Wash, Rinse, Repeat....

So here I go! New city same old mental struggles. It’s so frustrating when you seem to get over one difficulty you find yourself facing the same problem all over again. The scene looks different, but it deceives you into making the same mistakes. I don’t know about you, but “fresh” starts never really worked for me, my room always ended up messy like before, and my bad habits always manage to creep in. Sort of like moving to a new city with a bag full of hopes and dreams, only to find that doubt, fear, laziness, anger, and all forms of insecurity weren’t left behind but crept into the bag as well. Shouldn’t problems be like a bridge? Once you get over them it’s done? 

Every day I wake up I find the vulgar saying of “Same (insert strong word for fecal mater) different day” to be true. I still have to learn Spanish, and now I have to adjust to a new accent. I still have to get up in the morning, I still have to cook my own meals and put my pants on one leg at a time. That’s not what is hard though. What is hard is when you wake up and realize your a big sinner that has fallen into the same patterns and ways of thinking as before.

I was doing it all right! Even better than before in my eyes! I was reading my Bible, praying on a regular basis, studying and seeking other ways in which I might grow in what I had learned. What I found wasn’t peace, but that I was trying to justify old sins with new Godly habits. “I’m submerged in the Word of God, I’m doing what it takes to be a “Good Christian” so God is on my side and knows all that I am doing, right? So He will take care of it.” Except when He doesn’t, because sometimes he wont. Sometimes God is silent.

I found that sometimes when I think I am fully leaning on God I am really leaning on my own ability to lean upon Him.  It’s like I embrace my need for Him and even take pride in it, when He would have me learn better how to lean on Him. I guess you could say it is like using God as a crutch when He is so much more for us. Sometimes I pridefully think I have mastered the crutch, and then I realize I need two crutches, or a wheelchair or something else. My wonderful “husband to be” reminded me of a great quote by Luther while trying to comfort me. He said; “Katie, remember what Luther said” I was being smart with him and responded with “Which time?” and he lovingly carried me through what he wanted to share and said; “He said; ‘pray as if everything depends upon God, and live as if everything depends on you.” At first I thought “Well I would rather just pray” but with some reflection I realized I had been living as if everything depended on God, and praying as if it all depended upon me. As if God would fix my situation because; Hey! I asked. 

The wonderful thing about our God is that he does not rob us of our abilities to do things of our own while He walks with us. Like Adam and Eve when he let them loose in the garden and trusted them knowing full well where it would lead them. Like Aslan, our God is not a tame lion. He may listen when we call, but may not always answer. He is not at our bidding. He is like the “abusive” parent that teaches their children by letting them fall and hurt themselves so they know better when to ask for help (I’m using the word “abusive” sarcastically).  He gives us all that we need to support this body and life, it is up to us to know how to use what He has given us, and not abuse it or think we play some passive role in it all while waiting for God to fix it all. Our God allows us to ask great things, and our God is so great, that He would use us to carry out those great things despite ourselves.  

Luke 22:44-46

 And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

When He rose up from prayer, and had come to His disciples, He found them sleeping from sorrow.Then He said to them, “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray, lest you enter into temptation.”

Well…let’s just say this is the ‘new normal’

Based on the title, I bet you think this is going to be something on the whole Jenner sex change thing. Well…to be honest the whole story makes me sick to my stomach and sad. I feel helpless in that battle and desperate to defend my own sex, but my own sex sort of bashed what makes woman wonderful by getting caught up on making women equal. So that battle is lost. No, I wanted to focus on something different and encouraging to remind us that the “old normal” can be enough for us to deal with without needing a “new normal” to have to wrap our minds around. 

I was at church on Sunday and went to go greet one of my friends. As I drew in for a hug an offensive smell of nasty old perfume hit my nostrils, it was a smell I didn’t catch until it was too late. It doesn’t matter if you are a “hugger” or not, we all know what it is to hug someone and all a sudden you have their smell in your nose for the whole day. I make a conscious effort to smell good most days. I remember sitting at a luncheon (of some wonderful lovely ladies who I am sure read this blog!) and one of the women around the table made mention that someone smelled good. I had some bath and body lotion on, so I said; “Oh, it might be me! I have some lotion on” to which the kind wonderful good humored lady said; “Oh no Katie, I don’t think it is you. No offense, but this smells expensive!” From that day I made a bit more of an effort to smell “expensive” too. I also recall coming home last year and one of my favorite things to do when waiting in the airport is to go to those duty free shops and smell all the expensive (on a whole new level) perfumes. I recall thinking on this one particular trip home that I wanted a bouquet of wonderful aromas to hit my nieces nose when she saw me for the first time in almost a year. I remember thinking when I was little how important smell was towards knowing and understanding people. Mrs. Neighbor; she smelled soft and light a lot like her personality. Then there was a teachers aid that always smelled of winter fresh gum, which fit because she was fresh and young too. My cousin smelled of CoolWater perfume which was cool, because she was and is cool. My grandmother smelled of Elizabeth Arden’s “Red Door” and my mom smelled of cinnamon gum and soft lotions while my father smelled of Old English or Old Spice. I wanted Junie to smell something exotic, fresh and fun so that when she saw her aunt she would associate those smells with me. 

