The Wake Left Behind

     10 years ago I spent a summer in Rome, Italy on a summer project. It is amazing to me that, although in reality, there were a lot of hard things about that summer, I remember it fondly. Currently, my room is decorated with photographs and paintings that I acquired that summer, and if you are around me long enough you will hear me refer to once or twice how much I adore Italy! The city was beautiful, the people were lovely, the culture enchanted me, and the food was delightful-seriouly the definition of delight!           What strikes me as odd though is that at the time, most of that experience in Rome was one of struggle and disappointment. We were there to do some ministry, and found it very hard to meet students. As a team, we did not really get along too well, and the summer did not turn out quite like I had expected. So it is funny to me that over time, my memories have turned from recalling disappointment to that of pure rom...

While visiting the National Mall in Washington DC as a teenager, one of the war memorials stood out to me. Written along a wall were the words, "Freedom is not Free." These words have stayed with me all these years, and as I have matured and reflected on them over and over again, and as my life has taken shape around them, they have become a part of my journey. My dad gave me the middle name, Freedom, 30 years ago, when I was born on the exact minute the Iranian hostages stepped off the plane. I wonder if he knew then how that word would mark my story. As we have learned many, many times throughout our nation's history, I too have learned that the road to freedom is not free. As a child of God, my freedom was first bought with the most costly price, God himself. It cost him everything to give me life, and the freedom to be in relationship with Him. Freedom to fully live, guilt free,-no longer condemned by my sin and rebellion and passivity. But the knowledge of free...