the oncoming truck

Most of you are probably familiar with the magic duo of Penn & Teller. This is a video from Penn Gillette that I would like to share with you. It's a video blog about a time he was given a Bible. It's only five minutes so please watch it all the way through.

This video was shown today in my class. I know I keep talking about my class, but it has been such a good learning opportunity that I only want to share it with you. This video was like a punch in the stomach to me. He's an atheist showing respect for a man who evangelized to him. The question he made that really hit me hard was when he asked "how much do you have to hate someone?"

Too often we care more for how others will view us. We are more concerned with not looking foolish than we are concerned with sharing the best thing that has ever happened to us--CHRIST!  As my professor pointed out today...Jim Elliott once said "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." What do you have to lose? As Christians, we have it all!

Will you not forewarn the person in front of the oncoming truck just because they don't want to believe it's there? If you're so concerned about how you appear to non-Christians then just remember, your silence speaks of hatred.

moderation

I have a twitter account. Now, at first I believed it to be highly stupid, but then I joined the club. I don't have a big following but I personally do a lot of following. It's like this approved and justified version of stalking. One of the ones I follow is C.S. Lewis. Obviously, it is not the C.S. Lewis but a collection of his quotes posted at random throughout the day.

Today it said: "Christianity if false is of no importance & if true is of infinite importance but it can't be moderately important." As I've mentioned in the last two blogs, I'm taking a course on philosophy and worldview and how it relates to Christianity. I've come to the realization that too many of us live a life of moderate Christianity. I have been the worst at it. We are too afraid that we'll be associated with either extremists. Still we don't want to say that Christianity holds no importance, so we live in the middle.


It has to do with the culture in which we live. We would rather be politically correct and not step on anyone's toes. The problem with that way of thinking is what I believe has significant and "infinite importance." It isn't something to live out moderately, but passionately.

the straight line

Monday I began an intense 2 week course. This week we've been discussing philosophy and worldviews. I mentioned this in my last blog. It's been difficult realizing how much I have bought into. I say I'm a Biblicist, but some of my thoughts and actions don't line up. I think my main problem has been ignorance. I chose not to study philosophy and know what it was that I believed so I was open and vulnerable to other lines of thinking. I know I'm not the only one. So much of my generation has been tainted. We no longer know what it is we believe. Some of my peers prefer to live in continued ignorance thinking it to be the most blissful route. That's false thinking. Know what you believe and be ready to give a reason for the hope that lives within you.

I'm so far from being an expert much less someone who could carry on a full philosophical conversation. It's a process, but you have to start somewhere. I am guilty of buying into this philosophy of relativism—what's true for you may not be true for me and so forth. Everything is relative. Don't judge lest you be intolerant. Let everyone live their life in the way they see fit. It's a life of no absolutes, but it's so far from the truth. There is an absolute God and absolute truth. There is an absolute right and wrong. Sin is sin. It doesn't matter what the context is, it's sin. I've become numb. I've lost my discernment. I've allowed “political correctness” to warp me into becoming a good and tolerant Christian. But I wasn't called to be tolerant or politically correct. As Christians we are called to be salt and light. Without light there is darkness.

I'm not saying that we should be judgmental, critical Christians. We should be a reflection of Him and His truth. Something I learned this week was C.S. Lewis's “crooked stick standard.” The straight line is the standard. The Word of God is our straight line. There is no way that we can know a line is crooked unless we have a straight line to compare it with. No way to know what is evil without knowing what is good. When you live a life that is a reflection of God than others will see. You won't need to be critical or judgmental. You're life should be based on the Word of God the standard, everything else is crooked in comparison.

"But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:" --I Peter 3:15 [KJV]  

dash

For those of you who know me well, you knew this was coming. You knew at some point the name Tim Tebow would be brought up. It was bound to happen. How could I be so open and transparent about my life and my mind and not talk about my favorite quarterback.

For those of you who live in a bubble and do not know who Mr. Tim Tebow is, then let me introduce you. He was up until last year the quarterback of the best college football team ever--Florida Gators! He is the one and only person ever to win the Heisman trophy as a sophomore. He was also nominated his junior and senior years as well. He's won a National Championship. He is an incredible athlete and has a wonderful resume, but more importantly he's a man of strong character. Once he was asked about what made him such a good athlete and his response was in regards to his priorities. He said he puts his relationship with Christ first and foremost, his family, his school work, then football. And because he does that, he believes God has blessed him in each of those areas.

