Category Archives: Christianity

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the names

The truth is that I hate driving down 143rd street.

It’s impossible to ignore the white building that still sits on the hill. On the same hill where Jeff kissed me for the very first time eight years ago underneath a sky lit up with Independence day fireworks. The building is vacant; dark and probably silent enough to split eardrums. The doors are surely locked. That massive parking lot cleared out.

I keep reminding myself it’s only a building. Simply brick and mortar. It too will pass away like everything else at the end of the age.

But, for me, it’s so much more than a building. It’s a symbol of something powerful in my life.

I remember the countless times my parents drove down 69 highway while my dad would reach his hand out toward the land he prayed God would one day allow him to build a church on. I remember when the hill was just an empty field; the building just  another one of my dad’s dreams. I remember as a teenager, fasting every Thursday so we could pray for God to bless us enough to build a youth building where teenagers could come and not be pressured by temptation.

That church building was my second home growing up. That building holds the majority of my childhood memories.

And I believe those dark, abandoned hallways still whisper the names of people; people who walked in those church doors never to leave the same again. In fact, First Family Church was never about Pastor Jerry or the Johnston family.

First Family is about Stephonn, who begged us to rent a bus big enough to get twenty-seven of his friends to the youth crusade.

First Family is about Susan, who came after an abortion and failed suicide attempt. A woman who met Jesus at our church.  She also met her husband and now mothers a beautiful towheaded little girl.

First Family is about a boy who was caught sleeping behind the stage after his parents kicked him out because of his problem with addiction.

First Family is about Sydney, the teenage girl who texted me after a youth bible study asking me how she could “get saved”.

First Family is about Ed, who got sober through a comfort circle held at the church on Monday nights.

First Family is about Marvin, an AIDS patient at Hope Care who attended the bible study led by church attendees on Thursday evenings. He fell in love with God and was baptized in FFC.

First Family is about Chris, who left his days of womanizing and partying behind when he invited Jesus to be his Lord after a Wow bible study.

First Family is about Lauren, a teenage mom who came to the youth group and met Jesus Christ for the very first time.

First Family is about Amber, who after years of abuse came to First Family and discovered that God loves her just as she is.

First Family is about Calyssa, the teenage girl who had tears streaming down her cheeks after we visited an orphanage in South Africa and went on to work with YWAM after graduating.

First Family is about Connor, a teenager boy who got so convicted during a Wednesday night message, he asked a youth leader to destroy the hidden stash of pot in his car.

First Family is about Scott, who felt called to ministry while attending church. He went on to oversee the entire student ministry of a large church in Kansas.

First Family is about the 526 orphaned children in Johannesburg, South Africa who received Christmas presents from the youth group.

First Family is about Jon, who nearly died from Kawasaki disease at 17 years-old. I remember the night our entire church got on our knees to pray for his healing. He’s now in seminary and leading a youth ministry in North Carolina.

First Family is about the tiny kids enrolled in Awana who quoted bible verses like little scholars.

First Family is about Jeff, a senior in high school who stood up at the end of a youth service to accept Christ in his life. He later asked me to be his wife.

Hundreds of names still echo through those hallways; they will forever be a reminder of what God accomplished in that building. They can lock the doors, and even take the cross down, but they can never erase history. Those names won’t be blotted out of the book of Life. The past can’t be rewritten.

Every few days I text my dad, and it’s a version of the same sentence. “Dad, I miss FFC so bad. It hurts.” And he’ll text back, “I know.” Two broken hearts. But, two hearts that have seen enough to know that God is still very much in control.

When my Dad started the church, he prayed that lost people would come and find Jesus Christ. He prayed that through the church his three children would develop a heart from God. My sister, Danielle, loves God and now serves as a worship leader. My brother, Jeremy, loves God and serves as a Pastor. Me? Well even after a heartbreaking divorce, my love for God has not faltered one bit. He means everything to me.

So every few days, I’ll have a good cry. I’ll read a rude comment from some hater. And then I’ll dry my eyes and keep going. And I’ll remember the names.

