Yearning To Breathe Free

"Give me your tired, your poor

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

I know I'm not the only one who went to bed the other night with a heavy heart and tears brimming in my eyes after seeing the heart wrenching picture of a little Syrian boy, laying as though sleeping, washed up from the sea. His short life and tragic death have issued a wake up call to the world on the horrific and desperate plight of the Syrian people.

As a Christian, I'm well aware of the tensions and arguments within my faith.  We disagree with each other on evolution and gay marriage and the specifics of how you should be baptized, and plenty of other things. But if there is anything that we have no room to disagree on, it's how God demands we treat the vulnerable.  Throughout old and new testaments in the Bible there is a clear ultimatum that we are to care for the poor, the stranger, the orphan and the widow (society's most vulnerable). And Jesus tells us if we don't love these people, we never loved him. Period.

"Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' Then they also will answer saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you? Then he will answer them, saying, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."

Matthew 25: 41-45

I was deeply bothered by news stories a while back of our fellow country men protesting the refugees on our southern borders, fleeing the violence in Latin America.  As Americans there is plenty we disagree on - but we shouldn't disagree on this. If there is one thing America is, it is a land of refugees.  In my family my ancestors came here fleeing famine. In my husband's family they came fleeing religious persecution.  I am the offspring of refugees. And there's a good chance you are too.  America is that place people come looking for hope, looking for escape, looking for a chance to live, to breathe free.  If there is a story that should resonate with us as a people, it should be the story of the refugee.

So don't look away.  Maybe we can't change the circumstances that are perpetuating this great humanitarian crisis, but there are things we can do.  Locally, World Vision (wvi.org) is working tirelessly on behalf of Syrian children. You can sign a petition for Syrian refugees to be resettled in the U.S.   https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/authorize-and-resettle-syrian-refugees-us.  You can shop - a friend of ours is donating all the proceeds of his photography sales to the crisis (http://www.kurtrahncreative.com/blog/buy-art-help-syrian-refugee).  We can care and learn more about how to support and befriend refugees arriving in our communities, wherever they may be from.  World concern is one great organization set up to aid refugees arriving locally in the Seattle area.  Just don't look away. As Americans, to harden our hearts to these people is to deny our own heritage.  As Christians, it's to deny Jesus himself.  So let's lift our lamps.

Tunnel Vision

Tunnel vision. All you can see is what's directly in front of you - everything in the periphery, no matter how important, is merely a blur.  Tunnel vision is a common plague for new nurses. You are so new, and overwhelmed, and unexperienced, and a little bit terrified, that sometimes all you are able to focus on is the basic tasks. Everything else, no matter how important, blurs uselessly in the periphery. When I first started nursing I had a serious case of tunnel vision. I knew all the basic tasks I needed to accomplish in a shift, and I could just scrape by... as long as I wasn't thrown any curve balls.  One distinct memory took place my first year working on a medical unit, while delivering my morning medications. I brought in a gentleman's medications, only to find him in the shower, hospital gown half on, trapped by the IV wires running from his arm to his IV pole, covered extensively in feces.  The poor man had his full faculties but a bad case of a C-Diff infection, which can cause sudden and explosive diarrhea. So here he was, standing exposed and humiliated, obviously and awkwardly trying to salvage his dignity, and what did I do? I held out my little cup of medications and a cup of water so he could take them.  Right there, in the shower, feces and dignity slipping down the drain with the running water.  My overwhelmed little nursey mind just couldn't detour around needing to deliver my medications in that fragile 1/2 hour window.  His expression certainly followed me home that night.

Tunnel vision can have more dangerous implications.  It can blind you to those subtle clues that your patient's condition is deteriorating. You can fail to prioritize vital tasks over trivial ones. You can have a hard time thinking in terms of "this is important, this can wait," as you brain just does a "task task task" kind of a hopscotch.  One of the few cures for tunnel vision is experience.  As you gain comfort and then competence in your role and your sense of being overwhelmed diminishes, suddenly the light expands and you can see so much you didn't see before.

