following

When he spoke, people listened. Not out of interest, no—some listened out of awe, some out of respect, and some even out of fear, but no none listened out of mere interest. His words were too weighty for someone to simply hear and forget.

The words he spoke were sweetly condemning—an outpouring of both love and wrath—quietly passionate, subtly offensive, submissively deviant. His words stirred hearts, uprooted families, caused change. People listened.

People followed.

Because people will follow someone if he seems worth following, if he seems to lead to somewhere great, if he gives them purpose. You see, people want to be needed. People want to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

So when someone calls people to join an unattractively attractive revolution, there will be followers.

Just what the revolution accomplishes is up to its leader.

window

Hopping

A little boy in a tiny green polo,

latched to Mom's hand,

hops along the crosswalk.

Swinging from white rectangle to white rectangle;

laughing at the falling leaves and

jumping for joy.

Cigarette

"Can I get a cigarette?"

the man asked me as I sat at my computer, reading

pages and pages of nothing worthwhile.

"Sorry, don't smoke," I replied.

He shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

"Can I get a cigarette?"

I heard him ask,

and I sat

and read

pages and pages of nothing worthwhile.

bells

Ding, dong—the bell tower chimes

although there are no bells inside.

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.