Because those names are what First Family Church was always about.

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platform

Tim Tebow, NFL

“….And that’s how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Chris. It is the most important thing in my life, so every opportunity I have to tell him I love him, or I’m given an opportunity to shout him out on national TV, I’m going to take that opportunity.”

Jeremy Lin, New York Knicks

Jeremy Lin, NBA

“I’ve learned how to be open and bold about my faith, but in terms of my influence, I just try to lead in a godly way.”

“My new years resolution: love God more deeply and intimately…”

Colton Dixon, American Idol

“…being a Christian is who I am. It is a part of me musically.”

“Idol is more than a singing competition. It’s a chance to share who you are. I just happen to love God.”

“…I follow a guy named Jesus. I’m just trusting in His plans. Whatever that may be.”

It seems as if several Christians have risen to such prominent positions as of late. The church-going, bible-reading, and praying kind of Christians.  And instead of shying away from the opportunity to speak about their faith, they are boldly proclaiming it, in some cases to the chagrin of the public. 

When I was a teenager I used to pray each morning as I drove to school. Most of the time it was a “help me to find a parking spot and get to class in time” kind of prayer. But I also remember praying for God to allow me to be a witness for Him at my public high school. I remember saying something like, “God, give me an opportunity today to share my faith. And when the time comes, make it so crystal clear and give me the exact words to say.” 

I don’t know what your platform is, but I know you definitely have one. We might not all be NFL quarterbacks, but we all have a circle of influence. It might be at school, at work or possibly even at home. There are people you come in contact with daily. How are you influencing them?

While in high school, I only saw a small group of my high school friends come to know Christ in a personal way. But four years after graduation, I received a Facebook message that I will forever remember. It came from a boy who I somehow conned into coming to church once or twice with me in high school. But he hated Christianity and anything that had to do with it, and probably thought I was some kind of crazy, religious wacko. We lost touch after high school until he sent me the message.

The Facebook message read, “Remember how I used to be so anti-christ? Well…I’ve discovered the truth and have become born again. I dont know if since coming to Christ if I’ve thanked you for planting that seed and not giving up on me despite how much I refused it.”

My jaw hung open in shock. I ran downstairs and opened up a box of old journals. Scrawled in my chicken scratch handwriting on old, dusty notebook pages were prayers I had written years before. Prayers for the boy (now a man) who had sent me the Facebook message. Prayers for him to find purpose in life and most importantly for him to come to know his Creator and Savior in a personal way. 

After high school I gave up on him ever “becoming a Christian”. But, God never gave up on him. And God used my small, seemingly meaningless sphere of influence, my tiny platform, to “plant a seed” in his life that would later be watered and harvested by someone else. 

People watch the way you live. And they take note of what you say. I wonder how many people have googled “God” since Colton Dixon said he wanted God to shine through his performance first and foremost. I wonder how many people have gone back to church for the first time in years since reading Tim Tebow’s biography. 

And I wonder how many will come to know Christ because of a simple prayer made in a car on the way to school. I hope at least a few. 

How are you using your platform?


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claustrophobia

I had an MRI this morning.

There’s been ringing in my left ear for about a month now. Most likely, it’s nothing (except annoying, of course), but my doctor ordered the MRI just to be sure. I’d love to say it was a piece of cake; nothing to it. But, the truth is, I didn’t handle it very well.

The nurse with pink scrubs instructed me to lay down on the plastic table. After she locked my head inside a “cage”, it began to spread through my body- heart-pouding, pulse-quickening, makes your hair stand on end, goose bump rising, shortness of breath, pure FEAR.

“Can you please take this thing off of my head!” I demanded. Begging the nurse to let Jeff come in the room with me, I did my best to suppress the tears that were beginning to form in the corner of my eyes. I sat up and grabbed the sides of the table with clenched fists and white knuckles.

“Just take a few deep breaths,” Pink nurse instructed. I obeyed, but the deep breathing seemed to do nothing for my heart that was likely to burst straight out of my chest.

“Okay, let’s try it again,” I said with apprehension.

