my brother, Barabbas

Dear Barabbas,

You're on my mind today. I feel a strange connection to you that I've never felt before.

For a moment I want to see what you saw, feel what you felt. I think it would shake me to the core. I would never be the same.

Did you know? Did you ever realize what happened that Friday?

You woke up in prison. You went to sleep in your own bed.

The sun found you a prisoner. The moon found you a free man.

How did you do it? What words did you say? Did you treat the other prisoners nicely? Were you respectful of the guards? Did you do enough good things to outweigh your mutiny against Rome? Did you protect enough people to excuse your murderous reputation?

Somehow, I doubt it.

In a way I am jealous of the perspective you had, because our stories are the same on that day.

When your eyes first opened that morning, you were sentenced to death, resigned to justice, awaiting the punishment you knew you deserved. You had seen crosses. You knew what your treachery would earn if ever you were captured. Traitors to the crown of Rome lined the streets, the barely living and the long dead, vivid reminders of the wrath that awaited those who threatened the emperor. You had earned that status, that sentence, that misery.

How did you feel when you learned you were chosen? Were you shocked when the guard brought you out at their request? Were you proud and self-confident? Did you gloat as you left?

Or did you see Jesus on your way out? You must have known who He was. Were you astounded to see that His freedom was given to you? Had you any idea just how innocent He was?

You see, as you walked away to resume your life, He was led away to allow others to end His own. All the miracles, all the sermons, all the Scriptures He had memorized, all the acts of mercy were as nothing to Him. Everyone ignored His impeccable record. And all of the good that He had accomplished was credited to you. Certainly no one was actually thinking that you had behaved so well, but you found yourself reaping the benefits of perfect living in an instant.

Did you realize what was happening? You, and you alone, had any semblance of a notion what Jesus was doing that day. Whether you realized it or not, while everyone else was baffled by His horrifying torture and death, you alone were already walking in the shadow of the cross, covered by the blood of the Lamb.

You see, a transaction was made that day. The wrath of God was coming. Let there be no doubt. The wrath of God was always coming. From the apple in the garden to the hills outside your city, the vengeance of Almighty God was coming against those who rejected His love and established their own kingdom. Wrath was coming for you and me. For the mutinous, calloused-hearted, self-exalting race. Because a holy God, one who truly loves, cannot allow wickedness, Love's antithesis, to prevail. He would not be loving at all if He did.

So heaven's fury made a date with the earth. Retribution.

And heaven's flesh-clad Love accepted the invitation. Substitution.

To those who looked on, He appeared weak and passive, but in bewildering humility, the King of kings held His tongue and let you walk free in His place. And after watching your reentry into freedom, Jesus set His gaze on the hill. He dragged His self and His fuel to the altar of Calvary to intercept the punishment you traded Him for, I traded Him for.

Perhaps watching your freedom fanned His flame. Perhaps the faint reflection of the grander task at hand was the hope He clasped as He started down the road. Because He was not merely taking your punishment, though your guilt was exceedingly great. And He was not merely setting you free, though His love for you did compel Him. He was taking my guilt and punishment, and your cousin's, and my brother's, and the teenage boys who were looking for trouble at the park today, and the beautiful preschool girl who sits angelically through the service at church each week, and every person who has every lived. He was setting free the entire race, not from mere physical imprisonment in this life, but from the cast-iron bonds of slavery to sin and from the unspeakable agony of eternity apart from Love.

Oh Barabbas, His love for you was overwhelming! And yet it speaks but a faint whisper of the love He has for all humanity, a love He would shout with all His might from the cross: "It is finished!"

Your name, Barabbas, is altogether gripping. From the Aramaic root words "bar" and "Abba," "son of Abba," "son of a father or master." Privileged. Favored. Heir. As one who represented all who would accept the substitution offered by Jesus, all who would exchange freedom with Him, your name is the one we have all inherited. "When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God."

I hope you realized who you were, my friend. I hope to meet with you one day when days are endless and hear how your frozen heart was thawed on that one good day for you.

