Thin Places

I wonder if perhaps when we find ourselves stretched thin that we most need to be stretching to find the "thin places" in this world, the places where heaven and earth seemingly meet, separated only by the width of a whisper, as if a supernatural curtain has been pulled back and we can at last see all the inner workings of heaven of which we only dare to dream.

I found such a thin place recently. It's on a mountainside north of Fairbanks, Alaska, wrapped in boreal forest, blanketed in snow, and cold enough to leave frost on your eyelashes and make you question your life choices. It's like Narnia, minus a lamppost, a white witch, talking creatures, and a lion who is good but most certainly not safe. Like sentinels of the wood, spruce trees wore uniforms of snow, boughs bending low under the weight. Snow would fall off a branch, causing it to spring back up like a firm salute to the skies above.

And then the lights - those oh-so-awe-inspiring northern lights. My friend said it was like watching someone play the piano, the keys moving up and down gracefully, playing a tune only angels can comprehend.

Yes, there it was. The width of a whisper on a mountainside in Alaska, my own thin place.

I had wanted to see the northern lights for as long as I can remember, and with a milestone birthday coming around the bend, I began exploring the who's, how's, and what's of seeing them. I marked my 30th birthday by riding horses on the beach in New Zealand and wandering around Hobbiton, both items on the bucket list, so why not cross another item off for my 40th? Plotting and planning began nearly a year ago and finally a few weeks ago I found myself heading to the heart of Alaska, along with my aunt, cousin, and friend.

I'm not entirely sure what it is about spaces like Wyoming and Alaska that seem to be my undoing. Or maybe in some small way my remaking. There is this inexplicable pull to places of wildness and vastness, jagged mountains and sweeping views, silence and solitude, and nary a cell tower in sight. A kind of homesickness for a place that has never been home. But maybe it's just all a romanticized notion in my head, a way of seeing these places through rose-colored glasses, building them up to be far more than they really are.

But is it possible to make too much of misty greens and reds, suspended high in the sky, undulating in a cosmic display of wonder, with the Big Dipper as their silent starry companion? Is it possible to make too much of the sheer delight of standing on the foot boards of a dog sled as a team of huskies works in tandem to pull you across the snowy terrain? Is it possible to make too much of cold air that snaps you into awareness and penetrates to your very bones? Is it possible to make too much of an aerial view of wilderness that nearly takes your breath away and brings the slightest hint of tears to your eyes? 

No, I don't think it's possible to make too much of such things, to make too much of the thin places in this world. 

Even if those thin places are a bit brisk at times.

But pile on enough layers and you start not to notice the cold. At least until you pull a glove off to adjust a boot strap or a zipper, and then you wonder if you've just been speared with a thousand icicles, the cold almost creating a burning sensation. 

Our adventures started in Anchorage, but we didn't linger long before we found ourselves on a 12-hour train ride north to our final destination in Fairbanks, the 'Golden Heart of Alaska.' From there, we ventured another hour north to Borealis Basecamp. And then we had the time of our lives snowmobiling (minus that moment when we tipped the whole thing over sideways), dogsledding, hanging out with reindeer, nearly hanging out the back of a snowcat, sleeping in igloos, reveling in the beauty of the northern lights, taking a breathtaking helicopter tour through the White Mountains, enjoying good food (more salmon chowder, please!), and laughing so hard I cried on more than one occasion. 

I never said the thin places couldn't also be found in the ache of cheeks hurting from laughing so much or a good amaretto sour in the company of fellow storytellers.

It seems since returning home, Alaska is all I can think about - when to go back, how to get there, where to go, what to see. I want more of the thin places in this world. 

Even if they do come with subzero temperatures and the need for six layers of clothing.

The Body of Grace

"When [Barnabas] arrived and saw what the grace of God had done, he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts." Acts 11:23

Grace is perhaps the greatest stumbling block in my faith, as odd as that may seem. To this die-hard perfectionist and Enneagram 1, grace seems nearly illogical, at odds with my hard-wired need to measure up. I think of grace and I feel this sense of ambiguity and uncertainty, like I don't have anything firm on which to stand. Judgment and punishment I understand. Striving and earning I understand. But grace? Unmerited kindness and favor with no strings attached? Inconceivable. I recently received a text message from an ex-boyfriend, fully anticipating his censure and criticism on a particular matter. Instead, I was met with compassion and grace. It left me entirely bewildered, befuddled, and humbled, scratching my head wondering why on earth he responded with such kindness I felt I didn't deserve. 

