The Kite Runner

This movie really touched my heart somehow. A few thoughts:

Atonement. The idea that a person and their life are never beyond redemption. I like that even a million huge mistakes and un-dones can be atoned for. In the movie, there was a literal moment of absolution as Amir kneeled at the mosque, but also a figurative illustration in that he finally found in himself strength and courage that seemed to be completely lacking until that point in his life. It's never too late. Clearly, I see Jesus as the only absolution to be found. But the picture of a soul's guilty torment and a subsequent refreshing of atonement was really beautiful.

Substitutionary Punishment. I also had this strange sense of happiness - for Amir and for the plot's resolution - when he was beat up. It just seemed somehow right and good that he received the beating that seemed to be due to him for not helping Hassan as a child, and I almost imagine that he welcomed it.

Like Christ, Hassan stood firm and took someone else's punishment on himself. So what is this sense in me that rejoiced to see Amir finally receive what he deserved? A deep knowledge that justice must be done? It seems to be a very human understanding of justice that can't accept a transferral of punishment from one person to another. God showed us a different way.

The Orphanage. A terrible moral dilemma for the director of the orphanage that begs the question, "What would I do in his situation?" These messy decisions terrify me. But it's reality. Maybe in the end we really, like the director, can only fall on our faces before our merciful Father and beg for wisdom, and afterward forgiveness if we did more harm than good. In the director's shoes, could I really believe that my loving intentions and obedience to God matter supremely, even if I make a choice that ends up hurting children? Would I be able to cling to his mercy and trust his forgiveness and guidance?

Family of Seven Party in Heaven

Let this be remembered in Speer history as the day God rejoiced.

With a Veggie Tales understanding and the promise of friendly dinosaurs spurring him on, Jackson Speer said yes to heaven and yes to Jesus during tonight’s prayers with Dad.

With joy tears in his eyes, Steve walked out of Jackson’s room to tell the rest of the family that the dream had come true. His son, of his own accord, had just questioned his way into an understanding of heaven, God’s grace, and eternal salvation. Quite unexpectedly, a routine bedtime ritual assumed cosmic significance. Jackson allowed his beaming father to help him secure his eternal destiny.

Jackson’s concern with getting the words right will be soothed as he pursues the expansive love-heart of his eternal Father.

Welcome to God's family, Jackson. Welcome home.

Just a photo

My Dad and I at Adam & Nora's wedding.

you don't have to stand tall

The people we are when stumble to the bathroom at three in the morning, eyes squinting, mouth open, hands groping for familiar objects in the dark…it is in these quiet moments that we are truly His children. We are everything He created us to be because in our sleep walking we are not interested in striving. We are simply His. The quiet darkness of my room doesn’t care if I’m impressive after sunrise warms my window. In my sleep-drunken stupor I am most assuredly unimpressive. And until my alarm shouts that the world has begun, I don’t care.

A child believes her parent’s “I love you.” And in half-consciousness, I am this child. I am fully me.

A sheep should pay no mind to those who insist it be a lion. Nor should it bow to pressure to grow out of its sheepish ways. To become remarkable or intimidating. New mercies rain every morning, but the pressure to perform follows the dawn as well. Our strength lies in the trusting posture of a childlike night-stumbler. We can believe what our Father speaks in the dark.

something to share with the class

I need to make a declaration out loud. Electronically out loud, at least.

To be quite blunt...God forbid that I should be held accountable to a lifestyle the Holy Spirit hasn't specifically spoken to me about in my deepest heart! What is the Bible except a book of back-breaking rules without the personal tutoring I receive from the Spirit? There is no life without the Life spoken directly to me. The center of my faith is an intimate, embarrassingly personal relationship with God. The further I get from this oasis, the more stale my days become. My faith begins to read like the Book of Mormon. Some good thoughts, lots of burdens, no eternity.

What I mean to say is this...I love the Bible. I want to love it more. But the Word spoken to me isn't just written on wispy, gold-edged pages. The Word is also the heart from on High and the thoughts that are spoken in quiet moments, the ones directly from the Spirit of God. And I am held just as accountable to this as I am to the mandates in Romans, or 1 Peter, or any of the other amazing books...

My life isn't large and unbelievable right now. Quite the opposite. My calling appears small, and quiet, and painfully average. My schedule is routine. My adventures include field trips from work to visit sick colleagues, daily walks to Roger's Market, and checking children's books out from the library. Cute. But definitely not thrilling, and certainly falls far short of the passionate, devastatingly extreme life we encourage in youth group and sometimes Big Church. I project judgment and condemnation from those around me. I live with a relentless shadow of shame. I'm not doing enough.

But when it becomes too much for my heart to handle, and I turn to God in desperation, a million apologies on my lips, downcast eyes. And then Jesus says to my heart that God hasn't commanded an adventurous or dangerous lifestyle from me right now. At least, not extreme like Jason Bourne or Jesus Freaks. And I would be terribly amiss if I pursued a life that God has not set out for me. I would be living in disobedience. I am to live each day that He gives me, putting aside my selfish ambition and shouldering what to me feels like the heaviest cross of all - office work in quiet suburbia. I am living the life of one of the people I swore I would never become. I had declared to myself, and to God, that I will never fall into the evil pit of an average American lifestyle! Let it never be! (Peter's denial resounds.)

But...this is exactly my calling. I am living in my own version of hell (okay, I'm being dramatic) because God called me there, and is helping me learn that His love for me has nothing to do with how I perform, or what people think. It's a priceless lesson. And I should be thanking Him. Instead, I'm struggling not to feel ashamed.

My bottom line: I can't people please and God please at the same time. I need to be true to the heart and life He's given me right now, even if I look suspiciously like an apathetic slacker. Anything other than loyalty to my calling would be a cosmic betrayal.

Just a thought. 30 January 2005.

Sitting in the sun - a rare glimpse! - prevents me from staying indoors - waiting for companionship. Someone to enact a script with me. It doesn't have to be so serious or profound. Just them, and me.

A fellow sun-drinker. Each moment a blinding, brilliant burst of life. Stay! I'm begging, but neither the sun - nor my unaware friend - can be coerced by my desperations. The sun will set, my silent companion will tire and go.

But it has been good. Yes, in this moment my world is smiling.