I am grateful for your identity, Barabbas, for your presence in the story that is mine as well. All glory be to God--for Your Word, for Your Love, for Your goodness on display on Friday.

Daughter of Abba,

Katie

sand I am

When everything around me

seems to cruelly fall apart,

When my weakness, striving, failure

rend asunder my frail heart

Then I realize my foundation

has not been steady land

But I've built upon myself,

forgetting I am naught but sand

Shifting, tricky, flaky grains,

far too tiny to give strength,

The best I had to offer

returned a dismal lack of length

Something stronger, Someone sure

must support my weight of life

For tiny grains of sand

hold not this woman, friend and wife

Though I'll give wholehearted effort,

my foundation e'er must be

Jesus, crucified and risen,

Solid Rock, my Hope is He

"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." Matthew 7:24-27

stones

Staggering,

the weight of sin,

She crumples to the dust
Calloused hands of calloused hearts

Jolt her with a final thrust

Scorching sun and blinding light

The last her eyes will see

She bows her head, her tears make mud

And waits for gravity

Then He steps in

He intervenes

Not because she's innocent

More because all stones on earth

Fail to afford atonement

If every stone that could be found

Were hurled against her sin

Still too heinous, grievous shame

Would plague her from within

With sin too great

Rebellion's breach

Healed and mended by just One

Superseding stones and surface splints

The Father sent His Son

And all the pain of stonings past

And all those to be earned

Broke the life of God's own Son

At the cross His Father spurned

One large stone

Now rolled in place

To seal the sting of death

One large stone, the angels sing

King Christ reclaims His breath

Heretofore her verdict death

Ever after life and light

All sins washed and all stones rolled

Away in Jesus' might

waiting on the sun

the sleepy sky is dark

but not without illumination

clouds are dull and grey

but sing anticipation

the sun is on its way

and with it mercies new

to light the morning sky

to saturate it through

to bless the weary eye

whose heart is dull and grey

with hope in vivid light

the sun is on its way

ever softly comes the bright

warming wonder of each ray

heating tendrils, wisps and swirls

brand new pigments on display

myriad grace He now unfurls

dripping from the newborn day

filling eyes and heart with life

hugging near the faraway

and to think these glories rife

tender mercy's own bouquet

breaths ago were dull and dark

but the Sun is on its way

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

i get to marry Stephen Kump? you're kidding

Over the last year, I have spent my time, not only with infants, toddlers and 3-year-olds, but with Stephen Kump, the man who will be my husband in just 94 short days. To say I have not learned from interacting with him would be one of the greatest lies of my life. Quite the contrary, it is changing everything about me. But as it is with my pre-K friends, Stephen is not truly the one shaping my heart. He is not worthy of worship or even credit for the ways my soul is changed. But he does reflect brilliantly and submit obediently to the Author and Perfecter of my faith. For that I am grateful, and for that I am changed.

For the purpose of these thoughts, our story started almost exactly one year ago, but one must know that we had previously been friends for four years and arguably "more than friends" for the third year of those. On December 17, 2009 I left my parents' house after a healthy but painful break-up and returned to Woodley to join my roommates and our friends in Christmas caroling around the neighborhood. My arrival was tardy and my heart was begging numbness to afford a happy face. Only my closest friends knew what my past three hours had entailed, so I braced myself for sociability and genuinely made the best of the rest of the evening.

No sooner had my heart gasped for the first breath of "life will be more than fine" than Stephen Kump reentered my world after at least a six-month leave of absence. I truly cannot recall when I saw him before that, but certainly not while I was in a relationship or even considering it for several months prior. All of a sudden I found myself in his friendly, affectionate hug, remembering what a faithful friend he had always been. Red flag.

Our interaction was minimal as I recall, but any woman can testify that a freshly broken heart does not need much. We made eye contact during a game of charades later in the evening, and I immediately knew that my defenses needed bolstering. That night I would tell my best friend, Katie, "Question me relentlessly on anything that has to do with Stephen Kump." I knew that if I were to rebound, it would be in his direction (which may or may not have happened previously), and I knew I wanted to avoid such a response with all my might.

