My Sweetest Companions

For as long as I can remember, they have been my companions. They have been with me through elementary, middle, and high school, college, graduate school, and every other season in between. They have been on countless trips with me, whether on a plane to a Third World country as an adult, or on the school bus as a child. They typically smell good and are easy to hold. Some were real winners, and others were total losers. Some were unforgettable, and some were forgettable. They have comforted me, nurtured me, challenged me, and widened my imagination and my understanding of the world around me. They were perhaps always my first love (horses aside).

Books.

The companions to my soul.

Memoirs. Science fiction. Fantasy. Historical non-fiction. Mystery. Adventure. Young adult. Historical fiction. Romance. Biographies. Sports. Inspirational. It didn't matter, I'd read it. I can't say for certain, but I've probably read upwards of thousands of books across my lifetime.

The book I have the most conscious memory of loving first was Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Manley, read the book out loud to our class. I remember being captivated by the story. It still ranks as one of my all-time favorite books, perhaps due to nostalgia more than anything now.

I spent one summer in graduate school taking a break from all digital outlets - movies, radio, music, social media, television - I stripped all of it from my life for a period of three months. I literally put my TV in the closet so as to not be tempted. It was a detox of sorts. Since I had so much free time on my hands after removing all of those distractions, I read somewhere in the vicinity of 30 books that summer. It was the summer I first read Lord of the Rings. I cried when I reached the end of the trilogy, I found them so powerful and epic. I can't tell you the number of times I've read them since then. The entire set certainly ranks as some of my all-time favorite books, without question. (Confession: I did technically violate my own ground rules for that summer, as I pulled out my TV to watch the corresponding movies of the trilogy.)

Each of these thousands of books have shaped me in some way over the decades of my life, even if I don't distinctly remember every character, ever storyline, every title, or every author.

But it is perhaps the latest one that will forever be the sweetest to me.

I just finished reading Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad at the recommendation of my friend Kristina. I sat in the recliner as I read last night, seemingly underlining every other sentence in the book. Packed with so much wisdom, so much perspective, her words resonating more and more deeply with the passing of each page. I got to the last page, set the book down, and promptly started sobbing my face off. And not solely due to the contents of the book, although it is stunning in its own right, and I do highly recommend it, but rather because I had completed the seemingly ordinary experience of reading a book, something I've spent four decades of my life doing without second thought.

This past Sunday marked two months post-op. While I was still in the hospital, the speech therapist came in for an assessment. To clarify, speech therapists can address more than just the physical act of speaking, with which I didn't have a problem. In my case she was there to help with cognition. One of the exercises she had me do, she took a piece of paper and wrote a random assortment of letters on three lines.  So, in the image here, imagine there are no letters crossed out and remove the blue line and the circle around the letters on the far left. If you remove those elements, you're left with the version the speech therapist originally handed me. She then asked me to cross out all of the vowels. 

As simple as it seems, this exercise presented a couple of challenges for me. First, I had actually think through what the vowels were. I slowly crossed them off as my brain sorted out what qualified as a vowel. But once I did that, another glaring problem presented itself: I completely missed the "e" and the "o" on the far left, which is why they are circled. I experienced for an extended period of time what's called visual neglect. This is where the brain simply does not register certain parts of the field of vision. In my case, it was everything on the left side. It's not that I was blind, or that my field of vision appeared black, it's just that things were literally not present. My brain could not perceive them or bring its attention to them. Pretty much anything standing off to the left side of my body didn't really appear in my field of vision. 

For instance, I went looking for my water jug at one point. There was a tray table in front of me and then my mom sitting just beyond that, both somewhat to the left of my body. I could see my mom's water jug on her far side, but I asked her if she knew where mine went. With a slightly uncertain look on her face, she pointed to my tray table where my water jug was sitting, basically right in front of me, but my brain did not register it prior to her pointing. It then suddenly appeared in my sight. Think of it like generative AI in reverse. Instead of things getting added or expanded in the field of vision, they were just disappearing in mine.

