It's easy to love someone when things are going smoothly, but what about when things get hard? A few months ago, I wrote a letter to my future husband. Reading it over again, I saw that half the letter was applicable to any fellow Christian.
After having an argument with my mom, it was powerful to read the letter in relation to her. I won't share the entire letter, but here are a few tidbits that I found applicable to anyone.
I embrace you as a being built for wholeness and completeness in Christ alone. It is my joy to be a link and conduit in your life towards this prize.
I commit to loving you with my speech and choosing daily to serve you in nurturing conversation.
I commit to contending with you in the faith. I commit to being a learner and follower. I also commit to being as iron that sharpens iron and contributing to your growth as a better person.
I am not perfect and never will be, but what I can offer at the very least is my brokenness as a person and commitment to obey Christ in our relationship. In rain or shine, I shall love and honor you as a daily choice and act of submission to Christ.
Be a witness to my growth in Christ and I shall be witness of yours.
Realizing these days - to truly love someone is probably the hardest thing I will ever learn in this lifetime. But one day, I will see Jesus face to face and that gives me hope.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
love letter to a friend
For days, I felt compelled to write a "love letter to the poor". The outcome of the letter is completely different than what I imagined. It became a letter to a student I met a few years ago. Our times outside of the program were the most significant times. Meals were sacred moments. God reminded me that this is good ministry - it's within those sacred moments where our differences fade and commonalities are shared. It's easy to get bunched up about "helping the poor" with superficial, religious notions. I can't say that I'm completely past those notions, but reminded today that investment in a person is for a lifetime and God is calling me to "feed" His sheep. I intend on striving towards that goal. What started out as a "love letter to the poor" has become a letter to a friend - for as God's love turns an enemy into a brother, it turns "the poor" into a friend.
We laughed at the same things and enjoyed meals together. We shared the same stories about our moms with their loving but overbearing personalities.
You revealed to me your secrets and I, a few of mine. We became like best friends during the countless car rides and conversations at Pollo Loco. Chicken baked ziti with lots of cheese and a can of coke were among your favorite meals. You introduced me to the icy pina colada in your hood.
I'd drop you off at your rinky-dink apartment in Brooklyn and I'd head east towards the L.I.E. where the roads got smoother and wider.
It's normally around 11pm when I arrive home. The porch lights are usually on as I drive into my long driveway. This is perhaps the only time that I remember our stark differences in wealth.
If only you knew I lived in a home such as this one. Guilt hits almost every time. Would you look at me differently? Would you categorize me with the rich and stop being yourself with me?
Lights off within 30 minutes, I'd say a prayer for you as I lay in bed before falling asleep.
You tried committing suicide and sent me a text message about it. You're alive today but not many people know your story. I do.
We spent so much time trying to find you a job. Countless hours were spent studying for the GED. Those goals were never met. But still, you said I had helped you so much somehow. You said if you ever became rich one day, you'd buy me a house.
One day, we will both grow old and there will be no more distinction between you and I. When people ask how we met, we'll just say we go way back - and with a knowing glance - we'll know it's past your days as a single mother living without welfare, suffering through domestic violence and wondering if things would ever change. All of these things will become a thing of the past.
Until those things come to pass, we will remain friends.
I will see you to the end.
We laughed at the same things and enjoyed meals together. We shared the same stories about our moms with their loving but overbearing personalities.
You revealed to me your secrets and I, a few of mine. We became like best friends during the countless car rides and conversations at Pollo Loco. Chicken baked ziti with lots of cheese and a can of coke were among your favorite meals. You introduced me to the icy pina colada in your hood.
I'd drop you off at your rinky-dink apartment in Brooklyn and I'd head east towards the L.I.E. where the roads got smoother and wider.
It's normally around 11pm when I arrive home. The porch lights are usually on as I drive into my long driveway. This is perhaps the only time that I remember our stark differences in wealth.
If only you knew I lived in a home such as this one. Guilt hits almost every time. Would you look at me differently? Would you categorize me with the rich and stop being yourself with me?
Lights off within 30 minutes, I'd say a prayer for you as I lay in bed before falling asleep.
You tried committing suicide and sent me a text message about it. You're alive today but not many people know your story. I do.
We spent so much time trying to find you a job. Countless hours were spent studying for the GED. Those goals were never met. But still, you said I had helped you so much somehow. You said if you ever became rich one day, you'd buy me a house.
One day, we will both grow old and there will be no more distinction between you and I. When people ask how we met, we'll just say we go way back - and with a knowing glance - we'll know it's past your days as a single mother living without welfare, suffering through domestic violence and wondering if things would ever change. All of these things will become a thing of the past.
Until those things come to pass, we will remain friends.
I will see you to the end.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
a worthy frame of mind
Everything that is for the sake of God should be of the best and most beautiful. When one builds a house of prayer, it should be more beautiful than his own dwelling. When one feeds the hungry, he should feed him of the best and sweetest of his table. When one clothes the naked, he should clothe him with the finest of his clothes. Whenever one designates something for a holy purpose, he should sanctify the finest of his possessions, as it is written (Leviticus 3:16), "All the fat is to God."
- Maimonides
- Maimonides
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