You're my beloved, lover I'm yours; Death shall not part us, it's you I died for

When I was a kid, I'd come and stay in Vancouver with my mainland relatives for the entire Summer. During one Summer, I remember marching up to my Oma with purpose and saying, "Oma. You're not allowed to die. Never." She pulled me up into her lap and told me that everyone had to go when God called them, and I didn't have to be sad, because it meant that He had a very important job for them to do in Heaven with Him. I digested what she had told me and responded with, "Yeah, but you're needed here. So you're not going to go until I tell Him it's okay." I don't remember, but I think the conversation sort of ended at that point. A few weeks later, back at home, I relayed the conversation back to my mom. I asked her if she was going to stick around like Oma. I remember cuddling up with her on the couch and having her whisper into my hair that no matter what happened, she would never leave me. At the time, I took this as an iron-clad reassurance that I'd have my mommy around forever. A few years later, my mom was on bed rest after a particularly lengthy hospital visit. My Oma was visiting from Vancouver, and I had chosen, at that moment, to take out my confusion and frustration on the world by shouting and refusing to clean my room. For the first time in my entire life, my Oma yelled at me. She scolding me, how dare I be so selfish when my mom was in such pain. Slowly, her shouting became sobbing, and she collapsed on my bedroom floor wondering aloud how God could do this to my mother, pleading about how it wasn't right for a child to die before their mother. She kept repeating, "It's just not right", and I stood there, staring, bewildered. Not only because I was seeing her vulnerable for the first time, but because the words tumbling from her trembling lips didn't make sense to me. My mom wasn't dying. She had promised. She had made a solemn oath to my hair years prior that she would never leave me. Even at 14, knowing that bad things happen, already jaded and knowing that people are flawed and pain is a reality, I still held on to that promise deep in my heart. After she passed away, my heart changed. I grew up and grew into the understanding that when she held me that night and promised to be at my side forever, she meant it with everything inside of her. Because my mom is always with me, everywhere I go. She is that promise in my heart.

I need your strong hands to carry me; Take me, break me, set me free

Alrighty. So I am presently having a chat with an old friend of mine. Cordell is pretty much one of the first people I think of when I think of spiritual giants. Now, the last time I saw Cordell, he was 15 or so... and not the biggest kid in the world (not that I'm one to talk) but his great faith has always astounded me. When I first met him, a little over 2 years ago, in XLR8, nobody really knew much about him. But I learned really quickly that I had met a guy who would be doing some incredible things for the kingdom of God in his lifetime. He was like a walking prophesy. So talking to him lately has been a real blessing. Seeing how much he's grown in the past 2 years (spiritually, emotionally, physically... pretty sure he towers WAY over me now!), and, in comparison, how I've grown.
Anyway, the point of this post was not to talk about how awesome Cordell is... it's about what he and I were discussing. The call for something more. The thought that many of us are sleepwalking. We need a rude awakening. We need some sort of spiritual ice water to get us out of our lulls and do something for the kingdom of God, whatever that looks like in each of our lives. This weekend, for those of us going to SYC, it's a huge opportunity to wake up and smell the redemption. And for those of you who cannot make it (or, aren't Salvo and have no idea what the heck I'm talking about), why not make this weekend an opportunity regardless. You don't need a oceanside camp full of 200 screaming teenagers to do it. But I think it's time we woke up.

ps. Stoked to hang out with you this weekend, Cordell. Now get to bed!