Have you ever sent an email, text, or some other message you wished you could take back right after pushing “send”? A few months after college graduation I was getting my hair cut in Breckenridge, Colorado. The lady cutting my hair noticed I was reading The Gospel in a Pluralist Society by Leslie Newbigin.

Figuring I might know a little about theology, she asked if I could explain why there was so much evil in the world. Since I had just taken a class on apologetics, I decided to tell her everything I knew about why God might allow evil. Every time she had a question, I had a quick retort.

From my perspective the conversation was going great. But all of a sudden she started crying and said, “This is a bunch of &$%! You have an answer for everything. It can’t be that easy.” I was completely taken aback. This made me a bit nervous, especially since she was holding scissors next to my head! 

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There is one more story I’d like to share as I end the series on life lessons learned while living overseas. It’s another one from Russia but it’s a special one engrained in my heart.

The Russian town I lived in was small by Russian standards, only about 100,000 people. There was one small and very old hospital. The previous year I had an emergency appendectomy there and soon realized there is not much to do during the day. No televisions, no food service, nothing – just some radios that didn’t work that well. Visitors were greatly treasured.

A teammate and I began weekly visits with the patients in the women’s ward. The women on this ward were in the hospital for 4 weeks. Needless to say they were eager to talk with anyone who walked through the door.

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And so it has begun.

I am actually a huge World Cup fan, so if you’re looking for some good ol’ fashioned soccer trashing, you’ll have to go somewhere else. Not too many days ago, I heard a sports talk radio guy say that he didn’t like any sport where you have to “understand the intricacies” in order to appreciate it.

Heaven forbid we’ve got to think about our sports! After all, they’re supposed to be stress-relievers. (Dare you to make that argument to a soccer mom who’s on her ninth practice of the week, by the way!)

The fact is the good folks at FIFA and ESPN would like you to believe that sports—and especially the World Cup—go far beyond a little bit of stress relief. Soccer/football (a nod to those who know what the game is really called), they say, is capable of changing the world itself. The Cup will unite us and inspire us and cause all aspects of life to appear rosier in most every way. If I sound like I’m exaggerating, note that I am simply echoing what the TV and radio ads have been telling me for several weeks.

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"But when you were afraid of Nahash, the King of Ammon, you came to me (Samuel) and said that you wanted a king to reign over you, even though the Lord your God was already your king. All right, here is the king you have chosen. Look him over. You asked for him, and the Lord has granted your request." (1 Samuel 12:12-13 NLT)

I love it. A paradigm shirt or a paradoxical meaning. In one sense are are to turn our backs on worthless things by not sinning against the Lord. Never to turn our backs on Him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Samuel reassured them. “You have certainly done wrong, but make sure now that you worship the Lord with all your heart, and don’t turn your back on him. Don’t go back to worshiping worthless idols that cannot help or rescue you—they are totally useless! The Lord will not abandon his people, because that would dishonor his great name. For it has pleased the Lord to make you his very own people (1 Samuel 12:20-22, NLT).

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The problem with journals is that we don't go back and read them.  If my life is worth writing down, it might be worth reading, assuming I am honest when I write it down.

As a writer you are constantly asking, “Was that worth writing? Is this just brain drivel? Am I really that lame?” And so from time to time I go back and read things I have written. If it is a journal entry by me, it was normally composed in the middle of an insomnia induced 2 AM anxiety attack of self loathing fears of failure and uselessness. Always a good time had by all.

Whilst reviewing some writing today I found the following essay I wrote six years ago. It revealed a lot to me about who I was, what I feared, and what I have become. In retrospect I am glad I wrote it, but even more glad I read it.

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As I was leaving our Hope Center celebration, the moon was full behind a high palm tree and someone was blasting a Spanish version of "I Just Called to Say I Love You". It had been one of those perfect moments you can't plan:  smiling community leaders, weeping volunteers, chocolate faced kids, a full moon, and pretend Stevie Wonder. These are the moments I live for. If I believed in the stars aligning it would be the alignment of stars. But I don't. I believe in grace. I believe in power.

I believe in the power of the grace of Christ to align the hearts of a Newport Beach debutante, an Oregon country girl, an ex-Mexican political campaigner, a handful of housewives, and college students and cocky teenage Mexican Americans. Only Jesus could bring this group together.  And He did. 

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So a second take on Chelsea King.   

I have been thinking about my prayers and the prayers of the thousands, most of which I assume would appear now to have gone for not.  Chelsea wasn't saved.  She isn't alive.  And most people are left with a feeling of, excuse the passion, "What the Hell is wrong with this world?"

It made me re-think something I wrote two years ago, when a similar thing happened, only that time it was cancer that did the killing.

Prayer changes everything and nothing - all at the same time.
I recently saw the familiar bumper sticker, “Prayer Changes Everything” and of course began to ponder if that is really true. In my opinion, often times prayer changes nothing at all because we are hoping, expecting, and searching for it to change something it was never designed to change – external circumstances. Can God change our circumstances? Sure. Does God change circumstances? Maybe. Is God’s focus on circumstances? Never.

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Last month I visited the International Justice Mission headquarters, not far from the Pentagon and just outside our nation’s capitol.  It was a beautiful day. The air was crisp and cool and the ground layered with the remnants of the recent snow storm.

Inside IJM, you’ll find a quant, but inspirational photo gallery. The walls are lined with telling photographs of beautiful people who are part of IJM’s work abroad. Each face on each photo has a story to tell of survival, of redemption and of justice at work.

An IJM church mobilizer, Lauren Johnson met me in the gallery. Upon meeting Lauren, it was clear that God has orchestrated her life’s path perfectly by placing her at IJM during this time. She was a terrific host. After a tour of the floor offices, Lauren and I sat down and we had a conversation about human trafficking.

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I have a confession.  I have been in a dysfunctional relationship for the past three and a half years.  It started one afternoon with my heart beating out of control and it has been a love/hate relationship ever since.  When things are in sync life seems bright and possibilities endless.  However, when there are long wrestling matches, I wind up jaded and broken, tired and hurt.  While tackling this relationship the past couple of years, I thought I could make it work. This relationship hasn’t made sense for a long time and it is one I must reconcile because I am not speaking of my marriage or my parents or my best friend, I’m speaking of my health.

2006 was definitely a stressful year: Graduating from grad school, the terrible job search, turning down a job I could see myself loving, but knowing it wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I also started therapy to face my torturous inner voices. And on top of all of that, I came face to face with many family members awful perceptions of me as a former fundamentalist that was once upon a time more interested in the “right” way rather than the loving way.  It was a long year, and in August of that year, my thyroid, which unbeknownst to me had been pissed off for months prior, really let me know how mad it had become one day by speeding my heart rate up to 120 beats per minute (resting).

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I saw an angel this morning.

Maybe it was our conversation last night at dinner. My daughter Alex was convinced that as she watched the trees swaying in the wind, she also saw an angel, waving at her, bringing her peace.

There has been a lot of un-rest and non-peace in the world lately. I’m like many, I’m sure…watching the news from Haiti, emotionally wrapped up in it. My brother’s family is adopting from Haiti, and his wife Kristen was over there visiting with her eight month-old baby, Karis, when the quake struck. She was evacuated safely with Karis, but the little boy they’re trying to adopt remains there…and it’s breaking my heart.

It’s more than just hearing of the numbering of the dead. It’s the story of a mom, lifting a blanket and discovering that the still form is indeed her son.