Freedom

Right now I'm reading The Heavenly Man, a nonfiction book recommended to me prior to my trip to China.  It tells the story of Brother Yun, a Chinese pastor who has faced heavy persecution for his faith and ministry.

I've lost track of how many times he's been arrested, and I'm only in chapter ten (of twenty-nine).  Every time he faces brutal torture, undying faith, and miraculous escapes.

In reading this testimony, I can't help but wonder what the church in the United States would look like if we had that kind of faith.  The faith where we'd be willing to face electric shock, starvation, and frigid temperatures all because we believe in God.  would we be found faithful or would we relent?  It's convicting.

But it also makes me thankful for what we, as Americans, have.  The persecution we may face is verbal slander and judgment not physical abuse and death.  We live in a country where we don't have to be afraid of our churches being attacked by the government and our members arrested for simply being on the premises.  We can play our Christian music in our cars, at festivals, and even in retail stores.  We can proclaim we believe with our t-shirts, bumper stickers, and blog posts.

For this I am grateful.  But I know the price for this freedom was very high.  Men and women have lost lives and limbs fighting for our independence.  For my right to write this blog post.  For your opportunity to read it.

Please take the time to thank a soldier.  Not just on Independence Day, Veterans' Day, and Memorial Day, but any day and every day that you are grateful for your comfortable life free from persecution.

Now, let's go out and proclaim God with more than just our music, bumper stickers, t-shirts, and blog posts. God can and does use Americans just as He uses Brother Yun and Chinese Christians.

Have you thanked Christ for the price He paid for that freedom, too?

<>< Katie

Free Candy

"Didn't I just see you walk by?" Matthew asked.

I had just walked from the English building to Quick Snacks for a candy bar and back to the English building for class.  When I walked in chomping on a Snickers, my classmates started drooling. Even though class was about to start, I asked the professor if I could run back and get candy bars for the seven of us unfortunate enough to have class all afternoon.  Of course, he said yes.  So back to Quick Snacks I ran and passed Matthew for the second time in five minutes.

Matthew: We have free Twix right here.
Katie: No thanks.  They want Snickers and Kit Kats.

I walked away.
I turned around.

Katie: Wait, did you say free?
Matthew: Yes.
Katie: As in I don't have to buy them?
Jacob: You're an English major; what other definitions for the term "free" are there?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, mock me.  It's cool.  Everyone does it.

Free.

Surely there had to be some catch.  Why would some college boys be sitting on a swing offering free candy bars?  These weren't the unfun Fun Size candy bars either.  These were normal-size candy bars.  The kind next to the check out aisle at Wal-mart that we always begged our parents for and our parents always said no.  Yeah, those.  For free.

Free.

No charge. No catch.

What have you gotten for free today?
What have you given for free today?

Let me rephrase the question: What have you done today without expecting anything in return?

How have you given of your time?  How have you given of your resources?  How have you given of yourself?

Seriously.

What have you done today without expecting anything in return?

<>< Katie

To Poetry, An Ode

It's no big secret that I don't like poetry. This semester I have to take a class that will involve some poetry. A lot of poetry. Much more poetry than I would like in my entire life is shoved into this one class. Little known fact: I changed my concentration because I didn't want to take a poetry writing class. Yes, any poetry is too much for me. I've been assured that someday poetry will just "click" in your brain and you'll want to read every poem you can find. That's the same thing I was told in high school about chemistry, and I'm still waiting. My goal this semester is to gain an appreciation for poetry. I have no need to call myself a poet; however, I should appreciate poetry.

One of the reasons I dislike poetry is because it doesn't follow traditional grammar rules. In fact, it strives to break them! The nerve! In high school, I was in our poetry club (gasp!), and we had to read poems aloud. That's why I always got after Nick for never punctuating his poems because reading those poems required big breaths. Now, I can talk for a long time without pausing to breathe but reading is a different story. Please put periods and commas in your poems!

Now, a poem.
Written earlier this semester to give myself a starting point for how bad my poetry skills are. Please don't laugh. :-)

"To Poetry, an Ode"

Oh, how I loathe thee.
Why must your torment me incessantly?
Are your frustrations never ending?
Why, oh, why?
For I am a writer,
not a poet.

Give me full-lines,
give me verbose,
give me dialogue.

Hold your couplets,
no need for rhyme scheme,
vanish your pentameter.
It pleases me not.

Free me from your confines,
for I am suffocating, yearning
to breathe again.

Oh, poetry, how I loathe the,
please let me be free!

<>< Katie

Letting Go

I read Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls in 4th grade. I don't remember much from that book but part of it has stuck with me and I don't really know why. From time to time I think about the one scene I remember and today was one of those days. I was reading Breaking Free by Beth Moore and all of the sudden there I was thinking about a scene in a book I read nine years ago.

The protagonist (see, I don't even remember his name) was "'coon hunting" with pieces of something shiny. Anything shiny was put in a trap and a raccoon would come by and stick his (or her, I guess) paw into the trap to grab the shiny object. The problem was that once their paw was in around the shiny object in a fist, it was impossible to get it out of the trap again. If the raccoon would open their paw and let of of shiny object their paw would easily come out of the trap, but the raccoon was too selfish to let go and would rather die.

In the same way, we grab onto sin. God tells us all we have to do is let go and we can be free. If only it were that easy! So, here we stand with our wrists caught in raccoon traps with our fingers curled around sin and Jesus standing beside us telling us to let go. We're too selfish to listen to Him and would rather hang onto the shiny sin.

Let go of the shiny sin. Grab God's hand instead. I know, it's hard. But it's worth it!

<>< Katie

"He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, 'Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?'" Isaiah 44:20