She locked me back in and I pinched my eyes closed to block out the head cage that I swore would crush my head. I bit my lip and focused on the pain, instead of letting the tears escape through my eyelids. My left hand gently fingered the panic button…just in case. I felt my body move with the table into the machine. And then horrible, vibrating groans from the machine seemed to fill every inch of the tiny space that surrounded my head. I had no sense of time.

I briefly opened one eye and the fear began to spread throughout my body again. I was trapped! I was going to be crushed to death! I felt like I was losing control. “How am I going to get through this?!” Surely, I was the only person in the entire world and would be forgotten in this machine – forever locked away, serenaded by eternal groans.

“Consider it pure joy my brother, when you face trails of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance…” I started to mentally quote those bible verses from James that I had stored in my memory as a 13 year-old.

The sounds seemed to quiet a bit.

“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything…”

My pulse found a slower rhythm.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you…” 

I began to actually breathe like a normal, sane human being, instead of the quick breaths that barely filled my lungs.

“But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind…” 

I felt it slowly at first. The feeling ushered itself through my veins now, pushing out the fear. I unclenched my teeth for the first time, and I felt a strange peace overtake my body.

I finished quoting the verses, and thanked the 13 year-old with braces who first decided to memorize them.

Only God’s Word can calm my heart so quickly. And God promises that His Word will never return to Him empty, but will always accomplish all He wants it to. I love the Bible. It has been so powerful in my life; has brought so much peace time and again. It is truly timeless.

I echo the Psalmist’s words, “You are my hiding place and my shield; I hope in your word.” (119:114)

The MRI came to an end. In the car, I laughed with Jeff and finally allowed the pent-up tears to freely fall down my eyes. (I’ll never understand how I can cry and laugh at the same time.) Today, I learned two things:

1) I am claustrophobic.

2) The Bible rocks. 

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god is red

You wouldn’t find me sleeping in on Sunday growing up. And I’d rarely get to see that opening kick-off at the game. Instead, I’d be waiting for Dad to shake the final hand at church, pull off his necktie, and says, “Okay. Let’s go,” long after the sound system had been silenced and the parking lot cleared.

As a teenager, I felt as though I practically lived at church, and only recently have I realized how much that was taken for granted. In 1944, as the Communists took over China, all religious activities were banned. Churches were closed or burned; pastors, priests and nuns were sent to the fields to become farmers.

The Chinese Christians destroyed their bibles in fear of being labeled “counterrevolutionaries”. Only under the cover of darkness in the secrecy of mountain caves did they continue to meet and pray together. After years of reading the Bible, God’s words had been etched “stroke-by-stoke” on their souls.

This week, I took a journey with Liao Yiwu, a man who embraced exile over silence in order to publish God Is Red, the secret story of the survival and spread of Christianity in Communist China. More than once, my eyes were flooded with tears as I read the stories of such ordinary people that refused to deny their life-changing faith. Each recounted the tale of those trailblazers who first came to China with the gospel of Jesus Christ; foreigners with blonde hair and blue eyes. The missionaries were known for their generosity, building hospitals, orphanages and schools. But soon, the foreigners were kicked out of China, leaving Christianity as only as a small spark in the land.

However, that small spark became a blazing fire, which could not be denied, sweeping across China despite harsh persecution. The spark came as a preacher who would not stop sharing his faith, even inside the prison walls. The spark came as a doctor who gave up the “good life” to bring medical treatment, compassion and Christ to forgotten villagers. The spark came as a reverend, now memorialized in Westminster Abbey, whose tongue was slashed out to keep him from preaching during his trial.

These people, and countless others, were marked as spies and counterrevolutionaries, accused of “poisoning people’s minds with spiritual opium”. Liao shares their tales, unscripted and uncensored, as they battled for freedom of expression and religion. And, all the while, my heart seemed the bleed within my chest, challenged by their continued existence.

What if my faith were put to the test; would I persevere? Am I known, not just for being a Christian, but for my generosity for others? What will my legacy be?

