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"When I am weak, then I am strong.  Grace is my shield and Christ is my song." I love Charles Spurgeon's poetic words, but they convict me terribly. have come to the recent realization that I try to do too much without God. It is not that I don't want to involve him. It is not that I am scared to bother him with petty things. I may not even be disregarding him intentionally. It is just that my human nature tells me that I can do a few things on my own.  My tendency is to attempt the things that I think I can do on my own, then turn to God with the things that get out of control. This is really how I have been living so far. I even saw it in myself this week as I continue to make preparations to go to Africa. I prayed about the big things, but not the small ones. I asked for his help with the big decisions, but I made get small ones without consulting him at all. I held his hand for the leaps of faith, but it took small steps on my own strength.  And I found myself in ...

Maybe it was peer pressure. Maybe I was inspired by the Tour de France. Maybe it was pure spontaneity. Or absurdity. More than likely, it was a combination of all of the above that prompted me to register for my first 100 mile bike race.  I don't know how often you ride your bike, but 100 miles is kind of a long way, especially for someone like me, who is no expert athlete and has never riden more than 30 miles on my own at one time. "Are you sure you don't want to start with something like 60 miles?" My dad asked me (which is probably smart thinking). "Nope!" I quickly responded with the go-big-or-go-home attitude.  The truth is, my time left in the United States is going by fast, and I have made a bucket list of things that I want to do before I leave next year. Some things are challenging, like riding in a 100 mile bike race and taking a French class. Other things are simple, like going to see the free movie in the park downtown and getting my favorite ic...

It is one of the world's biggest sporting events. 3.5 billion people from 180 countries will tune in to this competition. No, it's not the World Cup. Its the Tour de France.  This 21 stage race covers over two thousand miles of mountains, plains, and cobblestones, going through cities and countriesides in the heat and the rain. 198 riders on 22 teams compete for that yellow jersey, naming them the best cyclist in the world.  Chris Froome, last year's reigning champion, was back in the race this year and a top competitor. People were watching him, expecting him to win, only to be disappointed when Froome dropped out in the first week after four ugly crashes.  Since Froome was the team leader for team Sky, this opened the door for  Richie Porte to step up as the new team leader. It's big enough to be in the Tour de France, but it's even a bigger responsibility to be the team leader, espcecially when you fall into the place of Porte who was not expecting to take up thi...

The sun setting behind the mountains illuminated the clouds against the dark silhouette of sharp peaks. A winding stream glistened, reflecting the fading sunlight as it wandered through a meadow of waving grass and blooming wildflowers. I sat on a rock at the top of a small hill overlooking the meadow, breathing deeply of crisp, alpine air of Rocky Mountain National Park. My thoughts automatically drifted to the Lord. How could they not in the presence of such majesty, beauty, and glory?  Sometimes I enjoy nature; other times I am overwhelmed by it. This was one of those times. It was like I could feel the breath of God in the breeze, see his fingerprint in the mountain ridges and valleys, and see his eyes twinkle in the stars as they began to pop out.  What is the purpose of these mountains, these valleys, these waterfalls and tucked-away lakes, except to exalt the one who made them? "Nature is not primarily functional," John Eldridge said, "it is primarily beautiful....

"I need a good adventure story." I said to myself. "A story about a journey of faith."  I don't know if you ever do this, but sometimes this is how I think when I want to study something in the Bible. I look at my own life and the place where I am, and I try to find a Bible story, passage, or book that related to what I am going through. As I prepared to venture to Burkina Faso a couple of weeks ago, I needed a good story about journeys and adventures. The Lord brought to my mind the story of the Israelites as they journeyed out of Egypt and into the promised land. So I read Exodus cover to cover in preparation for my trip.  As I read, I found myself there in the middle of the story of the Israelites. I felt their fear when they left everything familiar to them because I too would be leaving my "Egypt". I felt their discouragement when the enemy followed them across the Red Sea because I know what it is like to be attacked by my enemy, the devil, when ...

I watched the roofs of the houses get smaller and smaller as we climbed higher and higher into the sky. All the swimming pools looked like tiny bright blue dots in a maze of grays and browns. Soon, the ground below  looked like a patchwork quilt of greens and yellows and browns. We were on the last leg of our journey, flying from Chicago to Little Rock. I stared out the window, only because it gave my eyes something to do as my mind wandered with thought.  How do I respond to all these things? First, another amazing trip to Burkina Faso that was filled with experiences that I sometimes cannot believe I am living: delivering a baby, spending the night in a village, seeing a village receive the gift of clean water, showing the Jesus film to a people that may have never seen it before, and worshipping with brothers and sisters across the world. Then, the milestone of making a commitment to my team and to the Africans. A promise to return in the coming year.  ...

We stood over the hole in the ground, leaning forward to peer down to the bottom. "This is where they get their water?" We asked with wide eyes of disbelief. Their water hole was more like a pit that kept collapsing again and again, forming a deeper and deeper funnel in the ground. At the bottom of the twenty foot funnel was a puddle of milky brown water about five feet in diameter with leaves and dirt floating around in it.  We wouldn't bathe in it. They drink it.  We watched a little girl no more than eight years old maneuver her way down into the hole with a plastic bucket on her head. She weaved back and forth, careful not to slip and fall into the hole. Since there was no place to stand at the bottom, a log had been laid across the water. She gently stepped on the log, caught her balance, and then dipped her bucket into the water. She picked out the leaves and flicked out small floaters. Then she delicately climbed back out of the hole with the bucket ba...