I respond similarly to God's grace. It is no small understatement when I say that I generally come before him in prayer believing he is perpetually disappointed with me and all that I am lacking. I approach him like a dog, stooping low with her tail tucked between her legs in submission, fear, and hesitation. I anticipate his censure and criticism, and instead I'm met with compassion and grace. Yet again, I'm left bewildered, befuddled, and humbled. This thing of grace is a mystery to me, even after nearly three decades of walking with Christ.

As much as it is hard for me to receive grace, it is perhaps equally hard for me to extend grace to others, to see the evidence of it in the world around me. I can find fault with the best of them, which is nothing of which to be proud. 

What happens, though, when I go looking for grace? What happens when I choose to see through the lens of unmerited kindness and favor? I become like Barnabas in Acts 11:23, when he is sent off to Antioch to encourage the fledgling church that was exploding in numbers as a result of persecution.

"When he arrived and saw what the grace of God had done, he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts."

Barnabas saw the grace of what God had done even amidst hardship and suffering. He looked with his eyes and saw the evidence of God's unmerited kindness. 

And his response? 

Gladness.

What happens when our eyes look for grace? 

We see it.

What happens when our minds are fixed on grace, like Peter talks about in 1 Peter 1:13, "Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming"?

We are filled with the hope and promise of Christ.

What happens when our mouths speak grace, like Paul talks about is Colossians 4:6. "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone"?

We are prepared with answers for questioning world, speaking words of life, full of grace.

What happens when our spiritual muscles are exercised through grace, like Paul shares in 2 Timothy 2:1, "You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus"?

We find our strength in Christ Jesus.

What happens when our legs stand on grace, like Paul declares in Romans 5:1-2, "Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God"?

My very crude drawing of the body of grace

We stand rooted in faith, confident in our access to the Father.

What happens when we have feet that carry grace, like Paul and Barnabas did in Acts 14:3, "So Paul and Barnabas spent considerable time there, speaking boldly for the Lord, who confirmed the message of his grace by enabling them to perform signs and wonders"?

We offer the hope of the gospel to a lost and broken world.

What happens when we have hands that extend grace, like Peter exhorted in 1 Peter 4:10, "Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms"?

We use our gifts to serve others, acting a faithful stewards.

What happens when we have ears that hear grace, like Paul shares in 2 Corinthians 4:15, "All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God"?

We offer up thanksgiving to the glory of God.

Eyes that recognize grace. 

A mind that reasons with grace.

A mouth that speaks grace.

Muscles strengthened by grace.

Legs that run toward grace. 

Feet that carry grace.

Ears that receive grace.

A heart filled with grace.

Hands that extend grace.

Breath that inhales grace.

From head to toe, a body of grace. 

And all because of blood-bought grace, blood that declared, "For it by grace you have been saved..." (Ephesians 2:8).

In the physical body, none of the parts work without blood flowing through veins and arteries. Similarly, nothing in my life or yours works apart from God's grace flowing through us. It is by his grace and his grace alone that we are saved. We will strive and toil to earn, attempting to achieve and obtain that which is impossible on our own. The mystery of grace will likely always remain a mystery to us in some fashion, for it is far too wide and wild to be conceived in its entirety by any human mind. 

We have a body that was saved and created by God's grace in order to display God's grace in accordance with the riches of God's grace. 

You're covered head to toe.

Day 31: The Finish Line!

Whew! Thirty-one days later and I made it! I have successfully written more in the last 31 days than I have in nearly five years combined. 

 I also have watched nary a movie (although, I confess I did watch "All Creatures Great and Small" each week on PBS, and I may or may not have watched the Chiefs/Bengals game 😬) or eaten a single sweet in the last 30 days. I know that sounds like zero fun, but all of that feels like victory to me. I cannot remember the last time I have had a more productive month. I have gotten so much accomplished by reprioritizing how I was spending my time, and it feels great.

I thought this quote I came across in a daily newsletter I get reflected exactly how this past month went down for me:

If you wait until you’re motivated, you’ve already lost.

Surgeons don’t always feel like doing surgery. Teachers don’t always feel like teaching. Parents don’t always feel like cooking. Firemen don’t always feel like rushing into a burning building.

If you let motivation dictate your actions, inertia conspires to keep you in place.

Action creates progress. Progress creates momentum. Momentum creates motivation.

For so long, I had been waiting until I was motivated and inertia had been conspiring to keep me in place. I was definitely lacking motivation in so many areas of life, and not that I've cured it in 31 days, but I sure as shootin' am more motivated than I was on December 31. I have felt energized and refreshed, and that sense just kept growing day by day over the last month.