He has faced much opposition. I don't understand why they give him such a hard time, but they do. Someone is always giving him a hard time for something. ESPN did a documentary on him the other night. I was on my way home from the bus station and missed it. Talk about a sad night ha. I was able to see the trailer though and his most recent commercial. In this commercial he addresses all the things people said he could not do. They said he wasn't going to make it in the NFL and he for sure wasn't going to be an early round draft pick. However, first round Denver Broncos drafted him.

He's an inspiration to many and I'm just glad that there is a decent role model out there for this generation to look up to. I could spend all day telling you about how awesome this guy is, but I won't. I just wanted to share this. In the trailer for the documentary, he made a quote. He said:

"When you die, there's going to be a tombstone. It's gonna have your name, the year you were born, and the day you die. In between there's going to be a dash, and that dash is going to represent everything you did in your life, good or bad. That's how you're remembered. What do you want your dash to represent?"

Let's face it, I'll never have a Heisman or win a National Championship. I'll never experience or do the things that Tebow has done but that doesn't make my life any less. I'll still have a dash on my tombstone, and I want it to represent something great. I want that dash to represent a life spent bringing God glory.

I was talking to some guys today for a class project. I had to ask them some philosophical questions concerning their world view. I'm not a philosophical girl, so it was a little difficult. It was so sad to me to hear their answers. They had no purpose, no aim in life. Their only purpose was to get through the dash--to be born then die. There is so much more to life than that. God has designed us for so much more. So what's your purpose? What will your dash represent?

running

This is a song I heard recently. For me, music holds such power. It evokes so much emotion and conviction. The music was one thing, but these words moved me. Too often I feel like the prodigal son mentioned in Luke 15:11-32. I feel myself veer away from what God wants of me, then I am too prideful to go back to Him. I know it's stupid, but I fear He'll look at me like "oh Tanya, it's you again." I know it's not like that, but I still think He must think it ridiculous how many times I mess up.

I heard a message recently on this passage. The pastor mentioned how we always see that passage from our point of view. It's only logical. But he suggested taking it from the father's point of view--what it must feel like to have your wayward child come running back to you. Can you imagine how happy it makes our Heavenly Father when we come running back to Him.

You are good, You are good
When there's nothing good in me
You are love, You are love
On display for all to see

You are light, You are light
When the darkness closes in
You are hope, You are hope
You have covered all my sin

You are peace, You are peace
When my fear is crippling
You are true, You are true
Even in my wandering

You are joy, You are joy
You're the reason that I sing
You are life, You are life
In You death has lost its sting

Oh, I'm running to Your arms, I'm running to Your arms
The riches of Your love will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

You are more, You are more
Than my words will ever say
You are Lord, You are Lord
All creation will proclaim

You are here, You are here
In Your presence I'm made whole
You are God, You are God
Of all else I'm letting go

My heart will sing no other name
Jesus, Jesus

I'm running to Your arms, I'm running to Your arms
The riches of Your love will always be enough
Nothing compares to Your embrace
Light of the world forever reign

i'll be...

It is the night before Christmas Eve and I'm cuddled up in my pajamas, listening to some music and knitting. I am so broke this Christmas so I'm making scarves for everyone. They all know about it and are completely underwhelmed about their presents, but oh well. It's all I have this year. Anyways..the song “I'll Be” by Edwin McCain started playing. This song is mainly associated  with the Cinderella Story for most people under 25, but it was actually written long before.

I was immediately transported back in time to the first moment I heard that song. I was at a wedding with my two sisters and father. It was June 27, 1998 and the bride and groom danced to this song as their first dance. My sisters and I looked on dreamily...ok, maybe just me, but I remember exactly what I was thinking about...

The lyrics kind of go like this: “Tell me that we belong together...I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above. I'll be your crying shoulder...I'll be the greatest fan of your life.”

As the bride and groom stared into each other's eyes, I sat there and thought of my boyfriend and how this was going to be our new song. I was a dreamy-eyed sixteen year old who was madly in love, give me a break. They say you never forget your first love. Well, I didn't. I have a slightly unusual story, so it's not that hard to remember. Plus, lets face it—I've always been a little unlucky in love. It's the best and worst story I've ever had. Nothing else has compared.

So tonight as I listen to music and reminisce, I'm going to take you along with me on my journey through time. His name was Andy. He was obnoxious. I was fourteen when I first met him at my church's youth group. He was sixteen at the time. He apparently was completely enamored by the fact that I didn't talk. I was a quiet, shy girl with not much experience with guys. They scared me! They still kind of do ha.

