His Cherry Blossom

The three peaks of Mt. Sinai Of all the incredible sights we got to see on our two day tour of Mt. Sinai and the surrounding region - perhaps the most impactful reality that struck me was in fact none of these. It wasn’t standing in the split of the magnificent rock where God provided water for thousands of Israelites. It wasn’t in finding historic petroglyphs of calf worship or exploring the possible remnants of the 12 pillars and the site of Moses’ altar. It wasn’t even setting foot on the mountain itself. The thing that jumped out at me as we walked along the rocky paths, climbing over boulders, making our way around thorny bushes, reverently passing tombs and burial sites, was the barrenness of the land. This was the wilderness Moses had lived in for 40 years tending sheep and then came back to for another 40 years leading a “flock” of rebellious and irritated Israelites.                      A Jewish cemetery near Sinai ...

A song, a sound of freedom, a cry, a voice of triumph. What is this living, moving breath whispering through the land? I hear the melody of the lyre, the beat of ancient drums, the sound of a people who know their God and are not afraid to speak. Oh wilderness, deserted lands - Oh desolate wasteland - hear! There is one crying out your name and He is not afraid to speak. He is aching for you to come to know Him, to hear Him. He is near, right at hand. Can you taste Him? Can you see Him? He is with you.  I stood on the soil moistened by the tears of heaven, drinking in the scent of the sweet rain. Could it be that this rain had softened my heart too? Could it be that somewhere where the distant seeds had fallen there was hope that one day they too would sprout? Could it be that the God who created the magnificent rocky craigs surrounding me truly dwelt within me? Could it be?  Oh my soul, it is true. The Master of the Symphony of Heaven created a song just for you to sing. For ...

  Plodding along the narrow trail head bent against the cold mist and rain, hands buried deep in my hoodie pocket - I wondered if this was all worth it. I was the one who had suggested we go hiking in the mountains. My sister, Susanna, and Aunt Carmen had been excited to get out in the crisp mountain air to see the foliage. When we started out, the weather was a little chilly and damp but it seemed promising that the sun would break through the clouds. The drive up to the Cherohala Skyway whispered of autumn colors and harvest time.  As we pulled onto the historic mountain road, I began to notice the darkened pavement and mist on the windshield. Pretty soon, we were driving through swirling clouds round one bend after another. Where had the sun gone and the promising views of fall foliage? Where was the perfect hiking weather I had been picturing in the mountains of Tennessee?  The trailhead we were looking for was supposed to be between two lookouts. The only thing we sa...

  I stood gazing out over hundreds, if not thousands of miles of Pennsylvania farmland. Patches of light green fields nestled in between pockets of forest green. Houses and roads dappled the countryside and thin ribbons of water tied the scene together. In the distance, blue, rolling hills stretched out as far as the eye could see.  I wondered what the first settlers saw when they looked from this point... the Native Americans... and all the people who have stood on this rock before me? I thought about what it's like driving on those twisty, country roads past shimmering fields and cozy homes, prosperous businesses and neatly trimmed yards. Each carefully positioned "Welcome sign" and brightly colored potted plant - each piece of architecture and impressive farm equipment - each idyllic cow pasture and rolling field - was an outward expression of a human desire. To me, the countryside represented a peaceful place full of creativity and endless opportunity.  This is what d...

 "There is a satanic lullaby over the church in America. I want to go back to Iran," said a Christian Iranian lady to her pastor husband after living in the States for several years. How is that she would choose to go back to a life of persecution and oppression when she had the opportunity to live in this "land of freedom"? I think the satanic lullaby voiced by our Iranian sister is the mindset that what we do and who we are doesn't matter - we can become rich and famous, we can squander our life, we can be poor and miserable in the ghetto, we can be imprisoned for some misdemeanor and none of it matters because no one cares - but there is Someone who cares. What does it look like to release a song that breaks the satanic lullaby over this nation - specifically over the church? What does it sound like to live a life of influence and hope rather than reactionary to what is happening?  I've been having a lot of conversations lately with people my age who are ...

  "Hope does not disappoint us" - these words come from a song some close friends of mine wrote a couple years ago. It's been one of my favorite songs and I often find the chorus running through my head. Recently, as I once again heard the lyrics in my mind, I found myself thinking bitterly that it couldn't be true. After all - is not the very nature of disappointment the experience of things not working out as you had hoped? Isn't disappointment a hope gone wrong? So how is it possible for hope not to disappoint? The chorus goes on to say in reference to the Lord - "You are faithful! You are good!" Ahh... now we're getting somewhere. Hope on its own will disappoint. But hope in the One who is faithful and good does NOT disappoint. What does this mean? Our hope is built on the character of God, who never changes, not the outward circumstances surrounding me.  For example - this summer, I directed an eight-week clean up/beautification project in the m...

  I've noticed this strange phenomenon - that when I give a command, people obey. I'm just doing my thing and they come to me asking what to do next or for advice on what they're doing. Why do they come to me? Why do they ask me for answers? Who do they think I am? Sometimes I want to run away from the responsibility of knowing what's going on. I want to bury my head in the sand - pretend I don't know anything, pretend I don't notice the changes needed in my home and my neighborhood, pretend I don't have access to all the riches of heaven. Sometimes I just want to point the finger at someone else and say it's all their fault - it's not my problem! Yet, something deep inside of me stands at attention before the command of the Lord. He said before ascending to the heavenly realms - "All authority in heaven and earth has been given to Me. THEREFORE, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of...