In the New Testament, some form of the word fast is used 20 times. The original Greek word was Nesteuo (νεστευο):
to abstain as a religious exercise from food and drink: either entirely, if the fast lasted but a single day, or from customary and choice nourishment, if it continued several days.

Nowadays the act of fasting has been extended to activities such as going to parties, being on the phone too much, or even reading. For the past few weeks a friend and I have been having breakfast together to catch up and to have time with God. We’ve been reading out of My Upmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers and praying over what his daily devotionals have been giving us. Out of this has come our desire to start fasting more. About two weeks ago we decided to have our first fast: to abstain from reading for a day. We had come to the conclusion that we spend too much time reading books for enjoyment and not enough time in the Word. Let me just say that we did not do so well. Yes, we did keep our fast, but instead of turning towards God when we felt the desire to pick up a book, we turned towards other ways of keeping us entertained. We didn’t grasp the meaning of a fast. So this past week after we had a week to talk openly about our first fast and how we didn’t truly understand it, we decided to try again. This time we would fast from all forms of social media for three days. Obviously we aren’t doing anything drastic, but we are choosing things that are distracting us from God, things that are making us forget about his love, glory, and grace. At times it was difficult; you don’t really realize how often you go to Facebook, Instagram, or Buzzfeed, until you aren’t supposed to. It had become such an instinct of mine to immediately open those apps. I started to realize that the times I was about to go onto one of these platforms, I was just trying to kill time out of boredom. Whenever I would catch myself in those moments I would flip open my Bible app, or put my phone away completely and just spend time with Jesus. It is astounding how the majority of what I do is just to fill time, to stave off boredom. That is not ok. I should not be trying to just get through the day, because all that leads to is tomorrow. How mundane and depressing would life be if it was just moving from one day to the next until your death? If these morning devotionals and talks have enlightened me on anything, it would be how gracious God is. I've begun to take notice and thank God for everything he does for me, and let's face it, he does practically everything for me, from waking me up in the morning, to allowing me to meet amazing and kindhearted people, and ultimately saving me daily from myself.  His absolute, unyielding love is incomprehensible. I understand now that I not only need to, but that I desire to spend more time with my amazing God. 



Lately, one topic has been overwhelming my mind. Each time I open my Bible and read from it, I feel as if I have been hit by a wall. This prevailing theme that has consumed my every waking moment and brings me to tears is GRACE.

Grave: (noun) unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification; disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency; mercy; pardon.

The Parable of the Lost Son (Luke 15) gets me every time. As I read it I recognize everything I am in the younger son. See the younger son completely turn his back from his father, who had given him everything he had asked for. He took the gifts and threw them away. How many times have I turned away? If you were to reread my ‘Jesus Notebooks’ you’ll find them riddled with me pleading day after day, week after week, month after month. One morning I would wake up and see that I had not even given a thought towards God in what seemed like forever. I would immediately open my notebook and see that that last time I had written to him had been a plea, I was asking him to forgive me for forgetting about him. I had gotten into a cycle of desperately writing for two days, asking God for forgiveness, and then after those two days I would stop. I would forget again. I would take his mercy and grace and walk away. BUT, each time I would do that, he would be waiting for me, always right next to me, waiting for me to remember. What patience, what love he has for someone as insignificant as me to wait.
When I really look into this parable, I do see a mirror reflection of myself in the younger son, but what strikes me more, what hurts the most, is that I am also the older son. He sees the Father forgive his brother without a second thought. He hears everyone rejoicing that his younger, selfish brother had returned. His self-righteousness consumes him; he asks the servants what is happening. He decides to NOT take part in the celebration. Why should his brother who had done nothing receive a party and his father’s forgiveness, while he, the one who was faithful, receives nothing? Now I am far from being faithful, I just told you that I am constantly choosing the crooked path, but I am constantly seeking the answers as to why I have not received anything, when I walk straight. When I do return, I look and see others who are lost; who might have turned away for a second and I judge them. When they return it seems that they receive a party. My self-righteousness takes over. I turn towards others and ask them what is happening; I turn toward myself and become resentful towards them. I don’t go to God and ask or pray for them. I talk about them. I am selfish. I am mean. I never recognize that God was celebrating every time I had returned. I was too caught up in how others were being rewarded that I didn't see my own party happening alongside theirs. I didn't realize that my Father had been rejoicing in me my whole life, even when I had turned. 