Now, the trick is to keep it going. I haven't totally mapped out how I'll handle things moving forward. I definitely don't plan on writing every day but hopefully it doesn't take me another five years to write an equivalent number of entries. (I'm glad I've done it, but I'm also glad this little self-experiment is over), I'll keep going with Whole30, but I'll let off the accelerator a little bit, particularly in social settings with other people. I do plan on watching a movie or two, but I don't want to settle back into old habits of just parking myself in front of the TV. 

So, here's to you, January! You were a pretty great boost to the system. February through December, you have big shoes to fill, so don't be jerks and ruin everything.

Day 30: See Past Their Wheelchair

I was up in Cleveland, traveling for work, doing a video shoot for our national conference. As one of the lead planners for the event, there are plenty of not-so-glamorous moments, but there are a few moments when I do think to myself, "Yes. Yes, this is exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Prior to working in the field of autism and disabilities, I effectively knew nothing about disabilities and my interactions with people with disabilities was pretty limited. Even though one of my best friends, Jonathan, used a wheelchair, I still was really intimidated by it all - do I ask him about his disability? What is okay to talk about and what isn't? Am I supposed to ask him if he needs help or should I just always let his mom or aide help? I always seemed to be awkward and weird about it all. To put it bluntly and to my shame, people with disabilities made me uncomfortable.

And then I took a job as a project manager for an organization focused on disabilities. We aren't a direct service provider, so our staff is not made up of clinicians or therapists directly providing interventions and supports. Rather, we focus on equipping and supporting those people who are direct service providers, educators, parents and family members. I've been on staff there for over 10 years now, which seems wild to me on so many levels. Like, I'm still in shock that I've been an adult long enough to have had a job for that length of time. I served as a project manager in early childhood for a little over 6 years before I moved full-time to our conference and events team, assisting in the coordination of our annual national conference, which hosted a little over 6,000 people online last year. 

One of the tasks for the conference is coordinating our hosts, writing their scripts, and then assisting our video production team in the actual filming of all the segments we record in advance of the live event. This is how I wound up in Cleveland awhile back. We had selected a group of people with disabilities to serve as our hosts for our online audience. Some of them were in wheelchairs, some were on the spectrum. They each had their own unique personalities and needs, unique ways of communicating, whether through a device or verbally.

I remember one particular moment when one of the hosts, Patrick, asked if he could share a poem he had written as part of our "Artist Spotlight," a feature within the conference showcasing individuals with disabilities and their musical/artistic abilities. He had difficulty speaking for lengthy periods of time and he had visual impairments so it was difficult for him to focus his eyes on the paper. So, we had worked out a method where I would read a line out loud and he would parrot it back. I would read the next line, he would parrot it back, and so on, until we read through the entire poem line by line. It was a personal poem, reflections on his experience as a person with a disability, but it also a bit of battle cry, a mustering of the troops, encouraging others with disabilities that they have value and worth.

As I listened to Patrick say that poem, I thought my heart might burst. I was overwhelmed with pride at Patrick and the others, all that they were accomplishing in life (not in an "inspiration porn" kind of way but just like, "Hey, look at what my amazing friends are doing!"), but I also felt fiercely protective of them as a few stray tears rolled down my cheeks. 

Because in that moment, I wanted to grab the world by the shoulders and say with every ounce of conviction in my body, "YOU ARE MISSING OUT. I want you to know these people. I want you to see how wildly funny they are, how wicked smart, and how perfectly capable they are. My friends matter and I want you to see them for who they really are - not for their disability. And when you choose to dismiss them or treat them as less-than, then you are missing out on some pretty freaking amazing human beings."

People with disabilities are like so many other marginalized communities - overlooked, alienated by the world around them, dismissed, looked down upon, forgotten. 

But they have worth and they have value and they are worthy of being seen.

When my friend Jonathan passed away 11 years ago this week, I remember standing in the receiving line at his funeral, waiting to talk to his parents, sister, and brother-in-law. I hugged his parents, turning into a puddle of messy tears. And then I got to his brother-in-law. Jesse hugged me and then he said something to me that I'll never forget:

"You saw past his wheelchair."

Yes, I was very aware of my friend's wheelchair, but I was also very aware of how wise he was, how observant he was, what a hard worker he was. I was aware of how he always seemed to pick up on the most random details in movies. I was aware of how joyful he always seemed to be. I was aware of how much he loved Jesus. Jonathan was far more than his wheelchair or his disability. That chair was not the sum total of his life. It didn't define or explain everything about him. It was only a part, a significant part, but a part nonetheless. 

