beef with "happy"

It is probably true that everyone has a handful of words that grind on their nerves. Or maybe it's just me.

But over the last several months a word I just cannot get around or over or past is this: HAPPY.

Happy. (Pardon me as I cringe, shiver, dry heave.)

Matt Chandler described it well in his Explicit Gospel Tour several weeks ago. He said that happiness is merely an emotion, and a fragile one at that--potentially the most trivial, least meaningful, lowliest regarded sentiment to be felt. As a nation whose mission statement culminates in "the pursuit of happiness," just under the surface we are all secretly failing. The makers of anti-depressants rake in the cash and we stumble around from high to high trying to figure out what the Jones' have that we don't, never knowing they think the same thing about us. 

Despite the claims of fairy tales and chick flicks and Taylor Swift's catchy lyrics, no one is living happily ever after. Not in this lifetime. Not in this world. And I would even go so far as to say that the more we chase happiness around, demanding that happiness be the measurement of satisfaction in every relationship, job or life circumstance we have, the more miserable we become. We are not dogs chasing our tails, we are men and women chasing a myth. Unicorns, magic pixie dust, the fountain of youth, trees that grow money--take your pick. Happy does not satisfy. It does not last. It is not real.

Just look at "The Happiest Place on Earth." An expensive celebration of all that is not real, from Disney princesses to the peace of "It's Small World After All." 

Now you can be sure that the good news is coming, but do you see the danger yet?

From the moment that forbidden fruit was tasted until now, the world we live in has been broken, spiraling deeper and further away from all that God intended us to be. You see, before the fall of man, joy abounded on the earth because of the presence of God, because He walked with man, because everything He made was as it should be. Perfection was life-giving, and yes, everyone felt happy because that was all there was to feel. 

What Adam and Eve failed to realize, however, was that their happiness, their joy, their perfection, all began and ended in their Father, their Creator, their Friend. Those bites of forbidden fruit were the search for happiness outside of what God had given, and that tendency was passed on to each of us from then to now. All of creation responded to the cosmic fissure their pursuit of happiness spawned, and nothing has been right since. Creation is broken, our hearts are broken, and nothing on earth is as it should be because God cannot share community with a people who do not want Him. 

And so God's plan was for Jesus to be broken instead, an exchange powerful enough to reverse the effects of sin when He comes again to reclaim His people. But here's the thing.

That day has not come. 

And every day between now and then, this world will self-destruct just a little bit more.

As long as we are loving Jesus, things in this world will never make for lasting happiness. There is too much here that breaks His heart for us to find enjoyment in the brokenness.

So if we are happy in this world, or if we are devoting your life to being happy, let's take a step back and be scared. Let's ruminate on our propensity to look for feelings of happiness to satisfy us in a world that cannot deliver. If happiness is my goal for this life, I am not looking for the God of the Bible. Because happiness is found only in Him, in the fullness of His presence, an inheritance that will not be fully realized on this side of eternity.

Joy in this life is entirely attainable--the product of hoping in God for all of the future fullness of life He has promised, putting all our expectation for happiness in the future reality of perfect relationship with Jesus.

And if you've made it this far, let me go ahead and say this: I don't think Jesus cares about our happiness. Our joy? Absolutely. Our satisfaction in Himself? To the death. But our happiness on earth? That just isn't what He died for. It is not worth our pursuit. He said so Himself.

"...the way is hard that leads to life..." (Matthew 7:14)

But that life is worth it and characterized by joy--"joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory". Give me that over happiness every day for the rest of eternity.

a brief commentary on Twilight

This is at least my third attempt at writing about my bewilderment over the Twilight phenomenon. But really the issue is simple.

The story line of the Twilight Saga is fully opposite the Gospel in every aspect.

Edward is a deceptively beautiful, blood-thirsty vampire who is inexplicably in love with someone good. Jesus is the truly beautiful, Son of God and Creator  who is gloriously loving toward everyone who is bad.

Despite Edward's love for Bella and self-denial, his deepest desire is to drink her blood. Although God is ultimately concerned only for His own glory, that pursuit has brought about salvation for all who believe.

While we would like to see ourselves in the role of Bella, the good girl who attracts and straightens out the bad boy, the Gospel says that we are not at all good. Jesus, in all His goodness, has loved us out of darkness and into light.

