I'm sure there will be more to say next week, but in the meantime, I wanted all Jubilee folks to know I've been praying for you and am expecting great things this weekend.  (No joke, you've been written with red lipstick on my bathroom mirror all month :)).  The weather in LA is currently about 75 degrees, and I'm guessing Pittsburg will be more like 30 or 40, but we'll have fun, regardless.  I've been carrying the message I'll be speaking-on for a number of months now, so it'll be a gift to share with you.  Hang-in there with studies this week and I'll look forward to seeing you Friday night!  PEACE. 

Was meeting a friend at *Peets* yesterday (i.e. home of the best tea/coffee'esque drink you’ll find anywhere.  For those who’ve worked at a coffee shop, you know soy doesn’t steam well.  Well, Peet apparently knew that, but still wanted his non-dairy audience to enjoy the blessing of lattes and machiatos, so ventured to create a special form of steamable soy!?  Who does that!?).  Anyway, headed-up early to see if I could find a good patch of woods to share some breaths with.  Eaton Canyon came to my rescue.  Wasn’t “The Grand,” by any means, but it did the trick.  Nature is medicine to me—a gift for my weak and tired soul.  Ocean speaks one language, while mountain speaks another.  And I can’t believe I live in a vicinity that invites me to hear both.  Yesterday found me wrapped in the arms of rock, shielded in the shadows of tree and soothed by the taste of silence.  It was beautiful.  And again, life to my weary soul.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. Colossians 1:15-20  

God has been teaching me a lot about opening to His vastness—to His infinite personalities and personas.  The challenge is that doing so requires laying down a plethora of assumed and engrained personalities herein.  I expect Jesus to be one way—because in essence He is.  But He is also three ways, in one.  Three essences, in one.  One infinite essence, in three.  The Trinity in flesh, the Triune counselor in Spirit and triumphant Lord in God.  One in three, three in one.  Try swallowing that, or just go stand in a canyon and let it swallow you.  And then go to Peets.

Odd coincidence of posting the last three Thursdays.  Weird.  Anyway, grateful for the some thoughts from psychologist, Carl Jung this week.

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
...
"The least of things with a meaning is worth more than the greatest of things without it." 
...
"Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates, love is lacking.  The one is the shadow of the other."
...
Hoping you're well tonight.
PEACE.
Abbie

How much can the heart take? 
When one man’s battle is another man’s breeze, where is the level to which one can hurt?  Or what is the liberty to which one should help?  Where is the level to which one can guard
his “wellspring of life?”
Or what is the end to which one should unguard
his journey of life?

If you put yourself out there, you put yourself out there. 
   You put yourself in the space.  
                             The space between known and unknown.  
                             The space between seen and unseen.  
When
   you put yourself out there,
   you put yourself into nakedness.  
                       Into the space where shame hides.     Or hollers. 
                                             Where freedom hides.  Or hollers.

Love wants to be one-sided. 
But it’s two. 
You can have my glory,
but there’s a cost at stake, too.  
Love wants to be easy.        
But it’s hard.
You can have my romance,
but there’s a journey standing guard.  

How much can the heart take?

What if there was a canvas  
that was finished.  
And what if the artist of that canvas
showed it to a viewer.
“Wow,” the viewer might say.  “That’s stunning.”
“Thank you…that really means a lot,” the artist might humbly respond.

Turning to the piece, however, he shares a chuckling, questioning, coveting of sorts. “How can he call you stunning, having viewed you only so briefly?  And with such brief understanding, relative to what we’ve shared?”  

“What if though,” the canvas replied, “he could actually see something stunning, despite limited perspective of our whole?”  
What if stunning could be found in a color, curve, or even corner of us—versus seeing the whole of our final masterpiece?”

What if part was enough to stun today?
What if stunning was enough to fully realize part?

What if there was a canvas
that was finished.
And the artist could see the stunning whole, but the viewer could only see part.
And yet what if that part could be called stunning
and in many ways
whole.

“What if,” said the artist to the viewer.   

