In case you haven’t seen this video that has gone viral in the last week or so, here it is.  (If you are viewing this in a reader or email, click here to see the phenomenon on youtube.)  It blessed me so much tonight, I wanted to share it with you.  All I have to say in response is: WORD.

Also I am thrilled to share with you a series of podcast conversations recorded while in Spain with Martin Scott.  Session 1 , Session 2 and a straight-shooting finale in Session 3.

The dust blows something wild this time of year.  As it fills my lungs, I cough and sputter on what I am.

These days I am reminded that the little baby born to homeless parents then toddled in foreign lands as a refugee and grew up the son of a common laborer.  He spent his teens and twenties in utter obscurity and emerged on the scene only to collect a handful of misfits and less than ordinary types no one else wanted.  He traveled for three years raising controversy and then being falsely accused was executed as a criminal.  He knew dirt and pain and longing.  He also knew divinity.  And He laid it all down to wrap His divinity in our dust.  I marvel.  Again.  At what dust-covered love looks like.

I am reminded the only platform Jesus embraced was a cross. I long for an unknown path that leads past the platforms of men and finds rest hidden in the embrace of God.  I am grateful for the dusty, stormy seasons that remind me how much I need Him.  Blessed are those who know their need, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.  Jesus, this new year let me be one of those. Again. Not in theory but in truth.

I am typing this post with South Sudan’s dirt ground into my hands from grimy hugs of my little ones.  It is covering my computer screen and the ash from the burn fires settling around me on everything it touches.  Ash covered in need of a manicure.  Ahhhh.  Here am I.    There is only One famous One and I assure you it is not me.  I am face to face with my dust these days.  The dust that gets tired and longs for lattes.  The dust that wants to hide from stages and expectations of men.  The dust that swirls in winds of change and gets stuck in ruts along life’s way.

I am so glad there is grace for dusty days and smoky nights.  He laid down His glory for grime so He could embrace my dust and make it His own.   I pray this new year my wonderful friends is filled days of fame, of Him being made famous in and through our lives as we choose to explore the unknown paths and roads less-traveled in our pursuit of knowing Him.

January I am taking a much needed month off to explore some of those unknown paths myself and embrace a season of hiddenness.  So I may not be around here much unless I get a sudden burst of inspiration.  And after that well, we shall see… our internet in South Sudan has been almost nonexistent of late.  Hopefully we will soon be looking into longer term solutions for our connectivity issues, but it may take a little doing and time to see them materialize.  Nothing comes quickly here.  In all I cherish your prayers.

And as always, thank you for grace.

Much love from this unpaved road-
Michele

catching a cuppa in quebec

Coffee, new friends, creative wordsmiths to dream with, miracle healings and unexpected God set-ups… this Canadian portion of my journey keeps getting better and better.  Happy 11.11.11 friends…

Where ever this journey finds you today, I pray you will be overwhelmed by His grace and goodness in a season of much shifting and shaking.  Here I am dreaming and praying ever grateful for the chances to share His heart with the ones I am meeting.

Much love to all of you and more to come soon!

Michele

The trees blur on the ride home from the airport.  It is a strange day.  This Oct 31, an eve when nothing celebrated is hallowed at all.  Lost in thought, I am startled back by a woman covered in crimson splatter waving frantically on the road side.  Her bloodied shirt and plastic hockey mask stark reminders of our deterioration.  Does she not know real women wear real blood from real violence tonight?  She waves a sign for a local business I will not be visiting.  Have we been so reduced we now think bloodied masks are acceptable marketing strategies?

It’s an odd day we dress evil up, give darkness a face and call it child’s play.  We sell out innocence for candy corn and social relevance.

The world around falls away but as it reels, He allows Himself to be broken into a Way back through grace.  Do I think God looked at our books of days yet to be lived but already written and CHOSE to maim and steal and bring us face to face with death and loss over and over again?  Not for an instant.  Do I think He looked to our ends, this mystery, this destiny in Him and traced their depths from their beginnings and wrote what He knew would carve our journeys through this falling world needing to fall into grace?  I cannot think otherwise.

This I know.  HE.  IS.  GOOD.  He cannot be or do anything other than what He IS.  And HE.  IS.  LOVE.   I hold the wounded pieced hands of Love and I know… He has not allowed anything in this journey that He has not ALREADY paid the price to heal and restore.  And the torn places become the thin places to see through to Him.

*****

Sweet reader, I wonder… do you know the origins of this strange day called Halloween?  Oct 31-Nov 2 can be traced back far before the church changed their names.  And given the roots, the fruit and the very real violence that surrounds this season… is this a time we should recognize at all?  Just something to consider.

Here are a few articles on the origins of the practices around this day:

• The carving of Jack-O-Lanterns
• The roots of Halloween Customs
• History behind Halloween