Add to all of this the lack of ambition for life, and you have three central characters who are living for nothing more than the Greco-Roman myth of romantic love. They are consumed by their feelings and desire only personal gratification through the realization of a complicated, romantic relationship. No noble pursuits add depth of character. Rather, two men who are living to claim and enjoy the affection of one woman have been glorified by the masses known as members of "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob."

So, there's my post on Twilight. Read it. Watch it. Enjoy it if you enjoy it. It merely fascinates me that a phenomenon with these undertones has so strongly gripped the popular culture. Anything so appealing to the masses deserves a critical eye. Have I given it the most scrupulous? Not quite. But it is what it is.

everybody loves a tattletale

Today JuJu and I joined Stephen at Chick-fil-A for lunch, grateful to have that opportunity for another few days. We certainly looked like a little family, though I am sure that anyone who watched our interactions closely would have found it strange how wary she was around her "dad", who we refer to as "Mr. Stephen."

After a lunch of french fries, banana mish mash and blueberries, I took Juliet to the indoor playground for a few minutes to stretch her legs and see some other kids. What a claustrophobic miniature of life beyond 48 inches.

I enjoy kids, love seeing Juliet process what their actions mean, and especially appreciate learning about the world through the realities that children display.

Not to anyone's surprise, one little girl was injured in the kid zone. Whether the pain was truly physical or primarily emotional, I cannot judge, but some sort of hurt was inflicted, and she ran out of the playground, into the restaurant with the classic line, "I'M TELLING MY MOM!"

I did not see the resolution to this conflict. The only other bit of the story that I can offer is that it seems this child was upset with a stranger, making it highly unlikely that her mother would have any opportunity to serve justice. Oh, she was sure to have been comforting and sympathetic, reassuring and tender, but no other mom ever came to discipline the son or daughter who had committed the offense.

And it occurred to me that the best case scenario for justice would be if the girl's sister had hurt her, so that Mom could convict and punish. The next best option would be for a "frienemy," a friend whose parents had a relationship with Mom, who would take seriously the fact that their child had acted out.

But what is far more likely in such a crowded public place, is that the other mother remained oblivious to her child's misdeed. And even if she had found out, there is still a chance she would have swept it under the rug, made an excuse, or been angry that her "angel" was accused of wrongdoing. And that stinks. No fair.

It made me think about humanity as a whole.

There is comfort in running to mom or dad when injustice abounds. It is innately wired in us to do so.

When someone or something offends us, we feel we have the right and the need to go to someone higher, someone in charge, to appeal for what is fair. And where would the world be if these governing bodies did not exist? Most in the first world would agree that anarchy is not conducive to rights or true freedom. For this reason, most of us submit, or at least subscribe to the ideology behind submission, to the government, the school administration, the justice system, the coach, the board, the HOA, the IRS, the boss, etc. When we limit ourselves by accepting authority, everyone is better off. And when others choose to act out of line, we are confident to take matters to those with influence and power to incite change or invoke consequences.

This is how we operate.

But some atrocities are bigger than our lives can handle. And despite our best efforts to form governing bodies that monitor the behavior of the entire world, some issues simply cannot be addressed by any one entity.

Sex trafficking.

Sex-selective abortion.

Abortion.

Genocide.

And so many more.

And this is where the "open-minded, non-discriminatory" belief that "what's right for you is right for you, and what's right for me is right for me" has a head-on collision with the reality of human nature. Or the idea that all religions are basically the same, faith is all you need, all religions get you to God.

For kids on the playground, each one's safety is dependent on the standards of behavior set by the parents of every other child around. If one parent is flippant about the responsibility of raising a child with social awareness and respect, the playground is no longer safe. Every parent is different.

Do we really think that human existence is without a judge, an arbitrator? At least in the end? If societies are either made or broken based upon the institution of justice, the declaration of right and wrong, the implementation of consequences for perpetrators, and the preservation of the innocent, do we really expect to reach the end of this world and find that none of it mattered? Deep down, can we really accept that?

Because here are our options.

There is no God. There is no accountability. There is no life after this. There is only now and nothing later. What we feel as injustice is only part of what makes us fit or unfit for survival.

