This Little Light of Mine

Warning: I wrote this in an inspired frenzy and now I do not have time to edit. Real sorry to all my English peeps out there.

I'm sipping coffee and reading the news at Panera this morning.

An older gentleman has just come in with his daughter who appears to be in her early 40's. He kind of reminds me of one of the older guys from that HBO Mafia show who used to kill lots of people but now he just smokes cigars in dark corners of bars. He's got a thick Wisconsin accent, bushy white hair, sweat pants, and a crucifix around his neck. She's exotic. Long dark hair and a very thick French accent. Maybe she's not his daughter after all. They sip their coffee quietly- they both seem to be thinking. She speaks up.

"Did you hear about Osama Bin Laden?"

"I don't know. I heard he might be dead or something."

-Insert me-

YOU DON"T KNOW? ARE YOU AMERICAN? DO YOU OWN A TV? ARE YOU NOT BASKING IN NATIONAL PRIDE?

"Maybe he is in the mafia," I think to myself.

"Yeah, he's dead, isn't that amazing. They killed him in the middle of the night. He lived in a mansion. I can't believe it. A mansion. It only took forty minutes. Do you think Pakistan knew he was there?"

He's not listening.

"So the radio station I listen to at night, well they have a Sunday morning organic lawn care show. And basically, honey, we are just trapping our families with chemicals. We're just asking to bathe ourselves in cancer. You know you have to get organic fertilizer. You just have to. Otherwise the kids will die," my mafia man is deeply concerned about this organic gardening business.  He squints his eyes and he leans across the table- like he is about to disclose national security secrets- and in an agitated whisper he says,  "No wonder we're all dying from cancer. I mean it's in all the grass and all around the house and we're just asking to be poisoned. It's a husband and wife. It's their show and they said if you just take a sip of "ortho roundup" you will be dead in 20 minutes. 20 minutes! Then this man calls in to say he started a lawn care business and goes to the supply house and they tell him to buy a rubber suit to wear and a gas mask and rubber gloves and boots and he thinks it's crazy- and get this- they made him sign papers saying he refused to buy any of the chemical protection from them. Well turns out the man only has a year left to live. A YEAR! @*@# *$ *#& (expletive, expletive) corporations. It's all big business. It's what Republicans are doing to the country honey."

Well, I tried to act like I was laughing at something on my computer screen- because I couldn't help but laugh listening to this conversation. Here I think he's straight up in the mafia and all he's concerned with is organic gardening.

***

My heart is heavy this morning.

Some of you emailed me a few months ago to see where I had gone because I stopped blogging for about a month.

Truth is, I was overwhelmed.

Not with my life or Annie or Ryan or schedules or money or anything like that... I was simply overwhelmed with the brokenness of the world. Every time I would sit to write a blog about one natural disaster, something else would happen.  Then something else. Then something else.

I talked about empathy last week- empathy and healing are my spiritual gifts. The Bible says these are gifts given to us by God once we become believers. They mark our lives, our calling, and hopefully they leave a mark on the world we live in. My particular gift is somewhat of a blessing and a curse because it is heavy. I see brokenness and I don't sympathize with it, I empathize. I feel it in my bones and deep in my soul. I grieve for people as if God were in my body grieving through me. And I often find myself deep in prayer and mourning for people who are hurting. (Those with the spiritual gift of empathy and healing must be careful to not allow depression to become confused with the deep emotions that come alongside the practice of these gifts).

You might think that a musician would have a spiritual gift of artistry or leadership or music even... but I have often found myelf on stage watching as people in the audience are healed through music. And every hug I give at the end of the night; every prayer or conversation with someone who needs a friend; well this is the spiritual gift of healing in action. It just happens to come out through music and it exists in unison with the gift of empathy. The blessed curse of deeply taking on the pain of another.

And lately, I have taken on the pains and groans of the world...

So as the rest of the country celebrates the death of Osama Bin Laden- I find my heart rather heavy this morning.

Don't misunderstand me: for a girl who doesn't affirm the death penalty, this is one person whose evil needed to be stopped.

Still, the heaviness of the world fills me up today. The devastation in Alabama and all over the south as tornadoes have robbed people of their loved ones and all their worldly possessions. The Mississippi river, so swollen that either an entire town in Illinois will disappear as the water pours forth or an entire part of the state of Missouri- farmer's livelihood will be flooded to save people. Either way, the loss is great. There is Japan. Families who still can't wrap their minds around the loss they have endured. Thousands wiped off the face of the earth in a wave. The death of Osama means retaliation, perhaps the likes of which we have not seen since 9/11. Our military deployed to Afghanistan are now in greater danger than ever before. Cancer. Job loss.

Need I go on?

Whether on a personal level or global level-

Our world is so broken. So far from what God intended.  And something deep in me groans and grieves.