Two days later two of our closest friends were married. I did my best not to look at Stephen on the dance floor or be conscious of where he was at all times. I tried not to notice how handsome he was in a tux or how my heart twitched anytime my eyes met his. Just as I reached around to pat myself on the back for a day well-played, my roommates planned the annual trip to his house that he and I have sustained since our freshman year at Tech. Clearly, I was going.

Three days after the wedding I headed to Columbus by myself. My roommates had bailed on the trip they instigated, but I found myself driving down to see Katie Jones as she and her brother were the only other two going. As a means of reconciliation for giving me directions that landed me briefly in Alabama, Stephen bought my movie ticket that evening and gave me two hugs as I tried to leave for Peachtree City later on. My heart felt as though it were under a siege. I cried much of my drive home. I cried because my heart was still hurting from the recent break-up. I cried because I knew Stephen Kump knew me better and cared for me deeper than any man on earth. I cried because the distance between us seemed too great to be bridged. I cried because I knew no one else would ever come close to who he was.

When I sent my thanks for the movie ticket in a text message back at home, he responded by telling me, "You're very welcome!!! You deserve to be treated well!!" For anyone who knows Stephen Kump, and I certainly did, his enthusiasm is near explosive if he ever considers using so many exclamation points. I opened the message and groaned, already exhausted from the battle against my feelings for him. Fortunately, the next few days of Christmas distracted me for some period of time and I had a reprieve.

For whatever reason, though we had not seen much of each other in the past year, 2010 began with several good reasons for getting together or at least sending a text or two. The final season of 24 started up, and that could not go uncelebrated. Georgia Tech had a swing dance, and though we both invited a good crowd to join us, we danced more together than not (much to my frustration). Stephen turned 23 late in January which warranted a "happy birthday, old man" text. And his invitation to accompany him to the Army National Guard Ball sparked a series of awkward, confusion-revealing, emotion-sensitive text messages that we could no longer avoid.

He asked me to coffee on the first Thursday of February. I went with knotted stomach and anxious heart, fully aware that we still had feelings for each other just beneath our otherwise calm exteriors. But I was also aware that my heart was still in full rebound mode. We made small talk and discussed a few ministry opportunities, but he ultimately steered the conversation into one for clarifying our relationship potential. For the first time in five years we were perfectly honest about our feelings (mostly his) and our reservations (mostly mine) in considering a relationship with each other.

As far as I can recall, I spent the entire conversation in silent prayer, something to the effect of "Oh Lord, what are You doing? Will You please just give me words? All I need to know right this second is what to say next!" He waited about seven months to really show His hand on the first question, but He told me two things to tell Stephen that night. One: I would need at least one month before I even wanted to think about a relationship due to the state of my heart. And two: I wanted my dad to be much more involved in all of my relationships in the future because he had just read Voddie Baucham's "What He Must Be...If He Wants to Marry My Daughter."

We said goodnight, I tucked the conversation away, and went on with life for the next month without giving it much thought.

Mr. Kump, on the other hand, had walked away with an unintentionally given assignment. Read that book. Call in a month.

I was only momentarily surprised when I received a text message EXACTLY one month later to arrange a coffee date for the first Thursday in March. For the entire month I had assumed that Stephen might call sometime in March, you know, if he happened to think about it or if he still kind of liked me. It only took one second after seeing, "I suppose it's about that time. You open for starbucks later Thursday evening?" for me to remember who I was dealing with. Stephen Kump thinks about everything. Apparently, especially me.

Not surprisingly, I did not have many new thoughts for Mr. Kump at this meeting. He said the Lord was leading him to pursue this relationship. I told him that was fine but that I was not interested unless my parents thought it was a good idea, which was not currently the case. In hindsight (and from hearing it from him later), I came across quite standoffish, nearly abrasive? That was not my intent, but I knew that my heart was still not quite ready and I knew that both of our hearts could easily have feelings for each other. It had happened before; I knew it would happen again as soon as we spent any amount of time together. For both our sakes, I did not want to entangle hearts unnecessarily.