The following is an email that has spurred my days since receiving it early last fall.  Being a Christian in America has its challenges, but being a Christian from/in the Middle East has a world of its own.  Tarun (Kumar Chawla, for the full coolness of the name) is a student from Penn State whose become a dear friend and brother since meeting at a conference almost a year ago.  His life is a continual encouragement and challenge to mine and leads me to pray for us, entering this new year, that we’d pursue lives worthy of their cost and willing in their capacities.  Cheers to you in 2008!  as

***

Dear Abbie!
Hope everything is going great with you.
So my summer was pretty crazy.
I was baptized on 12th May and my flight back home was on the 14th. I called me mom up a week before I was flying back and this is how the conversation went:
mama: you sound different these days..for the past 2 months i think
me: ya
mama: are you dating someone?
me: mmm..nope
mama: who or what is it then?
me: he's a man
mama: what?
me: not a man but a man, God
mama: uh
me: Jesus
(long pause)
mama: so you are telling me that you are Christian
me: yup!
mama: we will talk when you get here.
me: sounds good.
So ya. I took me everything (almost) to say that to my mommy. I can say that my mother is my real best friend and I cannot hide anything from her. Usually I say things to her directly but this was a little awkward.
When I was baptized, that feeling of being WHOLE took over me. I was complete and I still am, forever. The Holy Spirit in me did things I could never imagine doable.
After a stop in London we flew from London to Dubai and during the flight I was waiting to use to the Bathroom. This man in front of me looks at my Penn State Jeresy this is how the conversation goes.
man: I am class of '74
me: speechless
man: all my daughters and sons went and go to PSU
me: small world uh?
man (looks at my cross): which church you go to?
me: i haven't found one yet.
me: I was baptized 2 days ago and became a Christian 3 months ago.
man: great!
Then he gives writes me a couple of people whom I could contact and talk to about Church and Christian groups on campus. Then he said he'd pray for me that everything goes good with my family about me being Christian.
So I reach home and my family was there at the Airport. I hug them and my mama looks at the cross I am wearing and she didn't say anything (really awkward moment). A couple days later my parents take me to the local Hindu temple (I still wore the cross) and there's this long line of people worshiping something. I don't know what. The stone idols? I was like I worship in unimaginable true God. I give the money to the Pandit (Hindu Priest) without bowing kneeling to the statues. My mama notices me not doing anything on what was traditionally done in "worship". We get back my mom comes over to the bedroom and she asks me about what I told her over the phone. I was like yea, ask me. So the conversation went on and my mom started balling. Dad comes over to the room and they both say that "I have rejected them". I was speechless. I asked why and what they meant by that? They went on by saying how changing religions means that I have totally made no sense of what my parents did for me and how I have disgraced my families name by rejecting Hinduism. My dad went on saying how I wanted to prove something when I was wearing the cross at the temple. I had no idea what was going on.
I asked them, so its about the family? and where is God in all this? Then they started making up things like how I wanted to adjust between friends in the U.S and wanted to be like them and no different. Also, that I was brain-washed. When I heard this coming from my parents, I was blown away. I have no idea how this could even come from them. Such not-my-family thoughts. I had no idea how I should have responded. The whole room was running with wild emotions. My sisters emotions and answers to my parents questions didn't help me at all. She was dragged into the conversation by asking "would you ever change your religion, Renuka?". She obviously said "no". I was being attacked by my parents for the first time and I have no clue what and how should I be responding to the situation like.
Then I told my parents how I didn't believe in any religions and it's a not what God wants from us. My dad asks me "what religion are you?". I said "nothing". My dad made my momma and sister believe that I was brain-washed and how I was not the same anymore and not their son anymore. I just let it go for a couple of days.
My called my mom over and my sister was near by too. I explained to her how I was saved and how God had this plan for me on how I would come to Him some day. She had NO idea what I was talking about. Then that made me think about how my momma is all into this religion stuff and has no clue who God really is. I started all over again and it came to Jubilee and I your name came up and I said how your story has been an inspiration for me. She got bits and pieces of it but I told her how you had to experience it understand it and feel it. I said I worship the God who has bought me to life again. That was it for her. She has NO idea where I was going with it. My sister seemed anxious and my momma left for bed and I took the bible out and asked my sister to read the book of Matthew. She being a anxious reader and a book-worm, read the book of Matthew as if it was a new Harry Potter release. I was like so what you think? She said what do you mean? I said whatever she read was real and it happened. It didn't really mean anything to her. I think her brain's full of wands, wizards and witches.
God had plans for me this summer. I wanted to be a Christian on fire. I started reading (for the first time). I read "Just like Jesus" by Max Lucado in about 2 weeks haha then I was like this makes real sense. God was calling me to be just like Jesus. Then I read his second book "A Love Worth Giving" and that took me about 4 weeks to complete :).  Sometime or the other the Christian thing came up and it annoyed me at times but I was like i’ll let my parents see it the way I live my life now. They actually did. I think that was the only way they could really see my change. I don't know how this works but mommy's can see their kids change and when its good, they accept me. My mom accepted me as a Christian. But my dad, thats a totally different story. He a great man but without God being in a great person's life, that greatness means nothing.
This may sound weird but I felt God was calling me to love like Jesus. I was like WHOA. How is that possible? I kept in touch with some friends back at school and I used to write to them on how my summer was coming along. You know, good Christian friends. Our friendships grew stronger and I was like these are the people I really Love. I flew back to PA (being constantly being  reminded by my parents how I should make Indian friends and go to the Hindu worship with them) and I couldn't wait to see my friends again. School began and we hung out and I was like these are my true friends who love me. I compared their love to Jesus' love for me/us. And this is one thing that God has taught me, unconditional love. He has called my name to do amazing things through me. And I can't get over that reality.
I still have soo much to say but I think I can keep some for later.  I so can't wait to sit and just talk to you about ALLLLL the crazy things our AWESOME AWESOME God is doing in my life and other people's lives.
Peace and in Christ forever and ever and ever,
Tarun