As I sit here in Panera this morning, I'm grateful for the comic relief of an old mafia man who could care less about Osama Bin Laden and is quite simply terrified about the chemicals in his garden.

***

I meet a lot of people who tell me they are just ready for the end of times to come so they can get out of this world's brokenness. So many who tell me that they don't watch the news because it's just depressing. So many who tell me they are afraid for their kid's futures. And I get it, I really do. I feel it deep in my bones. The pain and fear this world can unleash on us.

But I am reminded, more than ever, of Galations 6:9

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

Is our world broken? Yes.

Is that scary and overwhelming sometimes? Yes.

Is the answer to give-up hope, insulate ourselves from the harsh realities, and pray for the end to come?

No. I don't believe it is.

Instead, we do not grow weary in doing good. We do not faint. We do not hide light for the sake of our own personal safety or comforts. We shine brighter. We live harder. We hope more deeply. We choose life that we might live. (Deuteronomy 30:19).

I'm not calling you to grieve for the whole world as I do- that is my spiritual gift (and not the one I would have picked, mind you)- but I am encouraging you today to not lose heart. Instead, look at the brokenness around you and decide today to be light in a dark place. Decide today, that through God's strength, you will not faint. You will not cloister and fear and disappear.

More than ever I pray that God raises up men and women who love him and love math. Science. International politics. Engineering. Research. Disaster relief. Medicine. Adoption. Nursing. Education.

That God raises up a generation of believers who do not pray for the end in the midst of all the suffering, but pray to be used here and now to be a part of keeping His hope alive while we inhabit the earth.

And it's overwhelming. It is. Where do we even begin?

Well, old-man-mafia taught me a huge lesson this morning.

While the whole world is talking Osama Bin Laden, dangit, he is gonna talk about the potential of dying via ortho roundup and other dangerous chemicals that are lurking in the gardens of America!

That's his thing. Organic gardening.

What's yours?

(Really, what's yours? I've done a lot of free online surveys, and have found this one to be the most helpful: spiritual gift survey. You should take a few minutes and do the test yourself.)

***

It's easy to look at all the things we can't do in response to Japan, Alabama, Tsunami's, military family deployments, soaring cancer rates....

But that would make us faint, wouldn't it?

We gotta start thinking about what we can do.

What CAN WE DO?

What CAN YOU DO?

What is your thing?

You have one, you know.

You do. You have a gift to offer the world. Big or small. You have it. A smile. A gift of hospitality. Being the one man in the office that people can trust to have integrity. Building a house. Helping to find a cure for cancer. Holding orphans. Being a friend to those in your school who are bullied. Writing music that heals. Enforcing security. Getting in your truck and driving to Alabama to help clean-up. Using your abundance of money to put food on the shelves of your local food pantry.

Or maybe it's organic gardening.  Maybe your thing is to get the chemicals out of our food and help us- at least us Americans- to become healthy again.

It can be anything, the important thing is that it is something.

What is your gift and how are you using it?

You have a gift and let me tell you, now more than ever, the world needs you to use it.

For the good of humanity and for the glory of God- do not be overwhelmed by brokenness, do not grow weary in doing good sweet friends... please, press on.

You have light inside of you that is begging to be poured out.

The world needs you to shine today-

The Winners Are...

The winner was picked at random by the two ladies sitting next to me in Panera this morning (I scrolled through comments and one lady told me when to stop scrolling. The other closed her eyes and pointed to a name on the  screen... doing it high tech over here!). Drum roll please, the winner picked at random is... Lisa C. from Oklahoma!

Congratulations Lisa!!!!!!!!!

If you want to know the other winner... the one I picked... you will have to keep reading.

***

Last week I found myself casually watching Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka in Tim Burton's fantastical remake of the classic movie Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

I was trying to get seven loads of laundry done while Annie took a one hour nap. I dream big like that. :)

I rarely have a chance to watch movies so when they are playing in the same room as me- I get hooked fast. I'm folding clothes and watching as Charlie comes home- to a quasi shack in the shanty town- and he and his parents go to the grandparents' bedroom for his birthday celebration. That's right: grandparents plural. There, in a bed that looked like it was handed down from the Romanov dynasty, sat perched both sets of Charlie's grandparents. All four of them, criss-crossed, with nighty caps and nighty gowns on, sharing a pile of sheets, looking like they were about to take off on a Bedknobs and Broomsticks adventure.

I'm not sure what it was about this moment that made me laugh out loud- but it happened without thinking. I laughed out loud thinking about what their feet must smell like all tangled up in that old-people-bed together. But then, just as quickly as I started giggling, I found myself wiping tears off my cheeks as his mom and dad and grandparents, all four of them,  gathered in the room and pulled out the single candy bar which was to be Charlie's birthday present. The candy bar that might have the golden ticket.