I cried myself home from that meeting as well, frustrated and confused and, if I am honest, a little put-off by Stephen's pursuit. I had no idea what I wanted in life relationally or occupationally, but I did not like what was going on. Not one bit.

Stephen left frustrated too, but not without determination. He called my dad. He made plans to visit Peachtree City. And he did.

Now, in the weeks between coffee date number two and his trip to see my dad, I became thoroughly confused. I thought the meeting with my dad would close the book on "us" with finality, but in the days leading up to it I found myself wanting it to go well, wanting Stephen to be given a chance. I could not see that being possible, but my heart had made a drastic shift away from every other relational bent and toward Stephen. As I prayed, the Lord moved my heart.

But his visit to my dad left us all astonished. He did not ask permission for us to date or even go on a few dates. He asked if he and my dad could get to know each other. He would not initiate any communication with me, but he and my dad would get lunch every few weeks. How could Daddy say "no" to that?

The next month and a half that Stephen spent "dating" my dad felt nearly tortuous at times (at least on my end). We only saw each other on a handful of occasions, but each one left me flustered and eager, somewhat twitter-pated even. My dad was a steal vault full of thoughts he was (wisely) unwilling to share after each of their meetings, and I was left to wrestle with the Lord over where He wanted my heart to be.

And this is where I first began to learn my role as the future bride of Stephen Kump and the Bride of the coming Christ.

Knowing how much Stephen Kump cared for me was undoing my heart. In an effort to protect and respect him, I spent those months praying fervently for the Lord to show me His will and not let my heart's desires be deceitful. The very last thing I wanted on earth was to allow Stephen to pursue me, enjoy his attention for a while and then realize I did not truly care for him.

But as I prayed a prayer of frustration one night after seeing him at our Cinco de Mayo party, the Lord stepped in. I was realizing that Stephen's love for me was irresistible, and it was driving me CRAZY. The look in his eyes, his willingness to help, his investment in building a relationship with my dad, his restraint in not talking to me, all made me want to be with him infinitely more than I ever imagined possible. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, He said,

"You were made to joyfully reciprocate boundless, extravagant love. I made you to respond to my overwhelming, uncomparable love for you. This is not the first time you have been loved into loving Someone. I did this first. This was my idea, not Stephen's."

The truth of the realization leaves me in awe even now. It is absolutely impossible for us as human beings to resist fathomless, costly, steadfast love. The need for it was the founding structure of our DNA as we are made in the image of God who is, in Himself, Love. And yet if He did not love us with abandon, if it were not for His love that initiated pursuit when we were far off, we never could have turned to Him. Sin has too devastatingly marred our ability to respond to God except for the passionate cross of Jesus that reaches to the depths of our depravity.

Stephen's love for me has not rescued my life in such an extreme way, but the concept is the same. That while I was resisting, mourning the loss of less devoted pursuers, and frankly discouraging to the point of all-but-complete-rejection, he made up his mind and his heart, he graciously ignored my feelings at the time, and he set his sights on making me his own. He decided ahead of time that he would do whatever it took. If not for his decision to love me, he could have easily given up with discouragement from me or the magnitude of the obstacles between us.

"Jesus, Faithful King,

Lord, with grateful hearts we sing,

How great is the love,

How great is the love of our Savior.

The weight of the cross,

The curse of our shame,

You carried it all and rose from the grave,

How great is the love,

How great is the love of our Savior."

-"How Great is the Love" by Meredith Andrews

His love is limitless.

Stephen and I were given permission to go on dates on Monday, May 10. We did so almost every other night for the remainder of the month. We began courting on Tuesday, June 1, and we knew we were to be married over Labor Day weekend in September.

The big give-away in knowing the Lord was calling me to be Stephen's wife was in his seemingly infinite knowledge of my heart. His birthday gift to me in mid-August revealed just how well he knew me and how deeply he valued who I really am. No one else on earth had figured me out so thoroughly as this man. And it is truly life-altering to be known so honestly and yet loved so genuinely.

