: even the best human relationships are only broken reflections of a complete love, and this complete love is offered by our gracious and glorious God, in whom there are no shadows.

The all-encompassing love of God is evidenced in countless verses throughout the Bible:

"I have loved you with an EVERLASTING LOVE; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you."
     Jeremiah 31:3

"Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my UNFAILING LOVE for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you."
     Isaiah 54:10

"There is no fear in love, but PERFECT LOVE casts out fear."
     1 John 4:18

And the all-too-familiar verse that sums up the love story of the Gospel:

"For God so LOVED the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but will have eternal life."
     John 3:16

We are loved with a radical love. We are loved with a love that surpasses all understanding. We are loved with an infinite love. We are loved with an unconditional love. But far too many people around us do not understand that they are loved without conditions or limits.

So today, and everyday for that matter, celebrate love. Proclaim love. Live love. Not the "love" of Hallmark cards or romantic movies, but the all-sufficient and all-encompassing love that overlooks our fears and failures to redeem us and justify us as children of God.

Faithfully Present

Last night I was talking with a friend about how painful it can be when God feels far away. For me, it was such a refreshingly honest conversation to get to have. I rarely hear someone acknowledge how discouraging it can be to long for God's presence, but feel that God simply isn't there.

So often, I feel that as believers we feel compelled to demonstrate to the world the value of our relationship with Jesus. It's so exciting to get to share the joyful parts of our walk with God, but in our culture that is so focused on success, so focused on proving our worth, it's hard to acknowledge when things are difficult. I know that in my own life, it's more comfortable to put on a front of having things all pulled together. But let's be honest--most of the time we don't have it all pulled together. Our lives arent' perfect, and neither are our walks with Jesus.

I wish that I could say that in the years that I've been a Christian, that my relationship with God has been one of steady and constant growth. I wish that I could say that in each day I have experienced new life that I have also rejoiced in my Jesus. And I wish that I could say that I wake up every morning with a desire to spend time in the word because God is my God and I love him. But that hasn't always been the case.

My walk with Jesus has been one that has been characterized by times of joy in my wonderful, glorious, Savior, but it has also been characterized by times when my heart has wandered, when I have been consumed by doubt, and when unbelief has blinded me to the beauty of Christ's saving grace.

In the past several weeks I have been blessed to really experience Christ and to get to see God working in my life. At times like these, it's easy to forget that Christ sustains me both in seasons of joy and in seasons of doubt. It brings such comfort to know that He holds us in His hands even when we feel far from Him. Even when we feel separated from His love. Even when we are overcome by unbelief.

When I think about my walk with Jesus, I am reminded of the man in Mark 9:24 who calls out to Christ, "I believe, Help my Unbelief". I do believe. I believe because Jesus has opened my eyes to recognize Him as my savior. But in my sinfulness I still struggle with my unbelief, and I think that I'll struggle with it for as long as I'm of this earth. In some ways, though, I can rejoice in my weakness and in my unbelief for my Jesus is faithful to draw me close to Him. My Jesus is greater than my failings.

So I rejoice when I feel God's presence and see Him at work, but I'll also patiently wait for Him when the feeling fades and doubt infiltrates my interactions with Jesus. For in both the good times, and the bad I have come to see the Gospel clearly portrayed: I am unworthy to even comprehend the greatness of my God, and yet He loves me, calls me, and redeems me. In both times of joy and in times of discouragement we can see that Jesus never leaves. He never forsakes. He is patiently persistent. He is faithfully present. And for that, I am inexpressibly thankful.

Preeminent

Today I feel as though I've been moving about a million miles an hour. My day was scheduled from the moment I woke up until well into the night, and it wasn't until I met a few friends for dinner that I finally slowed down and stopped moving.

It felt good to be still for a little while. But even as I took time out of my day to "rest" my mind continued running through my to do list: a paper to write, homework to finish, the fact that I'll need to be up at 5:00 AM tomorrow. All too often I find myself preoccupied with all I need to do that I forget to enjoy the here and now. I have a tendency to busy myself, to fill my schedule with study, meetings, and appointments until there is no time left to simply rejoice in the fact that today is beautiful and that simply living this life is a gift.

There's so much that I miss out on when I schedule my day so full that I get caught up in the busy-ness and forget to step back and worship my God for his grace, his glory, and his presence in my daily life. I almost missed out on so much tonight. I almost went straight back to my dorm to busy myself with studying for the night. Instead, as I stood up from the table one of my friends mentioned that she was going to Sanctuary.

For those of you that aren't familiar with it, Sanctuary is a student-led praise and worship event held at a local Nashville church every Thursday night at 9:00. It draws quite a crowd from Vanderbilt, Belmont, Fisk, and Lipscomb Universities--and for good reason. It's wonderful.

