For those wondering if I’m still stuck between Vegas and Angeles, fear not—I have made it to LA! For the time being, I’m staying with the Rulec’s, an INCREDIBLE family who lives in Arcadia. And call it “pie in the sky’ish,” but I can honestly say the week has unfolded quite seamlessly. Having lived abroad a few times, the fact that everything is in English and everyone has been so gracious, makes the degree of change quite undramatic. So much so, in fact, that I can already see how a God-less life is do-able and certainly the norm here, making continual petitions for recognized heart voidancies a must!

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Anyway, more updates to come, but for now, I’ll leave you with this quote from the NY Times this morning. It struck me as quite profound, especially in light of Paul’s words to Philppi read just minutes before.

“The body’s a downer, especially for boomers. If the body doesn’t have to be there, it frees us up to do what we want.” Mark Duffey, who offers a funeral concierge service, on the trend toward cremation.

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your joy in Christ Jesus will overflow on account of me.” Philippians 1:21-26

It was that point in the afternoon when muscles are cranky and fatigue starts to complain. I stopped to ask a St. George (Utah) local about a rejuvenating hike. “Red Cooper Cove, hands down,” he said. “It’s challenging, breathtaking and void of tourists.” I was sold.

The hike began as any typical one, though I’m not sure how typical one could ever consider America’s west. Grandiose mountains sharpened the horizon, while mid-sized structures shaped my foreground. The path was rough, clearly unengaged by the masses, and the earth’s heat permeated my shoes.

Little mileage found me in hand’s reach of the rocks, hiking through canyon classrooms and sand-filled crevices. A more risky portion (mom, don’t read this) found me clinging to uneven walls and edging above a hefty fall, which I hoped grounded deep water. With rich breaths and a racing heartbeat, I entered into a hollowed canyon. Rounding the corner, I was washed into perfection. Pure, uncanny perfection. Rock walls reached as I high as I could see, and sunbeams decorated a sparkling pool before me.

The most astounding thing, however, was what I “heard.” Or didn’t hear, rather. The canyon’ed cove enveloped me into a surreal state of presence. Empty presence, but blissfully full, too.

It was silent.

Library silence is one thing. Being underwater is another. But this experience birthed a new dimension. Nature’s symphony had taken the stage—and I was in the front row. Movement was paralyzed, as this Stranger enticed me. The longer I sat, the more I heard; the more I muted, the louder silence spoke. My breath was the first sound, followed by a swallow, mimicking an abrupt crash of waves. Wind sung of thunder and rock clovers whispered with each neighboring rub. Flies tap-danced along the waters edge, while wind skated over the glistening pool. Even the rocks spoke with a pride unsurpassed. I felt like a child, invincibly held by Creation, itself.

Before long, dusk made her entrance and my paradise had to end. I hiked down to the land of the living, where a car engine roared and the best of CDs sounded numbingly trite. In those few short hours, it seemed that the world hadn’t changed, but in some way, I was convinced that mine had.

Silence is Peace and peace is what we were made for. Go out and find it today.

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(On a less story’ish note, I trekked through Colorado and Utah yesterday, plus a few minutes of Arizona and Nevada. Majestic mountains, glorious caves and exquisite canyons—including the Grand one, herself. Post-hike adrenaline coerced me into two more hours of driving, ending my day in Las Vegas. Five’ish hours today and I’ll be home. One exhilarating journey’s end, with another one ready to begin.)

"Three's the charmer," right? Not when it's your THIRD viewing of a three-hour span of a forty plus hour drive!!! Yea, smarty hear left her computer bag and wallet in a small town outside of Vail, Colorado...but didn't figure it out until Grand Junction...which is THREE HOURS WEST! So today's meant-to-be six-hour drive increased to a twelve-hour one. BLAH. The irony was, I wrote my sister this morning saying, "I'm thrilled about arriving in LA tomorrow (Wednesday was my slated arrival...now it'll be Thursday), but in many ways wish this driving could keep going. I've had a brilliant journey thus far and find new amazement with each rounded corner." Can we say, PROPHECY GONE BAD!

Anyway, enough about my rough latter half of the day. Driving across Kansas yesterday was amazing, as was my weekend at the International House of Prayer, with the dear Cataldo family. An intense experinece, filled with fellowship, seminars, services and prayer-room-attendance...all uniquely focused on intimacy with God and the end-times, two topics which thoroughly fascinate me (more so, after the weekend). All the thought and new revelation didn't exactly find me rested, at least in the sense I was expecting, but it provided fresh and refreshed knowledges of our King, to which I'm at a loss for anything greater.

The flatlands were beautiful yesterday and the literal "arrival" of snow-capped mountains this morning was quite astounding. Clear reminder that God is not boring, predictable, or consistent, but rather, creative, adventurous and wildly random. Funny how those adjectives paint themselves so obviously on the landscape, but challenge my acceptance in my day-to-day living (jobs, housing, finances, relationships, etc.).

Alright, to bed I must go. A good bit of Colorado and Utah tomorrow...then Nevada and Cali Thursday (assuming we don't have any lost luggage). Will keep you posted.

Much Love to YOU tonight.

abbie

It’s the familiar that grips me today; it’s the familiar that makes me feel at home.

What is familiar to me is comforting. It’s comfortable and conforms my humanity to a state of 'being.' Whether it’s being with those whom I know, or being with that which knows me, familiarity holds me in peace. But if such is the case, what lies in the unfamiliar? What stirs in the uncomfortable and unconformed place staring at my headlights?