Everything became about me. It is not I who brings me back. It is God’s amazing grace that redeems me, his unending mercy that calls me back and reconciles my broken self to his astounding beauty.



This beautiful song by Josh Garrels always moves me to tears and prayer. Not enough can be said about its amazing ability to bring the most righteous person to their knees and seek the abounding grace of our Father. I ask you to meditate over this song as often as possible.




We have been in 2014 for two weeks now and I have wanted to put together my thoughts and feelings about 2013 but I just couldn’t figure out a concise way to say all that I want to say; you know like a short and sweet post that encompasses the highs and lows of the year and then ends with an uplifting bit about the greatness that is bound to ensue in this next year. But, I struggle with short and concise. See, even my first sentence was a long-winded run-on…

My second semester here at this little University has just begun, my required course books are coming in one by one, I’m thoroughly reading through every syllabus, and I’m starting to get overwhelmed with it all. I have one class on Mondays and it is my political science major’s upper division writing course. In my professor’s lecture she included in her powerpoint a quote by William Strunk Jr that is meant to convey the type of skills we would be polishing throughout the semester,

“Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all sentences short or avoid all detail and treat subjects only in outline, but that every word tell.”


This is what I want to do. I want to be clear and concise. I want to say what I need to say, write what I need to write, and edit and delete certain words, ideas, and actions that do not coincide with the thesis of my life. This year I want to think more about the little everyday decisions that slowly shape the person that I become, or how I am perceived, received, and treated; the everyday actions that start to sway my life and steer it away from my thesis. Just a few wrong words can change the whole meaning of your paper; similarly, a few small actions and decisions can shape the direction of your life. This year I want to be intentional; I want all my words, steps, thoughts, breaths, and dreams to matter and to all refer back to my thesis. 

I want my 2014 to have a series of never-ending commas when I’m describing all the wonderful people that enter into my life, regretless periods at the end of all my days, ellipses when I know that I’m not in the right mindset to have certain conversations, thousands of exclamation marks—some randomly added just because life is that good(!), confident question marks when I ask the silly questions, the gross questions, the important questions, and most importantly, the hard questions, new paragraphs for every twist and turn and wonderful unexpectedness, and colons when I’m listing out all the things that God has blessed me with. This year I want to hold to my thesis. I know even in my idealistic mind that I will trail off, that I will have sections that don’t match my thesis, I know that I’ll say and do things that I would be ashamed to ever write down, but I know more still that God is my editor and that he will mark up my 2014 with all kinds of corrections, and that the red grace of Jesus will correct all of my errors and mistakes and make my 2014 beautiful, clear, concise, and support my thesis.



Caitlin here … The topic for today: The Majesty of God.
Someone once described it to me as an “Imposing Grandeur.”  For example, if you have ever visited Yosemite National Park, have stood at the top of Sentinel Dome looking over the valley, or ever been lucky enough to go up Half Dome; I must ask if you felt a tingle of fear, but could not make yourself move to a place where you would be safer for fear of not being able to soak up all the beauty around you. You felt a tinge of fear, because you realized that you are so small in comparison to your surroundings. It was so beautiful, but you realized that something could seriously go wrong here if you took one false step. Some call it a respect for nature; I call it majesty.
For you city rats if you have ever been on a ledge of a high building you may have felt the same thing. For me it was the Seattle Space Needle. I was looking down and felt that tinge of fear, but I could not pull myself away from the view. I wanted to take in everything around me, but could not shake this overwhelming fear that something bad could happen.
That is how I try to view God, in all his Majesty and Holiness. It is a constant struggle to keep my eyes turned toward him, but just think how amazing it would be: to be so awe-inspired and struck by his beauty. That would be an awesome way to live your life, to be constantly consumed by this feeling.
I want to challenge you all to seek out those times when you feel that beautiful fear. For me, it is in those times when I’m standing so close to so much beauty with that tiny touch of fear that I really feel God’s Majesty. I mean how amazing is the natural world?! Just take something like a tree, if you really watch it, it will reveal to you so many wondrous things hidden that you would not otherwise see in passing. Then take something as grand as Yosemite Valley, so beautifully sculpted by glaciers at his will.
Now for the pictures this week, they were both taken at Spencer’s Butte, here in Eugene. In both these pictures I had been sitting just feeling everything around me, bringing peace to my life during times of stress. Nature is such a beautiful remedy when you approach it in awe of God’s amazing will.