There is a God who accepts all faiths, faith of any kind. He is too kind to judge. He takes into account your upbringing, accepts excuses, winks his eye, smooths everything over, ignores atrocity.

There is a God who will make all fair. And He will make it fairer than we want it to be. He will satisfy our desire for retribution and then some. He will hold each man and woman accountable. He will overlook no tears, no children, no lack of mercy. And He will punish extremely, radically, horrifically, eternally.

To say there is no God denies the wiring, the anger, the fury we feel at times.

To say he will not judge is to make him truly cruel, lazy, uncaring, unkind, not good, and unworthy of respect, devotion, adoration.

To say He will judge with a heavy fist, a righteous gavel, somehow makes this world and its pains a little more palatable.

But if He judges justly, then He must judge us as well. For if He is in essence Perfection, then weighty, outrageous offenders will not be His only criminals. Even what we would call misdemeanors are high crimes before the Pure and Spotless King, and as such will bear the weight of His wrath just the same.

Despair nearly sets in. If even the world's innocent are to be judged harshly, is there no hope?

But there is.

The entirety of God's wrath, we see, has already been poured out. On one man. On one cross. At one time.

God, in the flesh, Jesus the Christ, perfect and human, simultaneously, submitted to death on the cross. The greatest injustice of all time: vilest shame and death for the immaculate GodMan.

He took the punishment that all of us had earned. So that not all humans would be crushed on that final day of judgment, Jesus Christ accepted the conviction and endured the penalty. Not so that injustice was added to injustice. For when He did so, the perfection He had earned was offered to mankind if we would accept the arrangement God had made, if we would admit that what happened to Jesus should have happened to us, if we would humbly turn from the wickedness that made such drastic reparation necessary, if we would choose to submit in love to the authority and kindness of our Loving Despot.

Despot may be an odd choice in wording, but is that not what we need, what we long for? Someone all-loving, all-just, concerned for us, and all-powerful to act in our best interest, at all times. We know there should be someone who can handle it, someone who will act, someone who will not be hindered in any way from righting wrongs.

He made us to be this way. He made us to look for Him. He is written on our hearts.

And that is why we tattle.

We are tattletales because He is real.

"Many seek the face of a ruler, but it is from the Lord that a man gets justice." Proverbs 29:26

and I thought my wedding was a big deal!

Friday was a magical day for a significant percentage of the world's population. Some reports indicate that Prince William's marriage to Kate Middleton was viewed by billions of people all over the globe. Though I did not rise to watch it live, the coverage was gripping even when I joined in at 7:30 on Friday morning.

Throughout the day my mind reeled with the reality this fairy tale reveals.

We all yearn for a royal wedding.

The Cinderella strand is embedded in our DNA whether we admit it freely or not. Women tend to subscribe more passionately and freely. Men attempt to play it down. But we are all captivated by the story of a commoner's heart being desired by, pursued by, and united to the heart of the future king.

We love this union because Kate was one of us. She was common. Her parents were both flight attendants in their earlier days and have only more recently come into entrepreneurial success as online retailers of party supplies. She grew up as any other 80s-born girl around the globe, dreaming of marrying one of the two handsome princes left, but without much reason to believe it would happen (though it certainly helped that she is British).

The pauper-to-princess tale grips our hearts. Whether we have heard it before or not, we all know, etched on our souls, that this story is ours. That at last we will become treasure to the King and be invited to the throne room.

The story of Jesus and His bride.

We are enthralled by her dress and his attire, because our dress is His righteousness and He is adorned with victory and praise.

We are enthralled by the grandeur, because the wedding feast of the Lamb will fill our hearts as they were made to be filled.

We are enthralled by the ring, because rather than a lovely heirloom, our Groom has left us with His Spirit as His pledge to return for us.

We are enthralled by the pomp and circumstance of regality, because we were made to love the King and find life in His glory.

We are enthralled by the happily ever after, because we long so achingly for the only wise King to declare, "Behold, I am making all things new."

my second favorite engagement of 2010

About 10 years ago, one faithful 23-year-old wrote her heart into a song for her future husband and shared it with the world. She opened her prayers and love letters to the watching eyes of the media and shared the deep desires of her heart with a generation that would be truly bombarded by the lie that sexual intimacy is one's right and pleasure to be taken as soon as the urge is known.