Jesus was born here. 
Meaning he deliberately stepped-out of heaven.
Decidedly chose to be a child. 
A baby. 
A life who needed to be cared for. 
A love who wanted to live.
What humility.
What humanity.
And for the one ultimately (and originally) called our Savior.
Our God. 
Our King. 
What a story we’ve been invited into.
What an invitation we’ve been sent.
What a miracle.
What a mystery.
What a man. 

I was walking with friend in Hermosa Beach this weekend.  We decided sipping coffee while watching surfers would be fun (it’s a tough life in southern California), so ascended a hill toward the best java-joint of choice, i.e. Peets, as a family on bikes was noticed as coming toward us.  At first glance they looked like the happy little clan, out for a morning ride.  But in closer observance, the youngest boy had a stench of fear in his eyes, as well as increasingly velocity in his wheels.  He’d lost control and was going downhill fast—literally.  His training wheels were tottering back and forth, swinging his fragile body to dangerous degrees.  “Daaaddddy, I can’t stop,” he screamed, as my friend and I went breathlessly numb.  Mom and Dad were on bikes, too, so were of no help but terrifying stares of horror.  He had about ten yards till he crashed through us, and then about another ten before he hit a big intersection.  In what seemed like an hour-long pass of seconds though, his out-of-control wheels spun him into safety.  Spun him into a cinderblock wall.  Into a cement savior who’d come to his rescue.

Though the entrance wasn’t pretty, and rather quite abrupt, painful and bruising, little-boy-biker was alive.  His life had been spared.  By a wall.  By a boundary.  By a brick bordering otherwise known as hard and heartless.  This morning, however, these arms were soft and incredibly heartfelt.

They saw.  They protected.  They saved.

Maybe roadblocks are good.  Maybe walls aren’t always the worst of our predicament.

Stoic bricks on the outside, but sensitive points of saving when I scream, “Daddy, I can’t stop.”