I was walking along the side of the church building, headed to the parking lot, when he came up beside me and basically body slammed me. “Hey, Wright! When you gonna start talking to me?” I went flying against the stucco wall of the church, and just stared back at him in shock. I thought to myself “how rude!” I gave him a look of death and continued on to the parking lot without ever speaking a word to him. This continued for a short time until summer camp. I somehow avoided him all week long at church camp. I was totally in love with this guitar player named Gabriel. He was from another church, and of course I didn't have the nerve to talk to him all week.

Somehow on the way home from camp, I had the “luxury” of sitting across from Andy on the bus. In his normal manner, he teased me and annoyed me the entire way home. At one point, he hijacked my pillow, propped himself up against it and stared at me as if he'd won the war. He began singing a song to me... “If I had a million dollars, I'd buy Tanya a really big ring. And if I had a million dollars...” The song continued for what seemed like forever with many made up ridiculous lyrics. All of the sudden, the months of obnoxious torment melted away as if they never existed. He had won the war. I fell for him that day—January 28, 1996.

It was a month later that we were in Nassau, Bahamas on a youth missions trip. I saw a whole new side to Andy that week. He had such a passion for ministering to those children. I had never seen this focused and hard-working version of him. That week, he presented me with a red rose and asked me to be his girlfriend.

Sixteen days into our relationship, he told me he loved me. I said “ok.” The very cautious side of me thought, this is way too soon. I waited one more week before saying it back. What can I say? I'm a pushover. The night of our first month anniversary was very important to me (sad, I know). It was Wednesday night and we had youth group. The guys always played basketball for an hour before our Bible study. I sat at the side waiting for him wondering if he would remember it was our anniversary. He came running in and didn't see me. He just threw his book bag down and ran to play basketball. An hour later when they were done, he finally looked around for me, picked up his bag and pulled out a pretty pathetic bouquet of purple carnations. It was the most beautiful thing to me.

We had a very tumultuous relationship to say the least, but majority of it I believe had to do with his home life. I don't remember everything too clearly, but I know it wasn't good. There were so many nights he would call crying. He was so heartbroken concerning his family. We didn't last long. He wanted to make out (men are so typical haha), and I didn't trust him. I thought he was a player and as soon as I give in to him, he's going to use me and throw me to the side. I wasn't ready to give him my first kiss yet. He realized I was a little tougher than he wanted to put up with so he tossed me aside just as I had assumed. And I held on tight to my first kiss.

We stayed like that until the next summer's missions trip to Dominica. We started dating again, but that didn't last long either. By this point, his family had fallen apart and he had moved in with another family. He was finally able to find some stability. We dated on and off for two years. It was always the same. I didn't trust him not to leave me, so I stayed closed off and distant. He would leave me and find several girls opposite me, then he'd come back to me. Plus, I think his friends didn't really like me. It was a vicious cycle. We were always hurting one another, yet we couldn't walk away from each other completely.

One thing remained. Every missions trip with him, I fell deeper in love. He was a whole different person on those trips. I was mesmerized. We were preparing for one in Key Largo, FL when we finally went on our first date alone. We were so young when we first started dating that I wasn't allowed before then. I finally gave him my first kiss that night. It was a long time coming, but totally worth it. A week later we headed to Key Largo and held a vacation Bible school for the kids. Every time I turned around, he sat with his Bible opened on his lap sharing the gospel to a different kid. It never mattered what went on in his life—the drama, the heartbreak—he had one goal during his young life. He wanted to tell others about his Heavenly Father.

I remember the last night we were there in the Keys. It was after our curfew and we had sneaked out of our hotel rooms to talk on the stairwell. Yes, talk and only talk. He confided in me about some more family drama that had happened before he had come on the trip. We sat there for what seemed like forever with his head on my shoulder while he cried. I've never been so angry at people as I was at that moment. I was so upset at the fact that someone had hurt him that deeply and that there was nothing I could do to take away that pain. So I just prayed with him and cried with him and held him.