Already my eyes are brimming with tears of gratitude for the life and legacy of Rebecca St. James. As I have written before, music, more than any other single factor in my formative years, has pushed me into the presence of God and shaped the woman I have become (and am still becoming). From the time I was 8 years old until now, nothing has held more power to point me toward Christ or away from Him than the melodies and lyrics I allow to permeate my mind.

With great confidence I can say that Rebecca's aforementioned song has been the single most influential piece of music or literature to shape my heart other than the very Word of God.

I wish I could remember the first time I heard "Wait For Me" but to this day I know that it is number 8 on the "Transform" album. It is also the only song in my collection that I will absolutely listen to every single time it comes on shuffle. Though the lyrics seem cheesy if I am not in a romantic state of mind (though I typically am), the passion behind the song is just as much my heart-cry at age 23 as it was that first day when I was 13.

In the middle of my most awkward and hormonal years of confusion, I knew a few things. I truly loved Jesus with all of my heart and wanted to please Him above all else. "Wait For Me" also highlighted another very important life fact: I wanted to love well the man God would send to be my husband. I began to claim the meaning of my name as part of God's calling on my life: "pure one." I came to view my body as it is: God's temple. And I experienced immediately the segregation that my radical standards would create.

Surely it will surprise many people who know me now to learn that in middle school I was absolutely obsessed with my first kiss. It is actually quite comical now to remember how imminent I believed that event to be. No opportunity remotely presented itself until my senior year of high school. But my heart was enraptured by the thought and my imagination would not rest. I vividly remember the day I realized that I had exhausted every plausible scenario for how it might happen. In the disappointment of the new boredom that settled in my mind, the Spirit of God spoke to my heart. "Hey Kate, you care about this just a little too much. Can I have it? How about we save your first kiss for your wedding day?" With Rebecca's lyrics ever fresh in my mind, I embraced this commitment wholeheartedly. "Cool!" I thought, "Let's do it!"

One decade later, I am 23. The road has not been easy, and my journey has not been perfect, but the countdown is on. Only 72 days and 5 1/2 hours until my first kiss. But who's counting?

It scares me to think how my heart may have responded if I had been listening to the "music of the day" back in 2000. Not that everyone who listened to *Nsync or Britney has train-wrecked their life. I do not mean that at all. But I know my heart and life would be different. And especially to consider the values that contemporary pop music affords today, hearts like mine are set to fail if living to the tunes of Kesha and Miley.

And so, it is with great humility and joy that I celebrate Rebecca St. James' own engagement and upcoming marriage. Her commitment to purity and her integrity to live it publicly has radically changed my life. Not only has it shaped my focus and activity over the last decade, but she has, perhaps unknowingly, invested riches upon riches in the quality of my marriage to Stephen Kump. He and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to this woman in the Lord for her faithful stewardship of conviction, talent and influence. We have been preserved for each other in her own waiting.

So as she and I enter married life in the same year, I pray her marriage will be infinitely more effective in ministering than her singleness has been. I can only imagine what Rebecca's married life will hold for the Kingdom of God if He has used her so powerfully in what may seem to have been an extended period of singleness. Look out, world! Now she has a partner and should no longer be alone. I celebrate and rejoice with her, give great thanks for her, and look forward to expressing my gratitude for her in person one day.

Mine is only one story. Lord, let there be millions more.

Darling, did you know that I
I dream about you
Waiting for the look in your eyes
When we meet for the first time
And darling, did you know that I
I pray about you
Praying that you will hold on
And keep your loving eyes only for me

CHORUS:
'Cause I am waiting for, praying for you darling
Wait for me too
Wait for me as I wait for you
'Cause I am waiting for, praying for you darling
Wait for me too
Wait for me as I wait for you
Darling wait

Darling did you know
I dream about life together
Knowing it will be forever
I'll be yours and you'll be mine
And darling when I say
" Til death do us part"
I mean it with all of my heart
Now and always faithful to you

CHORUS

Now I know you may have made mistakes
But there's forgiveness, and a second chance
So wait for me, darling wait for me
Wait for me
Darling wait for me

CHORUS

my heart belongs to the Holiday Inn Express

I recently booked a night at the Holiday Inn Express for an event a few months from now.

