Trillions of purposeful specks.

Every cell in your body has a purpose. A destiny, if you will.

When a cell in your body is formed, the nucleus, which is pretty much the brains of the outfit, tells it what it will be. It may be a blood cell… it may be a muscle tissue cell… the possibilities are vast. Every single cell has the same DNA within it, so that means that every cell has the same potential.

But cells only each express one or a couple of the genes within that DNA. That’s what makes them different from each other. They all pretty much have the same stuff inside, but they choose to express themselves differently. I guess what that means is that technically, every cell in your body could perform the “growing hair” function. But only some of them do (thank God), and that is because they know what their destiny is, and they each know which unique path they are supposed to take.

I think that’s pretty rad.

As I’ve been studying anatomy and the physics of how our body parts work together… the Lord has stirred a lot of questions within me.

Like…

If every single cell in my body (and I have trillions of cells) has a purpose and a destiny, what does that mean for me as a living breathing being? I am comprised of tiny purposeful things. I am made of nothing but tiny purposeful things. I must be purposefully made. I must have a purpose, right?

I was driving to work this morning and a semi-truck passed me by
(yeah. it passed me. traffic was like that).
On the side of it, it simply said, in large letters,

Which got me thinking about all of this again. And I wonder what I think about destiny, because honestly, I’m not really sure. I know that the decisions we make are important, and I don’t think that I believe that every move we make is completely predestined and we have no free will whatsoever. I also don’t think we are floating around accidentally. I believe in a creator and a designer. I believe that we were made intentionally.

But what of our purpose? What of our destiny?

I believe we have one. Every atom of our being is teeming with it. Inner dialogue: ‘I suppose the best place to go is to the One who crafted us in the first place. He probably has some great ideas about our purpose.’

Maybe this is the start of a blog series. Maybe it’s just a forum for good discussion. Maybe I was destined to write this blog (kidding. I think). Or maybe this is a totally pointless ramble. In which case, I am sorry. I don’t mean to publish my mental ventures all the time, and honestly, occasionally, I might use you just to process my thoughts. But I really am trying to bring something of value, here!

What I do know is that you and I have purpose. Our Creator gives it to us. He knows what it is, and He’s not trying to keep it from us.

What I think I know is that our purpose has everything to do with the Kingdom of Heaven.

I’ll talk about that another time.

Soon.

Resurrection day was the first day of my life.

I’m trying not to write a cheesy Easter blog about how today is resurrection day. I’m trying not to be a murmur in the whirling sea of “Happy Easters” and “He is risens”. I’m trying not to be trite in the way I celebrate this day. But I’m also trying not to forget what all the buzz is about as I attempt to break it down piece by piece to really understand it.

I suppose I should first start here…

I’m in love.

I’m in love with Jesus. He’s not my religious leader. He’s not a guy that I sacrifice things for in order to please. He’s not the guy who did some great things on earth, and then simply died one dark day on a cross.

He’s my lover. My closest friend. The ONE who knows me best. The ONE who loves me best. He is the reason that I live a life fully alive, completely at peace, and in abounding joy. He is the reason that I am.

So when I think about today, I think about how important it is to me, because it was the day that the love of my life kept so many of His promises. It was the day He returned to fulfill all of the things He said He meant to give. All of the things that seemed to fall to the wayside the day that He died.

I’m sure that the days following His death were full of a lot of questions. Was everything He said a lie? Was it all for nothing? Did His life really just end along with all of the things He said He came to do? Is abundant and eternal life really just a bunch of B.S.? Is the Kingdom of Heaven some imaginary place that this looney man named Jesus came up with?

And then He came back.

He came back!

He rose up out of the tomb where His body lay and returned to the people He was born for and died for. He returned and He conquered death to show us that He really means all of the things that He says and that He really is who He says He is.

And I believe it.

I believe it because I know Him and I love Him. I believe it because He is faithful to me and because He has stolen my heart.

And He made me alive with Him. Easter isn’t just about Him rising from the grave, it’s about Him bringing His people to life with Him. He fills our lungs and veins with life and He calls us to rise up with Him. He is alive! And so am I.

Today is the day that I really get to reflect on that and remember how important this “Easter” thing is. It’s not about eggs and bunnies, although that is fun and adorable. It’s a celebration because the love of my life, and my glorious redeemer is ALIVE.

But the best news?

He’s no more ALIVE today than He is every other day.

And that is something worth celebrating.

promises are like cracks that feel like impending death. sometimes. (or not)

i went rock climbing today. for the first time.

i hung on the side of a rock face with my fingers bleeding. i think i once heard the faint scream of my two big toes. my legs trembled and shook beneath the weight of my winter diet, and my arms tightened hesitantly.

it was awesome.

i learned that sometimes we have to trust our footing.

i distinctly remember one point of my second climb. i dangled there, rope in hand, and swung back to the ground. defeated. i climbed up again with my left foot almost too high to push off of, and scrambled to reach the crevice taunting me with it’s wonderful jagged grip to my far right. my left foot was slipping. i just knew it.

trust your footing.

that’s what they kept telling me. lean up on the weight of my leg. trust my footing.

it didn’t always feel secure. but this time i listened. i trusted it anyways and stood up.

and bam. i stood up. i didn’t tumble to a gruesome death like i was sure i might. i just stood up and realized that my foot was planted a lot firmer than i thought it was. and that i could trust it.

it reminded me of how God gives me things to stand on. promises. but i hardly ever trust that they are secure enough to hold me.

but they are. and i can actually stand up on them. and i can put my full weight on them. and, really, if i ever want to get up the stupid mountain…

i have to.

i also made a friend named boris. he is russian. and an ant.