named

it isn't ironic. it's not even coincidental or fate or by chance. in the old testament, names were given based on personalities or characteristics of the individual. in many cases, God actually renamed people to fit who He had intended for them to be instead of the person the world defined them as. jacob became israel because he wrestled with God; abram, abraham as he would one day be the father of many. God told the newly renamed abraham to name his son, isaac because he was about to bring much laughter to the older, barren couple. later God renames saul to be paul.

my name is amanda, and god named me. my parents had been expecting a boy. they were so caught off guard by my femaleness that their lack of choosing a name caused a delay in my release from the hospital. out of desperation my parents agreed to pray as they parted ways one day. they reunited at the end of the day, each carrying a slip of paper. i like to imagine my dad walking down the hospital hallways with sweaty palms and a nervous heart, wondering if what he carried in his hand would match anything my mom had heard from God. when at last their papers exchanged hands, i picture shock and awe and gratefulness as they read "amanda" written by the hands of their beloved. just like God told abraham to name his son isaac, He told ron and denise to name their daughter amanda.

now, as a twenty-nine-year-old woman, i am finally understanding the depth of just why God chose that name for me. i have spent most of my life feeling broken down, tired, sometimes ugly, and often unloved (although many people have loved me very well). God knew that this would be a lifelong battle for me; that there would be days of extreme loneliness even in the midst of people; that i would be my worst enemy in finding a fulfilling kind of love; that even when i felt loved, i would be uncomfortable. He knew that there would be a need for a daily reminder, a sort of stamp on my soul. God gave me something i could never get rid of, even in spite of myself. He branded me with a meaning, a characteristic that the world could never reshape no matter the circumstances. God named me amanda, "worthy of love". in that, there is no irony.

the words of a 10 year old

i had a pretty rough day today. the kind of rough that leaves you in tears for a couple of hours when you finally get home and let your hair down. the truth is, there are parts of my life that have been hard for a while now. as i last wrote, there are days when i struggle to find words; a tension that spills over into my relationship with God. today as i cried, i wrestled with this and just as i was about to give up, my fancy phone lit up. as she sometimes does, my 10 year old friend had nabbed her mother's phone to text me. she told me about her day and asked about mine. while i may spare the details, i'm not okay with lying to children. when she heard about the generalities of my day, she said the age old christian cliche 'i will pray for you'. but nothing about her words fit "cliche" as the next thing she said was 'dear god, i pray for..." after the 'amen', she said she loved me. it's a profound moment that i will probably never quite be able to grasp. in the very second that my internal pain paralyzed my lips, my 10 year old friend stood in the gap.

when i can't speak, i sing

sometimes i go through phases where there is so much going on, that i can't find the words to write. my blog silence started as busyness while in the midst of papers for grad school, work, and prep for oakland. now, i just can't find the words. my soul spends days both aching and rejoicing which makes verbal expression quite difficult. when i can't speak, i sing. like any artist or a spiritual person, there is an indescribable something that happens when i connect to the part of my soul that unleashes the music. i have both art and god, and this is what i have been singing lately:

violet eyes, white cloud skies
she was plainly ordinary
no silver wings, no big dreams
she never bothered anybody

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

wounded soul
with no home to go to
but really nothing so unusual
she learns to deal
and maybe not to feel
and leaves the light on
while she's sleeping

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

is there more than breathing
or motionless hoping for
kindred ties, orphan lies
easier to run than reconcile
mountains high, cursed nights
when you run, you drag it all behind

no gamble, no risk
no clenching fist
when you close your eyes
it won't help you forget

one day more or less
one more longing envy
for greener grass
anything to please
fill this hole in me

--sandra mccracken

big and unexpected. those were the words i used in my prayer just days after i realized that i didn't pray with real belief and expectancy. there has been a restless feeling in the pit of my stomach for months now; like something great is around the corner or just out of my reach. so i prayed, literally for something big and unexpected, and made a firm decision to believe god was going to make it happen.