My text messages from that week were mostly garbage because I struggled so much to read and then also write in response. My eyes had a hard time tracking from one line to the next. Somebody probably should've taken my phone away in hindsight. We turned the captions on the TV just so we could keep the volume down and limit sensory input for my sake, but I couldn't even read fast enough to keep up with the captions, let alone comprehend anything. The prospect of reading pretty much anything, let alone a book, ever again at that point seemed like an impossibility. I, who have spent a lifetime reading books and reveling in words, wasn't sure if I would ever pick up a book again. It was just another layer of grief in an already seemingly endless pile of grief.

Until yesterday.

So, yes, I started sobbing my face off when I got done reading the book. 

The ordinary act of reading a book seemed extraordinary to me last night.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude to God for giving me back this gift of grace. The tears just kept coming. My mom walked into the room, noticed my tears, and was immediately alarmed something bad had happened. One hundred percent of my tears in the last four months have been a result of grief, anguish, and setbacks. So it was natural to assume my tears this time around were a continuation of the last four months.

Except they weren't. 

I'm so grateful to and so humbled by God for his gracious kindness toward me in giving back to me something I thought I had lost.

My sweetest companions have been returned to me.

Yet another reminder that the night won't last forever.

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Functional updates

I'll try to carve out space in each post to provide updates on where I am in the process. So, if you're just here for the nuts and bolts, in the future you can slide straight here to the bottom and skip my idle wanderings above.

Five doses of radiation down, 25 more to go. This past week is surprisingly the best I have felt since surgery on April 16, even with having started chemotherapy and radiation. I have more energy and more motivation. I still get slammed with a wall of fatigue about mid-morning, but I've been getting up first thing in the morning and going for walks up and down our driveway, sometimes up to a mile. It feels good to move my body after being sedentary for so long.

I think I envisioned spending this past week laying (lying?) on the bathroom floor, puking my guts out, but that has not been the case. All praise and glory to God.

I've not had any more seizures since May 30, which feels monumental. I think that has gone a long way in providing stability mentally, emotionally, and physically.

I started back to occupational therapy today. The therapist noted that this is probably the best he has seen my left arm since I started back in late April. Most people would not notice the changes, but I see incremental differences in my arm, each of them small victories in their own way. My plan is to continue to see him twice a week for the rest of this month, and then once a week through part of July. Around July 24, I will start roughly a 30-day break from both chemotherapy and radiation, and I plan on taking a break from everything at that point, to truly just rest and not feel like I'm always having to go to an appointment somewhere. Somewhere in that break, we will get an updated MRI to see how things are progressing after this first phase. I will also have my first round of bloodwork this week to see how my blood counts are holding up.

I also started back to work yesterday after taking most of last week off. I was glad I gave myself space to take time last week and simply focus on starting treatment without the added burden of navigating work commitments.

Onward!

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What Is Saving Your Life Right Now?

If you're just joining the party, I'd recommend reading my first post as a primer, which includes a few disclaimers and housekeeping items of note.
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Author Barbara Brown Taylor tells of a time when she was asked to speak at an event and the host gave her this prompt for their conversation:

What is saving your life right now?

It's a worthy question. And for all you proper church-y people, it's not a question meant to provoke the Sunday school answer of "Jesus." Yes, we who are Christ-followers acknowledge that Jesus is the one who has saved - and is saving - our lives right now. But that's not what the question is getting at. It's a more nuanced, earthy question. 

What is the thing that is keeping you between the ditches? What is the thing causing you to pause in relief, reminding you that you might just make it through the day after all? What is the thing maybe breaking the dam of emotions you've been holding back and finally giving you permission to just let it all pour forth, all guts and glory, snot and tears?

What is saving your life right now?

I have a long list of things saving my life right now, none of which has to do with neuro-oncologists, neurosurgeons, research papers, hospitals, or medications. Yes, while those things are quite literally saving my life these days, there are plenty of things that don't come with prescription labels or have the title MD after their name that are saving me.

That #1 Top Banana Award from my friend Cheryl, with the inscription "The bestest of the best rare brain cancer person ever," that showed up in my mailbox and made me laugh out loud. (Turns out, yes, apparently you CAN get merit badges in some form as an adult!)

It's saving my life right now. 

