Faith and Sight

I don't think God is real because the Bible says so. I don't think God is who He says He is in the Bible merely because the Bible says so. And I really don't think the Bible is true because it says so...in the Bible ("Kendall, why do you think the Bible is true?" "Because it says so." "Where?" "In the Bible." "But how do you know that what the Bible says is true?" "Because the Bible says so...").

*sidenote: How strange does the word "Bible" start to look after typing it nine times? Is that even the right word? Am I talking about the right thing??*

We walk by faith, not by sight, but that doesn't mean I blindly accept the Bible just because I want to.

I accept the Bible not because it says it's true, but because I've experienced it to be true.

"Experiences are circumstantial," you may say. I can accept that to a degree, but I know who I am because of Christ, and I know who I'd be without Christ. I know that when I beg Him, "Speak," He whispers gently to my heart. I know that when I plead, "Hold me," I'm filled with a comfort I can't explain. I know that when, as I lay in my bed at night, I call upon the power of Christ, my mind is yanked back from places it shouldn't go, and I experience victory that I know I cannot achieve on my own (I've tried!).

So I don't believe God is true because I think the Bible is true.

I know the Bible is true because I know God is true.

I know because I've seen His power, and the power of His word to set the captive free. I know because someone like me should never be able to experience a feeling of absolute freedom and purity, but I've felt it. I know because I've seen the impossible accomplished in my life. I know because on days when I should be tired and irritable and snappy, He comes and says, "You don't have to say yes to that; you can say yes to Me." I know because He's said yes. I know because He's said no. I know, because me and God? We're good friends, He and I. And now, even when I can't see, I've experienced enough of Him to go forward blindly, trusting in His goodness and His character.

So I believe that Jesus is the Son of God; that belief in Him means salvation and freedom from the tyranny of sin; and a whole SLEW of other things under that umbrella not because a book told me so (I mean, books say Harry Potter is a boy who goes to Hogwarts, but I don't think that's true) but because I don't know how to explain what has happened in my life any other way. Not merely the important reading of Scripture, but the fulfillment of Scripture in my life -- that's why I'm willing to give my life to this, and I won't for one second count it wasted.

"I hear these people asking me, How do I know what I believe? Well, I'm not the same me, and that's all the proof I need." -Britt Nicole, "All This Time"

When I Grow Up

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I love this question. The possibilities are endless, and so fascinating. My first-ever answer to that question, back when I was four, was the very predictable, very little-girl "ballerina." (Does it make it more unique that I wanted to be an evangelical ballerina?) However, 14+ years of ballet training, while teaching me dedication, hard work, and how to spell "Pas de bourree," have only served to convince me that my calling is not to shout the Gospel from the stage en pointe (the last thing the audience would be thinking about is "grace"!).

I loved to dream. From choir director to flight attendant, from computer analyst to mom, my elementary, middle, and high school days were filled with daydreams about "when I grow up."

Well, I'm not grown up yet (though Time is trying to convince me otherwise). But my "when I grow up I want to be" hasn't changed, not in two in a half years. Lay it down, God has whispered. Give it to Me, be willing to have it changed, wrecked, taken away. But He has given my dream back time and time again, and I don't anticipate it changing anytime in the near or distant future.

How did that even happen? For years, I had a new career idea every odd Tuesday. I would determine to be a veterinarian, and off I would run to learn all I could about how to save the animals. The next Tuesday I was going to be a periodontist, and I mentally prepared myself for staring in peoples' mouths all day. And how could I forget the dozens upon dozens of games of "dental hygienist" that played out on TV trays, so long ago that I've changed bedrooms three times since then?

How did a dream finally stick?

It will always be a bit of a mystery to me. I think I've gone to my mom more than once exclaiming, "How in the world do people who don't know Jesus figure out what to do with their lives?" (Really. If you don't personally know Jesus, number 1, Jesus is AWESOME and we should talk, and number 2, if you've figured out what you want to do with your life without Him, I want to know how you did it!)

Of course, when people ask me, "How did you know you wanted to study nursing?" my answer doesn't sound anything like, "My macaroni and cheese noodles fell into the shape of a stethoscope."

I've come to realize that it's not necessarily what I do with my life. It's why.

"People who do not know the Lord ask why in the world we waste our lives as missionaries. They forget that they too are expending their lives ... and when the bubble has burst, they will have nothing of eternal significance to show for the years they have wasted." That quote by Nate Saint was the inspiration for the title of this blog, and I still love the thought it contains.

We're only given one life. It's not practice. It is preparation, but if we fail to make the one choice that needs to be made, we don't get to come back and try again. And if we hoard our lives, we don't get another chance to come back and serve those whose lives might have been brighter had we given of ourselves.