two weeks later i found myself saying "are you serious?" to the face of a man who was very unexpectedly inviting me into something bigger than i could have imagined. in the moment, i didn't recognize it as god's answering that prayer. perhaps i don't dream big enough for myself so i'm easily caught off guard.

this man was serious and just seven days later, i found myself committing to the big and unexpected; to moving westward for a season; to stepping into something i never viewed myself as having the ability to do. there are a lot of lessons i could pull from this; there are a lot of lessons i'm going to pull from this before this whole thing is over, but the one thing i do know is that praying with great confidence in my god is something i will continue to do.

and i'll try not to be so surprised when he answers in the truly unexpected ways.

for those of you who are dying to hear the specifics:
i'm going to be spending the summer in oakland, california, directing intervarsity's bay area urban project. those of you that have been "traveling" with me over the years would be familiar with citylights in st. louis and the chicago urban project, both of which i was a part of as a college student. bayup (bay area urban project) is the same. while each project has it's own specific vision and structure, all projects have the same underlying mission: for students to be exposed to/wrestle with, have a rich understand of, and cultivate a desire to live out the biblical view of justice--for the urban poor, the orphan, the immigrant, the refugee--, reconciling races and nations, all the while seeing the gospel interwoven into the bigger picture.

what does this look like practically? most projects include an element of study, both of scripture and experienced authors. students live in community with each other and the neighborhood in which they are placed (most often an inner city). the largest component is similar to an internship where students spend each day or portion of with some sort of non-profit/church/organization that is doing work among the neighborhoods in which they live. in st. louis, students are sent to places such as a summer tutoring program, a spanish speaking medical clinic, and among burundian refugees. in all cases, the idea behind this is that the students will dive into these sub-communities and find that is is through relationship that the gospel can begin to breed justice.

what will i be doing? because every project is structured differently, and because i'm just stepping into what is normally a year round position for only a summer, i don't fully know yet. it will involve some pastoral care for students and staff, some administration/logistics of the day to day stuff that comes up, maintaining networks and checking in with placement sites for students, a couple of talks, and really helping students and staff put the various pieces of what they are learning together.

how can you be praying?
1. for my upcoming trip to mexico city (jan. 27-31) to join other urban project directors and global project directors for the annual training.
2. for a leadership team to come together.
3. for preparation--josh (the former bayup director and now national coordinator for urban projects) will be doing a lot of the initial planning and passing things off to me.
4. for the ability to learn and retain quickly. this particular project has a structure that i've not been a part of before. oakland is a new city. all of the agencies, partners, networks will be very new to me.
5. for the students and staff that will be calling bayup home for the summer.

my one year anniversary

it's often the things and people that i judge the harshest that end up most radically changing my life; a book that i'll never read, a place i'll never go, even a person i'll never be friends with. god finds ways of changing my heart toward the "judged", then allowing the "judged" to trample all over my life, ruining it (for the better).

it was a year ago today that i walked into just such a place. i had begun the search for a new church to call home, and was certain (in my self-righteous heart) that the building i walked into on january 3, 2009 would not be the place for me. but because i was invited by someone i trusted, i entered anyway. the first words spoken from the stage (by the worship leader), put a hole in the wall of things i believed to be true about this church. each time i came back with a "yeah god, but what about________?", another hole was punched into my wall until eventually it could no longer stand. it was then that my heart heard the invitation to call the building "home", the "herd" "family", and delve with honesty into an authentic community with an open mind about where i might be pushed.

authentic community is the first thing i found. from a pastor that actually wanted to know me by name and story when there are thousands in the church to the two ladies who decided that i was worth it to complete the triangle of friendship to the lady who recently took a gamble and is investing some time in guiding me through life to the incredibly unexpected and transparent friendship formed with another in the last eight weeks; there is really nothing i feel that i could tell these people that would make them stop going deeper with me. for the first time in my life, i never feel the need to wear a mask at any moment. authenticity lends itself well to growth, for when people can see the real you, they will call out your stuff and push you to become even more like christ. and i've definitely done my fair share of growing this year.