And that is the truth for anyone with a disability. It is not the sum total of who they are. So, don't miss them. Don't overlook them. Don't miss out on these wildly talented people who are smart and funny and clever and courageous. They are worthy of your eye contact, worthy of being noticed, worthy of being treated like equals.

Not everyone with a disability has a wheelchair because some disabilities are invisible, but whatever their disability may be - see past it. See the person created in the image of God, the person who has unique worth and purpose.  

PS: And please, for the love of all that is good, stop using the "R" word. 

------

If you want more insights into disabilities, I recommend the following:

Crip Camp - Netflix documentary that I think every human being should watch

Uniquely Human - book by Barry Prizant

In A Different Key - PBS documentary tracing the story of the man who was the first person ever diagnosed with autism

"The Indispensable Ministry of Disability" - article from Gospel-Centered Discipleship

"When the Nest May Never Be Empty" - article written by my brilliant and wise friend, Emily Pilkington

Day 29: Two Sides of the Same Coin

This post has since been submitted for publication and is now available over at Gospel-Centered Discipleship's website!

Day 28: Give and Take

I remember the moment very clearly. I was sitting in the basement of my college church, gathered with a group of other young women, doing a study on inheritance and what that means in the context of the Bible and a believer's life. We were watching a video lesson and the presenter asked a very simply question that might as well have been equivalent to a bolt of lightning for me:

In your heart of hearts, do you believe God is a giver or a taker?

I didn't hesitate. 

The involuntary, compulsive response that immediately sprung forth from my conscious was, yes, I believe God is a taker.

At that time in life, I probably could have listed a handful of things I had felt God had taken from me - dreams, a relationship or two, comfort, predictability. 

Idols, all of them. And I rightfully should have waved farewell to them, but they were things I had held so tightly to that when God did pry them from my hands, the loss of those things only came with pain and grief. God, you took this from me. Why? I didn't have the clarity of mind - or humility - to conceive of all the things God had instead given me. All I could take note of was all that he hadn't.

King Herod in Matthew 2 would have answered that question the same way I did in the basement of that church over a decade ago. Herod was ruler over Judea at the time of Jesus' birth. He had heard rumors of a "King of the Jews" being born in the area, a title he himself already bore. And for a king who was perpetually looking over his shoulder to see who was coming for him? The mere threat of another ruler coming for his title and his throne was no small matter in his paranoid mind.

So, he did what any unreasonable tyrant with an unsound mind would have done: 

He annihilated every boy under the age of two.

Herod was determined to take before he was taken from. He would take every boy under the age of two before any of those boys could rise up and take from him. 

As I read over this passage awhile back, I had the most startling revelation.  

I am Herod. 

See, we can be fooled - myself included - into thinking that it is God himself who came to "steal, kill, and destroy" (John 10:10). We can be fooled into thinking he is not only unmoved by our suffering and tragedy, but is, in fact, the perpetrator of our suffering and tragedy. 

It's a distortion of the devil, a lie straight from the pit of hell itself.

Like Herod, we can become convinced that Jesus is a threat to our identity and existence, a rival king who has the power to topple us. It's unsettling, this notion that we are not in complete control. It's a blow to our pride to think there exists someone whose power is superior to ours. Now, we may not going around consciously thinking that - but the depths of our hearts will testify otherwise. So, we work to annihilate anything that threatens our carefully curated worlds. We want to take before it's taken from us, whatever "it" may be.  

But this is the more accurate picture God wants us to see:

If we would but see him with open eyes, we would see that Jesus is not a king who has come to maliciously dethrone us, but a king who has lovingly saved us and shown us it's better that we never sit on the throne to begin with. 

He takes the things that need to be taken and he gives the things that need to be given. 

He's taken away the veil that clouds our minds, prohibiting us from seeing the beauty of the New Covenant of grace. 

"But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted, because only through Christ is it taken away" (2 Corinthians 3:14).

He's taken away the sins of the world, mine included.

"The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29).

And in place of hardened minds and sin-sick hearts, he gives.

He gives light.

"The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world" (John 1:9).

He gives the Spirit (and he does so without limit, to boot).

"For the one whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for God gives the Spirit without limit" (John 3:34).

He gives life.

"For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it" (John 5:21).

He gives peace.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14:27).

He gives us endurance and encouragement.

"May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had..." (Romans 15:5).

He gives us victory, strength, wisdom, understanding, power, love, self-discipline, freedom, grace, and so much more. 

God gives far more than he takes. He doesn't give like the world gives, nor does he take like the world takes.

He takes the things that need to be taken and he gives the things that need to be given, and he does so in perfect wisdom and complete sovereignty.

