There your heart shall be

I would like to buy about three dollars worth of gospel, please.

Not too much—just enough to make me happy, but not so much that I get addicted.

I don’t want so much gospel that I learn to really hate covetousness and lust.

I certainly don’t want so much that I start to love my enemies, cherish self-denial, and contemplate missionary service in some alien culture.

I want ecstasy, not repentance; I want transcendence, not transformation. I would like to be cherished by some nice, forgiving, broad-minded people, but I myself don’t want to love those from different races—especially if they smell.

I would like enough gospel to make my family secure and my children well behaved, but not so much that I find my ambitions redirected or my giving too greatly enlarged.

I would like about three dollars worth of the gospel, please.

// D.A. Carson

Oh divest me of myself so I can truly live!

I found $2000 today!

Freelance work for a language edtech start-up company, and nannying, pay my rent these days. There's not too much money left over at the end of each month. But what is left over at the end of each day, with my current living arrangements, is mental energy and space to recoup. The flexibility is a most welcome gift for this season of my life. In any case, though, I don't have enough left over to replace my laptop, someone else's iPhone, and my wallet...

Today was Livy's mom's birthday. I picked her up from school as usual, but she wanted to go to Target to get Kit-Kats for her mother. I was happy to take her. I also bought some study fuel for the man-friend's grueling CFA prep. Somehow, he runs on the worst calories. Gummies, gushers, sour-filled (Play-Doh smelling) Twizzlers, Red Bull, sugary drinks...

One of the aisles was so crowded, I left our cart (with Livy's bookbag, and mine which contained an inactive iPhone, my MacBook Air, and my wallet) just outside the aisle and instructed Livy to keep an eye on the shopping cart. I only lost visual for 30 seconds or less. I heard Livy, my 7-year-old nanny charge, calling out "Miss Esther?" and circling the aisles around me; she had not stayed put. She was whimpering. "I lost our cart..."

Someone had swiped it. I gave her a hug. Can't lose it now, I thought, if you're going to ask her not to worry and to be brave. So I decided to be very calm. If I did not have a child with me, I might have behaved as though my wallet and laptop were the most important things in life... shall be kept safe through childrearing... rang in my mind. You're safe, I'm safe, we didn't lose each other. But your stuff can't be replaced, Miss Esther. I paused and considered agreeing with her. It can. Don't worry. You're okay, I'm okay; that can't be replaced. We walked around and searched. We asked employees, who paged security and the store supervisor. Livy's panic mounted and she was crying now. She did not even know what was in my bag, the value. All my coursework, and graduate school apps, and freelance work. Hey baby. We can't have your vision blurred by tears okay? We need your eyes super sharp so we can scout out our cart! We're on a treasure hunt! We're gonna catch the crooks? she asked. Maybe.

We filed a police report. Grand larceny, they called it, based on the value of the contents of my bag. Yo it's Park Slope, the officer said. There's some crazy dopes here. People just don't care. They'll mess you up, take other people's things. The police were kind, attentive, detailed, helpful. I introduced Livy to Officer Butler. This is Livy. She's 7. She's very sad, and worried. But I told her that the police's job is to help and protect us... We looked on the security tapes. During this hour that we were with the police I also called to cancel my credit cards. And asked Livy to pray. It felt like that time at SITP with Erin. We thanked Papa God for never losing sight of us, for never losing us (like we lose sight of shopping carts and backpacks). His eye is on the sparrow. He is in control. Help us not to worry. You can help us find our stuff because you love us, she said. But even if we don't get our stuff back... I pressed, I wanted her to say it aloud, and fall back on what she said–that the Spirit, water, and blood are our witness, not our laptops, money, and drivers licenses. The truth she had learned. The reasons to trust. Of course I felt like this request that she pray could disillusion her. Papa God, You love her more than I do. Protect her faith. Instruct us in Your way.

Do you think the thieves who stole your homework are going to do it for you? I asked her. The policeman asked Livy if her teacher would believe, "I couldn't do my homework yesterday because it got stolen!" After we left the police, I asked if she wanted to go straight home or if her legs could handle walking around the store with me one more time. She said, well alright, even though we're not going to find it. Why would they still be in the store? She pinched her fingers together to show me how slim our chance of finding it was. Lord, show her. Show me. But Livy, I said. I know. If they took our things, they probably left the store right away. But faith is that stuff that holds you on when hope is teeny, and then hope grows. Do you trust me? I told her what we were looking for. Not just shopping carts, but someone wearing or holding or bookbags, perhaps. Or our bookbags stuffed in a stroller or large bag. We even wandered down the backpack and luggage aisle. And around the perimeter of the store. There really wasn't any chance of recovering our stolen goods. The time we could have spent looking, with the only 4 eyes on the premises that knew exactly what to look for, we were asking for higher authorities to help.

But we did. Find our backpacks. The zippers were undone and our bags had obviously been rummaged through. But nothing was missing. It's a miracle! Livy said. Indeed it was. Aw, now I have to do my homework.

Infographic on Political Parties

I so wish I had this infographic back when I was taking APUSH!

Worshiping Bodily

What if we started living in right relation to our bodies now, instead of waiting for the resurrection? What if every time we looked in the mirror and were tempted to complain we said, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," laying claim to the future hope that our bodies will one day celebrate function in right relation to form, living in the glorious truth of that future hope now?

