be your brother's keeper.

I go to church with Caroline Cobb Smith, who writes and sings beautiful songs. I recently picked up her latest album and, this morning, have a line from her song Abel running through my mind. I've heard Caroline say at a show that Abel was written in response to a friend's request that she pen a song about genocide - a tall order, no? In so doing, she returned to the biblical story of the first murder - that of Abel by his brother, Cain - and exposes, through the medium of song, the forces behind Cain's murderous heart and our own hatred and jealousy and anger toward our brothers and sisters. It's really a powerful tribute to the unspeakable pain experienced by survivors of genocide and violence and a call to the hope that is in Jesus.

Anyway, the line that I just can't get out of my head is simply this:

Please don't fight anymore//Be your brother's keeper//We are brothers

In light of the recent violence in Russia (and Iraq, Afghanistan, Mexico, Colombia, etc etc), my heart longs for peace. I sing with Caroline - 'please don't fight anymore!' - and look to the day when the lion will lie with the lamb and peace will come.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
St. Francis

If you're so inclined, you can click here to listen to Abel.

a heart that trusts.

I'm being challenged these days by the example of two women - Lindsey & Larissa - both of whom I've never met and probably never will. In their respective sets of [what most would count as extremely difficult] circumstances, Lindsey and Larissa are living lives marked by grace, peace, patience, and an undeniable faith and trust in Jesus.

Despite being raised by believing parents and walking this road of faith for some time, I often find trusting Jesus to be quite the difficult endeavor. I'll grasp some theological concept or heart lesson, then find myself questioning whether I understood it correctly or - more often than I'd wish - whether it's really true in the first place. I remember seasons during college when I would get so fed up with the seeming endless flood of questions and doubts and my inability to sustain a life of faith. In that place, my walk with the Savior felt so frustrating and fruitless. Lately, the place that I've been in spiritually has been very similar, and I've struggled with how to continue to walk with Jesus in the midst of some unanswered - and seemingly unanswerable - questions.

I find freedom in the knowledge that the Father is not like me. I seriously lack follow-through, but he keeps his promises and makes good on his word every time. I'm learning, now, that it isn't up to me to sustain my faith, but that faith, like all good things, is a gift and is sustained by the Father.

I'm beginning to learn, too, that he is always, always good to his children - even in those circumstances that cause us pain. The psalmist writes, "It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes." I believe that we can learn about and experience the character and attributes of God during all seasons of life, but is it not true that a season of difficulty and pain has a way of reminding us of our need of God and of focusing our attention on those things that are lasting and eternal? Praise God that the jury isn't out on whether he is good every time that I have a difficult day (or month or year)! His goodness, like all of his attributes, is pure and complete.

I may always struggle, to some extent, with doubt - but because HE is steady, both in his character and his love toward me, I am able to come to him on happy days, difficult days, and every other sort of day in between.
Thanks be to God.

winter won't last forever.

This day came with a vengeance, the wind's icy fingers creeping underneath my hat and inside my boots and, it seems, into my very soul. Snow fell fast overnight, weighing bare branches low and enveloping the city in a wintry quiet. The summer's warmth has long gone, and in its absence has settled a longing for those tell-tale signs of springtime - birds chirping, snows melting, magnolias blooming - that shout of new life.

I'm grateful to live in a place where I have the opportunity to witness such a dramatic change of seasons. There's something to be said for living in much milder climates - there's certainly part of me that misses those 70* January days - but this very stark shift in my external environment directs my thoughts to the inner life, too, and for this I'm thankful.

Christian theology teaches that we come into the world spiritually dead, a condition inherited from our first parents, and find life only in the Savior and Son, Jesus. I believe this to be true, and see echoes of this concept of death-to-life scattered throughout the human experience. The deadness of winter is one such echo, serving as a reminder of the coldness of our hearts before being lit by the Spirit's flame.

I've been day-dreaming of summer - spending lazy days reading in Harvard Yard or concert-going at the Hatch Shell or eating popsicles on the front stoop in a tank top and shorts. These days, I stay indoors much more than I'd like - but the promise of April beckons, and I remember that the world won't be frozen indefinitely. Likewise, when I walk through the winters of life and my spirit grows cold, I remember that it, too, will not be frozen forever. I hope in Jesus, whose resurrection from death-to-life inaugurated the coming of the Kingdom - God's new way of life - in our present world. Because of his grace, this redemptive work has extended to people like us, waking us from our slumber to the glorious life that is at hand. Thanks be to God!