God's kindness

It saddened me this past week to learn that well-known atheist Christopher Hitchens has got cancer of the throat.

That may sound odd coming from a Christian, given that Hitchens is strongly opposed to those who believe in God. His extreme views on religion, outlined in his book "God is Not Great", and in public statements such as this one, quoted by his brother, Peter: "I can't stand anyone who believes in God, who invokes the divinity, or who is a person of faith," make it clear he is no friend of those who believe.

But it does sadden me. As a follower of Christ, I find no pleasure in seeing my enemies suffer. Instead I feel a great burden for Hitchens. I long for him to know the immense love God has for him, and I've been thinking about the incredible kindness God has shown to this man.

This thought occurred to me while reading a very touching article in Vanity Fair, in which Hitchens writes about his experience with cancer. In particular, he describes his struggle with losing his voice, his most treasured attribute. He writes about the glory days of public speaking, and of debating opponents. Of how he misses being comfortable in any crowd with his fast wit and love of words. Indeed, he compares the loss of his ability to speak, to losing a limb. He describes this less in terms of the physical pain, than in terms of the emotional agony that comes with the loss of such a vital part of one's personality.

Sometimes we are so blind to the ways God has shown us his love, and we are quick to take what we have for granted.

But if there is a God, he must be incredibly kind to have blessed Christopher Hitchens with something so valuable, as his voice. This precious instrument has become all the more so now that it eludes him. Yet, to think that this God should give something so good, something so cherished, as the gift of speech - and not just the ability to talk, but to speak effectively and persuasively, wittily, and for sixty years - to a man who has used that very instrument to belittle faith in God, and to mock those who believe. The kindness of God is immeasurable.

Some might say, but surely that's why he is now suffering with cancer. Surely, God is punishing him for all those years of mockery. But God is not like that. We know that suffering comes to both believers and non-believers alike in this world.

Yet even this may be a kindness from God. Not everyone has the luxury of knowing that they are close to death. Forty-five seconds was all it took for hundreds to die in the tornado at Joplin, Missouri last week. Many years ago, when I was walking far from God, I always had in the back of my mind the thought that I could at least change my mind on my deathbed. But we have no idea when that could be.

If there is a God, he has shown incredible kindness to Christopher Hitchens. In all the ways that he can reflect on the good things in his life, these are all gifts from God to show him His great love. Yes, Christopher Hitchens, God is not great, He is greater - in love, in compassion, in kindness, in patience, in mercy - than we could ever fathom. And he longs for you to give him thanks, for all the good things you have enjoyed in this life. Not the least of which, is your voice.

thinking about the cross

A friend shared a story last week that really hit me. She had released a cultivated butterfly into the wild, and within the first 30 seconds it was eaten by a bird. Thirty seconds. It just seemed so unfair. Probably not so much for the fact that birds eat butterflies, but for the unfulfilled potential of that one little creature. Couldn't God have let it fly a little longer?

This Easter, I have been struck by how tragic it is that Jesus died so young. That thought had never occurred to me before, perhaps because I am more often focused on what the cross achieved for me, and the fact that it had to happen that way. Jesus knew he was going to die. That was what he came to earth to do. And he set out resolutely for Jerusalem, intent on fulfilling his purpose.

But when I think about how it must have been for the people who knew and loved Jesus, those who had walked with him and were his friends, I realize it wasn't so obvious to them that it had to be that way, and I start to feel the frustration they must have felt as they watched their Lord led away and crucified. From their perspective, Jesus was just getting started with his ministry. He had his whole life ahead of him. He had so much potential.

Yet, I think that's what makes the cross so real for me. It comforts me that Jesus experienced the same kind of meaningless suffering that we see in our world. He is not removed from it. Instead he chose to leave the glory of heaven to enter our world, in its darkest depths and all its ugliness. Not simply as a comfort to us, but to save us. His death was not meaningless. It made it possible for us to be in relationship with God, and to be with him forever.

feeling alive

My second day at Cal, and boy are my legs feeling it! I can't remember the last time I walked so much. This is what my last two days have looked like: run to campus at 7:50am to make sure I get a spot in the lecture hall (I got there at 8am on the first day and it was already full - had to sit in an overflow room!), lectures and classes, walk home for lunch, run to the bookstore before my next class, and then a slow walk home around 5pm. We also had Jesus in Berkeley? last night which was awesome - but some more running around there as well. And so, with two days of action after a lazy summer, my legs are finally deciding they don't want to move. Anywhere.

Can someone please carry me to class at 8am tomorrow?

my sweet husband

He supports me when I go through with crazy ideas like science trivia nights.


He dons a lab coat for me and marks never-ending piles of trivia answer sheets.

He takes the watch I set by the door to go and fix, and fixes it for me without me asking -- the watch my grandparents gave me for my 21st. He knows how to make me cry and laugh at the same time.

My sweet husband.

The end.

my gummor

My visit to South Africa in 2003.

On safari in South Africa with Gummor and Guppa, 2003.

Some of the Phipson/Montgomery cousins right before the Monty's emigrated to Australia in 1999.

covered with his feathers

My dearest Gummor passed away last night, leaving behind a huge hole in all of our lives. I don't think words could express just how much I miss her. She has been an anchor in my life, a constant source of encouragement and love. I am so grateful for my Gummor.

In one of her last emails to our family, which she faithfully sent out every week since our immigration to Australia ten years ago, she mentioned that she was comforted to know that even in the difficulties and frustrations of life, that God had enfolded her in his feathers, where nothing or no one could possibly hurt her. I am comforted by that image and the knowledge that she is in his arms now. And my heart goes out to my very dear Guppa, who loved her so very much.

Their wedding on April 19, 1953.

Kia Ora. The house that Guppa built, where my Dad grew up, and where I grew up. Boston, South Africa.

chilli mangos

Ay loves to cook. Here he is juicing a lemon for some chilli mangos. I asked him where he learnt this recipe and he said he would just watch them make these at taco trucks.

Slicing the mango on either side of the pit.

Dicing the center and pouring some freshly squeezed lemon juice over it, followed by a sprinkling of chilli powder.

Done. Perfectly refreshing for a summer's day. I can't wait to see what this up and coming chef tries next!