DON’T QUIT
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,

When the funds are low, and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you frown a bit,

Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is strange with its twists and turns,

As everyone of us sometimes learns,

And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won had he stuck it out;

Don’t give up though the pace seems slow,

You may succeed with another blow.

Success is failure turned inside out,

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,

And you can never tell how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far;

So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit,

It’s when things seem worst

That you must not quit.

Author Unknown

I love books :)

And I'm so not even kidding :P

"We are an odd race capable of both martyrdom and murder, poetry and rape, worship and abortion. And Christianity explains why: we are both the Spirit-breathed children of God and the expelled rebels of the kingdom. In the ways that matter most, we're all from the Garden of Eden. We've all listened to the snake. Yet we're also children of the Father. We are far worse than we would ever on our own admit and loved by God more deeply than we would ever dare to dream. We are both worthless and priceless, terrorist and saints, lost and homeward bound."
-Sailing Between the Stars

Nothing can separate

Even if I ran away

Your love never fails

I know I still make mistakes, but

You have new mercy for me everyday

Your love never fails

You stay the same through the ages

Your love never changes

There may be pain in the night

But joy comes in the morning

And when the oceans rage

I dont have to be afraid

Because I know that you love me

And your love never fails

The wind is strong and the waters deep, but

Im not alone here in these open seas

Cause your love never fails

The chasm was far too wide

I never thought Id reach the other side

But your love never fails

You make all things, work together for my good

-Jesus Culture

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I love this song.

It reaches down in me and pulls at my heart.

We sang it today at Mosaic.

I forget myself as the words wash over me and I cry out the words--

Because I know they are truth.

But sometimes it's hard to remember that sometimes.

I know God's love never fails.
I know.

I know.

Ask me about it and that's what I'll tell you.

But do I believe it?

Does do my actions shout that to the world?

Deep down sometimes I don't think I quite know it.

Part of me is scared that he loves like people love.

How I love.

God, open my eyes and help me see.

She wanted to die...

From: Brant Hanson (Who is currently in Afghanistan)

From Kabul: Thinking About Little Flowers

I'm so excited! I can't breathe!



I wish the second sentence had to do with the first, but...no. I "can't breathe" because Kabul is dust. Dust, at high altitude, mixed with a heapin' helpin' of good ol' fashioned pollution, just like the kind grandma used to make when she set all the neighborhood tires on fire.



Good times.



It's equally true, though, that I'm very excited. Rain can tamp down the particulate matter, and rain is a rare thing here... but it rained last night. And rain, in a place like this, can mean little flowers, almost instantly popping up in the ever-present brown-ness of things. And little flowers, growing in acres of tragic, land-mined dust, mean God is not through with this place yet.



And, my friends, He is not.



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A little girl, maybe 10, is carried in by her mother to CURE's hospital here. She is burned from her chest down. Her abdomen, the insides of her arms, the insides of her legs. She is burned in this curious manner, because she hugged a heating stove, as tightly as she could. She wanted to die. It was the only way she could figure out of her life of abuse, and her upcoming marriage to another abuser.



It gets sadder: CURE's doctors knew what she did, because she's not the first they've seen with these burn patterns.



Women, more grown-up women, set themselves on fire here, trying to get out. Read about it yourself, sometime. It is hardly uncommon. They suffer in ways that American men or women simply cannot understand. I can't unpack all of this in a blog entry, and have only recently really begun to take it in, myself, but this is life here: It is, for a great deal of the population, for women and children, often worse than death. (CURE's hospital here, in the name of Jesus, not only gives women knowledge, it gives them hope, even training them to become doctors.)



Babies are hope, and babies are meaning, and women here often lose all three. In fact, the infant mortality rate is among the highest on the planet. What's more, doctors here tell me: the maternal mortality rate is also at the top. Moms give birth at home, have no heathcare, no medical advice, and no one with any knowledge helping them. Their babies so often die, and often, as they get back to work immediately -- literally, immediately -- after giving birth, so do they.



And dust returns to lifeless, colorless dust.



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But, like I say, it rains here sometimes, and little flowers pop up, and, my friends, God has not left the building. Or stable, if you will. He knows about being born in dust. He knows about poor mothers, about their tears, and about turning mourning into dancing. He knows about little girls with horrific burn patterns. And His Kingdom is about setting things right.



Did I mention it rained here last night? This story ain't over.



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www.helpcurenow.org/brant