"for no other reason that that he is himself an extension of life around him"

Just moments ago finished a book that I have loved for many years. My mother gave the book to me about 10 years ago (i've read it several dozen times), trying to satisfy my insatiable appetite for reading and love for nature. The book is written by my hero, Jane Goodall, and is called Reason for Hope. In it, she speaks about her beloved chimpanzees, her love for nature, for people, and life. Among the many wise words she has to say about the deep rooted relationship between spirituality and science, her focus, as it always has been, is on our responsibility now. She describes a lecture she gave at the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. 

"I took, as my text, Genesis Chapter 1, verse 26: "And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth." I explained that many Hebrew scholars believe the word 'dominion' is a very poor translation of the original Hebrew word 'v'yirdu', which actually meant to rule over, as a wise king rules over his subjects, with care and respect. It implied a sense of responsibility and enlightened stewardship."

Stewardship is an uncomfortable world in western vocabulary. Responsibility for the world, the animals, the creation around us. We were given stewardship over creation. Instead, we move about our days recklessly. We pillage the land for its resources. We rape the earth of its wild places. Our planet is increasingly becoming a sad place to live. Our forests are smaller, our land is over farmed and infertile, our livestock are crammed into disgustingly small spaces, our fruit is grown to abnormally large sizes, injected with hormones. Our air becomes increasingly poisonous, we pour toxins into the atmosphere and destroy the layers that protect our very existence. 

There is really no such thing as an environmentalist, as a "tree-hugger", as a "green" person. There are simply those who understand the responsibility of stewardship and have the desire to live. There is simply no reason, that anyone with the desire to live life, cannot carry the weight of stewardship. Buying local produce. Purchasing meat raised and slaughtered humanely, or not at all. Picking up trash. Exploring better ways to do the necessary day-to-day things we do. Its not remarkable. Not even difficult. But necessary. 

Someday, I want my children to play in trees older than myself. I want them to romp in fields of wild flowers. I want them to swim in the lake that runs through my veins. I want to take them on hikes of the wild island I fell in love with as a child. I want them to see a peregrine falcon in its natural habitat. And I want them to wonder. I want them to wonder that even in the midst of our destruction, mankind turned, saw the world, and began to undo what it had done. I want them to wonder at creation and say, "It is good."

"A man who possesses a veneration of life will not simply say his prayers. He will throw himself into the battle to preserve life, if for no other reason than that he is himself an extension of life around him."

-albert schweitzer

"it is good": fighting the good fight and holding out for the cross.

a theme i've heard reflected over and over and over and over and over and over this week is one of holding out. holding out for something better. something beautiful. something worth fighting for.

i feel like this isn't a lesson you learn without experience. this isn't a lesson you learn sitting on the side lines. this. this is a lesson you learn after you come close. after you get singed by the fire. after you compromise. after you almost settle.

and let me tell you about settling. it leads down the same road every time. i've done it. i've been there. i've done that. and i'm over it. i'm over it. all streams feed into the same river. settling leads to heart break and emptiness. because settling means choosing less than what God has for you. less than abundance. less than the cross. 

its something that last night i laid in bed thinking about for hours. because for the first time, its not the settling that hurts. its the choosing of something better. its the leaving behind of the easy way. its the choice of something more beautiful, deep, and worth the fight. it hurts because its a leaving behind of self. of flesh. of easy and quick and effortless. 

but,

its a good choice. its such a good choice.

but i don't mean "good" in the way, "yeah, that's good, that's nice."

i mean it in the way God says, "and it was good."

there's more meaning to it isn't there?

choosing depth. good.

choosing beauty. good.

choosing abundance. good. 

choosing the good fight. good.

holding out for the cross. good.

its good to choose good.

*[on a separate, yet related note.]

thank you. thank you for sitting next to me. thank you for speaking truth when its hard to hear. thank you for being a three-in-the-morning-i'll-right-there-friend. your friendship is far more than i deserve. 

these are my vital signs

i stole this idea from amelia.

these are the things in my life that remind me i'm alive. these are things that make life worth living. these are my vital signs.

longboarding on a windy, beautiful fall day with incredible friends.

playing guitar by myself on a rainy day.

watching dead poets society with good friends.

driving in my car with the windows down and trees changing colors and a warm breeze and good music.

running in the rain.

having real conversations. about life. about the joy and the suffering. and about the God who makes all things new.


worshipping in chapel.

heart-to-hearts.


the first snow.

good coffee with good friends.
books. good ones. books worth reading.

hot apple cider.

best friends. one in particular who reminds me to breath.