Come TOMORROW, I will approach a new Destiny of sorts, Manifest by the western coast of the United States of America. I will leave the familiar, to lean on but the natural laws of the unfamiliar—change leads to progress, progress leverages growth, etc. From experience, I know that such a move will elicit challenge. But I also know that spending time with that challenge will elicit familiarity again. Maybe different looking, and maybe different feeling, but still in the brand of familiar.

Shifting to a lense less carnal, I’ve been forced to question the unfamiliars of God. Do dictations of familiarity rest in the spiritual realm, too? If so, what aspects of God are unfamiliar to me today? What spaces of His Being have lacked my explore? For lest I humanize a being unchanged, I must trust a path uncharted. But what then, will hold me in lasting peace?

Maybe it is He? Maybe it is One who transcends the road and the transforms the comfort? Maybe it is He who is my Familiar—here, in the “familiar” and there, in the “unfamiliar.”

It’s the Familiar that grips me today; it’s the Familiar that makes me feel at home.

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(Simplified version: “I am moving to California tomorrow. Am I scared? Yes. Am I psyched? More so than ever. In spite of my whereabouts, God remains familiar.”)

I apologize for the lacking posts...it's been a WHIRLWIND of days. This weekend I was able to spend time with the graduating high-schoolers at Roswell United Methodist Church. What an amazing group! After speaking there, I hopped in the car and head to Panama City to share with North Point Community Church's graduates. SUCH a fun experience to live amongst some amazing freshman girls, while at the same time, enjoying some rays! :) Back to the ATL for a few hours and then headed to Rome, Georgia today to hang-out with Camp Winshape campers today. I AM TIRED, but pluggin' away and promising to get some thoughts up here soon. God is teaching me loads about stillness, beauty, tensions between grace/truth, relevance/Christ. I'm reading Galatians these days, too, which can't help but bring a load of challenging thought to our culutural views. For now, have a peaceful evening and I'll look forward to touching base soon!
Love, abbie

P.S. I had what might have been my most traumatic experience yesterday morning. In the middle of a LIVE radio interview in my hotel-room, HOUSE-KEEPING walked in. And when I say "walked-in," I mean a loud, door-bell laden, long-sounding entrance...funny now, but NOT THEN!!! I think you can hear it at www.wwjc.com.

In his heart a man determines his course, but the Lord determines his steps.
Proverbs 16:9

Our culture is consumed by destinations. We’re driven by outcomes and dominated by getting there, verses being here. But what I’m slowly realizing is that God’s driving passion breathes more deeply into the journey, than it does the destination. His unchanging purpose for our lives (Hebrews 6:17) is less concerned with where we ultimately go, as it is with the path we take in getting there. And specific to life’s decisions, God sees the process of our decision-making as far more important than the product of our eventual end.

Consider His Love: a journey that displays a process of falling, rather than a finality of being caught. Redemption: a lining of massively small points of beginning, into eternally sanctified products of end. And our lives are no different. Though birth and death try to outline life’s story, they actually just punctuate the sentence in between—the sentence that reads as true life. God calls Himself the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End (Revelation 1:8), so that whatever the decision, our perceived ends are actually just transitions into other willed beginnings.

God has endless desire for our decisions, and I long to see His handprints painting those destinations. But no handprint finds possibility without hundreds of smaller prints along the way. And the reality is, anything else offers an exhaustive search toward knowing an already known end. Because like it, or not, God’s will is going to prevail. Regardless of how much you work, pray, or prepare, His destination is going to out-destine yours.

So I think the challenge for us today is three-fold. It involves a submission—taking a backseat in navigating against an already found end. A trust—believing God in the growth aspects of this decision process, while knowing His hold on the eventual bloom. And finally, a surrender—detaching from the destination of this course and finding rest in the course of this eventual destination—one that is God’s anyway!

It's what I need. It's what I long for this morning.

Am I being outlandish? Completely. Counterintuitive to my daily pursuits? Utterly. But the truth of it is, I need to be weak. The Word of God is flooded with people, stories and examples of weakness. Endured weakness, failed weakness, transformed weakness and transforming weakness. And I’m going to make a bold statement here, but at the crux of Christianity lies a willing surrender to confess weakness.

I heard an incredible statement lately that won’t loose itself. “People will admire you for being strong, but they’ll love you for being weak.” That’s it! This is where my soul longs to rest. I have tried for so long to be strong. In fact, when I look at my life and my standard of living today, I strive for strength on a day-to-day basis. I covet admiration and affirmation from others. I long for people to see me as unshakable. Even from a spiritual standpoint, I long to be described with rock-solid faith. And although I say I dislike being the center of attention, something in me still craves being a source of attention. Bottom line, I fear failure. I fear being weak.

Man strives toward perfection, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve yet to meet any such source. God knows, I still fighting tooth and nail to see its fruition though. Being weak is my ticket to strength. It’s that willingness and that willing surrender, that draw me toward love—my deepest need. The love I crave is satisfied in realizing my neediness for it. And a man named Jesus Christ stepped-out of heaven to personify that need.

Our greatest understanding of Love rises from our greatest understandings of weakness apart from it. And our greatest strength toward knowing Jesus must be prefaced by a great willingness to know our weakness. “For when I am weak, then I am strong” 2 Corinthians 12:10.

The priorities of college students...a far cry from Jesus, but maybe Apple is better than Amstell Light??...http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/06/07/college.in.ap/index.html