So now that you understand the importance of smell to my senses, let me return to the earlier story. Needless to say, I smelled “expensive” on Sunday, until I was hugged by the earlier mentioned person. It is interesting to think of the engagement our senses have in something as simple as a hug. When you hug someone who smells soft it is like being wrapped in a warm blanket that just came out of the dryer and smells clean and fresh. When you hug someone that smells like Winterfresh gum you suddenly feel rejuvenated and like maybe you need a piece of gum too. When you hug someone with fresh, floral scents, an imagery of floating flowers ascending and streamers of bright colors floating from the warm embrace fill your mind. A bit cheesy; yes! But, when you hug someone with stinky perfume that counteracts with your “expensive” perfume and lingers with you all day, that just stinks; literally! No pun intended. 

So I tried to wrap my mind around what this scent bore with it, and I found a lesson. I realized that sometimes we don’t like certain smells but we bear with them. A diaper for example; I remember my friend jokingly telling me once that “God knew I needed cute kids” because they can be such little stinkers sometimes, but there is a level of truth in that. What happens when we take away the cuteness and we take away the beauty and all we are left with is a big pile of stink? I think that is what my true scent would be. It makes sense why churches use incense. I was told it was to help us transcend and understand that we enter into a holy space, I think in all reality it also has to do with a masking of all the stinky perfumes that you smell around you, and all the bad b.o. that people bring with them into the church. So we continue with an age old tradition of masking the smell and stench of our sin. We cover it up and call it “the new normal,” “expensive” or “fresh.” when if you take it away, all we are left with is a bunch of sinners seeking acceptance from our brother as opposed to our God.

I recall my father doing a reoccurring advent devotion for the high school youth on how Christ in the flesh is significant for us because it means he is intimately connected and understanding of what it means to be human. He knows what it means to wake up with morning breath, to smell and feel like you need a shower at the end of the day, to feel trapped inside a body that doesn’t quite feel right. He also knows what it means to smell of heaven, to be holy, to not just be covered with a smell, but to be wrapped in it and exuding that smell. I often wonder what hugging Jesus might have been like. Would it have been like hugging someone who smelled of sweat, earth, and garlic, or perhaps there was a bit more to who he was as a human. A smell that transcends scent and not only embraces you, but also offends you because you are confronted with your own sin. You are confronted with something that reminds you that you really don’t smell so “expensive” and your neighbor doesn’t really smell of “old nasty perfume.” You are reminded of your need to bathe, and your inability to wash that nasty scent away. Christ calls us to sit among sinners and to even hug them in a way so as their scent messes our own up and makes us uncomfortable. We are to love our neighbor that much, because Christ loved us that much. I can’t say that I am always good about that, understanding, or embracing of that truth. But I am thankful that on account of Christ’s sacrifice, we obtain a sweet aroma pleasing and acceptable to the Lord. We don’t need a “new normal.” We have the age old Holy One of Israel who covers us and makes us clean even when we thought we had come to Church in our Sunday best.    

2 Corinthians 2:15-17New King James Version (NKJV)

15 For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. 16 To the one we are the aroma of death leading to death, and to the other the aroma of life leading to life. And who is sufficient for these things? 17 For we are not, as so many,[a] peddling the word of God; but as of sincerity, but as from God, we speak in the sight of God in Christ.

For all Fridays....

Today during the Good Friday sermon (We had service early in the morning here), my mind began to wander as it often does. Today during the sermon, I thought; “What would be, and is most important and essential to communicate to the people here on a Good Friday morning in the Dominican Republic. I thought about how many of them were probably thinking about what they were going to do after the service, and maybe they were thinking about going swimming or to the beach after the service. I started to think about how the service and life in the Dominican look so different from what I used to know. Then I started to think about what it was that Christ would have been thinking in the moment of his suffering. 