We spent one night at the HI Express on our way to family vacation this summer. The stay was pleasant. So when I looked for a place to stay for an upcoming event, I checked out the options. Upon finding a discount and availability, I reserved a room for myself and a few other guests at the HI Express near our event.

Last weekend I drove from Atlanta to Winston-Salem to visit a friend. All along the way I looked for the Holiday Inn Express. Every such establishment I passed looked wonderful. I was ecstatic and rejoiced at every encounter.

Part of my interest was that I have never actually seen the hotel where I will be staying in a few months. I was hoping the general consensus along I-85N would indicate that the HI Express is a promising reservation in any location. My expectations were exceeded.

But on my drive home as I continued to spot and celebrate every Holiday Inn Express, I wondered why, with so much enthusiasm, I scoped out every “Lodging” sign along the interstate hoping to find a Holiday Inn to be proud of. Why was I suddenly so interested in each of these hotels that I will likely never stay in?

And then it hit me.

Because my money has been given to this establishment.

Wow.

All of a sudden what would never have earned a second glance became the landmark of my fancy, and all because $100 left my bank account to reserve a room.

One transaction.

One night.

One minor detail in a weekend that will have much more eternal consequences than two queen beds and a free breakfast.

That was all it took.

If anyone had been reading my thoughts on my road trip, they would have thought I had bought thousands of dollars in stock. No. Just one night’s stay.

And I am floored by the Truth of Jesus.

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Truth bomb.

I am not legitimately obsessed with the Holiday Inn Express. But I praise God for such a vivid reminder that my heart undeniably follows my money. I pray His Kingdom will always be the primary beneficiary of the income the Lord allows me to steward.

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

still playing peek-a-boo

Liam has taught me many spiritual life lessons these past 11 months. Our last week together is proving to be no different.

We have played some version of peek-a-boo almost every day we've spent together. Whether it has been the literal game where I cover my face and then shout "peek-a-boo!" as I move my hands away, or the simplified 2-year-old version of hide-and-seek, we have had several hours of fun looking for each other.

Yesterday as I changed Liam's post-nap diaper, he put his hands over his eyes and the game began again: "Where's Liam?! I cannot find him anywhere! Where did he go??" With the biggest smile and my favorite giggle he quickly put his hands down and relished my exaggerated look of surprise and relief over having found him. He laughed his deep belly laugh and quickly covered his face again. We could have continued indefinitely.

Some days the game is that simple. Some days he actually hides himself behind the kitchen curtains so I have to rustle through them to find him. But I realized yesterday that he will always love being found. I still love it. And I bet you still love it too (although I doubt we really think about it that regularly).

The thrill takes different forms as we grow older, but the relief and excitement of being found is imprinted on our souls just the same. Sure, I still enjoy hide-and-seek when I babysit, but I more deeply enjoy being known, understood, and pursued as time goes on. There is deep satisfaction to be found in sharing one's soul with friends. I see this with my roommates: they see my sin on a regular basis, yet they pursue time with me, they find and love me despite my sin, and we grow closer every time we know each other better and choose to love each other more.

Or think of nicknames. I have more nicknames right now than I have ever had in my life. To be honest, there are several that I did not prefer when they first came into use. But there is something about a nickname that endears the hearts of those who use them. To my way of thinking, a nickname says, "I know you too well to call you what everyone else calls you. I've begun to find out who you really are and I have no intention of stopping right here."

Kelly Clarkson even speaks on behalf of the human race through her platform in pop culture in her song, "You Found Me."

"You found me when no one else was looking

How did you know just where I would be?

Yeah, you broke through all of my confusion

The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave

I guess that you saw what nobody could see

You found me."

I think we were designed for this. Someone is looking for us. He always has been. He always will be.

"Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost...Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost...It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead and is alive; he was lost, and is found." Luke 15

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me!...Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there!...For you formed my inward parts;...How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!...Search me, O God, and know my heart!" Psalm 139

in jack bauer i trust

Last night I caught up on 24 for the week, and I always reflect on it the morning after. Not sure why. It just happens.

Today I realized how often I have the thought, "But it's Jack Bauer."

You know, like when you see that he's suspended from his wrists being electrocuted by the Russians. Humanly impossible situation.

"But it's Jack Bauer."

Or when he's up against 15 snipers in a narrow hallway. Humanly impossible situation.

"But it's Jack Bauer."