I think this condition can befall us in our every day existence as well.  I've noticed it crop up in my parenting.  There are so many day to day tasks to push through every day, that sometimes all I can see is cooking, laundry, muddy footprints, messy rooms, empty fridge, and I can easily forget the things I actually want to accomplish with my kids. The things I want to teach them, the atmosphere of joy and love I want to facilitate.   What will matter more later? That I always kept the house clean but I was often irritable? Or that I was generally joyful and kind, even when someone decided randomly to pee in the trash can instead of the adjoining toilet? (Oh you little boys...) In the first story of my patient in the shower, it was more important for me to quickly and graciously help my patient through his embarrassing circumstances than for me to get my medications checked off on time, but in the moment I couldn't see it. And too many times in those other moments of my life, I can't see the forest for the trees.

In nursing, when things get overwhelming (as they generally do) we have to teach ourselves to take a step back and ask, "what is most important here?" We have to teach ourselves to begin to be able to look for that big picture, not losing vital clues and fragile moments in the fray of our busyness. In life, in parenting, it's equally important when things get overwhelming (as they generally do), to teach ourselves the same thing. Take a step back. Ask yourself what is most important here, and what can I let slip this time? Because timely medication delivery is only important to a certain point. A clean house is only important to a certain point. But there's generally a bigger picture in play, and if we don't stop ourselves we will probably miss it.

A Word to the 'Persecuted': Jesus and Bakers

With the story in the news of the Christian bakers losing their business over refusing to bake a cake for a gay wedding, and the subsequent wave of cries of 'persecution!' from much of the Christian right, I thought we could all stand to remember a few words of Jesus...

"But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to do you, do so to them.

"If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful."  Luke 6:27-36

It is very American to worry about the protection of our rights and freedoms, but perhaps it isn't very Christian. Perhaps the Christian response shouldn't be outrage on social media and a shrill demanding of rights.... but maybe love? Prayer? Blessing?  When Jesus was stripped of everything in the face of jealousy and false accusations, he didn't yell "that's not fair!" He cried "Father, forgive them."

I'm not making a statement on whether or not they should have baked the cake or whether or not they deserved the lawsuit, but if you think you're being persecuted for your Christianity and your response isn't Christ-like - maybe a little reflection is necessary.

Doorway of the Deep



I read this book a while back about free diving and ocean research. It was fascinating. Free diving is when (after LOTS of training) you take to the ocean with no scuba gear, no oxygen, and dive as deep as you can for as long as you can.  Apparently at about 40 feet down you reach what divers call 'the doorway of the deep' - a depth at which the pressure of the water overcomes the natural buoyancy of your body and instead of having to kick yourself down you become completely still and the ocean begins to draw you in. The author likened the experience to a giant hand enveloping you and drawing you deeper.


I found that description to be a beautiful analogy of worship. We come to God with our efforts and strengths, but they can only take us so far. At some point we become still, surrendering ourselves, and find that we are being enveloped and drawn deeper into God.


These musings became a song, but since the voice of a songbird is not one of my giftings, I'll spare you any recordings, and just share the lyrics. May we all be drawn deeper into the vast and ultimate reality.


Take me to the doorway of the deep
Further than my strength can carry me -
Where I feel the ocean of your love enveloping
and drawing me deeper... deeper.



How shallowly we've plumbed your mysteries
Believing all there is is what we see.
But you are vast and terrifying
And You're calling us deeper... deeper.



Deeper than our understanding
Deeper than our fears.
Deeper than our strengths and failures
Deeper than our tears.

Deeper... come deeper.



Stripped of all we use to make believe
Awaken us to Your reality.
For surrendered to Your Spirit we are free
Free to go deeper... Deeper.


Deeper than our understanding
Deeper than our fears.
Deeper than our strengths and failures
Deeper than our tears.

Deeper... come deeper.

House of Mourning





A young man my husband works with passed away recently, his candle extinguished by a swift wind of cancer. As my husband and some co workers headed to his funeral, an ancient proverb kept coming to my mind:

"It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of feasting,

 for death is the destiny of every man;

the living should take this to heart."

 Ecclesiastes 7:2  

We humans spend a lot of our time trying not to think about death. There is nothing more certain in our lives than the fact that they'll end, but sitting and contemplating it is uncomfortable at its best and terrifying at its worst.  We might glance at it briefly from the corner of our eye, or give it a quick nod of acknowledgement, but sitting and staring into its eyes is not on many of our to do lists.  Because lets face it. Death is scary.