So when I heard that she was going to Sanctuary, I impulsively ditched my plans for the evening (which is very out of character, I like to plan and I always stick to my plans).  And it was the best decision I've made in a long time.

I told a friend from home that I was going to go to Sanctuary, and immediately I received just the spiritual encouragement I needed...in the form of a simple text message: "Enjoy it and take this time to worship with all of your heart." God must have known that I would need that simple reminder because it really convicted me. And so I bid good-bye to the stresses and little concerns of campus for a couple hours and I focused on the chance to join in fellowship and lift my voice in praise to my King.

When we arrived at Sanctuary we quietly made our way to the front and joined the worship. In that dark room, surrounded on all sides by other college students simply worshipping our Jesus together, I was so humbled that it's hard to explain.

The reactions to this worship of our God were many and varied, but each was a response to the genuine praise in the sanctuary. Many of those around me lifted their hands in worship, while others slowly sat down and bowed their heads in prayer. One girl sitting in the seat next to me even stood up and made her way to the front of the room where she danced, joyfully danced, in worship of the Lord Most High.

Surrounded by so many other people earnestly seeking to bring honor and praise to our God: Creator, Redeemer, and Savior--I was struck by the magnificence of my Jesus in comparison to all of the little things that distract me from Him throughout the day. In that moment I was reminded of Colossians 1:18 "And he [Christ] is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent." Different versions of the Bible provided varying translations for this last word of the verse. The ESV calls Christ "preeminent", the NIV says "so that in everything that he might have the supremacy" and the NLT says "so that he is first in everything."

Preeminent. First. Supreme. Christ reigns over all creation: he always has and he always will. But so often in my sinfulness I fail to see Jesus as preeminent. I fail to grant him supremacy over the distractions in my day or the desires of my heart. So, in my sinful inability to see the full glory of Christ, I am made all the more grateful for the faithfulness of my God to patiently pursue me and lovingly remind me of his glorious preeminence over all.

You Paint the Sky

 
God must have known how upset I was with the rainy weather in Nashville yesterday because He sent me an absolutely gorgeous (albeit, very cold) day to enjoy today. There's nothing quite like a rainy day to make me appreciate blue skies and bright sunshine. But when you get down to it, most of life is like that--most of the time I think we wouldn't be able to appreciate the value of the blessings we receive if it weren't for the trials that we endure.

Today I had the chance to rejoice in the sunshine and I was so thankful to not have to brave a torrential downpour every time I needed to change classes or go to the dining hall go get something to eat. I definitely celebrated the beautiful weather today, but it wasn't until I'd made it back to my dorm room for the afternoon and started chipping away at the mountain of reading assignments I had to do today that I fully appreciated the majesty of God's handiwork in today's bright, clear skies.

When I looked out my window toward downtown Nashville, I was taken aback by the beauty of the clouds. They hung majestically over the city, deep purple and reflecting the golden rays of the sun. I immediately though of the lyrics of "Love Song":

      You walk on waves,
      You run with clouds,
      You paint the sky for me to see,
      Your majesty,
      Your majesty is why I sing

"You paint the sky for me to see". I'm in awe of the greatness of my God who is King of Kings and the Lord Most High, yet He is intimately involved with the here and now that I experience in each moment of my day.  He is the all-powerful ruler of all, and yet He pauses to paint a beautiful Nashville sunset. The work of His hands is truly awe-inspiring. And just as the golden clouds this afternoon reflected in a small part the bright rays of today's sunshine, all of creation reflects, in part, the glory of our awesome God.

All too often, I hear friends and classmates say that they simply can't believe that there is a God because they have never experienced Him. I understand their reservations and their doubt because I've experienced it, but today when I looked at the sunset I became immensely grateful for the way that God reveals Himself to us--even when we aren't privileged to gaze upon His face. For in a Nashville sunset, I had the chance to witness God's glorious handiwork that reflects His own infinite glory.

"The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork." Psalm 19:1. Our great God is ever-present and makes His existence known in even the seemingly least significant aspects of creation. So I hope to train my eye to look for Him in all situations. I want to hear God in the wind, I want to feel Him in the Sun, and I want to smell Him in the flower. The glory of my God surrounds me, and all that is required of me is to be still for a moment and experience Him.

He is Reflected in the Rain Drops.

I woke up to a gray Nashville morning with big fat raindrops rolling down the the panes of my dorm room window. Dreary, cold, wet weather has enveloped the city today.

For those of you that know me well, you know that regardless of what's going on...I'd probably rather be outside. In a list of my favorite things in the world, things like sunshine, green grass, blue skies, stars, sunsets, rope swings, mountains, and lakes all rank at the very top. I'm enthralled by the beauty of creation and I love to get out and enjoy it in any way that I can whether that's taking long hikes, driving scenic back roads instead of interstate, or simply going for a walk in the neighborhood after dinner.