And, though not converted himself, Liao, too marvels at these Christians, “moved by the sustaining power of faith and the optimistic spirit among the congregations he encountered.” Christianity has now flourished in China. According to new surveys, there are now about 100 million Chinese Christians worshipping independently of the government sanctioned state churches. Those who call themselves Christ-followers now outnumber the Communist party.

This is one of those books, that stayed in my heart for days. A book, or really a challenge, which cannot be shaken.

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the dress

It’s my favorite question to ask the bride when we meet for the first time.

“Have you found the dress yet?”

And then, her eyes light up and a smile creeps across her face as she describes in explicit detail the gown she will wear. Somewhere in the fog of detail, her and I forget we’re meeting in the studio to supposedly discuss photography packages. Instead, we’re both caught up in a steady stream of lace, ruffles, pearls and satin.

Months later, I’ll find myself stowed away in her dressing room with a camera in hand, capturing giggles from bridesmaids and picture-perfect curls being formed. And then my favorite long-awaited moment comes. She slips one leg into the mess of fabric. The gown is pulled up and laced tightly, she’s adorned in simple jewels and she turns to take in her reflection for the very first time.

And for one brief moment, the room goes still. I forget about my camera, and we all sigh in unison. The vision before us can only be described as breathtaking. It doesn’t matter how many weddings we shoot, or how many brides I meet – the moment she first appears in all her anticipated glory is nothing short of epic.

And the moment always reminds me of that upcoming wedding hosted by God himself in which all of humanity has been invited. A wedding which will make the Royal Wedding look like child’s play. Christ is the groom and we, the body of believers, are His bride.

The cotton candy colored sky and the white-topped mountains are only a foreshadowing of God’s glory and creativity, which will reach its peak with the wedding feast ushering in a new heaven and new earth.

The wedding attendees will be clothed in special garments. Like any typical girl, I’ve already begun thinking about what I will arrive wearing. My dress won’t be self-made or even purchased from a famed boutique, because it could never, ever be good enough. The way I live my life on earth will determine the beauty of my future dress, and as Isaiah writes, “all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.” Isaiah’s defines filthy rags as menstrual garments– how ridiculous to think about showing off a used tampon! In the same way, it’s ludicrous to assume that any of my “good deeds” could impress a holy God. For my sins far outweigh any good I have done.

However, God Himself will provide a garment for me, which will be unequalled! “I am overwhelmed with joy in the LORD my God! For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I am like a bridegroom in his wedding suit or a bride with her jewels.” (Isa. 61:10)

I won’t be able to enter heaven without my special wedding garment, this robe of righteousness. Only God can give me the glorious robe; it’s a free gift. And I’ve already accepted it. Have you?

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. He asked, ‘How did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend?’ The man was speechless. “Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’” Matt. 22:11-13

*Picture courtesy of Jeff Mullikin Photography

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undeserved attention

Last night I dropped $150.

As I sat in that black, nylon salon chair, enduring two hours of beauty treatment on my hair, I couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. All around me, women were having their hair highlighted, cut, straightened, blown dry and teased. And for one small instant, I found it all absolutely…hilarious.

Why? Because every month, I spend money on something that is dead. That’s right. By the time each one of my 120,000+ hairs  emerge from under my scalp they’re already dead. Lifeless. In that moment, it just seemed so silly that women give so much attention, not to mention cash, to something without vitality.

After my chuckle, I started pondering about all the undeserving things I give attention to.

I’ve been thinking for, well two weeks now, about new year’s resolutions because 2012 is a big year for me. In the fall of 2010 my previous marriage fell apart, I lost my dream job and many close relationships. It took an entire year to heal; a complete year to put my life back together and pick up the pieces. This year, 2012, is a fresh start – with my new wonderful husband at my side and endless possibilities before us. It’s a blank page.

Besides working out more, eating healthier and running a marathon (okay, maybe not that last one), this year I want to resolve to stop giving attention to that which is dead and gone. Paul wrote in Philippians 3, “I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on”.