"Some part of that island grew in us, like our hearts, still wild, untamed, and still clinging desperately to an unapologetic innocence."

be warned, i usually mull these entries over more before i publish them, but here goes....

today, like many days, i find myself longing for something a little strange, and perhaps a little silly.

there is this part of my heart, buried way deep down inside, that is just burning with love. a love for the past. its a silly cycle that i fall into on occasion. i enjoy reeling through the thousands of memories. of days that were just right. of places that were more beautiful than i could ever imagine. of people, of friendships, that i held so dear. call me reminiscent, and you'd probably be right, but its almost more than that. its a longing for a season of life that was so, so good.

like the time my friend matt and i sat at the top of a mountain, completely stunned by it's power and beauty. i can't tell you another time i've felt God in quite that way. or the weekends of my childhood, when all the marina kids would gather in the parking lot for massive games of kick-the-can and street hockey until we could no longer see in the dim parking-lot lights. or the time cara and i went running in colorado. we ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. and when we were done, collapsed in complete exhaustion on the early morning dew. or the time when ali and i took the horses to the back pasture, and let them truly run, and gunner ran so fast i could feel my heartbeat line up with the pounding of his hooves against the soft earth. or the time rachael and i ran through an icy parking lot laughing so hard that i truly though we would never stop. and the perfect summers, all eighteen of them. waking up late, and sailing out to the beach. laying on the warm sand, and letting the sun turn my skin to bronze. or the times last summer when we played ultimate frisbee in the field with glow bracelets to see each other in the dark. and when we were done, the coolness of the summer night set in, like a cool breath of relief from God. or the times in ludington, when we didn't have a care in the world, but how early we could get to the beach. when we basked in the glow of one another's company, just pleased to be in the presence of friends we cared so dearly for. or how about the summers when we walked for hours across the manitous. and how during those walks, dad bestowed his wisdom on us through the telling of stories we had heard a thousand times. but we listened anyway. and we loved it. and we grew to know that island like the back of our hands. and perhaps we loved it so much because some part of that island grew in us, like our hearts, still wild, untamed, and still clinging desperately to an unapologetic innocence.

those people. those places. those feelings. i carry them with me, and perhaps that is why i continually find it so hard to move past them. to understand in my heart, that i can never live them again. that although they were good and were precious moments in the expanse of time. i will never regain them. i get so frustrated. sometimes i feel as though i will never be that happy, that in awe, in wonder, at peace, passionate, in love ever again. and the truth is, i won't. i will never feel that way again because i cannot regain or recreate a moment so destined by God. so perfect in every format possible. those moments were for then. they were perfect because of who i was and who i was becoming. and now. they might not fit so perfect, like trying to make two puzzle pieces fit in my desperation, that i know, simply will not fit.

and its a cruel reality to wake up to. that things won't be the same. they won't ever be the same. but that doesn't mean i'm settling. i'm not settling for a half-life, but one different than i imagined. and its not filled with the places, people, and things that i once thought it ought to. its a life overflowing with brilliant, vivacious color. its a life filled with friendships more deep and meaningful than i ever thought possible. its a life filled with the beauty of a sleepy mid-west coastal town. a town i tried so desperately to run from. its a life more full of questions, affirmation, and possibilities than i ever thought possible.

and it terrifies me to step into it. to step into this life, this day, this moment, knowing full well that it will be very unlike anything i have ever experienced before. it will be scary and daunting. and i will often feel as though i'm teetering on the edge of a very high cliff. it will be full of people unlike any i have ever known. and they will challenge me. they will force me to grow. we will share memories and feelings and times and places. we will chase after God together. and some of them will let me down. and i will let them down. i will fail them when they need me most. i will fall so desperately short of the friendship they give in return. but. oh, there will be the rare occasion when i will rise. i will in God's strength be there. i will say the right thing, at the right time. and somehow fulfill that small part of God's calling for my life.

and when i visit those places i won't feel the same things because they've changed, and in many ways, so have i. that doesn't mean the the things i feel, the places i go, or the people i share them with will be less real, less important, or less meaningful. no, if anything, they will mean different things. i will cherish the late night talks more. i will be at peace in the strangest places. i will breathe deeper. i will rest harder. and i will love with more compassion.

the future is not better, but its not worse either. its different. different in a way so unmistakably beautiful it catches the breath in my lungs. and for a second, i put those times back into their small place in my heart, and i get on with life. i get busy stepping into this life i'm called to live. i step into the brilliant, vibrant life set before me, knowing it's the only one i've been given. it's the only one i've been called to, its all my own, designed just for me. so i throw it over my shoulders, like a coat, worn by time and good use. i carry it, because it fits. it reminds me of where i went. where i am. and where i'm going. and its comforting to carry with me. to know that those memories, unrecoverable, are still with me, guiding me towards a tomorrow filled even more so with love, passion, and beauty.