But we are all going to die.  Why is it important to take that to heart? Why not push it aside and press on with our lives with some degree of happy denial? Well there's the "carpe diem" approach, popularized in the Dead Poet's Society. "Make your lives extraordinary".  Seize today. Make every moment count.  I'm not dismissing the carpe diem philosophers, but the fact is that life is necessarily full of lots of mundane.  If I really wanted to seize today I would not do laundry.  I could proclaim to myself, "life is too short to do laundry!" but at some point I would need clean clothes. And so would my kids.  We can't avoid spending some of the precious currency of our lives on minutia.

We need to sit down with ourselves and seriously consider our mortality.  We are so busy with our day to day tasks and obligations, and when we finally reach the end of our day, we don't sit and contemplate, we distract and entertain ourselves. We fill any potentially revealing silence with music and stories and drowning out thoughts that could make us uncomfortable.

I can't think of anything more important than really contemplating and searching and deciding what you believe about this life, because what you believe in your core affects how you live.  How you prioritize. If you decide you believe there is a God, don't keep distracting yourself from asking what that means. What that means for your life, for how you should live, for how you should respond.  Because you are going to die.  Think about the immensity of what God must be to be real. What if the ultimate Reality, the Answer to all our questions and the Fulfillment of all our deepest longings said, "I'm here. But you'll only know that if you're willing to look for me." And what if our response was, meh. What's on tv?

You are going to die. Ask the big questions. Really ask them, don't just muse over them in passing. What is this life about?? Survival? Pleasure? God? Nothing? Ask and keep asking, search and keep searching, knock and keep knocking.

The world has successful, beautiful people who seized the day and made their lives extraordinary, but were still met with depression and despair. As a wise woman at my church has said, It is not enough to seize the day. You have to seize the right thing.

You are going to die. Find out what that is.

A Woman Named Anet

In my life I have been blessed to have two incredible female role models- my mother and my paternal grandmother. I have much to say about my beautiful mother, but this one is for my grandma, who is waltzing right into her 80s this month. Or maybe she's doing the fox trot... Either way.

As a child my grandma, Anet, lost her own mother to a dislodged blood clot after the birth of her little sister.  In the wake of her death and other past tragedies, her father found himself unable to
love her and her siblings in any meaningful way beyond providing for their basic needs of food,
clothing, and shelter. A stepmom later showed some initial promise for motherly love, but grew cold and disinterested in her stepchildren when her own first child was born. This void of parental affection was filled in part by my grandma'a grandfather, Alexander - a man of character, compassion, and unusual generosity. Alexander kept my grandmother's father from putting her and her siblings up for adoption and then helped to take care of them after their mother's death.

Grandma used to tell us a story about Alexander from the time shortly following Pearl Harbor. A dark side of American history during this time was the rounding up of Japanese citizens to take to holding camps, where they would spending several years and then emerge with nothing.  Alexander had Japanese neighbors, and upon discovering a bus had come for them firmly planted himself in front of the bus, appealing to anyone who would listen. No one did, and he was dragged away by his own humiliated son. My grandma, however, had never been so proud.  I imagine this man is where she got her spirit.


Grandma Anet would meet her future husband of 50 plus years and counting in University. One of their stories involves a Sadie Hawkins dance where the girl has to catch the boy she wants to take to the dance.  Grandma chased grandpa and he climbed up a flagpole and wouldn't come down. Perhaps he thought he was being playful and charming.  Or maybe he thought she'd punch him out for being so hard to get like he saw her punch out some guy heckling her and the other cheerleaders at a game. At any rate, she caught him eventually in one sense or another and they later got married.

My grandma was a committed Christian however, and my grandpa anything but. Though he was,
she says, the most moral man she knew - being determined not to follow in the footsteps of his
abusive and immoral father and well intending but troubled mother.  Despite his hostility towards Christianity, my grandfather later converted - completely and dramatically. His encounter with Christ turned him inside out, erasing over night long and deeply held fear, hatred, and prejudice, giving him a new freedom, a new identity, and a new purpose in life.

My grandma was thrilled with his conversion, something she had been hoping and praying for all along. However, she soon found that he was being a bit more extreme in his new found faith than she was comfortable with. He was ready to test and try everything taught by Christ and his apostles and see what happened. The most poignant story that captures this is a story about milk.  It was the end of the month and the little they had left of my grandpas paycheck was just enough to buy milk for their small children.  They were on their way to church, and feeling a little concerned about Grandpa's new propensity to give away their money in the offering plate, Grandma made sure to mention several times that they needed to buy milk on the way home. Grandpa muttered something noncommittal which only unsettled her more. Sure enough, the offering plate was passed, and she witnessed with a sinking stomach and surging anger the last of their money pass by with the rest of the offering.