the theme of this year has really been one of discovering my "true self". when god invited me into this new church, he greeted me at the door with just the right people to continue the unveiling process. it started with the simple act of commenting on a man's blog and then accidentally meeting his parents and finally him. his kind and simple words made me squirm and then wrestle, and then one day it all released from my head to become a part of how i lived. this same man, in his natural pastoral way, gave me one of the greatest christmas gifts ever when he pointed out change that he had seen in me over my year at this new church. what he didn't know as he spoke, what no one knows, is that i had first asked god for that part of me to change ten years ago; prayers fulfilled in unexpected ways years after the hope of fulfillment subsided.

then there came this woman who, in her quiet beauty, found a way to encourage the insecure artist in me. whether she really believes that my art is good enough doesn't matter because in her choosing to validate my show design (co-design), my photos, my poetry, she opened a door that allows me to write freely, to sing with abandon, and have confidence in what comes when i choose to create.

i lack the eloquence to paint just what i'm really feeling in this moment, just one year after i was certain that this would not be a place for me. i'm humbled that god chose to bring me into such a great place where i'm free to fail and to succeed and to love and to create and to cry and to boisterously laugh. the gratitude i have for the people who have chosen to walk with me in this community replaces words with tears. god is overwhelmingly good, perfectly sovereign, and answers prayers that sometimes don't even get spoken.

(to julie, adrianne, monty, tim b., viv, jamie, ced, lauri, nancy and bill, and to the leadership and community that graciously opens their arms to all becoming the hands and feet of jesus in the moments that often seem so insignificant. moments that are most significant in the kingdom.)

snow covered and pulling a heavy wagon

this is a photograph. a photograph that i snapped one thanksgiving when the snow, a rarity in my city, showed it's face at my parents' house. this photograph was chosen for a 2010 calendar that circulates locally, and most recently, it was chosen as part of a little art show too. it was truly a picture that i took in a quick moment as my mom was yelling through the kitchen for me to shut the door, and my bare feet refused to step out into the snow. i didn't realize in that rushed minute, i captured something much deeper.

the red wagon is a child's toy. little boys fill them with dirt. little girls fill them with dolls. parents fill them with their children in an attempt to avoid carrying their sleeping bodies ten blocks home after late night fireworks.

this particular red wagon never got to be a child's toy. it didn't hold dirt or dolls or sleeping children. instead, it held gallons of milk, boxes of cereal, and other meal supplies as the nine-year-old hands gripped the handle and tugged it up the hill toward home. the wagon never got to be a child's toy, in truth, because the nine-year-old had to stop being a child.

the red wagon, rust-covered and missing a wheel, sits semi-forgotten in the corner of the porch. it has become a symbol of sadness, and this photo a bittersweet reminder of a life once lived. despite it's blemishes, someone deemed the wagon good enough to hold overflowing pots of fire red mums. someone decided that it was worthy enough to be placed next to the orange roundness of new pumpkins. someone decided that it still had life and was worthy of beauty.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old has realized that she is not much different than the wagon, full of rust and missing parts. nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old has realized that even though she isn't deserving, she has been offered a grace that covers the rust in a new layer of beautiful red paint. she realizes that there is a power in the death of one man, and that in that death, she was given an incredibly beautiful life. a life worthy of fire red mums and perfectly shaped pumpkins.

when i took this picture, it didn't occur to me that there was no logical reason that the mums should still be fire red beneath the snow. there was no great explanation for why the pumpkins had yet to rot in the winter air. both retained their color, their life despite the frigid temperatures and precipitation that beat down upon them.

there is this really cool thing about following jesus called life that comes through walking in the gospel of grace. it's a life that can survive the pounding snow and ice. it's a life that manifests itself in the beauty of smiles and kind eyes. a life that prevails when death is present.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old is realizing that this life has made her beautiful. she's seeing that without this man named jesus she may not have survived being a nine-year-old. she's understanding that being a nine-year-old with a wagon not used as a toy has paved a life of truly relating, to knowing the souls, of those less known. nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old only hopes that this life given to her brings life to others in moments when they are covered in snow and pulling a heavy wagon up the hill.

nineteen years later, the once nine-year-old wouldn't trade one moment for another.