The hilarious packaging on my new ROAD iD band. My sorority sister Kristina recommended the company and suggested it might be a good idea to get one. In my case, I specifically chose one that is a medical ID bracelet. There's nothing that can fully prepare you for the moment when you have to decide how you want to define the sum total of your health status in 20 characters or less. I'll take "Brain Cancer & Seizures" for $2,000, please, Alex? But I have been nothing but impressed with this company and their thoughtfulness. They produce a product that is in essence a fairly serious matter, but they have somehow found a way to thread the needle ever so carefully, marrying levity with sensitivity. (And if you want to get your own ROAD iD for any reason - medically-related or not - you can use this link for $10 off. #YoureWelcome. PS: Beware - I found the link didn't always work in the Safari browser.)

It's saving my life right now.

And that meme you sent me, Kristina, that said, "Really mad about how fast my life went from MySpace to MyChart," the one that made me laugh out loud all alone in the middle of the grocery store aisle like an idiot?

It's also saving my life right now.

The wit and honesty of Kate Bowler's book Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved. She stuck the landing on this book. Like a breath of fresh air that I didn't know I was gasping for. I laughed. I cried. I read it in two days. (I'm also working on her other book No Cure for Being Human. I would love for her to be my new best friend. Thank you, Venita, for the recommendation.)

Her words are saving my life right now.

The steady stream of text messages and cards from friends and family. It's like Christmas in the mailbox these days. I love snail mail so much. It's a lost art form, handwritten cards, which makes me cherish all the more every card I get. But I still love the modern-day art form of texts and emails, so don't feel bad if you've been one of those people who have opted for modern over old-fashioned. I'm an equal opportunity lover of words, no matter what form they come in.

Those are saving my life right now.

The phone call to my financial advisor's office to sort out some logistics, and I break the news to his office manager, explaining the basics of what has transpired. I can hear the catch in her voice before she says, rather forcefully and with some conviction, "I'm so sorry. This just sucks so much." Her simple acknowledgement that this is a profoundly sucky situation without offering anything more?

It's saving my life right now.

That new song of Christy Nockels, a newly released remix of "Let It Be Jesus," the song that has been my anthem through all this? My friend Jill sent it to me while I walked laps around my parents' yard, trying to keep my body moving, forcing my brain to figure out how to coordinate things again. I shed a fair amount of tears as I listened, grief and hope all piling up at once within me. 

Yeah, it's saving my life right now, too.

The list could go on and on, because there is just so much that is saving me right now. For every breath of fresh air (figuratively and literally) and for every moment of levity, the moments of sadness, tears, and grief - those, too, are saving me right now. Because sometimes just acknowledging the weight of all that is broken in the world - whether in my own or someone else's - to truly lament, is saving me as much as laughter, memes, and Top Banana awards are.

Acknowledging that sometimes joy and grief are dance partners to the same song?

That's really what's saving my life right now.

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Functional updates:

I'll try to carve out space in each post to provide updates on where I am in the process. So, if you're just here for the nuts and bolts, in the future you can slide straight here to the bottom and skip my idle wanderings above.

This update will be short and sweet like the last one - I still haven't made final decisions on whether to pursue surgery, nor have I made a final decision about who I am ultimately going to tap as the lead on my care. Deciding who gets to crack open your skull, remove part of your brain, and then pump your body with a cocktail of drugs is apparently something you should ponder for more than 6.7 seconds. Go figure. It took me 7 months to finally decide to buy a couch, as one friend reminded, and you think I'm going to move very fast when it comes how to treat my cancer? I know I need to make decisions soon and I will likely set a self-imposed deadline for the near future, but for now, I keep reading research papers, going over notes, and just having a lot of long, hard conversations with Jesus about what comes next. My chief prayer for myself continues to be Ephesians 1:17-18: 

I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people...

Yes, I want to know what to do about surgery and treatment and the countless other unknown details of my life, but I also just want to know him better in the midst. I want to know the hope to which he has called me. He has granted me discernment in the past on a thousand and one things; I trust he will do it again.

It is worth noting that today is the first day I did an actual workout since everything went sideways back on February 3. My body is still all sorts of dysregulated, but it was a start and it felt like a small victory. I know I need to keep my body moving, so I've tried to be diligent about at least walking every day, even if for only a few minutes.  