Or when he's knocking on death's door after becoming infected with a biological weapon. Humanly impossible situation.

"But it's Jack Bauer."

And then I realized what ridiculous faith I have in Jack Bauer. Granted, he's a character in a prime time television show whose fate is scripted by writers whose livelihoods depend on his harrowing escapes from humanly impossible situations. But anytime he gets in a bind or someone underestimates him, "But it's Jack Bauer" follows like second nature.

I pray I trust the Lord so confidently.

"But it's God Almighty."

He loved. He created. He loved. He revealed. He loved. He commanded. He loved. He delivered. He loved. He tabernacled. He loved. He incarnated. He loved. He died. He loved. He rose. He loved. He reigns. He loves. He will. He was. He is. He is to come. He glories.

More than Jack.

More dependable, trustworthy, true and faithful.

More constant, strong, powerful and just.

More loyal, passionate, determined and wild.

More intentional, gentle, sovereign and precious.

He is the Great I AM.

Oh to trust!

fatal attraction

20/20 may have aired one of the most outrageous reports I have ever heard tonight. Former actor, Steve Sipek, is well-known for two reasons: his portrayal of "Tarzan" in a Spanish-language film in the late 1960's and his Florida compound that has housed more than 100 exotic cats.

If you know me at all, you can only imagine how I rolled my eyes at the man's fascination and adoration for these overgrown felines. And please understand that I certainly appreciate their display of God's creativity. I can accept and admire them in their natural habitat and would never wish them harm for the recreation of humanity.

But I was quite disturbed to view this documentary of a man who has devoted his life to collecting and pampering large, dangerous cats. He sleeps with them. He plays with them. He swims with them. He lives for them.

His life revolves around these animals. He celebrates their birthdays. He recruits volunteers to help feed them and maintain their cages. He sleeps with them. He shares his home with them. He includes them as members of his family. Every part of his life is devoted to the welfare and protection of these cats.

At the surface of my disdain is my general dislike for cats and preference for people over any animal. These dispositions would make the story hardly palatable on their own. But then I heard the catch. Steve Sipek explained why he was devoting his life to these animals, and I suddenly realized the true foundation for why such devotion is so unsettling.

More than 40 years ago, Sipek was rescued from a burning building by a tiger. From that day on, he has devoted his life to the care and well-being of tigers, lions and their feline relatives.

When I heard his motive, his reasoning, I softened for a moment. Something immediately resonated with me. But when I realized what chord had been struck, my heart broke for the twisted reality the present world so readily adopts.

I believe we were created to respond to salvation the same way that Steve Sipek has. I believe his response, his feelings of joyful, willful indebtedness, are hardwired in us by our Creator. However, there is only one Savior who merits our total devotion, and when we miss who He is and what He has done, we devote ourselves to the wrong things.

Do Sipek's cats know why he loves them? Is he perpetuating life because of the time he invests in expressing gratitude to these animals? Unfortunately, the answer to both questions is "no." And I cannot imagine the heartache and the fury of Almighty God, who created both man and cat. He who did not merely risk His life, but who sacrificed His life, looks down on the earth and sees the ones He loves lauding false saviors.

Jesus Christ loves Steve Sipek. He gave up His life for Steve Sipek. He loves me. He gave up His life for me. He created us perfectly to respond to this fact, but if we cannot see Him, we attach ourselves to lesser lovers.

Relationships like Sipek's which involve humans' attraction to deadly animals is often termed "fatal attraction." Is it not the same when we truly see Jesus Christ? No matter how risky, no matter the cost, no matter the opinions of others, Steve Sipek is living for his cats. The sad reality is that his love may one day cost him his life.

The glorious reality of life with Christ is that it most definitely requires the death of self. If my life is to be devoted to God, set apart for His love and service, Katie dies daily. But the Lord, my Reward, is worth the certainty of self-death. In the light of true love, I am not concerned with the cost so long as gratitude is my motivation. When I see Jesus, I know His Life will cost me everything; I will lose it all. But in exchange I receive so much more than I ever could have relinquished.

I pray that I will someday shower my Lord with the affection Steve Sipek has for his cats. That my life will move ever closer to reckless abandon, reckless love, uncalculated response to the saving love of Jesus Christ.

More today than yesterday. More tomorrow than today.