At home Grandma let him have it.  How could he? They didn't even have milk for the kids! Their fridge was empty! With a flare of drama she threw open the fridge door for effect. But instead of revealing an empty fridge that proved her point, she found a fridge stocked from top to bottom with school sized cartons of milk.  A milkman they hardly knew had randomly driven through their neighborhood while they were at church and on whim unloaded the surplus cartons of milk in their fridge when he saw they weren't home. Grandma was speechless, Grandpa was ecstatic. From that time on, my grandma told me, she knew she could trust God.

And trust Him she has.  My grandparent's adventures in faith would take them to hippie communes to Hopi reservations to the founding of a little ministry that has become a big ministry called Faith Comes By Hearing.  My grandma raised four kids, three of whom were rowdy and rambunctious boys who would later join them in ministry.  When her time raising kids was done, she put her heart into whatever task God put before her.  In her 50s she began traveling internationally, setting up recording studios sometimes out in the bush of Africa, helping record the Word of God in the native languages of people all over the world. She slept in tents in Botswana, travelled independently around Egypt and spoke often about Russia. Through her courage and independence, her willingness and dedication to the God she could trust, my grandma has made her mark on this world. And she's not done yet. 

A while back Grandma sent me an email that included the line, " Get your running shoes on, there's a race to run". 8 decades into her life and Anet is still running. And I imagine she'll go right on running across the finish line, being greeted on the other side by cheers and high fives from the great cloud of witnesses. Or maybe she'll do the fox trot. Either way.

Worthy

What would it feel like to live life without feeling the need to prove your significance? Because don't we all feel it? That nagging need to feel important, to have our value affirmed by the people around us... Isn't that where comparison and jealousy and pride come from?  If my value is based on my appearance or my abilities and there is someone nearby that surpasses me or that I feel I surpass, they become a measuring stick of my realitive worth.Without even realizing it, so much of what we do is at some deep level motivated by our need to feel like we matter. We all chase it in different ways. Maybe if we are beautiful we feel valuable, maybe wealth or status make us feel important, maybe our work, maybe romance, maybe our art, maybe our causes, maybe even crime.

I'll be honest here. The primary way I've chased significance in my own life is altruism and religion. If I can do a lot of good, maybe that means I matter. If I give away my money, if I volunteer with the homeless, if I take care of the sick and help save peoples lives, if I volunteer at church, etc etc.... Maybe just maybe I matter.

But what if.  What if instead of pursuing significance through who we are and what we do- what if discovering the actuality of our value instead released us to be who we are and do what we love without comparison, without jealousy, without pride. Doesn't that sound like freedom? I don't have to become worthwhile, I am worthwhile and in that knowledge I can run unfettered.

Now this is where worldview matters. Because whether or not I am intrinsically valuable is dependent on my origin. If I am a product of chance and nature alone, my value comes from being valued by other people or by what I have to offer. Gold is only "valuable" because we value it, because we have a use for it or because we want it. It can't really be different for people. If there is no Intention behind the universe, than I have no choice but to pursue my worth through my relationships, looks, or talents. I will never be free, and if any of these fail me- if my husband leaves, or my friends get worn out, if my body gets crippled and I can no longer contribute, than my relative worth will be pulled out from under me like a rug.

Love, I believe, is the ultimate conveyer of significance. Nothing makes us feel like we matter more than having someone who's opinion we value love us completely.  If there is a God, which I'm convinced there is, and if that God loves you- than you are completely and intrinsically valuable. If the ultimate Opinion has deemed me worthwhile no matter what, then I am. And instead of chasing this allusive sense of meaning and importance, I can rest. I can rest in my set identity. And instead of chasing people's opinions and affirmations or even my own, that unchanging and steadfast love can set me free to serve out of love alone and not just a quest for importance. I can live a meaningful life not to earn significance but because I am significant. And this is the beauty of the Christian story.  Here there is no place for pride and no place for low self esteem, and if you really believe it, it will change your life. The Truth of God's steadfast love for you will set you free.