"for it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of god-not by works, so that no one can boast. for we are god's handiwork, created in christ jesus to do good works, which god prepared in advance for us to do." ephesians 2: 8-10

tucking the covers around the broken-hearted children

a mother is supposed to be a safe place. her arms are supposed to be protective; nuturing. her voice and words soothing in times filled with fear; her presence bringing confidence in times of doubt. every mother fails at some point, at multiple points even, but there is the mother that chooses not to feed or clothe her child. the mother whose hand becomes something that makes a child flinch. the mother whose words are the cause of fear and doubt. becoming a mother is one of the things i most look forward to in this life. honestly, it is the restoration, the redeeming, of the concept of mother to the neglected "little ones" that makes my heart beat wildly.

as i approach the day that officially makes me a year older, i find myself in the midst of a lot of contemplation of life; where i've been; where i thought i would be; where i might be headed. year after year i ask "when, lord?" the answer is often silence to be followed or surrounded by instances the prove he's not saying "no", but rather "not yet."

about a month ago i started asking the question again, and the silence prevailed. initially discouragement began to find it's way into my heart, but then i made an unexpected new friend. i don't know all of his stories, but i know enough to know that he probably quite desperately needed the concept of mother redeemed as a child. his stories are not mine to tell, but i can say that i stand amazed at what he has come through and how it is evident that god was protecting him in every moment, even when the adults in his life were not. every now and then he tells a little story from his past, usually to make a point about the power of the gospel in our lives. the stories are often short, but in the few minutes it takes to tell them, i feel the urgent need to be a source of hope and love.

i love to sing; especially when i am alone and can sing from that place deep within that holds secret desires and tears and words yet to come. in the brief moments my sister graciously lets me have with my nephew before his bedtime, he often asks me to sing to him. there's something about singing a lullaby to a child that feels protective, soothing, loving, hopeful.

last week, i spent a five hour car ride listening to the same album over and over. it was an album new to me, and immediately i was drawn in by a desire to know the words and the melodies. last night, after hearing another of my new friend's childhood stories, i was sorting through the mixture of sadness, marvel at god's goodness and grace, and a little frustration when one of the songs from this album came over my speakers.

the artist is singing from the perspective of god to us (i think), but it really feels like something a mother might sing to a young child as she tenderly tucks the quilt under the child's chin. i'm pretty certain that my new friend, much like the kids i will one day bring into my home, did not have a mother that sang this kind of life and hope over him. yet somehow he became a man truly seeking to be like jesus. what we forget, what i forget, is that god is really the one singing life over these children. god sang life over my new friend as a child, even though my new friend didn't hear, couldn't hear.

he's singing over the child right now that is being neglected by the mother in his life; as she is being lost in a system defined by numbers; as he is trading bicycles for jackets and eating food off the ground out of fear it will be his only nourishment for the day. i am honored that god has seen me fit enough to place the desire in my heart to bring life back to these children. someday i will get to sing his song over them too, as i tuck the covers around the broken-hearted little one.

here's the song on youtube. ignore the video. just listen to the words.
jj heller. keep you safe.

so i didn't do it in fifty days....

but i'm not a complete failure. here's the next installment of "fifty people." more to come soon!

it only took six (20-25)

he called me "fish product." it was one of the worst nicknames i've ever had, but as a lowly freshman (in college), i felt i had to take it from the senior. in the end, it didn't really matter because he left a mark so great on me, i probably would have let him call me whatever he wanted to.

nick had this way about him that caused people to willingly join the efforts of whatever "crazy" plan he was concocting. call it charisma, but really it was just nick loving people well. i didn’t realize how important this was until i was loved well by him.

the truth is that he really represents a whole group of people that made god’s love very personal for me.

