whaling

There's this culture, this way of life, with the Native people in Alaska. It involves a spear and a whale. Most people call it whaling. And though it is not what it once was, I believe there is something profound to be learned through the Inuits and their practice of using the whale. Whaling was not just about getting something to eat. Whaling provided a means by which to survive and thrive in the cold tundra.

Of course, the Inuits would eat the meat of the whale. But they actually used every single part of the whale. Nothing was wasted. The Inuits used the baleen, which is the bristle-like filter system inside the whale's mouth, for fishing line and children's toys. The Inuits used the whale jaw bones for sled runners, the ribs for house rafters, the back bone for stools, and the shoulder blades for shovels. The blubber was used as fuel for oil lamps. The skin was made into clothing.


There was no part of the whale that was discarded. No part of the whale was left unused. The meat and the bones. The good and the bad. The shadow and the light. It's all used. This is how God works. God is like an Inuit. 


Nothing will be wasted.

Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." This verse does not say all things are good. But that God will make things into something good. Even bad things. God will use the meat, the bones, the skin, and the blubber. God will use the hurt and pain, as well as the joy and blessings. God will use your good decisions and your bad ones. God doesn't walk around the bad things. God doesn't just forgive or forget the bad choices. God doesn't just make use of the bad choices. God may sometimes take our very worst decision and turn it into the mechanism of our redemption, our growth, our health, our joy.


God finds the lost. God creates something out of the dust. God takes the rubble and builds something new. God washes clean the stains. There is no rock too heavy to be turned over. There is no door locked too tightly to be opened. There is no sin too disgusting to be forgiven. There is no pain too deep to be healed. There is no string too tangled to be untangled. There is no shackle, no chain, no fear, no past that God cannot work with. 


No part of the things in our lives are wasted. Hidden agendas. Bad choices. Scandalous behavior. Hurtful words. These bad things become the ingredients in a recipe of redemption. There may be shame, guilt, sorrow, regret, pain, sorrow...but whatever happened there, God will use somehow. That's how God works. It will not be wasted.


God is the Inuit. I am the whale. I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live, well, it's all for God. God takes my bones, my flesh, my blubber, my fears, my failures, my past, my pain, my regrets, my hopes, and my passions and works them all together for good. 


Because He is good. And my life isn't about me, my accomplishments, or my failures. My life is a part of God's story of redemption.

natal day

I never realized how much I care about age. I pay very close attention to age. I just may be to the point of obsessed with age. E pointed this out to me once saying, "Whenever you tell me about someone I don't know, you always mention their age in relation to you." I thought he was exaggerating until I caught myself several times describing someone by speaking of their age. Why do I always bring up someone's age? Does age matter? Age is something that qualifies or disqualifies us for anything: discounts for events, special meals, driver's licenses, the privilege to watch any movie, buy alcohol, and gamble....it's all about your age. Or is it?

Our culture expresses great importance in age. Young people feel the need to grow up quickly, influencing the way they dress, speak, and act. And old people feel the need to stay young longer, influencing the way they dress, speak, and act.

What is age?

Age is a way of measuring human life by years. 

As I count the number of years I've been given, I can't help but smile. Because twenty-three years ago, when the doctors told my mom that she shouldn't tell others about the pregnancy because she wouldn't carry the fetus to term, I'm pretty sure God was laughing. He had something up His sleeve. It was me: with all my affinities, quirks, and passions. Nine months later, wrapped up in eight pounds of squishy baby fat and a cute bow in my black hair, my life was full with possibilities. Hope and promise held high as one contemplated my future.

Age is a length of time during which a being or thing has existed. 

Each person has an age. Each person has an existence. But I don't want to just exist another year. I want to live. I want to breathe in deeply. I want to celebrate, dance, and delight in good things. I want to rejoice, give thanks, and sing loudly in the shower. I want to live. I want to run. I want to share, laugh, and pray. I want to be known by my love--deep, unselfish, overflowing from being filled by the Source of love. I don't want to be obsessed with age. Because this life isn't about the birth date, or the expiration date. Life is about the dash. The line between the two dates on a gravestone, the line that represents my entire life. What am I doing with that dash? Am I just existing? Am I wishing away precious time? Am I complaining? Am I living in fear?

Or am I getting my hands dirty? Am I giving generously? Am I pouring myself out for the sake of others? Am I learning and growing and changing? Am I appreciating this gift of a dash we call life? I am more than eight pounds of squishy baby fat. And I don't have black hair, nor a bow in my hair. But I believe today that my life is full with possibilities. I am holding hope and promises high as I think about my future.

With deep gratitude, I celebrate who I am today. I celebrate God's faithfulness in my life. And I celebrate the uncertainty of the dash I'm vibrantly living.

Happy Natal Day to me!

driver's ed

It's that time of the year again. When the seat belt clicks across the scrawny body, lanky arms reach out for ten and two, and the metal mouth's pearly whites grit together in anxiety.

While driving across town today, I saw three different driver's ed cars. I smiled as I reminisced of my days in driver's ed. Learning how to check the tire pressure, turning the corner too fast, hitting the curb while attempting to parallel park. I was a terrible driver. So was my partner. But luckily, our teacher never had to use the brake pad on the passenger side.

I feel like I'm in driver's ed all over again. I'm at this turning point in my life, so much excitement and anticipation which overrides the fear and uncertainty. I have read, studied, prepared, and now it's my turn behind the wheel. I've watched a lot of people drive, some even crash. In my head, I know exactly what kind of driver I want to be.

But what is frustrating is that the first time behind the wheel, you are never quite the driver you want to be. You slam the brakes, you forget the blinker, and you misread the speed limit. Your white knuckles confirm your anxiety. You are so excited to finally be driving, but you are also so scared you might crash.

So you live in the tension. In the beauty of the unknown. You really hope you pass the test. So you take it slow, recalling everything you learned. You ask questions of those who have gone before you. You pay attention to other drivers. You keep driving, even when it's uncomfortable and scary.

Down the road, you might crash. It might hurt. But the crash is momentary. The tow truck will come, the vehicle and your body will both be fixed. You may vow to never drive again. But this driving thing isn't really about you, so eventually you'll get over yourself and sit in the driver's seat again. And maybe someday, you'll be confident behind the wheel. You'll have experienced driving yourself that others will look to you as an example. And an example you will be.

So today, I'm in something I call driver's ed. I'm unsure and timid. But I'm also crazy excited. I don't know what is ahead, good or bad...but this I do know: I'm an example. Someone, someday will look at how I drive. To that person, I want to be a reflection of Someone greater than myself. With sincerity and humility, I pray my behavior behind the wheel is worth imitating.