One

My sisters and I sat in the front pew. In between us were our parents and a few adult friends from church. I looked down the pew to notice all three of us held up one finger.

No, not that finger.

It was our pointer fingers. I promise. It almost looked like we were singing "This Little Light of Mine."

Except we weren't. We were singing, "Back In His Arms Again."

One life.
One love.
One way home.

Mark Schultz was fifteen feet in front of us. He looked towards us, saw our "Ones" and shook his head. He made us stand up as he announced to the audience that we had been to fifteen of his concerts. Fifteen. No embellishing.

We know every word, every motion, every story. Yet still we sit in the front row every time we can.

One life.
One love.
One way home.

Once we began to sing that refrain too early in the song. He just chuckled.

Tonight I as drove home from a wonderful dinner, "Back in His Arms Again" came on the local Christian radio station. I subconsciously put up ONE to declare that He is the one, the only.

The One I want to run to.
The One who unites us around the world as brothers and sisters.
The One who knows which of my cold phone calls will lead to a job interview.
The One who is walking with me, walking with you through every step.
The One whose arms I want to fall into.

"Back in His Arms Again" by Mark Schultz

I see it in your eyes

the pain you keep inside

is slowly tearing you apart.

Through you've run away

reminded day by day

you've stumbled and you've fallen.

Still He's calling

I believe that He loves you where you are.

I believe that you've seen the hands of God.

I believe that you'll know it when

you're back in His arms again.

I believe that He never let you go.

I believe that He's wanting you to know 

I believe that He'll lead you 'til

you're back in his arms again.

I'm glad I found you here

'Cause in between the tears

something in your eyes shows hope.

When I stand before you now

as one that knows the power

of coming to Him open and broken

I believe that the loves you where you are

I believe that you've seen the hands of God

I believe that you'll know it when

you're back in His arms again.

I believe that He never let you go

I believe that He's wanted you to know

I believe that He'll lead you 'til

you're back in His arms again

And I know that He's calling,

He's calling you home.

One life.

One love.

One way home.

and when you rise

and when you fall
He will see you through it

He is waiting in the dark

back in His arms again

One life.

One love.

One way home.

I believe it. And I trust it.
<>< Katie

Bloody Hell

Disclaimer One: Sometimes these God moments are great when God and I are talking about them... but they don't seem as great when I write them down.
Disclaimer Two: The title of this post may only be read aloud in a British accent, particularly one that belongs to Rupert Grint, aka Ron Weasley.

The other day I got brown Sharpie on my finger where the fingernail meets finger. I apparently haven't washed my hands enough (no peanut gallery comments, please) because it hasn't come off yet. Every time it catches my eye, I think I'm bleeding.  Naturally, I stop what I'm doing to further investigate.  It's not normal to be bleeding.

A few years ago, my aunt and I were putting something into a Ziploc bag (shells? rocks? wild flowers? I don't know) when I noticed some blood on the bag.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked.
"No, you are," she told me.

I'd say most people are pretty quick to tell each other when they're bleeding. If you have something stuck in your teeth or a booger hanging from your nose, they're not as quick to let you know but your real friends will still do it. What about if you're messed up spiritually?

I'll be honest: you're bleeding, I'll tell you. You've got food in your teeth, no big deal. Your zipper's down, chances are I'll let you know. If you're messing up spiritually, I'm not so quick to jump in.

First of all, I'm far from perfect: who am I to correct someone else? I've got more than my share of battles of my own, thank you. Frankly, I think that's an excellent excuse. Until something inside of me remembers I am quick to exhibit physical common courtesy but a little more slow to offer spiritual common courtesy.

But where do you draw the line between spiritual common courtesy and bashing someone upside the head with a Bible? (Side note: my mom physically did that to my sister once... it was an accident). Does it matter? An open zipper, a stray piece of food, and a little bit of blood is hardly life and death. Spiritually, it's eternal life or not. The stakes are bigger and the risk less willing to be taken. Why is that?  The only answer I have is fear. 

Most people consider faith to be a matter of opinion.  Hey, guys, Jesus didn't say, "Follow whomever you like."  He said, "Follow Me."

Does that mean I'm going to stand on a street corner with a megaphone?  No.  Does it mean I'm going to reconsider before I let another witnessing opportunity pass?  Does it mean I'm going to try to be more obedient to that nudge from the Holy Spirit?  Does that mean when people ask what I'm doing next year instead of saying, "I don't know" I'm going to say, "I'll be wherever the Lord leads"?  You betcha.

Will you join me in doing the same?  Consider this my telling you that there is a piece of broccoli hanging from your spiritual braces.

<>< Katie

The Nose Knows

It's happened.  I've been waiting patiently all semester and it has finally come to fruition.  A cold has taken up residence in my body and no amount of hand sanitizer, bottled water, or Zicam will be evicting my newest suitemate. Until it decides to leave on its own terms, I will be sanitizing everything I look at.

But you know what?  It's ok.  Don't get me wrong, breathing is really annoying right now, but if it's March and I just now got sick for the first time: it's been a good year!

The other day at sign choir practice, Lizzie and I got into each others' sign space.  Her hand got a little too close to my face.  If Malachi poking me in the nose made it bleed, Lizzie's fingers definitely would have come out covered in ... censored.  Ew gross!  Filter, Katie, filter. 

The sign Lizzie almost sent up my nose was "God."  Yes, Lizzie's God almost went up my nose.  Sometimes we need God to bloody our boogy nose before He gets our attention.  That shouldn't be the case but it is reality.  He shouldn't have to take such drastic measures before we give Him our undivided attention.  Yet we're too busy running around trying to stay healthy, be productive, and keep the peace that we don't find the time to thank Him for our health, work, and relationships.  We don't take a second and look for Him in those situations; we wait until He's taken drastic measures before we focus on Him.

Take a second and thank Him.  Ask Him to reveal Himself to you in a new way today.

As for me, I will do the same.  I'll also make sure I'm rexercising ("rest" and "exercise" combined) to make sure this cold doesn't apply to be my roommate for next year.  Oh, and since Zicam recalled their excellent up-the-nose product, I'll try to make sure the only thing headed up my nose is a tissue... and the occasional finger.  Kidding.  I think.

<>< Katie