There have been times I have screwed things up in my life. There’s been times that life just threw me a disastrous curve ball. I failed history in college…twice. My first marriage ended in divorce. The church building my dad pastored at for 15 years foreclosed. All of those things happened and more. But you know what? Those things – those faults and misfortunes, they’re dead and gone now.

Isaiah 46:18-19 reads,
“Forget the former things; 
   do not dwell on the past. 
See, I am doing a new thing! 
   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? 
I am making a way in the wilderness 
   and streams in the wasteland.”

God rejoices in producing water in the desert. The desert of your past; the wasteland of my past. 2012 is about watering that which still lives, and cutting away those things that are dead. No more regrets.

As for my hair? Well, I don’t think I can do without my highlights just yet. Or maybe ever.

For more on this topic, some great blogs:

One Word 2012: BURN by Matt Price

The past by Jon Acuff

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after

My dad is a pastor, so I’ve heard a lot of sermons. I’ve heard sermons that motivate, sermons that convict, sermons that I’ve sworn were written and preached straight to me. And then there have been those sermons that have lulled me to sleep. It seems I’ve heard it all.

And yet, here I found myself sitting in a group with only 10 others, absolutely transfixed; as if hearing a sermon for the very first time.

The speaker was a man named Marvin. He dressed in shabby clothes and was missing a few teeth. Neither eloquent nor educated, however his words were like a knife to the soul. As I listened, it occurred to me that instead of a speaker’s level of education, perhaps it’s the amount of suffering he has endured which gives him and his words credibility.

Marvin is living with Aids. 

Along with a few dozen other patients he stays at the Hope Care Aids home. Last year, after hearing about the good news of Jesus Christ, Marvin gave his life to the Lord and became a Christian. Almost instantly his best friend at Hope Care, Larry, lost his fight to with Aids and passed away. It was a dark time for Marvin. And again, several weeks ago Marvin lost another friend at Hope Care to the disease.

“After my second friend died, I started to get depressed again and thought, Oh no, am I going to have to deal with this again? But, then God showed me a verse that gave me the strength I desperately needed.”

Marvin read 1 Peter 5:10 to us, which says, “And the God of all grace…after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”

Marvin will struggle with the hurt and reality of death, but the struggle won’t last forever.

In that moment, I wanted to pen a note with this verse and send it back in time to myself in 2010: Jen, I know you feel like you’re dying right now. But, keep holding on. The suffering won’t last forever. Restoration will come. 

Time seemed to stand still; Marvin and the others froze. I looked over at my husband, and realized how happy I am. How blessed I am. How far I’d come from the dark dungeons of August 2010.

Last week, I spoke with a friend who is struggling with a broken marriage and threats of divorce. She said, “Sometimes it feels as if this will never end; that I cannot make it through.” To her and to others who bind arms with us in struggles, this is the message of hope.

That God has a plan for restoration. 

The ironic part is, I was at Hope Care Aids home to minister to Marvin and the other patients. I was there to “give back” during the Christmas season after being challenged by our Christmas reading plan. But, I was the one who left encourage. I was the one who was ministered to. I left with a full heart.

This Christmas, don’t forget about those in need. Here are some easy ways to give, without even having to leave your computer screen:

1. Hello Somebody: a ministry existing to help educate and feed children and to break the cycle of poverty and hunger. You can make a financial donation or purchase a stylish watch which will help buy Christmas gifts for street children in Rwanda.

2. Operation Christmas child: a ministry of Samaritan’s purse which gives shoe boxes filled with Christmas gifts to needy children. Donate $7 to help with shipping boxes or $35 online to fill and ship a box.

3. Operation Warmth: Make a financial contribution to help provide a warm coat to a needy child.

Question: What did you do to give back this Christmas season?

 

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bringing back Christmas

I absolutely adore this time of the year. A side of me that I’ve never seen before has been slowly appearing. In the kitchen, I’ve evolved into a woman that is learning to cook and bake. In the living room, I finally mastered the Christmas tree decorations without begging my sister to come over and fix it. I’ve taken time to press the pause button on life and enjoy driving down a street intoxicated with Christmas lights.