... Choose compliments that spur her to pursue that which lasts instead of that which certainly does not...

Sister in Christ, physical perfection is not within our grasp, but, astonishingly, holiness is.

// Jen Wilkin

After Sandy Hook

Sandy is the word of the year. For devastation.
NBC Dateline soundbites are ringing in my ears. a postcard perfect new England town. A phenomenal place to bring up children. Kids were not protected. "but the church was still open... Overflowed. The crowds flocked here." And they sang silent night. healing begins. Town will struggle for years to come with its new identity. Tragedy marks you. People gathered at the pub to share stories and food. Healing begins. clips playing up the irony of Christmas lights on every house in the quaint town and holiday tree sales by the firehouse...  But Christmas was never farther away.
Thinking of Luke 2. The disruptive Christmas. The intrusive arrival of the promise so many had stopped waiting for. To usher in true peace. To shatter sleepy self contentment. Awake sleeper from your grave.
Advent. Is hope

Sandy on the ground.

I keep looking at this picture from yesterday of a
double rainbow touching down in lower Manhattan post-Sandy.
And thinking of the line from "O Love that will not let me go,"
... I trace the rainbow through the rain.

Inside in the dark, once the TV and internet are cut off and cellular service trickles to a stop, you just don't know how bad it is outside, without a battery operated radio. High up on the 13th Fl on 13th St, we thought it was a pre-emptive shutdown by ConEd. We knew nothing of the 14th St transistor explosion.



Public schools, NYSE, and mass transit shut down. With no traffic signals, travelling on 2 or 4 wheels is treacherous. Determined New Yorkers were marching across the bridges to get to work today. Roads are barely passable due to high traffic and they're highly dangerous.

Everything below 39th St lost power. Crossing that line while walking/hitchhiking the 9 miles back to Harlem yesterday was like going from night to day.

It is said that many needing rescue in Staten Island were able to reach family/friends/help by Twitter and text. It was not difficult to imagine as my cell signal was lost and the roaming capacities drained the battery (though I had two fully charged spares, a cleaned tub full of water, charged laptop/iPod, a fridge full of ice/food, non-perishables, candles, flash lights, batteries) of the indefinitely long silence/darkness that others may have to endure...

We were prepared. We had heeded the warnings over the weekend, and stood in the lines to get in the grocery stores, and stood in the lines to check out of the grocery stores. Trader Joe's was especially scary.

When the power went out, I had been pre-cooking more just-in-case bunker meals and watching TV. And when my cell signal faded I thought oh man, I can't let everyone know I'm okay--they only know what they're seeing on TV & Twitter. But it was far better than, oh no, I can't let anyone know I'm not okay.

Today as the temperature drops, I'm thinking of those people who are stuck and whose electronics have died... With no heat, power, water, supplies, or any way to charge their devices.

Also hoping against any more casualties from live wires as waters recede and the power gets turned back on...

Dad works at Inteliquent. The communications blackout helped me appreciate what he does--their NYC office at 75 Broad handles 150K concurrent calls per hour. Their battery will dry up in another hour or two, and they are working hard to get a 7-ton generator from Pennsylvania up and running before this happens. The three other major carrier buildings in NYC, at 60 Hudson, 32 Avenue of the Americas, and 111 8th Ave, are in the same boat. The fire department and FEMA alike are not helping--perhaps not understanding the need to keep phone networks and internet working in such emergencies. Their engineers reached the office around noon yesterday (and two stayed overnight to accept a 4am generator delivery) to run a 4-strand heavy gaurge wire for 200 feet or so from the 4th floor to a back alley generator. They're scrambling to get it done in the next two hours. Many communication gears around the city remain submerged and will probably be reconstructed on higher floors--no more basement servers.

Proud of you, Dad.

This Very Present Darkness

These days, I have said to friends, depression is knocking at my door, and I am fearful, though I have been told I need not, and must not, be dismayed.

It crouches at my door. I must not be mastered by it.

Some days I am inexplicably (with reference to my current circumstances) sad and disembodied. This gloomy cloud follows me.

These days, I miss her. She understood. But I don't just miss her understanding; I don't just miss being understood. I miss her. I feel her absence without jumping to fill it for someone else for the first time since that initial sorrow. I think of how a year ago around now, we were planning for our weekend in Princeton.

Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it (Hebrews 2:1). Do not neglect your great salvation, Esther. You have a Savior!

So having put on the full armor, is our only marching order to stand firm? Will Papa really fight on our behalves?

Arm ourselves for the darkness at hand, we must.

Because the fog--It obscures the truth that He already has championed us. And He's irrevocably won.

I pray that mercy would root my heart and mind deeply in the gospel. And that the light of this victory would resight my blind fumbling aim and distorted vision.

I must see You, Jesus. Please open my eyes and fix them on You or I shall certainly get lost in the ambiguities.

A deep fog stalks me. But another cloud goes before. By day. By night (Exodus 13:21). It shepherds me along the Way.

Even those sheep who stray into rabbit trails are not lost to You.

Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel, and afterward...

You will receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You?

And there is nothing on earth that I desire--besides You.

My flesh and my heart do fail.

But God is the strength of my heart and my portion. Forever.