So when someone asks you, in your heart of hearts, do you believe God is a giver or a taker, what will your response be?

May our involuntary, compulsive response be one that confidently declares that he is most certainly a giver in all the ways that matter.

Day 27: Books for the Month

When I set out this month to eliminate movies and television, I thought I would have ample time to sit and read a lot more. But I actually don't know how I ever had time to watch movies and TV to begin with because I feel like I haven't slowed down long enough this month to read. I can barely get this daily writing challenge done every day, let alone sit down and read. And maybe it's because I did do away with TV that I am using my time much more constructively, so it just seems that I've been busier. 

Regardless, there have been a few books I've been sneaking in here and there this month, and, of course, my list of books to read is ever growing, as friends keep recommending books. I've definitely added more books to my library 'wish list' than I have removed. 

For the ones I did manage to get to this month, I offer a brief commentary on each:

A friend suggested Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr. I tried, I really did try with this book. It's a whopper of a book, being 600+ pages long. I made it through about 300 pages before I decided to quit. I normally hate leaving books unfinished, but I decided to give myself permission to walk away on this one. Which felt a little blasphemous, like there was a collective gasp from reading elitists the world over, because the guy won the freaking Pulitzer Prize for his book All the Light We Cannot See. One does not idly walk away from Pulitzer Prize-winning authors. But I did. 😬 I just couldn't get invested in the characters. He's a good writer, yes, but I didn't find the book all that emotionally compelling. Again, I can hear the collective gasp. And if you read the reviews, people are losing their minds over this book, which makes me pause for a moment and think, "What the heck am I missing here? Am I just being some sort of dense, fuddy-duddy of a reader?" I'm going to shrug my shoulders and move on from this one. If you decide to read it, let me know your opinion and help me understand what exactly I'm missing.

I also picked up Digital Minimalist by Cal Newport. I've been on a bit of a binge with reading books and content on how technology is shaping our brains and our habits. A friend had been reading this book, and I had just finished Stolen Focus by Johann Hari, so I was curious to see if there was any overlap in their perspectives. Hari's book focuses more on the psychology and science of how our phones, social media, etc. are shaping us, whereas Newport focuses on really practical tips. I loved Hari's book, but Newport's felt a little flat to me, a little too simplistic in his suggestions for how we handle our technology. Hari's arguments were much more nuanced and thoughtful, steeped in a much broader series of perspectives and science. Go for Stolen Focus over Digital Minimalist if you must pick.

The final book that's in process is Ranier Maria Rilke's book Letters to a Young Poet. I quoted this book back on Day 11. The whole reason I had long been familiar with that particular quote was due to the highly spiritual movie Sister Act 2 (that's sarcasm, in case you missed that), where Whoopi Goldberg quotes it in a particular scene. So, when I thought of it again for that particular post, I thought, "You know, I really should read that book some day to see what else it says." I haven't finished it yet, but this one particular quote resonated with me like some sort of deep bass drum pounding in my chest:

Have patience about everything that is still unresolved in your heart; try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms, like books written in a truly foreign language. don't look for the answers now: they cannot be given to you yet because you cannot yet live them, and what matters is to live everything. For now, live the questions. If you do, then maybe, gradually, without realizing it, some far-off day you will live your way into the answer.

😳

That's some good stuff right there. Better than anything I read in Doerr's book (no offense, Doerr). 

On deck I've got Dear Fahrenheit 451, another recommendation from a friend. She sent me an excerpt from the letter the author wrote to The Hobbit, which was hilarious. I'm anxious to get my hands on this book. I've also got Andy Crouch's The Life We're Looking For on request from the library, per a recommendation from a sorority sister. Another book on technology and our relationship with it. Maybe February will bode better for my availability to read!

Day 26: The Joy of Music with Ben Rector

I am not much of a concert-goer except for one very obvious exception:

Ben Rector. 

If you're not familiar with him, the song you are most likely to know is his song "Brand New." It exploded on the charts and has been by far his biggest hit. 

Nashville's Exit/In in May, 2011, is where it all started for me. I was a big Matt Wertz fan, so my friend Jill and I picked up and went down to Nashville to see one of Matt's shows at Exit/In. We stayed in a super sketchy motel where we barricaded the door before we went to bed that night, but otherwise we spent the weekend exploring Nashville's West End and generally having a good time. Ben happened to open for Matt at that show and the first song I ever remember hearing of Ben's was "She Is." 

I was hooked.