While all the rest of us were thinking of something else, what was he thinking? I don’t think he was held up on the cross thinking thoughts of pity towards his killers, nor in want of physical need, nor in torment of spiritual and emotional sorts, or even what he would do as soon as he got back to heaven. I think he was thinking of the final word more than anything. I think he was thinking of the point, the goal, and the end of it all. I think he was thinking of me and you by thinking of that final word he spoke upon the cross, and when he said it, he was saying it for me and for you. 

While the rest of us sit and think of things during the sermon, like the absence of a loved one, the death of another, the illness of a beloved, or simply the plans for the day, Christ cries “It is accomplished” over us. Why is this so significant? It is significant and important because when he said those words upon the cross, they were words for all time. It was a declaration and a war cry to say; this is what I came for and not only is the task completed, but those things that we sit and think about have been accomplished in Him. While we focus on ourselves, He was focusing on us and our need for him. He hung, and died on the cross, knowing he had to do it, and that he would say those words on the cross and that we would be reconciled to him. He set his eyes upon an end goal and while the words of “it is accomplished” must have settled on the ears of onlookers as a fine ending to a story, it became a declaration for all stories past, present and future. Our sins have been removed; it is accomplished. Our salvation has been won, it is accomplished. The scriptures were fulfilled, it is accomplished. The power once held over us by sin, death, and the devil have been defeated, it is accomplished. This Friday is especially “good” because we remember the victory gained and accomplished for us, and thanks be to God for this Jesus Christ who has done it and done all things for us, and done them well.  

Mark 7:36-37

36 Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone.(A) But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it.37 People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

The Terrifying Heights and Depths of Love

Not too happy about leaving...

These past few months have been a series of new experiences for me. I have experienced a lot of firsts; first boyfriend, first time in Argentina, first view of one of the seven wonders of the world, and first kiss….opps….WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!!! Besides, we don’t do that, we just hold hands. Anyway, this being my first relationship I am finding new things to worry about. There is a deep fear I know now that I knew very little of before. When I was young I used to have these entertainings of “what if’s” that I would play out in my mind. I would think “What if someone I love dies!?” Now, with a hope of “till death do us part” in view, I face those fears again and multiplied by ten. We often think of this promise carrying us into our old age. He’s supposed to be the one beside me and I by him supporting one another as life comes and goes. So I have these visions of him holding me when my dad dies. Then what? What about when mom dies, or if we loose a child, or the worst fear of all, if he dies and then there is none beside me!? When these thoughts come upon me I realize that it is a dangerous thing to love another. A terrifying, dangerous and paralyzing thing to truly love another. So while more often than not, our fears remain fears and only cost us energy, it raises another question for me; how dangerous is my love for Christ? If this is the fear I have for the man that God placed in my life, what is the fear for The God Man who laid down His life for me? Is there a fear? If love is truly a dangerous thing, and Christ is perfect love, what does it all mean? 

I was reminded of one of my favorite authors who once wrote about a fear using the illustration of a pair of pale green pants. The story is about a little boy who finds a pair of pale green pants with nobody inside them and it frightens him. He runs from the pants until he discovers that there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place (In case you haven’t figured it out, that favorite author is none other than Dr. Seuss). These fears that I have might be nothing more than pale green pants with nobody inside them, there may not be anything to support these fears that I have, but what is more, is there is One who says there is nothing to even be afraid of. There is nothing to be afraid of because Perfect love casts out all fear. So when I was worrying about finding someone to share the rest of my life with, His perfect love was as work. While I am worrying and afraid of loosing the one I hope to spend the rest of my life with, His perfect love is at work. When one of the two of us who are given to other dies, His perfect love will be working. 

...but then we got another day together!

His love is dangerous and terrifying because, His love promises to be there even when the other loves fade, weaken, or die. Whats terrifying is that His love will be enough even when all we want is that hand to hold, the person to hug, or to see our children alive. What is terrifying is that we have to face the pale green pants with nobody inside them, and know that even if there was support for them, even if those pants take on a form and are filled with someone so strong to kick us down, we can face them and be kicked down because He was struck down first for us to offer us eternity. I pray our greatest fears never take form and kick us down, and for those of you for whom they already have, I pray His grace be sufficient for you and His power made perfect in your weakness. Whats terrifying is loving the One who made the universe, trusting that He still holds this fragile world, and our frail flesh in His hands, and trusting that He will bring us safely home. What is terrifying is trusting the life of another to the One Who loved us with His own life. 