So yes, I'm going to be a nurse. But more than that, I'm going to be a missionary.

Will I go overseas? At some point, I have no doubt. But I could also be a missionary right here. You don't have to live in Cambodia to be a missionary. You can live in Smalltown, USA. You don't have to be a doctor or a teacher to be a missionary. You can be a store clerk or a florist. In fact, one of the greatest missionaries I know is my mom. She's never been to Africa in her life (that I know of) and she left healthcare a while ago, but that doesn't keep her from giving her life away right where she's at.

With this in mind, I can see the value and the importance of every single occupation and calling.

So I'm not sure we all need to be sitting around wondering what we ought to do with our lives. I guess you don't need to know Jesus to understand what you ought to do with your life (though I still think He is so helpful!). It's not as though there's this one magical thing we're supposed to do, and if we don't do it we'll be forever cursed. If you're supposed to do it, Jesus will lead you to it. But in general, I think He works through our talents and through what we enjoy. There is nothing more spiritual about being miserable or being bad at something. He has designed us for a purpose, and He wants us to both enjoy that purpose and be effective for the Kingdom in that position.

So have fun with your life, my friend. Have fun!

And there's this really cool thing I'm starting to realize.

We don't have to wait until we grow up to be missionaries.

To Love the One

"One death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic."

Joseph Stalin said that.

No, I don't usually start my posts with quote from socialists. I don't usually end them with those quotes, either. Or put them in the middle. Or anywhere. Okay, in general, I don't quote socialists, communists, or other people of like repute.

But to be honest, this quote gets me every time...because it amazes me how easy it is to think that way.

Here's some statistics to get the ball rolling.*

• There are 143 million orphans in the world.
• There are 3 billion people living in poverty.
• There are 27 million victims of human trafficking each year.
• 45% of the population of Kenya is Christian. With a population of 41,070,934, that means that more than 2 million people do not know Christ -- in Kenya alone.
• Only 50% of Americans even claim to be Christian. That means 156,616,022 people do not even profess to spend Sunday in church.

And I find it far too easy to look at that and say, "It's not that bad."

Oh, that terrifies me.

If there were a little girl living in Zambia, starving, afraid, alone, abandoned, with no one to love her...and she was the only one in the world...you can bet that I'd be coming to my parents, pleading to go to Africa, begging to be provided a way to get to that child. But because there's 143 million of those children...suddenly it's not as urgent?

I would give all I have for the one, but the millions hardly disturb me?

There is something so, so wrong with that.

To get an idea of the magnitude of the situation, I thought I'd give you a little help in the form of some crazy stuff I learned from Louie Giglio:**

• A million seconds ago was twelve days ago. (143 million orphans, 27 million modern-day slaves)
  
• A billion seconds ago was in 1975. (3 billion people in poverty)

Okay, that just blows my mind. It does. So I did a little math of my own. If you were to count every single orphan, one per second, every second, it would take you almost five years. If you were to count every single person in poverty, one per second, every second, it would take you until 2123 -- one hundred and eleven years of counting every single second.

Guys, we don't live long enough to count them all.

When I realize the magnitude of the situation, it suddenly becomes so easy to write it off as a statistic. Perhaps a heartbreaking statistic, but when there's a sea of billions in front of you, what do you do with that? I don't look at a football stadium filled with people and say, "Gee, I love that football stadium." I don't know anything about the people there (except that they all likely enjoy football). I can't see their faces, I don't know their stories. I don't know how to love the many.

Jesus loved the many, by loving the one.

He had this uncanny ability to see the entire world, and focus in on one face, one story, one life. And that single story moved Him to give His life.

He loved the many by loving the one.

Jesus understood that the millions are composed of individuals. He didn't love numbers, He loved people. Yes, God so loved "the world," but the world...it's made up of people.

And so are those statistics.

And then it begins to hit me. 143,000,000. 27,000,000. 3,000,000,000.

What can I do against that?

From a human perspective, I can't even make a dent.

But to Jesus, one person is a huge dent. He smiles and says, "That one is so important to Me. That one is incredibly precious to Me. It makes all the difference in the world. That one is Mine."

To Jesus, even one is reason to rejoice. It's reason to sing. And it's reason to die.

I want to spend my life for the one. I may not know their names. But I'm determined I will...one by one.

*Statistics from Adventures in Missions and the CIA World Factbook

**"How Great is Our God," Louie Giglio

Me and Tebow

I believe something insane.

You're going to laugh at me (but probably not "LOL." More just "L." Inside.). You might roll your eyes, and write me off as proving myself to be an ordinary female in the year 2012. But I promise I'm perfectly sane in the clinical sense of the word, and that I have a point, so please bear with me.