Jill and me with Ben in 2016

From there, we saw him in October 2013, playing at Bogart's in Cincinnati. Tyrone Wells opened for him and tickets were all of $15. It was, without question, the best concert I've ever been to, Ben's or otherwise. I was sicker than a dog, and we bought the tickets on a lark just a day or two before the show. Jill had to do some convincing, but I'm glad she did. I was in a bit of fog from not feeling great, but Jill, ever the trooper, drove us down to Cincy, hustled us toward the front row, and man - what.a.show. It was worth the 2+ hour drive and totally worth sucking it up and dealing with not feeling great. 

After that, it was a bit of a dry spell before we saw him again. Three years later, in 2016, we finally saw him at the Newport Music Hall in Columbus. We splurged and bought VIP tickets, which got us into a pre-show acoustic performance, Q&A segment (I asked him a question about a very strange set of lyrics in his song "The Beat." His answer was underwhelming), a photo with Ben, and some killer cookies from Insomnia Cookies. Worth every penny. Also practically front row for that one. (Jill is a big fan of the front row.)

Next we saw him for free in Mason, Ohio, at a Fourth of July festival in 2017. We saw him again in September 2018 at Newport Music Hall, this time with one of his best buds, Cody Fry, opening for him. Cody is a phenomenal artist in his own right (as I will soon explain), so the two of them together on stage is pure magic.

Ben came back to Columbus last May - if you're keeping track, that's concert #6 for us! - and, of course, we couldn't miss it. When we've gone to previous shows, we've usually splurged and bought VIP tickets specifically so we could make sure we got in early and got a good spot. They didn't offer a VIP option at this show, so we decided to just make sure we got there early enough to get in line. Like good little concert-goers, we got downtown early, parked, and headed for the line. 

Except there was no line. 

There wasn't a soul around at the venue, and we seriously wondered for a split second if they had cancelled the show or if we were even at the right venue. Surely we are not the first people to get here?

Yep, we most certainly were the first ones there. We stood at the front of the line marveling at the fact that the 40-something-year-old and the almost-40-something-year-old were the first two in line. What happened to all these young college kids? Here we were acting like old fuddy-duddies, planning our game plan for bringing Chick-fil-A with us to eat while we waited and debating the merits of our footwear for the evening (that's a long time to stand, so wear your practical shoes, girls!).

Again, another fabulous show. He brought David Besonen, a killer saxophone player, on tour with him. Ben literally plucked the guy straight off social media and asked David if he wanted to come tour with the band. The kid was mind-blowing on the saxophone. 

And then there was last night.

A few months ago, Ben announced he and Cody would be doing a special concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, with the National Symphony Orchestra. 

My head was already exploding with imagining how epic that show was going to be. Cody had recently been working on a series of songs from his "Symphony Sessions," where he had taken some of his songs,  some of Ben's, and the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" and did complete orchestral arrangements for them. 

I had access to the pre-sale ticket code and soon as that window opened up, you better believe I was dashing to that website. 

And as it turns out, so did the rest of the world. The pre-sale site crashed. I was frantically refreshing multiple browsers on both my laptop and my phone, desperately hoping I could score tickets. All I got were pages saying I was 600th-something in line, or 300th-something in line. I really was starting to think I would not get tickets.

Then through some act of God, the page suddenly loaded and I got in.

I landed fourth row tickets. 

I couldn't believe it.

(The only downside was that this would be the first show I would see without Jill, which had me bummed. She was already committed elsewhere and wouldn't be able to make it.)

So, off I went to the Kennedy Center last night with my niece and sorority sister (who happens to live in DC conveniently enough and let us crash at her place) in tow.

Ben, Cody, and the symphony didn't even make it through the second song before I was getting teary. 

To hear these songs coupled with the orchestra was so poignant, powerful, and moving. 

Thus the tears. 

It was absolutely amazing. 

Ben and Cody, I know you'll never read this blog, but watching the two of you perform is pure magic. You genuinely marvel at the fact that people pay to come see you perform, as if this notion continually takes you by surprise. It shouldn't. You are wildly talented, and to watch you exercise those gifts is a sight and sound to behold. It is obvious the delight you take in making music, music that moves people and their emotions. And seeing you two perform accompanied by the symphony?

That's what the joy of music looks and sounds like.  