1 John 4:18

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.

Lessons learned......

Now, for the whole world to know; I am engaged to a fine young man from Argentina who I was blessed to be able to spend some time with here in the states this past January. In that time we spent some time at my parents house. My parents have a dog. Her name is Ruby. Ruby has taught us many wonderful things and has made us quite frustrated with other things through the years. Ruby is a fine specimen but her family has made her fat and quite honestly put her at risk for many future health problems. The main problem is that Ruby is not taken on regular walks like she should be. My mother’s arm is weak and her pride too great to be taken on a walk by a dog. My fathers knees are bad, and his preferred form of exercise is the stationary bike. My excuse is that I am hardly home, although even when I am home my patience is so thin and motivation too low so that when I do finally get the urge to run or walk, I prefer to go solo and not have to control a dog. These past few weeks with my dear, sweet, saint of a fiancé in town, showed me something new. Roberto, my saint of a fiancé promised to take Ruby on a walk every day he was around. He held his promise and I affectionately started to refer to Ruby as “The other woman.” I went on some of those walks with Ruby and Roberto (Oh dear! Those names have a nice ring to them!). I watched as Roberto delighted in Ruby. He didn’t try to tame the beast, he just let her be. There was a careless freedom about her and I started to realize all these years there were two ways to walk with Ruby; She could take you for a walk, or you could let her walk. 

Often we joke about how you don’t walk Ruby, she walks you. That is to say, she pulls you along and makes it hard to keep up. She is so strong and fast. I took Ruby for a walk today and instead of yelling, and pulling on her leash and trying to maintain her, I let her pull me and I laughed instead. It was freeing to think; she is who she is and there really isn’t anything too wrong with that. She is a dog, she is supposed to bark, and run, and be an animal, I don’t need to try to tame her. We go to a  corn field where I often let her run wild. My dad claims that Ruby smiles. I think he is right. I watched Ruby run through the field with what seemed to be a smile on her face and I realized what a disservice I have done to her and to myself. She ran and bit at the snow, she sniffed out tracks. She was made to be excited, and happy to serve her master in retrieving things. We have tried to turn her into a garbage disposal, and a tame type of companion. Watching her be so happy made me happy. It gave me a small sense of gratification in seeing her run like a child without a care in the world. I let her walk, or rather run. Then, she walked with me for the remainder of the way home. 

It seems to me that we could say God is that way with us, but I think He calls us to be that way with others. I realized in watching Roberto and Ruby that Roberto is the type of person that looks at others for the good and mirth God placed in them. I have been reminded by my family that Roberto is a wonderful man and it makes me wonder how many faults he has already overlooked deciding to delight in my redeemable qualities. 

We often create standards and worlds for ourselves that demand that others fit into them, not that we adjust to fit into others worlds. We have to have things just so, or under our control. Ruby is still a naughty dog that needs correction, but she also obtains qualities and characteristics that will not change despite my many attempts to change her. This is not a plea for coexistence or tolerance or any of the other words society has used to make the profane holy acceptable and pleasing in the eyes of all people even Christians. This is to say that perhaps our love for others is limited by an inability to recall that we are all sinners and all have fallen short of the glory of God.  Meaning; what if we learned from Roberto and Ruby and allowed ourselves to be uncomfortable with other sinners, and know that God doesn’t just call us to know that we are redeemed, but to know that others are redeemed as well. God calls us to help our brother to live in that new identity just as we live in our own baptismal identity. 

Philippians 2:14-16Do all things without complaining and disputing, that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life, so that I may rejoice in the day of Christ that I have not run in vain or labored in vain.

My passion....My soapbox

Her name was Merry. I’m not even sure I spelled that right. She was almost 20 and had been unable to do anything alone for the past few years. She was dying of a tumor that had metastasized from her spine. I looked at her as she lay in her hospital bed in a pink lingerie nighty. A nighty most women her age would be using to start a life not to end one. Her weak and formless body slipped around and didn’t even fill out the nighty, but it was all she had to cover her nakedness. It didn’t matter to her. She was fully cognizant of what was going on even though she couldn’t see, and the tumor had taken most of her ability to converse, and control bodily movements. She died two days before I could get back for the funeral.