I believe that, if He wanted to, God could arrange a marriage between me and Tim Tebow.

No, this does not mean I'm going to write "MARRY ME TIMMY" on his Facebook wall. I shall not have "Future Mrs. Tebow" shirts made. I even promise that not a single line in my prayer journal will say anything even remotely along the lines of, "Please help Tim realize that he's perfect for me, and that we're meant to be.... Now if only You'd arrange for me to meet him...."

I could have also used Josh Groban as an example. Last year, I would've used Michael Buble, but he's what we like to call "taken" (every happiness to Mr. and Mrs. Buble!). You could insert pretty much any (single) famous (male) person in this scenario, and I would still believe the same thing. If He wanted to, God could do it.

But my point is this: No offense to Mr. Tebow, but God has someone better in mind for me. In fact, He has someone better in mind for everyone...except the real future Mrs. Tebow. At the end of my life, I won't look at my husband and say, "Gee honey, you're great and all, but I would've been a lot happier in life if my last name started with 't,' ended with 'w' and had 'ebo' in the middle."

No, no, no. That's not the way God works.

"If you could marry anyone in the world, who would it be?" I sometimes ask myself.

And then I answer myself, "My future husband."

Oh goodness, I don't know who he is. But he's perfect for me. He's better (for me) than Mr. Tebow, Mr. Groban, and anyone else you can come up with (my knowledge of eligible famous people is sorely lacking). That's just how Jesus rolls. And the same man who will be "best" for me would be "less than best" for you.

"If you settle for less than a man who is fully yielded and surrendered to the King of all kings, you settle for less than God’s best for you. You may not feel worthy of a noble, gallant, Christ-built Warrior Poet who will lay down his life for you. But this is exactly what Christ is to you. And this is exactly what He desires for you in an earthly prince" (Leslie Ludy).

I'm not saying these famous young men cannot be exactly this to a young woman one day. I'm very hopeful that with the platform they have been given, they will showcase the beauty of a Christ-centered love story that will inspire hundreds to pursue deeper intimacy with the Author of such beauty.

But Jesus wants the best for you. And He knows what that is. He knows who that is.

And for all but one woman...that's not Tim Tebow. (Unless he's called to singleness!)

So that's why I'm not going to come to God tonight pleading to meet the young QB. I'm going to come to Him and stand for the man He actually has for me. I'm going to intercede for his purity, his relationships with others, and his relationship with Christ. I'm going to pray for an attitude of absolute givenness to Jesus, and I will pray the same for me.

Because as many times as I walk away from an article about Tim Tebow exclaiming, "He's such a good guy!"...I know that whoever Jesus has for me is a pretty good guy, too.

The Life I Owe

"Everything looks wonderful. As soon as we receive the report on the background check, this position will be yours."

He winced. He knew what was on that report. He wasn't even sure why he'd applied for this position. As soon as they saw what he'd done, he'd be turned away.

He left the building, his head lowered, his heart downcast. He would never be able to escape his past.

"Excuse me."

He stopped, and turned toward the owner of the voice. He recognized him -- the son of the owner of the company.

"I understand you've applied for a position here."

"Yes, but --"

"But your background check will make you ineligible."

He narrowed his eyes, confused how the young man knew about that.

"I'd like to offer you my background check. It's entirely clean. All the good I've done will be credited to you, and all the wrong you've done will be credited to me." He extended his hand. "You need only ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd studied hard, but it hadn't done a lot of good. She'd failed, and she knew it. It had been her heart's desire to get into the class, and a passing grade on this test would have allowed her in. But she could not do it; she would not even be allowed to retake the test.

The next day, a boy her age approached her. "I got a 100 on that test yesterday," he told her. "And if you'd like, you can have my grade."

She laughed. "That's not possible." He was cruel for letting her hope.

"It's quite possible," he said earnestly. "I'm serious. Would you like your name to appear at the top of my perfect test?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"For the multiple crimes you have committed, you have been sentenced to death."

Resignation began to set in. Her hand were bound, the chains digging painfully into her wrists. Her clothes were tattered from the long walk to the gallows. She prayed for a quick death; the man with the whip was eying her greedily.

There wasn't much of an argument she could make. She'd done it. Every single accusation was true. She was deserving of death.

A man approached the guard who had announced her sentence and whispered something to him. The guard looked shocked. "Are you sure?" she heard him say. The man nodded.

With a shake of his head, the guard approached her. "You may go free," he said in amazement, unlocking her chains. "Someone has agreed to die in your place."

She laughed.