The grandparents started talking:

Grandpa George: The kids who are going to find the golden tickets are the ones who can afford to buy candy bars every day. Our Charlie gets only one a year. He doesn't have a chance. Grandma Josephine: Everyone has a chance, Charlie. Grandpa George: Mark my words. The kid who finds the first ticket will be fat, fat, fat.

Charlie seems to be contemplating his next move. He says, "Maybe I should wait till morning."

Grandpa George: Like heck!  Grandpa Joe: All together we're 381 years old. We don't wait.

Charlie opens the candy bar. There is nothing. No golden ticket. Just a bar of chocolate that any other year would've been a treat-but this year it just reminds them that they are always in last place. Their is a silence in the room that makes me cry as I think about it. Sometimes so many good people wonder, "Why?" "Why couldn't we just catch a break?" "Why can't I be lucky? Just once?" "When will the wicked cease to prosper and when will the normal people- the everyday people- just get a break in this world?"

In these moments- which I find myself wallowing in from time to time- I find great comfort in the fact that I am not the first person to utter these words. In fact, they have been spoken by people for thousands of years. And as long as their are people inhabiting the earth, the laments of broken souls longing for justice, longing for fairness, longing for the simple chance to take their family out for a special dinner or  give their kids a Christmas gift will pierce the realms of heaven.

"How long, oh Lord, will I suffer?"

I count myself in good company as I utter the words that the greatest characters of the Bible uttered.  The most influential characters in our history books have uttered. Jesus himself uttered.

"Why have you forsaken me?"

Sometimes it feels that way doesn't it? When- gosh- all you want is for your kid, your friend, your mom, your husband- that one person in your life you love so much that it hurts- when you just ache for them to catch a break. When you ache for yourself and the only prayer that leaves your lips is, "why have you forsaken me?"

In those moments of our brokenness, we are not alone. I am not the first and I am certainly not the last person who will walk through a valley. Others have gone before me, and others will follow. On top of that - when you have experienced Jesus- you have come face to face with a savior who speaks directly to you- I will never leave you, nor will I forsake you. You are not alone. I give you my peace.

We are never alone. Though our souls may ache and long and plead for a night (a loooong night. a fortnight. an eternally long night)...

joy comes in the morning.

***

The narrator begins the story like this:

"This is a story of an ordinary little boy named Charlie Bucket. He was not faster, or stronger, or more clever than other children. His family was not rich or powerful or well-connected; in fact, they barely had enough to eat. Charlie Bucket was the luckiest boy in the entire world. He just didn't know it yet."

On this beautiful week where we stop to remember and give thanks for blessings big and small...

the perfect dining room table. the voices that fill our home. the pictures that remind us of a lost sister-n-law. the porches built for sunsets and the couches dented in that prove we spend our nights cuddled up with the person we love by our side. the cutest green roof ever. the non-popcorn ceiling. the cracks in the shower. the window in the bathroom that overlooks the mountains. the neighbors cat who very much prefers you... the twin sister that shares your tears. the glitter forever stuck in the table. the butterflies watching over you as you sleep. the sound of crickets and the smell of horses. the kids. roommates. mission partners-in-crime. sisters. new born baby girls. husbands. wives. parents. grandparents. dogs. cats. horses. i think someone said rabbits??? rental homes. borrowed homes. dorm rooms. first homes. shared homes. or just 325 square feet of your own space.

Blessings big and small fill up every second of every day. We just have to open our eyes to it. Joy abounds. Peace prevails. (it truly does. don't listen to the news. don't base it on politics. don't even place it in the hands of the church. these will all fail.) Step back and look for God's fingerprints. His fingerprints alone bear peace. Good prevails. It ultimately, eventually, has to. And it does.

We are the luckiest people in the entire world... sometimes, we just don't know it yet.

***

Charlie, by the way, got a second bar of chocolate from his grandpa Joe who had been saving up for a special surprise.

And this bar was special.

Charlie got a golden ticket.

My personal pick for the winner of the first ever Cupcakes, Sprinkles, and Other Happy Things contest stuck with me from the very beginning. Call it lucky timing for Becca- but I read her entry about seven people living in an 1100 square foot apartment- and I started to giggle. It reminded me of the grandparents on Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. And though I fell in love with all of your answers- I kept thinking about those seven people tucked away- I was sorta hoping they all slept in the same bed together like the grandparents :)  Becca has her own blog. "Keeping it Real... Even when Reality Bites." I love this.

It seems perfect for today's anthem. Keep living life- for better or worse- looking for beautiful blessings and being grateful for every joy we experience along the way.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving week my dear friends...

5,000 Feet Above Dallas

Ever heard of Prescott, Arizona?

