Happy Fourth Quarter!

Did you know me this time last year?

I was a senior in high school -- and I was one of those senior girls. A senior girl who, while everyone else delighted in the arrival of their graduation robes, tried on hers with misted eyes. A senior girl who, while everyone else exclaimed how excited they were to get out of the house, clung teary-eyed to her mommy. A girl who had to make "crying dates" with her shower so that she wouldn't lose it in class (although that still happened multiple times); who had to practice the graduation song dozens of times at home until she could get through it without choking up; a girl who hugged more and cried more during that last quarter than you would ever believe. A girl who dreaded every end and sobbed through every last -- and a girl who missed the magic of every new beginning.

Everyone tried to tell me. "Things are ending," they would acknowledge, "but they have to end so that new things can happen."

I would have laughed in their faces if I hadn't been crying (rude, I know). I didn't care about beginnings. I couldn't understand why more people weren't feeling this way. Silly and melodramatic as it sounds, a little part of me died when I graduated from high school.

I never asked God why I had to graduate and move on. That just comes with life, and He certainly ought not except me from the human task of growing up. But I did ask Him, many many times, why it was so hard for me when it seemed to be so easy -- so exciting -- for almost everyone else.

"It is not that everything that has anything to do with ourselves is in itself wicked and deserving of death. It did not mean that when Jesus said, 'Not my will...' There could not have been even the smallest part of His will that was wicked. It was a choice to lay down everything -- the good He had done and the good He might do if He was permitted to live -- for the love of God. The same choice is offered to us... Little deaths have to be died just as great ones do" (Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity).

God never answered why I was so devastated about moving on to a new stage of life. Maybe I'm simply more inclined to form strong emotional attachments. Whatever it was, it was settled and not going to change. But what could change was what I did with it.

In the grand scheme of things, moving on from high school is not what most people would call a "great death." But it still had to be died. I had to give up high school and everything that came along with it -- the comfort of familiar friends, teachers, events, drives, everything I knew -- they all had to be forsaken, changed, died to.

But it has taken nearly a year for Christ to impress the following onto my heart:

"There is a big however. It is this: We are not meant to die merely in order to be dead. God could not want that for the creatures to whom He has given the breath of life. We die in order to live" (Elliot).

I can hear you now. "Kendall, you're over-spiritualizing graduation."

Perhaps in your experience, it wasn't (or won't be) nearly this big of a deal. Perhaps no one, no one at all can relate to this. But my friend, this paralyzed me. I was unable to move on and embrace the new life that I had been so graciously given. I could not enjoy it fully, because all my new experiences were mixed with the memories of a past that I couldn't get back. I'm a naturally joyful person, and this fought hard to take that away.

That part of me died, and it stayed dead.

It took the realization that it really has been nearly a year for me to make an effort to fight nostalgia. It took realizing that my life has been on hold, even as it whirred by me, for almost a year! Life is too short, my friend! I cannot spend a year wishing it was an earlier year! I cannot spend a year too focused on old acquaintances to reach out and make new friends! I cannot spend an entire year of college in high school!

I know you may not be able to relate to this yet. But from what I have seen of people beyond me in years and wisdom, there will come a time when you wish you were facing anything but
now.

But we are told to make the most of every opportunity. We are told to forget what is behind and press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of us. We are told to see that He is doing a new thing.

That part of me died for a reason -- so that it could live again. So that it could be brand new. And oh! He has been waiting far too long for me to come to Him and beg Him to begin that new thing.

Giver of good, help me love the now!

To love the now!

Whether you are a middle schooler about to begin high school next semester, a senior thinking back on the past four years and looking expectantly to the end of May, or you have moved beyond those stages and are smiling at all the life I have left to live (much of which I am sure will blow high school out of the water)...may you love the now. May He help you love the now. If the now is filled with laughter, may it spill out onto everyone around you. If the now brings you heartache, tears, and little death upon little death, may you have the courage to die, knowing that you are meant to live again.