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Day 16: Favorite Books

I love to read. I wouldn't say I'm a voracious reader. I'm not consuming a book a day or anything like that, but I do love a good book, particularly a good fiction book when my evening is blank and I have time to curl up in my recliner and read for hours. It's been that way since I was a kid. I remember being on the school bus in elementary school, so engrossed in a book that sometimes I wouldn't hear someone repeatedly calling my name. The bookshelves in my bedroom as a kid were filled with just that - books upon books (and model horses). 

I will confess as an adult, though, I have been less and less inclined to buy my books these days, but rather prefer to simply check them out from the local library. If I think it's good enough to read it again, then I'll buy a copy. If you were to browse my shelves now, you would know that what fills them is generally the cream of the crop of my personal collection (there are a few stragglers, though, I should probably part with). I started winnowing the collection in recent years, mainly because I got tired of boxing them up and moving them from apartment to apartment. So what remains are either a) autographed copies, b) books I've read more than twice, c) theological reference books, or d) books given to me as a gift with an inscription on the inside. Everything else has made its way out the door. 

So what are some of my all-time favorite books? I share the following in no particular order:

A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. This book is without question in the top three of my favorite books, regardless of genre. A professor of mine first introduced me to it in college, maybe grad school. It's profoundly powerful and thoughtful. I can't tell you how many times I've read it. And the marked up pages prove it.

The Martian by Andy Weir. Quite possibly one of the funniest books I've ever read. The movie was far more dramatic, so if you've seen the movie, Weir's sense of humor didn't entirely translate. Laugh out loud hysterical. I definitely pick the book over the movie in this instance.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien. This is old news if you've been around this blog, but I love these books. I read them for the first time in grad school and I was incredibly sad when I reached the end of them, I just wanted them to go on forever. Tolkien is a masterful storyteller. 

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. I remember my first grade teacher reading this book to our class and I absolutely loved it. I'm not even sure why, but I was mesmerized by it as a child. 

The Beast in the Jungle by Henry James. This is a fictional short story, written in 1903. It is all sorts of tragic and sad, but for whatever reason, I find it captivating. I first discovered it in a college American lit class. The language is a bit antiquated and it can be a lot to slog through - there's still some passages where I have no idea what he's saying. But man, such a beautifully heartbreaking story. I re-read it every few years. 

True Devotion by Dee Henderson. This was probably the first book I ever read by Dee. A sappy dramatic romance novel. I love it. I can't tell you the number of times I've read it. We could also add Pretense and A Place Called Home, both by Lori Wick. Again, mindless sappy romance I've read over and over again. 

Knowledge of the Holy by AW Tozer. This one is probably my favorite theology book. I first read it in the summer of 2007 when I was living in North Carolina. I couldn't get enough of it. I felt like my head and my heart were exploding every time I finished chapter. It landed in a season of life where I was learning so much about the character of God, and then this book came along and gave words to everything I had been learning and experiencing.  

The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp. This is a Christmas devotional, but I read it nearly every Advent and have done so for years. Ann has a very lyrical style of writing that I think is stunning.  

Secretariat by William 'Bill' Nack. It's hard to take a true story, filled with a lot of history and context, and make it read like fiction. Bill Nack pulls it off. Effortless storytelling. 

Any books you would recommend or qualify as your own all-time favorite? Offer 'em up!

I Know Less Than Ever

The shadows of evening were growing long outside the window. I was curled up on the couch, my arm draped along the back of it, talking with some friends from church. I don't even remember what the topic of conversation was, but I do remember making this statement, feeling the conviction deep in my bones:

I know less about God than I ever have before in my life. 

But how can that be so? I have spent my entire life filling a church pew nearly every Sunday morning, no matter if there was a dirt floor beneath my feet in Guatemala or pristine chandeliers hanging above my head here in America. My parents drilled it into us as kids - if it's Sunday, your backside had better be warming the pew of a church somewhere. 

Over the years, I accumulated more and more knowledge, learning the Bible verses, stories and doctrines. I went to church camp for years, literally singing Kumbaya around a campfire and feeling the warm fuzzies of it all. (I even won 'Camper of the Year' in 1998.) I went overseas on short-term mission trips on multiple occasions, bouncing between Guatemala, Kenya, Russia, New Caledonia. I can't tell you the number of Bible studies I've completed over the years, pages and pages of notes stacking up, taking up space in my filing cabinet and computer hard drive. I've read various commentaries, debated doctrines, been to conferences, read countless theology books, led small groups, facilitated women's times, and taught in the children's ministry. Heck, I've even published articles about God, writing as if I might actually know what I'm talking about.