In the course of one year, I have seen far more tragic deaths in the small community of Palmar Arriba than I have in twenty years following at the heels of my father in church work. I have seen death that tragically left a disabled son behind literally in an empty house with minimal care and no ability to care for self. I have seen death that left four children as orphans in a foreign country without proper documentation of original citizenship to find work. I have seen death that left a mother no longer knowing if she could be deemed a “mother” since she no longer had a child. I have also seen death leave it’s mark upon the cross beam of a wooden home, as one claimed their own life by hanging. Death claims so many lives and leaves the living left to live on. 

I have been thinking a lot about Brittany Maynard and the whole raising of awareness of “death with dignity” and how in many ways our culture tries to glorify the grotesque by eliminating the perceived grossness. In other words, we sterilize and eliminate and neatly package everything. That is what we like to do best. We value a story that we can neatly put in a history book, concepts that we can concretely rationalize, and theory that can be solved. So, when we can’t do it, we must resolve it by eliminating it. For example; what is the cure for a terminal illness without a cure? A pill that will make it so that it wasn’t the illness that took the life, and so the illness can’t run it’s natural course. We outsmart the illness by killing the subject before it can run it’s full course. The humanitarian response is that we are compassionately preserving the person as they were and eliminating the unforeseeable future of pain, allowing the person to make a decision as to if they wish to be a martyr or if they wish to “die with dignity.” Surrender to defeat before the whole country falls. 

We used to believe that the winners were the ones who did not give up, now we glitz over and offer a way out of the long drawn out battle of death and call it; “death with dignity.” It is difficult to step back and have an objective perspective where my personal religious core values don’t take front and center in how I reason this approach to terminal illness. Being a Christian is who I am, it is within my identity. I can be no other, but I can see where a rational mind would need a rational explanation, and I feel sorry for them, but what we have here is not being called what it is... “ugly.” I’ll go out on a limb and call it as it is; sin, and we can’t think for a minute that Christian freedom is freedom to make a decision on ending a life. 

I have been trying to sort out in my mind what makes the death I have seen in the Dominican different from that in the states. When I first started attending funerals here in the Dominican, they were earthy. To be honest, I was afraid I would contract some sort of disease just from being present. Funerals here carry the weight and reality of death. They are disturbing, crud and there is no sense of dignity what so ever. The bodies are not done up and preserved as they are in the states. A funeral here is fast and furious as the heat demands a quick burial. As we all know, a body that is not embalmed will begin to decay, rot, and to smell. As time has passed and I have attended more and more funerals, the earthiness has not passed but my understanding has. These funerals may be without glamor, golden coffins, beautiful tributes of memory, but they do hold love. They hold love that survives death, and carries the loved one to the ground in a wooden box. It is a love that stands in the dirt and is willing make dirty the bottoms of their heels and trims of their robes because in the end, love itself is not packaged neatly but it is as strong as death. 

Now, funerals Stateside have become a difficult concept for me. They are sterile. As I listen to those defending the decision of Brittany Maynard, I can’t help but just feel sorry for the misunderstanding. We are trying so hard to preserve and protect some form of perfection in the states. An image of plastic. We consider a terminal illness that will result in the loss of control in bowels, bladder, and other faculties as a grounds for a decision to die sooner rather than later. So what is to stop us from allowing a child with a debilitating disability, fully dependent upon a caregiver from being allowed to make a decision to take their own life of for the caregiver to decide “enough is enough?” How do we rationally explain that we would permit someone with cognitive ability to decide to “close up shop” before the sun has gone down and not another? What stops us from terminating the life of another if we deem it not worth living or that it might cause more pain and suffering should it remain...oh wait...nothing has stopped us. What is to keep us from going down a path of every man determining for himself what deems a life worth living? Then again; we are on that path. 

 As I look to the poor economic, earthy conditions of the Dominican, I feel sorry for the States. Wealth has given us an idiotic idea that everything must glitter as gold, up unto our dying breath. We can’t accept flaws, and this includes a notion that we can’t accept that anyone might be wrong in a personal decision. We have adopted a “no no...they are fine...just leave them alone....it is their decision.” Fine; it is their decision, but when did we stop counseling, caring, and loving a person in a way that says; “it may be your decision but it affects me too because I love you that much” when did we start to place conditions on love that said, “I will love you till death do us part....unless we find out in five years that we have unreconcilable differences, or after 10 that you aren’t as beautiful as the day I married you” when did our love become so fickle that we would not endure in sickness as in health, remembering that part of the bad is what makes the good. Or as C.S. Lewis’ character played by Anthony Hopkins says in “Shadowlands;”  “Twice in that life I've been given the choice, as a boy and as a man, the boy chose safety the man choses suffering the pain now is part of the happiness, thats the deal.” 