It was all she could do. It was ridiculous. "There's been a mix-up," she said. "No one knows me, and certainly if they did they wouldn't agree to die for me. I'm guilty."

"Your record will be wiped clean, and all further infractions will be considered paid for by this man's death."

"I'm telling you you're wrong," she said, confused and baffled. "I'm a criminal, and you should tell this man the world's better off without me."

"Oh, I agree with you," the guard assured her. "But it isn't proper to disagree with the King's son."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ridiculous? Yes. Unlikely? Absolutely. Impossible? You might even say that.

Yet something even more ridiculous, even more unlikely, even more impossible was accomplished.

For us.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

Married? Me?

When I was eight years old, I was convinced that Prince Charming was waiting just around the corner. My cousin Katie and I would dress up and act out weddings, naming our grooms (actually, most of the time I made her be the man...sorry, Katie) and tossing plastic eggshell halves as make-shift flowers.

When I entered high school, I was excited. Lots of people meet their spouses in high school...don't they?

Um, no, Kendall, they really don't. Maybe some. But not "lots."

When I entered college last year, finally people were saying, "You know, Kendall, you'll probably meet your husband in college!" And I was like, "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever."

Secretly I was thinking, I was more prepared for marriage when I was eight than I am now.

True? Probably not. Okay, definitely not. But I had far more confidence in my feminine abilities as an eight-year-old. No one had told me girls needed to look a certain way. No one had told me I should preferably marry someone handsome and rich. And attracting a man? Not a concern. We would see each other from across the room, our eyes would meet, and we'd be married in the morning.

By freshman year of college, marriage had become an item on a to-do list with several to-do items under that bullet.

"Be mysterious."

Got it. Guys don't need to know everything about you. I'll work on it.

"Be available."

That's easy enough. I'll just...

"But don't appear desperate or over-eager."

Um, okay, that means I should.... Huh?

"You have to be physically attractive to the opposite sex."

Alrighty. Make-up, check. Nice clothes, check. Hair, still recovering from my poor decision to chop it all off, but hey, shouldn't he love me anyway?

"Be interesting."

Oo! Oo! I know, sometime in the next year I'll go to an exotic location where I'll save a dying breed of mutant pygmy giraffes. Don't worry guys, I got this one.

"If the moon is half-full and you come across three trees with knots that look like faces, you can text him first, but otherwise..."

*sigh*

How about this one?

Be consumed by Jesus Christ.

Heh, yeah... That doesn't sound very effective. If I surrender myself completely to Jesus Christ, won't He, like, send me to a third-world country where all the men are three feet tall and I'll smell bad all the time? "Exude the odor of vomit from caring for the malnourished" is nowhere on that list underneath the glowing bullet point "Get Married"... And neither is "Become a Nun." In fact, I'm pretty sure those two bullet points cannot co-exist, and if Jesus had His druthers, wouldn't every woman be a nun? Uh-uh, no way. Giving myself to Jesus, and the marriage dream goes out the window. I just don't see that happening, so, buh-bye.

"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!" -Matthew 7:11

Jesus doesn't get enjoyment out of making peoples' lives miserable.

No, really.

You see... He loves you. And He wants the best for you.

We need not fear giving ourselves up to Him.

We do, usually, have this expectation, though. We expect our life to be given back to us. Our dreams, our hopes, our wedding ("Here's my marriage, Jesus. Just remember, this is a five-year maximum loan. I expect it back before then. Preferably with interest.").

Yeah... I'm not going to guarantee that you'll ever get it back.

But giving it up to Him is not a certain death sentence to your dreams. Giving your dream of marriage to Jesus does not mean that you resign yourself to certain lifelong singleness. My dream of getting married is very much alive. The wedding location is planned, I know what kind of dress I want, and I have four or five names I still need to put into a hat to figure out which one of my amazing friends and family will be my Maid of Honor. And this dream will be fulfilled...if that's what's best for me. Otherwise, single life will be even better than getting married. I firmly believe that. If Jesus does not call me to marriage, that means that life without marriage will be more of an adventure and more glorifying to Him than life with marriage would have been.

Marriage is not the goal. Jesus Christ is the goal. He loves to fulfill dreams, because He is good! He knows you and He loves you. He sees every longing of your heart, and He has ultimate power to either fulfill those longings, or change them.

Married? Me? Maybe one day. But I'm ripping all those little bullet points from my to-do list...even "Get Married." "Be Consumed With Jesus Christ" is number one on that list. Scratch that...it's the only thing on that list. Because when we pursue Him, when we fall in love with Him, when we allow Him to satisfy us beyond what is imaginable, everything else will fall into place.