This is why the incarnation of God was so crucial to our salvation. Jesus left heaven to come to earth so that He could really know us, know our pain, know our hearts. Not that He was lacking in any knowledge prior to His glorious condescension, but He limited Himself to the form of a man in order to know us and our depravity experientially. Yet in all of this, He loved sacrificially and intentionally.

Stephen proposed on Saturday evening, December 11 in such a way that only the love of Christ could be seen. Unaware that we were on a schedule to get to our engagement party, I was incredibly frustrated and ugly toward him for rushing through a nice dinner at the Sundial in Atlanta to make me pray on top of a Georgia Tech building in the dead of Atlanta's coldest recorded winter. Because I was not informed of Stephen's recent job offer, I was incredibly irritated that we were doing such proposal-esque things on a date that could not possibly include a knee and a ring.

I continued in my funk as he asked for the chance to lift my spirits. What I was wanting was for him to realize that he had hurt my feelings, apologize profusely, promise he will try to never let it happen again, and...I don't know. What I wanted was to be right. I thought that seeing him sorry would bring satisfaction. I was ugly, horrible, just wanting to be sure he knew that he had hurt my feelings.

But what was Mr. Kump doing? He had decided to love me and marry me. So he did what it took to get me to the place where that could happen. Kicking, screaming and nasty as I may have been on the inside, he lovingly asked for permission to love me through it all for the rest of his life.

As he read to me of love's patience and kindness, as he told me he loved me for the first time in words, and as he knelt before me to ask for my hand in marriage, every crusty crevice of my heart was washed pure by humility in the light of his love. Gratitude, love and joy replaced self-centeredness, wrath and dirge.

And so it is with me and my Savior.

When I get a true glimpse of the contrast between my filth and His radiance, His death and my life, His cross and my Hope, I cannot remain unchanged by His love. I love Him all the more because I do not deserve His in the least.

And one more thing I am learning from loving Stephen Kump.

My imagination is hardly difficult to entertain when it comes to our honeymoon destination. If he will be there, I am happy to go. (Ok, in all honesty, I would pitch a fit if he tried to drag me to Canada in March, but he knows that, so we're good.) Two things here:

1. (and this applies to many other things, most recently, my ring) Stephen wants to bless me with far more than just "what works." He has far better ideas about what is special and worthwhile than I do. When I was thinking Florida's panhandle, he was checking flights to Maui and Aruba.

and 2. Because I love him, my heart is automatically disposed to jump wholeheartedly into whatever will bring him the most joy. (I know this will not always be the case because I will always have a self-centered streak, but I pray love for him wins more often than not.) My knowledge of tropical destinations is remarkably limited, making my preferences very much the same. I really could not have ranked the Caribbean versus Hawaii if my life depended on it, but seeing Stephen's excited desire to go to Maui for the thrill of whatever adventure awaits us there was enough to take my heart their too. If that will bring him joy, count me in.

My Heavenly Father wants to give me far more than I would choose for myself. And I pray that my heart will always joyfully follow Him into what brings Him most joy and fame.

I feel quite certain that I will look back on all of this in 50 years and laugh at how much I think I have already learned. In light of what is to come, this is hardly the beginning. But I am grateful for the Lord leading me in such loving lessons right now, and I pray that my heart will be soft and teachable in the years to come, both pleasant and trying, even more-so than in this season of delight.

Rene and Brandon's Save-the-Date

Rene and Brandon are thrilled to announce

The date when they"Man and Wife" are pronounced.

They met at Toyota in Fall of 2007

When God crossed their paths with a purpose from heaven.

At first sight, Rene thought, (clearly more than a whim)

"Now I could marry someone who looks just like him!"

Brandon was smitten and would later admit,

He just couldn't resist Rene's spunk or her wit.

Their friendship developed as did love for the Lord,

And Brandon marked with a diamond the one he adored.

Thus began love and now ends their long distance,

Please save their big day and plan your attendance.

Choosing Peaches or Derby was a tough one to call,

But we look forward to sharing our day with you all!