I am like the apostle Paul (although simultaneously very aware I am nothing like Paul on countless levels) as he rattles off his resume in Philippians 3:4-6:

If someone else thinks they have reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless (NIV).

And yet, despite the spiritual resume, the stockpiles of knowledge and the passing of time, still I'm convinced I know less about God than when I first came to know him decades ago.

What really lies at the heart of that statement is not merely an intellectual recognition of how much literal knowledge I possesses (or don't) about God - but rather a recognition rooted in marvel and wonder, a sheer sense of disbelief. Like David in Psalm 8:3-4, I ask with a hint of mystification in my thoughts and in my prayers to God,

When I consider your heavens, 

the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars,

which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him, 

the son of man that you care for him?

C.S. Lewis writes in his famed children's series, The Chronicles of Narnia, of four siblings - Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy - who discover an enchanted and mysterious land through the doors of a seemingly common wardrobe. Through this wardrobe, the children are magically transported to the land of Narnia and encounter the schemes of the White Witch, an evil sorceress who has placed the land under a spell. Along with Aslan the lion, a good (but not tame!) and powerful king, the children wage war in order to restore peace to Narnia, which they achieve. The children eventually return from the wardrobe and back to their ordinary lives, but there does come a day in the fourth book, Prince Caspian, when they journey back to Narnia. 

It is here that Lucy, the youngest of the siblings, searches for Aslan. She discovers him in the wood, rushing to him:

And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him and putting her arms as far round his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane.

"Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan," sobbed Lucy. "At last."

The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into the large wise face.

"Welcome, child," he said.

"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."

"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.

"Not because you are?"

"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

Like Lucy, I am older and I am finding God bigger.

This is how I can say I know less about God than ever. 

He hasn't changed one iota, not in my lifetime and not in all the lifetimes before me. He has not literally grown bigger, just like Aslan had not grown bigger. But just as Lucy's view of Aslan had changed, my view of God has changed. 

The passing of time has sharpened my awareness of my limitations, my shortcomings, my sinful tendencies, and I've discovered that maybe - just maybe - I don't know it all after all. Likewise, the passing of time has sharpened my awareness of the vastness, the greatness, the magnitude of the God who does know it all.

Age has a way of humbling us and teaching us that God is far bigger than we dared to dream, and we as humans are infinitely smaller than our egos are willing to admit. I see who I am - and who I am not - with greater clarity relative to who he is. 

It is this realization that humbles me, that leaves me feeling mystified and positively stumped that God should ever bend down to make himself known to me. I read his Word and I think, "How is that I'm still learning things afresh, things I've read dozens of times before, but as if I've never read them before?" I pray and think, "How is it that he still bothers to listen to me, still chooses to bestow his grace upon me?"

It's because I am growing and I am finding him bigger. 

When I get to heaven, I want to wrap my arms as far round God's neck as I can, gaze into his large wise face and say, "You're bigger." 

And then spend all eternity finding out just how big he really is. 

"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (1 Corinthians 13:12).

"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord..." (Phillipians 3:8).

What Was Given

Every once in awhile I'll do a piece of artwork when I think to myself, "I actually like this piece."  Normally I create something, over-analyze it, decide there are too many things wrong with it and then pawn it off on somebody.  I think my friend Alex has all of my discarded artwork that I decided I don't like. The latest piece is one that fits in the former category.  I really love it actually.  It's a quote from the movie version of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  Prince Caspian says it at the very end of the movie and it struck a chord with me.  

I'm still recycling Jimmy Buffett's book, which is where all of the book pages on the background came from.  I mod podged the letters on.  Used twine to make the lines, weaving them together where they intersect.  And voila. My new favorite piece.   

Hodge Podge of Thoughts

Such an assortment of thoughts as of late, on far too many a topic to fully contain here.  So I decided to just hit the highlights via some links that have spurred many a thought in recent weeks.

Rethinking Santa

http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/rethinking-santa

I have often wondered how I will teach Santa to my children.  I was raised on Santa and I don't think it's hindered my faith to any degree for having believed in him for a time.  But as I've gotten older and as my faith has deepened, I have come to believe that there is ultimately no room for Santa, if we are truly to believe that Jesus is supreme.  And then John Piper had a recent podcast that I think helped me additionally articulate this thought process.  I appreciate his firm words on the topic.