So when the icky winter weather rolled back into Nashville and washed away the pretty sunshine I'd enjoyed this weekend, I ended up in a dreary mood that matched the dreary weather. I'd like to make a public apology to anyone who may have had the misfortune of encountering me this morning--because in between the headache that I had and the messy rainy day, I was not a happy camper. To make a bad situation even worse, I had a class that met in a building as far away from my dorm as you can get on Vanderbilt's campus. Despite my raincoat, my umbrella, and my rain boots, within a few minutes of stepping outside, today's weather combination of wind and rain had joined forces to douse me from head to toe.

At first I was incredibly frustrated...but God was gracious enough to use the rain this morning as a means to draw my eyes to Him. As I trudged across campus with my hair soaked and the relentless rain drops washing my make-up down my cheeks, I was suddenly reminded of Psalm 51:2 in which David cries out to God: "Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!"

In that moment, my attitude toward that rainy Nashville day changed completely. And rather than viewing the rain as a nuisance and a frustration, I saw each drop falling from the sky as a physical parable for the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. In the same way that the rain drops slid down my cheeks, washing the make-up from my face, I am soaked in grace to the extent that each of my faults, my imperfections, and my sins are washed away completely. And just as the rain that fell from the sky this morning will bring new life to the trees and grass and flowers around campus, I am now a new creation because I have been washed and redeemed by the blood of Christ.

Today, I was reminded that my God is the creator of both rainy days and sunny days--and that there is beauty in everyday because my Lord has made it. I was reminded that my God is sovereign when things are going well, and my God is sovereign when they aren't. And most importantly, I was reminded that regardless of the challenges that tomorrow may bring that everything will be okay because I have been washed--I have been redeemed.

So today I'll rejoice in the rain (and tomorrow I'll rejoice in the snow that's headed for Nashville) for each day is a reflection of the beauty and goodness of my Creator, and is therefore worthy to be celebrated.

I Am Free

After class today, I headed back across campus to my dorm and ended up walking behind two girls. They couldn't have been more than 14 or so, and they were probaby from a local high school. The girls were deep in conversation:

One of them said "You HAVE to be able to succeed academically if you're not able to succeed athletically." And the other girl nodded sadly before she said "I wish I were artistic or maybe really musical...then I'd at least have a chance at being good at something."

They both seemed so burdened by an obvious longing to demonstrate their worth. And in the brief moments of their conversation that I overheard, I realized that these high school girls with matching pink laces on their tennis shoes and brightly colored backpacks slung over their shoulders had articulated a profound truth about our society.

We live in a competitive world. We are constantly bombarded with the message that we must prove ourselves to demonstrate our worth. All you've got to do is look around you--you'll see it played out in just about every aspect of our culture. Magazines tell girls that they need to be pretty, fix their hair, do their make-up, wear expensive clothes, and fit into about a size zero to be loved and to be valued. While ESPN and other "masculine" parts of our culture send the constant message to guys that they need to be muscular, athletic, wealthy, and drive nice cars to be "real men" who will be respected by society. And from things as seemingly insignificant as middle schoool dance team tryouts to increasingly cut-throat college admissions process to the pressures of the job market, we are told that we must be pretty, smart, healthy, athletic, popular, successful, and better than the next guy to win a place in society so that we will be considered worthy and significant.

We all participate in this frenzy for acceptance and recognition because we are hardwired with a desire for love and approval. And yet, the attention that we win and accolades we receive will never satisfy us completely because there will always be someone smarter, stronger, faster, or wealthier than we are. In a sense, we're all playing hard and fast at a game that we can't win.

But even though I'm not able to win the praise and affection I so crave from our society, I am loved unconditionally. I am loved with an intensity that surpasses what I have or haven't done. Instead, I am loved purely and passionately for who I am. Even when I feel that I don't quite measure-up, the awesome and all-powerful God of the universe loves me, simply for me. I'm reminded of Isaiah 43 in which God says to his people "I have called you by name, you are Mine." Just thinking of that assurance makes me smile. So much. My God knows my name, and calls me. And even when I'm feeling insignificant, I can rest in knowing that I am valuable to Him, for I am His.

Later in Isaiah 43, verse 4 pours forth yet more assurance of God's love for His children: "You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you." To be precious in the eyes of my God, to be honored, and to be loved by my Creator, my King, and my Redeemer is of immeasurable worth. In this love that is so deep and given so freely, I am free. I am free to find my worth in Jesus rather than in my abilities and acomplishments...and that leaves me free to rejoice in the wonder of each day: to enjoy the beauty of creation, to rest in the love of my Creator, and to proclaim to the world that Jesus is King. For in this love, I am free.