But, what I love most about this time of year is remembering the origin and focus of Christmas; the miracle of it all. I’m a hopeless sucker for a good story and the real story of Christmas; well, it’s the greatest tale of all. Jesus’ coming is a story spun of suspense, love, sacrifice, drama and fulfilled promises.

As the November page is ripped from the calendar and the month of snow and gifts arrive, we will celebrate the advent season. I never really knew what advent meant, did you? Advent comes from the Latin word adventus meaning arrival or coming. For the four weeks leading up to Christmas, the advent season celebrates the coming of the Savior and Messiah. Advent is about resetting Jesus as the center of our lives.

I found this awesome Christmas reading plan on Cissie Graham Lynch‘s blog, and I want to pay it forward to all of you. The reading plan comes from You Version; an easily readable 24-day plan leading up to Christmas Eve. Each daily reading is followed by some thought-provoking questions.

Jeff and I started the plan this evening and really enjoyed discussing the questions afterwards! I’m excited to wake up early on Christmas morning not just to give Jeff his gifts, but to have Jesus at the center of my holiday.

Dec 1: Luke 2:21-40

Dec 2: Matthew 1

Dec 3: Luke 2:1-20

Dec 4: Mark 9:33-37

Dec 5: Matthew 4:12-17,  Isaiah 9:1-3, Matt 5:14-16

Dec 6: Acts 20:35, 1 John 4:10

Dec 7: Exodus 25

Dec 8: Matthew 25:31-46

Dec 9: Isaiah 9:6-7, Revelation 19:1-16, 1 Timothy 6:11-16

Dec 10: Matthew 1:22-23, Isaiah 7:10-15, John 1:14

Dec 11: Genesis 1, Isaiah 1:18, Psalm 51:1-10

Dec 12: Revelation 2:1-5, 1 John 3:1-3

Dec 13: Psalm 150

Dec 14: Acts 15:22-31

Dec 15: Luke 1, Jeremiah 32:17

Dec 16: Matthew 2:1-12

Dec 17: Galatians 4:1-7

Dec 18:Isaiah 58, Matthew 6:16-18

Dec 19: Luke 11:1-13

Dec 20: John 1

Dec 21: John 21:25

Dec 22: Psalm 100

Dec 23: Matthew 25

Dec 24: John 3:16

Dec 25: Luke 1:26-56, Matthew 1:18-25, Luke 2:1-40

P.S. Jeff says he’s never heard of stringing popcorn garland on the Christmas tree. Tell me I’m not the only one who did this growing up!!?

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world AIDs day

Do you ever wonder where Jesus would be if he were physically present in our world today? Maybe he would be having coffee with pastors who are leading the largest congregations across the nation. Or chatting with the president in the oval office.

I never really thought about that question until I traveled to Africa for missions work. But, standing on a mud road in the midst of a squatter camp, being used as a jungle gym for three children who would only eat one meal that weekend, the thought occurred to me, “This is where Jesus would be; with the forgotten people; with the children. He would be giving a hug or a cup of cold water, or handing out food.” 

Because, that’s what Jesus does. He cares about the people no one else cares about. When he was in our world, he hung out with the prostitutes and drunkards and sinners; not the emperor or the religious leaders. He hung out with the regular, forgotten, “riff raff” of the world.

Today is World AIDs Day 2011.

You haven’t seen AIDs until you’ve been to South Africa.

You haven’t seen AIDs until you’ve seen a 7-year-old little girl living with the disease.

In Africa I was able to see the disease up-close. I spent time playing with children who were infected with some stage of HIV or AIDs at Sparrow AIDs village in Johannesburg, South Africa. Some of the children were homeless due to the death of one or both of their parents to the disease.

As we spun around the carousel and kicked soccer balls, I noticed that some of the children were missing patches of hair, their eyes were sunk back in their heads, and it seems that all of them had a steady stream of snot running down their nose. But, they still loved to play…and to laugh! Inside were kept the children who were worse off. It’s never easy seeing little boys and girls lying in hospital beds hooked up to tubes.