So there is no contest here. I cannot see why a parent, if they know and love Jesus, if they have found Jesus to be the greatest treasure in the world, why they would bring Jesus out of the celebration and Santa into the celebration at all — I mean, he is just irrelevant. He has nothing to do with it. He is zero.

So my counsel is to give all your efforts to making your children as happy as they can possibly be with every kind of surprise that is rooted in the true meaning of Christmas. Let your decorations point to Jesus. Let your food point to Jesus. Let your games point to Jesus. Let your singing point to Jesus. Out-rejoice the world, out-give the world, out-decorate the world, and let it all point to Jesus.

If being Jesus-focused is a killjoy for your Christmas, you don’t know him well.

Six Options for Godly Single Women Wanting to Marry
http://marshill.com/2013/12/13/6-options-for-godly-single-women-wanting-to-marry
Mark Driscoll's recent blog post was a breath of fresh air in its honesty.  He outlines six options that we have as single godly women: sin, surrender, settle, suffer, strive, or solace.  I'll take solace, please.

iPersonic
http://www.ipersonic.com/
I took this personality test recently and it was a bit frightening how four short questions unveiled a rather accurate portrait of myself.  A Reliable Realist through and through.  Some of it I laughed about it.  Some of it I winced about, having those moments when I know the description is so true of me, but so desperately wishing it wasn't.  Case in point: "Their strong points are thoroughness, a marked sense of justice, doggedness bordering on pigheadedness and a pragmatic, vigorous and purposeful manner."  The pigheadedness is when I winced.  I apologize if any of you have had to hear the brunt of that pigheadedness.  "You don’t appreciate too much commotion around you." This is when I laughed because that is probably a bit of an understatement for me.

The Greatest Gift, by Ann Voskamp
http://www.aholyexperience.com/  
I've been thumbing my way through Ann Voskamp's latest book The Greatest Gift.  Granted, I haven't been methodically working through like intended, but it's had an impact nonetheless.  I was so struck by Day Three, "We only find out where we are when we find out where He is.  We only find ourselves...when we find Him."  Mmmm.  In these days of feeling like I am just entirely unsure of what I am doing with this life I've been given, I needed this reminder.  Just find Him.  That's all I need to know.

Christmas Greetings
Last, but not least, Christmas greetings from my pony, Bud.

Don't take offense.  Her backside is usually all she shows me as well.

  

A Head Full of Jesus

I love books.  And I love knowledge.  And I love acquiring both, probably more so than the average bear.  One of my very favorite pieces of artwork by Randal Spangler is called "The Sanctuary of Knowledge."  It captures this idyllic image I have in my head of someday having this vast library with shelves and books that seem to go on forever, with countless pages waiting to be read and book spines waiting to be cracked open.  (And maybe I'm really partial to the idea of having a ladder in my library.)

I remember when I was in college and the local library temporarily relocated so they could renovate their old space.  When they reopened, I walked into the new space and nearly started crying I was so overwhelmed by this sudden love for this little corner of the world, full of books and endless stories waiting to be read.

So, yes, I probably have a somewhat unhealthy - and on occasion abnormal (as evidenced by my inexplicable tears over a public library) - affection for the written word.

But then when I stop and consider how lightly I cast aside the Word of God, I want to hang my head in shame.  Oh, how I esteem the words of men more than I do the words of God!  My head is full of knowledge about Him, but do I really know Him?

And I swear Mike Leake from Desiring God wrote his latest blog post with me in mind.  When I got done reading it, I couldn't decide whether to wince, groan, or turn away and pretend I didn't read it - because it was like an arrow to the heart, the kind that pricks you when confronted with something that rings all too true in your own life and you desperately wish it weren't so.

The glasses gave it away.

If it weren't for those glasses, his unruly hair and wild beard would cause you to mistake him as a peddler. You’d reach your hands in your pocket in search for some coins. But those glasses — and the penetrating eyes behind them — give you pause. 

This old man isn't a beggar hardened by long nights on the streets — he’s a thinker, worn down by a million ideas.