Yea, me neither.
It sits two hours outside of Phoenix, nestled in the mountains, 5,000 feet above Dallas.
And from what I can tell, I'm sorry Chicago, but it is the windy city. I've never seen wind so fierce or birds so brave. Every time one takes off, the mother in me hurts for the poor stupid bird. They don't make it very long, but they sure do try. I guess even animals have to test their boundaries.
Back to Prescott... it is beautiful here and the people are particularly kind and hard working. The rugged west is growing on me.
Last weekend at the SeaWorld San Antonio show I met a group of guys (and one gal) who just finished basic training at Lackland Air Force Base. They stood up front through the whole show and made me nervous. Are they here because they like the music? Or will they, at any minute, die laughing? Nine years in and I still battle the voices of insecurity. But they just looked so stinkin' intimidating with their crew cuts and reserved, respectful mannerisms that I wasn't sure what to make of them. They stayed for the entire show. And when we ended with the song Hope Now, they linked arms and sang it together. One guy had tears running down his face.
They waited in line forever, and of course I have a special love for military people, so I gave them as many hugs as I could :)
As I started talking to some of them they told me about boot camp and how they'd go back to their barracks each night and listen to Hope Now. They told me about their families and where they were going to be stationed. And as they started to walk off the last guy came up and asked if I would sign his program for his mom. He had been waiting patiently, quietly, for everyone else to go. He told me his mom was a huge fan of our music and had always wanted to see us in concert. I asked if she was at the show and he told me she didn't live around here, but that this would make her day. He said he hoped one day she'd be able to see a concert because it would mean a lot to her.
"Where does she live?" I asked him.
"Arizona."
"We just played a show there last weekend outside of Phoenix! Bummer. I think we are playing there again soon, but I'm not sure where."
"Well most shows are in Phoenix, but she lives in Prescott."
Prescott. I've seen that name. I know I have.
"Hold on."
I went and found Richard (our new drummer) at the merchandise table and he looked up the show for the coming weekend.
Prescott, Arizona. Sold out.
I was so excited I almost fell over. My little heart was overflowing for happiness. Not because I was sooo happy that this person would get to come and see us in concert, as if I were blessing her with the gift of seeing Bono or The Beatles, but I was so happy that I could give Jeff something to give his mom. Because any guy who waits around for an hour to have you sign a CD for his mom living thousands of miles away, means he really loves his mom and longs to do something special for her.
I ran back to the table and told him. "You're not going to believe this. Of all the places in the world we could be playing next weekend, we are playing in Prescott, Arizona. And your mom will be on my private guest list."
Two hours outside of Phoenix, nestled in the mountains, 5,000 feet above Dallas and San Antonio.
His mom wrote me that evening. I've highlighted the parts that made my heart soar:

"Hi, I am Myra H., mother to a very excited Airman Jeff H., stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio. He told us you were in concert at Sea World San Antonio today and that something very special happened when he talked to you. What a huge blessing and answer to my prayers of the last few days. Jeff did not know of my prayers to be able to go see your concert at the Heights Church in Prescott .

To tell you the truth, I was planning to bug the snot out of KGCB’s morning crew Steve and Dave when they have the contest starting Monday morning for the tickets to the concert. I am on leave of absence from work due to a recent surgery, so money is a bit tight right now. I have been praying, asking PAPA GOD if the contest was the way for my husband and myself to go to the concert that He would make a way. And then we get the call from Jeff this afternoon. WOW is all I can say."

This story reminds me that the Holy Spirit is real.

To me, that was not just a lucky, random conversation. I was tired. It had been a long day. The military guys were at the end of the line... the line that I assumed had been cut off already. I was slightly annoyed that there were still more people... I was so tired. I was ready to go and take care of Annie. But something moved inside of me and I felt such love for this group of guys who had been singing their hearts out. And something about this one guy pulled me in. I felt the urge to talk to him.

That urge, I believe, is what the Christian church calls the Holy Spirit. The part of God that is alive and active and moving inside of our hearts and our lives. Calling out to us in that still small whisper. Speaking to us. Moving us. Prodding us. Convicting us. And moving our spirits to take care of and love those around us.

Looking back, I didn't know it was God. I just felt the desire to talk to this guy. If it were me, I would've gone backstage. But in that moment, it wasn't me. It was God putting a different thought into my heart.

I truly believe the Holy Spirit put this desire in my heart to have a conversation with Jeff. I believe it with everything inside of me. Not fate. Not chance. Not a random coincidence. But God himself who loves his children and longs to give us the desires of our hearts. There was a reason.

And that reason was to answer the prayers of Myra; a mom recovering from surgery, tight on money, touched by our music, and praying quietly to her God that he would help her win a contest so she could spend a night listening to music that uplifts her soul.

And God answered.

Myra and David will be our special guests tonight at the Tenth Ave. North, Addison Road concert. We bought her flowers. :)