sad

As of late, it seems that the gospel has been leaving me feeling rather…unaffected. I don't know why, but for me the past month has been one of spiritual stagnation and apathy. Until yesterday.

I spent the weekend on the road. As I drove I was able to think, and for some reason, as I thought more and more about driving and visiting and travel and the passage of time, I began to feel something beginning to seep into (or perhaps out of) my heart. When I got home from my adventure, I was able to reflect. Now, being a senior in the College of Education at NC State, I know quite a bit about reflecting, and usually I think that it's a waste of time. But usually that's because it's homework. This reflecting was good, and I would like to share with you how some of my reflection went:

i feel sad. nostalgic, maybe—but also sad. and i can't quite put my finger on why. the air is getting cooler and i am reminded more and more of fall this time last year. looking back on my journal entries is…well, i don't know, sad? does it make me sad to look back on the laughs i had? the new experiences? no—of course not…

my heart is aching for something i can only imagine is more glorious than i can describe. better things than what i am doing now.

greater things.

there is a deep, long, sad, passionate, mournful, joyous ache in my soul for something beautiful. i see glimpses of it in the north carolina landscape. i feel it when i stare out onto the open highway, listening to chords of music that capture what my clumsy, foolish, and often stuttered language cannot express.

why did God create this for me? this earth, with all its nature and humanity, beauty and innovation, why did God bestow upon me such a gift? he knows that i am an insufficient steward of this world and yet he has allowed me to spend 21 years partaking in this blessing called life.

i am sad to see time pass, wasted or otherwise, because i know that each moment that goes by is one that i cannot fully grasp. to understand the greatness of Christ contained in just a fraction of a second…is beyond any man's intellectual, physical, or emotional capacity. to me, that is both joyous and tragic. i long to know the inner-workings of the will of my Lord.

i am confident in His plan. confident and eager, eager and terrified, terrified and, still sometimes, overwhelmingly sad.

i mourn time lost.

i yearn for a time when i will be able to finally revel in the Glory of my Savior. when at last i can look into my Master's face and fall at His feet and praise Him forever for the things He has done.

Father, i do not deserve this life. i want nothing more than for You to fulfill Your promise so that i can spend the rest of eternity soaking up Your Glory and worshipping You for who You are and the great thing You have done.

Master, i am Yours and nothing will be sweeter than the day You call me home to be with You. i am broken, humbled and humiliated by Your Glory and Power and Greatness.

And with those words, penned on pages of an overstuffed Moleskine journal, the Father revived me. I praise God that I can live aware of the glimpses of Glory around me and I will eagerly await the final Glory that He has promised.

work

I cannot claim to be particularly wise or particularly intelligent. I cannot claim to be especially artistic or charismatic or beautiful or driven. In fact—at this point in my life, I'm not sure if I can claim to be much of anything or anyone at all.

God is doing His work in me.

I am sure that He's still got a lot to do.

together

selfless and unconditional love. simply and heartbreakingly beautiful.

summer

I want to write so badly about the experience I shared with 40+ staffers at Camp Willow Run this summer, but I fear that by attempting to recapture the summer with words, I will skew the glimpse of Glory I've seen, muddling it with poor descriptions of some of the most beautiful moments I have ever witnessed. It breaks my heart to know that no matter how long I spend trying to choose just the right words to put in this post to convey exactly how this summer has impacted me, I won't be able to do it. There is no way that I can type out all of the good memories and lessons learned and sorrows and joys and fears and realities.

So I sit, trying to come up with something to share with the blogging community and something to leave for myself to remember the summer by. The longer I wait to write, the less real my memories of the past few months will be.

I could write about my summer from so many angles—talk about the things I've learned, the ways I've changed, the memories of summer that I wish wouldn't fade like sun-bleached construction paper sign on the door of my boxcar.

There is so much I want to share, but what I must share is this: the Lord was working this summer at Camp Willow Run. Hearts were touched and souls were stirred. I learned the power of The Word. I learned the freedom in humility. I learned the joy that comes from Truth.

I learned that there is nothing good apart from God and that those who earnestly seek him will be shown his Glory.

So I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned in awe of the One who gave it all. I'll stand; my soul, Lord, to You surrendered. All I am is Yours.

inside

The Folks Inside

Shel Silverstein

Inside you, boy,

There's an old man sleepin',

Dreamin', waitin' for his chance.

Inside you, girl,

There's an old lady dozin',

Wantin' to show you a slower dance.

So keep on playin',

Keep on runnin',

Keep on jumpin', 'til the day

That those old folks

Down inside you

Wake up . . . and come out to play.

tips

I am sitting on the floor of a finished-out boxcar 100 yards from the shore of Lake Gaston. Nine rising 9th graders are snoring just feet from me and I can't sleep. I'm seven weeks into camp and for a brief moment I am able to stop and reflect on what I've learned since I arrived here on May 20th. My own mid-summer meeting of sorts.

+ Don't steal someone's debit card unless you're absolutely positive that you're not going to lose it on the floor of Wal-mart.

+ Fitting 7 college-age people in a 4-door sedan is possible, but numb legs are to be expected after riding for 45 minutes with 16 limbs crammed in a space meant for 12.

+ Wearing sunscreen can help prevent burning.

+ You should always make sure that your sunscreen is waterproof.

+ Sometimes sunscreen doesn't really prevent burning at all. Even if if is waterproof.

+ Sour patch [children] taste better at camp.

+ "Dropping the Bible hurts God sometimes."

+ Even girls sweat when it's 102° outside. Really, girls can sweat a lot.

+ Thinking of a purple elephant for a few seconds can cure hiccups.

+ Thinking of a purple elephant cannot, however, cure homesickness; you'll just end up imagining your parents riding the purple elephant which makes you miss them more.

+ Toy Story 3 is a phenomenal movie and I should buy it as soon as it comes out on DVD.

+ Homesickness doesn't go away as you get older—you just get better at dealing with it.

+ In amazing ways, God provides patience when you ask him for it.

+ Trying to clean mud out of your ears with a Q-tip is not a great idea; you'll probably just end up pushing the dirt farther back into your head and never be able to hear again.

+ Super Wal-Mart contains everything you could ever imagine to need while working at a summer camp. And most of those things are $5 or less.

Three weeks left. God is working here and I am so excited to see what else he will do.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!...

Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Psalm 34

strikes

Barefoot, I walk along squares of pavement.

Dodging twigs and fallen leaves

and stepping over cracks,

I make my way to the beach.

I pause for a moment

where the sidewalk ends

and then continue forward,

treading lightly upon ground

already jeweled with the dew of early morning hours.

Under my feet

the wet grass turns to

soft sand and then to

cool, wooden planks.

As expected,

no one has come

to the dock

to watch

the storm traverse the water.

So my legs carry me the length

of the pier

and bring me to halt

at the very edge.

I stand

still and quiet there

overlooking the dark water,

knowing that I am

a part of something

more frightening and mighty

than I could ever imagine.

The proof is in the storm

I've come to witness

move slowly over the lake.

For what seems

like hours

I watch the clouds light up

above the earth.

After each thunder clap

I wait for a new bolt to

splinter through the sky.

My eyes strain to stay open;

I cannot blink for fear of

missing a spark of electricity streak through air

to confuse the darkness,

turning it to daylight

for a moment.

I see a bolt strike ground

far away

and fix my eyes to the spot,

searching the black horizon for another white crack

in the night sky.

Again it strikes

and I wonder

who else saw.

Time passes and

my eyes grow weary;

my lids fighting

the weight of my eyelashes.

I do not want to shut them,

but before long

they are closed

and I am asleep.