He offers you a tour of his vast library, an experience not many have had. With a little suspicion, but more intrigue, you venture into his darkened home. Here you learn that this peculiar man is a well-studied theologian. His mound of books on the millennial reign of Christ would likely take a thousand years to read (perhaps a literal thousand years).

But as you look around in awe, Jesus’s words come to mind:

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)

This old man doesn't own a Rolls Royce. He doesn't have walls full of priceless paintings. In fact, by the looks of his house, the only possession he really cares about is this extensive collection of books about Jesus. He has given himself to study — to theology — but his treasure is in the wrong place. Though his books are about another world, he’s been laying up treasure in the present one.

On the day Jesus returns all of his books will be for naught. Every question he had about the second coming will be answered. His other theories will be resolved. And he’s left without treasure. Because in all his reading, throughout all his pursuing theology, he never found time to pursue Theos.

It may turn out that he has correct opinions about every doctrine, and the perfect rebuttal for everything wrong, but what is most important is that this man’s heart treasure the truly inexhaustible: God himself.

Our views on spiritual gifts, end times, the author of Hebrews, and a hoard of other things will pass away. When the perfect comes our views will disappear. And we must be careful not to lay up treasures in our views and miss the One who is truly worth treasuring.

Good theology books are very important, but even the best, when left on the shelf, emphatically cannot replace what it means to know God. If your library doesn't lead you to a deeper affection for Jesus, then it’s as useless as a collection of shells.

And there comes the arrow to the heart.  I can read a hundred pages an hour, devouring book after book and yet, I find it a struggle to sit down and read one verse of God's Holy Word.  I chase after all this knowledge about Him and still manage to miss Him all together.  I don't want to come to the end of it all and find I missed the one truly worth treasuring because I was too busy sticking my nose in a book, acquiring knowledge and ideas that were merely shadows of who He truly is.  That's not to say that books are bad or that knowledge is evil - they are good and right things.  But they cannot be the ultimate things.  If there is ever a sanctuary of knowledge to pursue, may I not find it in books, but in His very presence.     

Jesus on Every Page

I remember sitting on the porch of Kenyatta house in a tiny village in Nairobi, Kenya. I remember the early morning sun streaming across the porch, across the faces of those gathered, both black and white. I remember sitting across from Yeen-Lan, the village director, and listening as she told the story of Esther. And I remember it being the first moment I realized that Jesus was on every single page of the Bible, not just the New Testament.

Yeen-Lan was sharing from Esther 5.  At this point, Esther had already been named queen and she had uncovered the plot Haman had to kill the Jews. It was for such a time as this that she had came, to save her people.  She knew she could not remain silent.  But she also knew that if she approached the king uninvited, to plead on behalf of her people, the law declared she must be put to death.

But still she went to the inner court.  And the king stretched out his golden scepter, indicating his acceptance of her presence.

Yeen-Lan went on to say, "There is Jesus, right on the page, right in the middle of Esther, extending the golden scepter, letting us know we are welcome in his presence."

Ever since then, ever since hearing Yeen-Lan say, "It is Jesus on every page," I have been haunted by this idea.  Could he really be on every page? And not just in the New Testament, but in every book of the Bible, on every page of Scripture?  And if he is, how did I miss this?  How did I miss him?

I joked with a friend of mine as I explained to her this fascination I now had with finding Jesus on every page of the Bible.  She told me it would make a great thesis. Due to my aversion for academic writing, I told her I would probably spend the rest of my life writing it.

It turns out David Murray beat me to the punch and saved me the hassle.

And the name of his book?

Naturally.  

I forgive him for squelching my dissertation that I never planned on writing.   

Let me tell you what, though.  This book is rocking my world and completely altering how I view the Bible unlike few other books have.  I got a free advance copy through BookSneeze, and I have to say, it's probably been my favorite BookSneeze book yet, next to Love Does by Bob Goff.  Murray walks through ten key principles of how Christ is scattered throughout the Old Testament - through prophets, through creation, through characters, through history, through types, through covenants, through proverbs, and on.  You name it - and you will find Christ in the midst of it.  I can't get enough of this book - which makes me want the Bible all the more.  To read it, to soak it up, and to find Him - to find Christ on every page.  