Those who are speaking out for a right to a “death with dignity” still mourn the death of those who “died with dignity.” I have a theory that perhaps an organic death, as ugly as it is provides a process of letting go. Seeing a loved one suffering prepares the living and the dying for a better place, a brighter hope, and a celestial home. It allows the grieving process to be more natural and beneficial. We always suffer, but we suffer more when we respond in selfishness gilded as being “merciful.” We tell people they are brave for enduring with a loved one who chooses to take their own life because they no longer wish to be a burden, nor to suffer the pain of terminal illness. But, what if the caring for the terminally ill is a healing process for the well, and the sufferings of the terminally ill is a gift to those who care. Love comes from both sides; both suffer, but in the end, both receive and know a more full joy and there is more peace in the parting. We fail to understand that suffering produces character, perseverance, and endurance. We fail to follow the advice of those stupid motivational posters that promote strength, endurance, and perseverance in the face of difficulties. Sure we agree with them as long as what is produced is measurable, but when it comes to the end of life, where there is nothing left to do but die, we fail to see the value and merit in that, yet, that is where it all lies. 

Brittany had a chance to receive the care of her mother once more as a child in need. I have no doubt her mother would have relished the bittersweet opportunity to care once again for her only child. She had an opportunity to resolve and show her parents what it means to die well, perhaps not with dignity, but with love. She had an opportunity to recognize that goals are more than a bucket list of dreams and achievements, but can also be a natural running of courses and an opportunity to build character and perseverance, she chose not to. That was her choice, not her mothers, not even her husbands choice who she also made a choice to be “one” with.  

So this is the choice we wish to give society; To remove all pain. To remove all doubt, and to allow a person to be the author of their own story and death. This however fails to acknowledge that others suffer, others are strong where one is weak, and others can rise to the occasion and others are a part of the story. I’m not sure I believe in an autonomous society, or individual for that matter. We depend more on others than we realize. I pray America does not become so isolated and individualistic to the point of every man writing their own law, but then again, I fear we are already down that path. United we stand, divided we fall. We are loosing a sense of communal rejoicing, and communal suffering. We can’t reap the benefits of one without the other. This is why we fight wars together, and celebrate independence together. Shouldn’t it be the same in other areas of life? 

This is my passion and why this blog exists....to encourage the restless until we rest in Him.  

For All The Saints!!!

One of my favorite days in the Church calendar year is tomorrow, and it coincides with a hot ethical issue being posed in our society right now. Brittany Maynard, a 29 year old woman dying from glioblastoma multiforme brain cancer, has made a public declaration that on Nov. 1st she plans to take her life into her own hands and to “Pass peacefully.” Perhaps her plans have changed, but Brittany, Her mother and her husband have all expressed what this means for them. Her husband stated; “Death with dignity allows for people who are in the predicament of facing a lot of suffering to decide when enough is enough.” While Brittany herself said; “I cant tell you the amount of relief that it provides me to know that I don’t have to die in the way it has been described to me.”

There are many who are gently speaking towards what Brittany plans and hopes to do, which has inspired me to give my own two cents worth. There are the brave who suffer the same nasty form of cancer alongside of Brittany and have spoken their words of wisdom. While I know not what it means to dance with the ugly face of terminal illness as it latches on and takes every ounce of life left in the body, I know what it means to be 29 years old like Brittany, and I do know that I am going to die. In fact, I can say with all certainty that I am going to die in the most unglamorous of ways and painful of ways. I know that, because it doesn’t matter what face death takes, it is all ugly and painful. But what is beautiful, is one who looks death in the face and says; “this holds no power over me.”  What is beautiful is one who knows that as humans, there is nothing beautiful about the humanity of our flesh, but what is beautiful is that we can live in this flesh and still obtain righteousness by means of Christ. What makes a marriage beautiful is 50 years of struggle, not one year happiness. What makes a life beautiful, is one that is fought for. What makes that disgusting fluid covered baby kissable is the labor of love involved in bringing it into the world. Love sees past pains of the flesh, and the nasty realities that come with it. This is what makes life beautiful, that One would give up what is most beautiful, and enter into the grotesque sin filled flesh of a human to live, to love, and to die so that we might have life. Does all this give me a platform to speak on; maybe not, but my platform is built upon One who has the final word on death. For that I shall yell all the more loudly; 

1 Corinthians 15:55-57

“O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?”

The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.