trish was co-captain of the track team and accidentally became my friend while welcoming my next door neighbor (anna) to the track team. she was ornery. actually they all were. but she was the one we most loved to play tricks on. trish was also quick to hug, quick to say “bosa”, and quick to sit with you when you needed a friend. i never imagined that almost nine years later, god would have taken each of us on a separate, but simliar journey and landed us five miles from each other.

bucky, whose real name is dorice, was another track co-captain that i met through anna. she, along with the basketball player, steph, laughed a lot. bucky easily empathized with others; steph used her sarcasm and humor to get people through the rough spots.

and, of course, there was mark and jen. mark actually graduated and headed off to hawaii a few months before i arrived on campus. i got to know him mostly through stories, brief minutes on the phone, and co-conspiriting a surprise visit for jen’s graduation. mark was just kind of crazy. big ideas, big gestures, big voice. jen was the smile, the funny you sometimes just needed to see. except, of course, when she and nick were having a disagreement.

it’s been almost ten years since i met these six crazy people. everyday, every corner turned, was a new adventure with them. and with every adventure, a little more of jesus embedded itself in my soul. an embedding that became the foundation on which the rest of my life would be built.

interlude

a note to my readers: i know i'm a little behind. i started grad school three weeks ago and have been spending all of my writing time on two longer papers for my class. i have been making notes as i think of them and promise to catch up soon!

Queen Helga (19)

i've not had many nicknames in my life, but during my first year of college i had two very random ones that stuck despite my protests. one of these came very late one night during freshman year when my friend anna slipped and called me a name that our senior friends will never ever let me forget. anna had a great laugh at my expense which became the theme of our friendship.

anna lived on junk food: mountain dew, twizzlers, doritos, yet she was pencil thin and ran track. an english major, she would write her papers at 2am on the day they were due and manage to snag an A. she was great at being friends with people and spent all of her non-class time, non-track time visiting one dorm room or another (which is why she had to write her papers at 2am). in our upperclassmen days, anna became a favorite among the younger folk, and she did a fabulous job of loving even the most awkward of them.

my memories with anna are not limited to mountain dew, twizzlers, and horrible nicknames. there was also the time when she pushed me in the snow-filled bushes and left me for dead. and the time we drove four hours to see third day. and the time we hung the "trash" sign on our friend trish's dorm room door. mischeiveousness is one of the characteristics i loved about her. the other was the fact that i had sheer fun when i was around her. and memories that include these two things are ones that last a lifetime.

random, but not coincidental (18)

i'm a fairly emotional person. i understand things based on how they make me feel or how they relate to my life and experiences. because of this, i have never considered myself to have the ability to think deeply about more heady issues. i've found myself many times backing away from anything theoretical, political, theological, or that might end in a debate in which i would have no idea how to defend what i think.

my eighteenth person happens to be a relatively new person in my life; we have not known each other even a year yet. our meeting was random yet not coincidental. i know that god wanted us to be friends because four months after our random meeting, i looked across the auditorium of my new church to see his face. unbeknownst to the other, we had each decided to make it our new church home.

i remember well the first time he asked me one of those questions that i like to avoid. i thought the fear would eat me alive, but there was no way to escape answering. when he responded, he did not make me feel stupid, but affirmed my ideas although he didn't completely agree with my thoughts. he engaged me in further conversation as if what i had to say actually mattered; as if it was important in some way. he gave me new ideas to ponder and fed me ways to continue the conversation. in many ways, he taught me how to think separate from my emotions.

i wonder how sometimes it only takes one tiny moment to overcome a lifetime of built up fear and insecurity. how something so great can be destroyed in mere seconds or minutes or hours. many times i think it involves another pushing you over the edge or doing something that causes a change so subtle or so fast that you have no chance to protest. this is what happened within me. unknowingly, russ had reached in and brought forth a new confidence for me before i could retreat.

a couple of days ago i found myself in a passionate conversation over a debatable topic and enjoying it; russ's greatest contribution to my life, but we're only ten months in to being friends. in many ways, he feels like the older brother i always wanted to have, and i'm certain there's more learning to be had; thinking to be done.