 

------

If you want my recommendations on some of their music, here are my top picks:

Ben

• Sailboat (This is Ben's song, but Cody did an arrangement for it)
• The Men That Drive Me Places
• 30,000 Feet
• When I'm With You (this is the song that got me teary at the Kennedy show.)
• Ordinary Love (he opened with this song at the Cincy show and it was incredible)

Cody

• Flying (the crescendo in this song gets me every time)
• Photograph
• Find My Way Back
• From the Cold (technically from his Christmas album, but I don't really think of it as a Christmas song)
• Eleanor Rigby (a stunning remake of the Beatles' song)

Day 25: The Fashioning of a Priest

If you read the stories of the ancient Israelites, their exodus from Egypt, and their journey into the promised land, you will likely come to the conclusion that Moses was the star of the show. He was the man chosen by God to lead the people out from slavery in Egypt, the man chosen by God to perform miracles, the man through whom God parted the waters, the man through whom God gave the Ten Commandments, and the man with whom God spoke with "face to face, as one speaks to a friend" (Exodus 33:11). 

Yeah, I can see how you would think Moses was the star of the show.

But I actually think it's his brother, Aaron, who was the star of the show. 

When you read the entire arc of the storyline of the ancient Israelites, you'll see that everything keeps moving toward one thing: the priesthood. The tribes, the Passover, the sacrifices, the offerings, the law, the tabernacle. Pages and pages and pages of the Old Testament are devoted to what the priests would wear, what duties the priests would perform, what sacrifices the priests would offer, what laws the priests would follow. Yes, it was through Moses that God communicated the introduction of all those new customs and traditions for the Israelites, but it would ultimately be Aaron that God would clothe with priestly garments, who slit the throat of the sacrifices, who interceded on behalf of the people's sins. 

But there were a few bumps in the road along the way before Aaron made his way to the heights of the priesthood. 

If you've been around the Bible a bend or two, you're likely familiar with the story found in Exodus 32, the story of the golden calf. The people have left Egypt, they've crossed the Red Sea, and now they are wandering in the desert. Moses goes up to the top of Mt. Sinai to meet with God for forty days and forty nights, and eventually comes down with the Ten Commandments. 

But while Moses is up on the mountain, Aaron and the Israelites are growing restless and doubts start creeping in. 

When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, “Come, make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don’t know what has happened to him.”

Aaron answered them, “Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me.” So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, “These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.”

When Aaron saw this, he built an altar in front of the calf and announced, “Tomorrow there will be a festival to the Lord.” So the next day the people rose early and sacrificed burnt offerings and presented fellowship offerings. Afterward they sat down to eat and drink and got up to indulge in revelry.

Take note of what is happening here. On one hand up, on the mountain, God is delivering to Moses the specifications of the priesthood, the tabernacle, and the structure for how the Israelites were to order their lives. God is casting a vision, telling Moses how the priesthood would take shape, what its purpose would be, and how it was to serve the people. On the other hand, down the mountain, Aaron - the future high priest himself - is telling the people to hand in their gold so he could make a god in the form of a golden calf.  

Translation: 

The priest was fashioning a god while God was fashioning a priest. 

Isn't that usually the way of it? We humans are over in one corner, making our plans, our eyes set on our own ambitions, our own dreams, our own goals. We lose sight of the work God is doing in our lives, up on the mountain, so to speak, and so we feel the need to take matters into our own hands, to begin fashioning our own dreams, begging those dreams to give us the meaning and identity we so desperately seek. 

Meanwhile, God has entirely different designs for our lives, a vision for us far greater than us fashioning golden calves. We're working over here while he's working over there. And what he's doing over "there" is infinitely better than what we are doing "here." God is fashioning an identity for us that supersedes our wildest imaginations, but how often do we fail to have eyes to see that? We get tangled up in our own sins, making idols out of things that were never meant to be worshiped. 

Eventually Moses comes down the mountain and confronts and rebukes Aaron and the people for their idolatry and revelry. They do not escape the consequences of their sin, for Moses takes the golden calf, melts it, grinds it up and makes the people quite literally drink their sins.

Thankfully, by the mercy and kindness of God, the day comes, though, when the priest stops fashioning gods and becomes the priest God had fashioned him to be.

In Leviticus 8-9, Aaron and his sons are formally ordained as priests and begin their priestly duties. Their first act of service?

Slaughter a calf.

Eight days later Moses called together Aaron, his sons, and Israel's leaders. Then he said to Aaron: "Find a young bull and a ram that have nothing wrong with them. Offer the bull to the Lord as a sacrifice for sin and the ram as a sacrifice to please him..." 

Moses said: "The Lord has ordered you to do this, so that he may appear to you in all of his glory. Aaron, step up to the altar and offer the sacrifice to please the Lord, then offer the sacrifices for the forgiveness of your sins and for the sins of the people, just as the Lord has commanded." 

Aaron stepped up to the altar and killed the bull that was to be the sacrifice for his sins (Leviticus 9:1-2, 6-8).