In 2008, I visited Sparrow for the second time. I was co-leading a mission trip with 25 kids from our youth ministry back home in Kansas City. We had spent a few hours playing with the children and were preparing to load up the bus. I ran back inside to see if we had any stragglers. The toddler room opened and closed with sliding doors. As I tried to slide the doors closed, one of the toddlers with AIDs grabbed my finger and bit down. When I pulled my finger out a thin trail of shiny, red blood was pooled in my finger nail.

Horror filled my insides. No one wants to see blood in an AIDS village, never mind that it was MY blood. My insides were frozen. Is it possible to transmit HIV through a bite? I told only a few leaders what had happened, but kept it from the kids. For the next two weeks, I was freaking out. I lost 15 pounds and came home a skinny mess. When I visited my doctor, he told me the only way I could have contacted HIV was if the child had open sores in his mouth. There was no way to know if had. So I was forced to do HIV testing for the next three months. My HIV test came back negative; my blood was good.

I was okay.

But those children living at Sparrow still have the disease.

Everyday it would ravage their little bodies. If they come to Sparrow in the very early stages of HIV, and are placed on antiretroviral drugs in time, then they could have the chance of a long life. But, if they arrive at Sparrow too late, they have a few years at best.

Someday when I look back on my life, there are things that I will regret and there are things that will fill me with pride. I take pride for the time I spent at Sparrow; every hug given, every ball kicked, and every smile passed on. Because, for some reason, I really think that’s where Jesus would spend his time. 

Question: Where do you think Jesus would be?

“Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14


Volunteering at Sparrow in 2007

Samaritan’s Purse: WORLD AIDS DAY

Saddleback Church: HIV Initiative 

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more than thankful

I love it when the mail arrives everyday. Maybe it’s cause we don’t actually own a mail box. Nope, we’ve got this really cool hole slot in the side of the house that empties into the deep, unknown of an old musty-smelling closet. It’s a daily adventure just trying to salvage every envelope and postcard. Or quite possibly it’s because I’ve grown up in a world where email is at the tip of my fingers. There’s just nothing quite like an envelope addressed solely to me, shrouded in mystery until the seal is broken.

It was just such an experience last week when I opened an envelope which revealed a beautiful cream and green wedding invitation. The groom is not a close friend by any means; but, in a way, we shared something more powerful than friendship. We were fellow survivors; survivors of broken dreams and failed marriages. After twelve years of marriage, his wife had told him she wanted a divorce and he was devastated. It’s a story I’ve told many times on this blog.

And yet, despite the pain that threatened to forever haunt him, on December 31st of this year, he will marry a new woman who has captured his heart. His sister (who happens to be one of my very best friends) describes his new bride as an “angel”, and I can relate.

Today, I am thankful for new beginnings. That no matter how bad life gets – there’s always hope. Jeff and I have now completed the process of moving me into our house and organizing all of my old belongings. As I’ve gone through countless boxes, it seems as if there’s always some old letter or belonging, etc. reminding of my old life  – – and it still occasionally hurts. The truth is, it takes a long time to clean up a life; to clean up the  debris from broken dreams.

But, I married a man who didn’t mind wading his way through my mess to find my heart. He didn’t care what people would think about him dating the “freshly divorced girl”. He didn’t mind that I harbored major trust issues.

And even more importantly I serve a God who offers me (and you) a new beginning every morning; no matter what happened the night before. My God is a God like this husband, who, after accidentally throwing away his wife’s $10,000 wedding ring, suited up and combed through a 10-foot pile of garbage at the local landfill. He didn’t give up despite digging through trash, feces and carcasses, and sure enough, after enough time, spotted the ring glinting in the sun light. What a picture of God! He doesn’t mind sifting through all of our garbage in order to find our hearts. He’ll clean us up. Because with God, there’s always a new beginning. 

I got re-married two months ago, and I’m starting my new life. I’m decorating for Christmas and I’m hanging up lights. I’m starting new traditions and I’m slowly opening my heart up again to life. God is good and he has seen me through. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. Great is your faithfulness!”

Lamentations 3:22-23