Laugh with me. Cry with me. Feel whatever you're feeling with your whole heart, and don't be afraid of it.

But don't be afraid to let it go, feel something new, and do something new.

Happy Fourth Quarter, my friend. May you live it with your whole heart.

After Kony

I haven't shared the Kony video on Facebook.

Does that make me a terrible person?

I mean, maybe it's because by the time I found the time to watch it (tonight) it had already been posted so many times that my adding to the constant "So-and-so and 17 other friends shared a link" would have seemed redundant (although with this campaign, I guess that's the whole point). Maybe it's because I thought people wouldn't watch a 30 minute video if I shared it (after all, I didn't -- I waited until Invisible Children actually came to my university). But come on! I'm usually on top of this whole "Facebook sharing" thing! I'm behind on my game! (Actually I'm usually the person who starts "round 2" of a viral video, oblivious to the fact that everyone has already seen it months ago.)

I love the fervor, the passion with which people have greeted this video and this issue. They know it's important. They want to do something about it. I think that's great. I signed the little pledge card, hung up a poster in our dorm room, and yeah, I cried when I watched that video. I agree -- let's do something.

But there's something that's bothering me. Not with the issue, not with the campaign, the organization, or any of that (please do not think I am criticizing IC or this mission to see Joseph Kony brought to justice).

It's that nagging worry that this will be it.

I'm not accusing people of, "Oh, all of a sudden you care." YES, please care! I'm so glad you care now! Care now, because now is when you've heard about it!! We can hardly care when we do not know.

But the video expires December 31, 2012.

So what next?

Will this fizzle out?

Will this be it?

Lord willing, when it works, and this man is stopped -- what then?

Will we rejoice in the victory, but then simply return to our everyday lives?


There is a child soldier in Burma named Shwe Dara. He was nine years old when I purchased his dog tags this past summer. As of that moment, he was on active duty.

The story broke my heart. He was more than a concept, he was a name, a human being. For weeks, I clutched those tags close to my heart and whispered prayers for Shwe Dara, a child half my age forced to carry an AK-47 that I myself would have a hard time lifting.

And then the dog tags got too noisy to carry around. Other worries started occupying my mind. Shwe Dara was pushed to the back burner, his tags hung on a hook, and his name become unfamiliar on my tongue once more.

But he's still out there. Unless he's been killed -- God, may it not be -- he's still Shwe Dara, a little boy living in Burma with dreams and a personality and a favorite food. Has the ministry from which I learned his name rescued him? I don't suppose I'll ever know. But what I do know is that even though the novelty of his story has passed, his story is still going on; and thus, so should my love and my prayers and my support for this little boy.

So my question is: Now that you know stuff like this exists, what will you do? When this video no longer appears in your News Feed twelve times in an hour, will you still have a heart and a mind for the slave? Will you still plead for them on your knees? Will you speak up for those who cannot speak up for themselves, even when you have no reminder?

Will you remember? Because let me tell you, my friend, the children living in this hell certainly remember. This is not a fad to them. It's not a trend. It's not a viral video. It's their life.

And they are not the only ones. Millions of orphans live on the streets, sniffing glue to ease the hunger that gnaws at their stomachs. Billions of people live in poverty, drinking water that you and I wouldn't even deign to swim in. What about them? Could we take the enthusiasm with which we have met this cause, and go hard after helping them as well? "Stop At Nothing," say the posters. Will we stop at nothing for the billions of beautiful people left after this is over?

America knows now to be passionate. So let us continue to be passionate. Let us be educated and active, and never, EVER lose this fervor. If we fought like this for every cause, for every orphan, for every man woman and child living in poverty, can you imagine what could be done?? I am so glad this video got the ball rolling, but let's keep it going long after Kony is gone.

I am a hopeful, prayerful optimist that our nation can wake up and start fighting for something.

May this passion never end. Oh Lord...let us wake up, and NEVER fall back asleep.

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter -- when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?" -Isaiah 58:6-7