I love the quote from Gleason Archer that Murray includes: "How can Christian pastors hope to feed their flock on a well-balanced spiritual diet if they completely neglect the 39 books of Holy Scripture on which Jesus and all the New Testament authors received their own spiritual nourishment?" 

And to that I say, it's not even Christian pastors, but Christians period!  How can we hope to feed ourselves on all that is Christ when we so often gloss over the entire first half of his Holy Word?!

He is there on every page. And he is worth finding.

Get the book Jesus on Every Page.  It is worth every penny.  

"And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, [Jesus] explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself."   Luke 24:27  

All Things Books

I was on the hunt for the perfect book.  One that I could cut up and basically destroy.  All in the name of love and weddings and friends.

I had the privilege of hosting my friend Alexanne's wedding shower yesterday and I decided to ixnay the usual ho-hum wedding theme and go for one that was uniquely Alex. Book-themed, of course!  The girl loves all things books.  That's probably why we are such good friends.  I think we could sit and talk about books all day.  I drafted the invitations to look like the old library card catalog cards from way back when we didn't have anything saved on a computer.

  

I asked each guest to bring with them their favorite book to give to Alex as a gift to add to her own personal library.  I included a bookplate in the invitation so that they could easily write her a note and then include it in the cover of the book.  This way she would have a personal note from each person, but also have something from everybody at the shower that was uniquely them.  I like it when practicality meets meaningful gifts.

I kept the decorations fairly minimal, but I was inspired by some posts on Pinterest that included the pages of old books used as decor.  I liked the idea and thought I could easily find a book that I could cut up and use the pages.  This is when my hunt for the perfect book to destroy began. It turns out it was harder than I imagined.  I made a pit stop at the thrift store and as I was thumbing through the 25 cent options, I found myself starting to have a mild dose of anxiety because I suddenly realized I wasn't sure I could bring myself to cut up a perfectly good book.  I originally was aiming for a book that would be highly symbolic and meaningful to Alex.  I found Knowledge of the Holy by Tozer, but when I pulled it off the shelf, the anxiety escalated and then I knew for sure I couldn't cut up a perfectly good book.  

Which means I needed to find a perfectly bad book that I had no emotional connection to and felt no guilt over destroying.  

I settled for Tales from Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett.  I'm sorry, Jimmy.  Don't take it personally. It was all in the name of love, weddings and friends.       

I took poor Jimmy's book and cut it up into a series of pennants and then used mini clothespins to hang the pages from a string of twine.  I draped it across the fireplace and then along the cupboards in the kitchen.  I went for all things colorful, so the pennant book pages were coupled with solid-colored pennants and then all of my tableware and utensils were bright colors - kelly green plates, aqua napkins, orange and yellow forks, pink cups yellow cupcake wrappers and lots of bright flowers.  The more color the better in my world.    

I also then pulled off a lot of my own personal books from the shelves and used those as centerpieces.  I stacked them up, stuck some brightly colored flowers in mason jars, scattered some of the extra pennant book pages and voila - a centerpiece that makes for a great conversation starter.  I highlighted a few of the books by sticking popsicle sticks in them with a flag on them that said "Alex's favorites."  This way people got a chance to peruse a few books that Alex enjoys, learn a little bit more about her and chat about whether anybody else had read some of the books stacked up.

I am not a big fan of bridal shower games, so I decided to spare everybody and opt for a slight alternative.  Since everybody was bringing a copy of their favorite book, I put them in a big stack and told Alex that in order for her to open any gifts, she had to guess who had brought the book.  And then the person who brought it had to explain why it was their favorite.  Turns out Alex knows her friends and family quite well as she got a vast majority of them right on the first try.  The collection ranged from Bossypants by Tina Fey to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis to To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee - and a whole lot of other titles in between.  It was fun to see what each person brought and why the book had been significant to them.

And because it's a book-themed bridal shower, of course the favor has to be a book!  I found copies of Gary Thomas' book Sacred Marriage super cheap so I bought a copy for each guest and wrapped those up in tissue paper and tagged each one with a bookmark I had embossed with each guest's name. 

All in all, I was delighted with how things turned out.  Sometimes I surprise even myself.  Here's to you, Alex, and your book newly acquired book collection.  May they keep you company for years to come.  Just not so much company that you forget Jed exists.  ;)