I can't help but wonder if when Aaron went to that altar if the images of the golden calf didn't flash in his mind. As he held the throat of the calf, feeling its pulse, knowing this animal would die for Aaron's owns sins, I wonder if Aaron remembered fashioning that golden calf, remembered the heat of the flame as he sculpted the material. Because he was now killing, now sacrificing, the calf who would bear the consequences of that sin, that sin of worshiping that other calf, and he would now feel the heat not shape the body of the calf, but rather ebb from the body of the calf. The calf-worshiper had become the calf-slayer.  

This priest had once fashioned a god.

But God had now fashioned a priest.

God is in the business of taking people like me, people like you, and fashioning us into something far greater than we dare dream for ourselves. He knows we are sinful, knows we are broken, know the depths of our depravity. He is not unaware or blind to our foolishness.

And yet he still believes that sin will not have the final word over our lives. He didn't abandon Aaron at the foot of the golden calf, believing it to be impossible for him to be anything other than an idol-worshiper. No, God kept chiseling, kept crafting, kept sculpting the man he had set apart for his glory and his purpose. God is relentless in shaping his people for his glory, for the hammer he strikes against us is far more powerful than any tool we ourselves use to strike against our own idols. 

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:8-10). 

You are a royal priest, God's special possession.

He knows the way you should take (Job 23:10), and when he pulls you out of the fire, he will pull you out not as someone who was about the business of fashioning a god or a golden calf, but as someone who was willing to declare the praises of him who has called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. 

Day 24: Columbus' Best Desserts

I may be a fan of Whole30 and axing sugar from my life for extended periods of time on occasion, but that doesn't change the fact that I still love a good dessert. Cakes. Pies. Cupcakes. Brownies. Cookies. I have a t-shirt that says "Abs are great but have you tried donuts?" Donuts make for good desserts as well in my book.

I am by no means a dessert connoisseur. It's not like I've scoured every square inch of my city to taste-test every sweet treat it has to offer, but I certainly have taste-tested my fair share, and there are definitely some favorites in there. 

So, if you're ever in the city and want my recommendations on where to go for some stellar desserts, here's my line-up, in no particular order:

Chocolate Cafe - Just go straight for the salted caramel brownie. Absolute heaven. The Reese's Peanut Butter Chunk cookies are pretty stellar too. And they always drizzle warm milk chocolate on top of both options.    

Golden Delight Bakery - Go for their trademark fresh strawberry cake. This is a long-standing family favorite, first discovered at a high school graduation party back in 2002. Most major family occasions have involved this cake. Light. Airy. Fresh. You can't go wrong.

Cap City Diner - Don't even ask questions, just order the chocolate-covered peanut butter pie. It's not an exaggeration to say that this pie has brought tears to my eyes on occasion. When I went to celebrate a milestone birthday, this was the dessert of choice.

Just Pies - Without a doubt, the best pumpkin pie I've ever had in my life. Also the best apple, dutch apple, strawberry rhubarb, and Buckeye pies I've ever had in my life. They used to have a bakery near where I lived. It was a hazard to my health. They made a variety of sizes, one of which was a small 'baby' pie of sorts, only 5 inches or so in size. So dangerous. They had a sign hanging in the store once that said "Every pie is personal if you just believe in yourself." That pie was, no doubt, personal.

Harvest Bread Co - This technically isn't a dessert, I suppose, but it's sweet enough to qualify as one in my world. And this place also technically isn't native to Columbus, but who cares. Go for the Xtreme Cinnamon Swirl. Your taste buds will thank you.

Nothing Bundt Cakes  - Also not native to Columbus, but again, who cares. Carrot cake. Definitely carrot cake here. And if you love cream cheese frosting, this place is your new home.

Katalina's Cafe - Home of the famous pancake balls. I mean, what? Again, technically not a dessert, but again, who cares. Get the pancake balls filled with Nutella. But make sure you eat them all because they do not make great leftovers. (They also used to have these Brown Betty Biscuit Balls, which were amazing, but upon looking at their menu, it appears they don't serve them anymore?! I am mildly distressed over this.)

Whole Foods - Best cupcakes in town. Go for the chocolate peanut butter. (Although, full disclosure, the last time I went, the cupcake I had was terrible. I'm hoping that was a one-off.)

If you're a Columbus native, any other recommendations you'd throw on your own list?

------

If you venture outside the walls of Columbus, I also offer this favorite:

Levain Bakery - I'm not sure there are words. You can practically wring the grease out of these things, but they are oh-so-good. Perfect combo of crispy outside and gooey inside. I first discovered them last summer while on a trip to DC.