It was so amazing to me that he had been dealing with this baggage all week long, and no one could tell. He was fun and upbeat. The kids had a blast with him. He didn't let it interfere once. I didn't understand how he was able to do it. I wanted to be like him. I envied his strength and determination. He was a great guy and had a great future ahead of him. He had just graduated high school and had plans to attend college in the fall. He told me once he wanted to be the first honest president. Yep, he even sounded like a politician—making promises he couldn't keep. I knew things would probably end again for us when he left for college. I knew this happy phase we had going on wasn't going to last long, but I didn't care. I loved him and all of his obnoxious qualities. I was not going to think of anything but the moment and that's exactly what I was doing the night of that wedding. I just sat there and listened to that song and thought of how blissfully happy he made me at that moment. I didn't think about the past two tumultuous years or the possibility of a gloomy future for us.

That next morning after the wedding was just like every Sunday morning. Grandma was in town visiting and after church she took me shopping for some clothes for church camp the following week. We knew something had happened when we arrived at church for the evening service and my parents weren't there. We hurried home and after seeing my mom's pale white face I immediately thought it was one of my grandparents. Then my dad pulled me aside into the living room and sat me on the couch next to him. I thought it was odd that he didn't include my sisters so I pulled on their hands to include them. My dad wrapped his arms around me so tight. I remember not being able to breath, he was holding me so hard. The only other thing I remember hearing was the next words: “Andy's gone to be with Jesus.” My whole world fell apart at that moment. In my sixteen years of life so far, I had never, ever experienced a pain as intense as I felt at that moment.

It was June 28, 1998. Two years exactly after that bus ride home from camp. He had gone jet skiing with a group from the church. It was one of his show-off tricks gone bad. He was hit by another jet ski and died on impact. He was only eighteen. I remember thinking how ridiculous it was that God took him. He had such great potential. I thought it was so stupid that God took him and not me. I didn't have anything to offer the world like Andy did. It took me awhile to realize that at least I have his story, and I can share that. That's the least I can do for him. Then my dad told me at one point that some people live their life like a candle—its a long, slow burn. But then there are some who's lives are like fireworks. Their lives are short, but they make a big impact. Andy was one of those. I know he at least made an impact on my life.

He had led a total of seventy-five kids to Christ during the mission trips. The day of his funeral, we packed the church with over four hundred people. Forty came to know Christ that day. I know of a few more who's lives were changed who never even had the opportunity to know him, but heard his story. He wasn't anyone special. I know there were times when I built him up into something he wasn't, then I just remembered all the annoying things he did. He was obnoxious and said “basically” way too many times. He loved kissing girls. I remember the week after the funeral, we were at camp and all the girls were in a circle with me. They all admitted to kissing him at least once except my best friend. Then she even admitted he tried. At least she was loyal haha. He was a normal, typical eighteen year old. He wasn't the best boyfriend or friend. He had a lot of baggage. But the fact remains, I was his biggest fan and I think in many ways I always will be.

all about me...

I'm in Philadelphia with my most of my family and I'm continually reminded of how good I have it. God has just blessed in so many ways. Not everyone has it as good as I do. I saw a few homeless people set up outside of South Station in Boston on Saturday when Jess and I were leaving for Philly. Last night, a woman at my parent's church mentioned seeing a man with a tent pitched off the side of the highway. A friend of mine lost her mother this summer after a long battle to illness. Another friend may be spending her last Christmas with her father. This will be our first Christmas without my grandfather who died of cancer in July. I know of children who have parents in prison or rehab and won't have their presence this Christmas.

So many people are hurting this Christmas. When I consider this and compare it to my own insignificant complaints, I am humbled. There are times when I consider my “trials” to be so rough and  almost unbearable then I see others who are going through worse and having such a better outlook than I do. I can be such a selfish person. It amazes me that God still wants anything to do with me when I consider how much time I spend on myself and not on others.

Just think of how much time we spend on ourselves at Christmas time. I realized that even when I buy presents for others I think about what I can get out of it. Maybe its a present for Jessica who I live across the hall from nine months out of the year. I can borrow it whenever I want. Or maybe its a present for my mom. I want praise for doing such a good job in selecting a gift. Or recognition for  being the most “thoughtful.” Or heaven forbid I actually spend more than what I get in presents. The problem is it all still surrounds me. That goes against everything Christ exemplifies for the life of a Christian, and goes against the whole purpose of Christmas.

Christmas is about remembering what God has done in gifting us with the most unbelievable Gift ever given to someone so undeserving. It is about the birth of Jesus Christ, the Messiah. The One who thirty years later presented Himself as a blood sacrifice for payment of my sins. It's not about me, but all about Him. And what He is all about is them...those who are hurting and broken. So what can I do for them this Christmas?