asking for wudder ice...

Whatt'da ya mean, you've nevah had wudder ice, they asked in disbelief? Wide-eyed and curious, they looked at this California girl as if I was from Mars. Surrounded by roughly 20 pre-teen girls, they laughed and told me I had to go to Rita's for water ice (or, as they say, wudder ice).

The next day on my way to the airport, my gracious hosts learned about my apparent Philadelphia sin--You've never been to Rita's?! At this point I think Rita must be everyone's grandmother because everyone knows her and is offended I haven't visited her.

We pulled into obscure an Philly lot and saw the Rita's banner hanging from the brown, weathered roof. I'm expecting an old woman with a sweet voice who calls me Sugar to come out and hug me. But no, Rita is no where to be found. In fact, I don't think Rita lives there. The windows aren't open and the shades are drawn closed.

With sad, disappointed voices my hosts, Gabrielle and Angelica, inform me Rita's was closed. So I did what any ambitious girl would do. I knocked on the window. Hard. They looked at me in one of the She's-not-from-Philly ways and waited for us to get rejected. A tall, thin but burly guy peeks out of the door with a brisk, We open at noon.

As he was shutting the door I yelled out, I'mFromCaliforniaAndI'veNeverHadRita'sBeforeAndICan'tGoHomeWithoutEverTryingIt! (exhale) There is a slight pause from my tall but burly friend. Hang on, he said.

He returns with not one but THREE Rita's ice waters! Gab and Annie look at me in complete shock. I turned it into a Come-To-Jesus moment and I pepper our experience with, You have not because you ask not! We laughed, but it resonated deep within. Like a pebble tossed into a lake, the words spoken by Jesus reverberated in my mind, You have not because you ask not.*

We sometimes look at 'CLOSED' signs and walk away. But what if we have to fight for it? What if we have to ask to get it? What if the miraculous is answered simply when we ask? So--what are you asking for? What's your small miracle? Maybe we just need to ask...

*James 4:2-3

knowing who he is, so i'll never forget who i am...

As we walked down roads and up alleyways, I could see the excitement in my father's eyes as he shared stories from his childhood. If cobblestone roads could talk, stories of Revolution renegades and European exiles would emanate from the stones beneath our feet. San Miguel de Allende is a popular artist community full of brightly colored buildings and historic monuments that bring visitors from all over the world, even today.

Memories flooded our conversations as we walked aimlessly through dusty streets. He shared with me the struggles of growing up alone in the city. He shared with me the memories which canonized this magical city. He shared with me who he was, so I'll never forget who I am.

There is something important about knowing your history. Knowing where you come from will determine where you are going.

At dinner last night we soaked in the quiet streets and boisterous crickets as we reminisced about where God has brought both of us. He and I have a passion for mobilizing people to love and serve God. But without our history of hurt, struggle, and pain, I'm not sure we'd be able to speak with conviction on the grace bestowed to us through the salvation of Christ.

In Leviticus the children of Israel are reminded over and over to impart their history of struggle to their children so they would never forget the miraculous deeds done for them. I'm not an Israelite, but today I heard the words of my father and as a child of God, I will never forget the miraculous deeds done for us through the Divine hand of God.

What are your roots? Where are you from? How has your journey determined the way you live your life?

full circle...

As we sat on the cherry-wood table in the green room at church last night, I had to share with him how much my life has changed. Largely in part to a simple conversation we had late one night near the Dead Sea. He never knew how much my life's journey would be impacted by a simple question: Why do you do what you do?

In true providential and sovereign fashion, I got to share with him last night how profoundly my life has changed because of a simple conversation. Sonny inspired not only my direction in life, but this entire blog. I had to do something--I just didn't know what it was.

Today marks my 200th blog post and now I get to share with you why I do what I do:

L-O-V-E

Love is still the motivating factor in all I do.

At the 100 blog post, I said I would commit to 100 more. Now this day is here and I'm promising to commit to 100 more. I wrestle with this concept of blogging because I'm not a blogger. I don't want to be a professional blogger or a mega-blogger. I want to change lives. So I'm a speaker, teacher, and writer who happens to blog.

Thank you for coming here. Thank you for letting me be ugly and honest. Thank you for accepting the broken parts of me. Thank you for walking this journey together. I'm a better person because of you. Here's to 100 more posts...

*Edit to post: If you are attending the CCM retreat tomorrow, I want to meet up! I'll be in the cafe at 5pm if you want to chat :)

in the name of love...

While in Israel a few weeks ago, I got several opportunities to speak with Sonny from the rock band, P.O.D. (Yeah, yeah, I'm name dropping, but I never get to meet rock stars so let me have my fun!). While sitting by the Dead Sea he candidly asked me some questions about ministry, life, and the direction for the 21st century church. We waxed philosophically with a few other 20somethings as the sun set and continued talking until the sun rose over the lifeless sea. After hours and hours of endless cups of dark coffee and circular banter with people from various backgrounds, ethnicities, and cultures, Sonny asks me, So why do you do what you do? What makes you continue to fight this fight and not grow weary from religious bigots or secular heathens. I blinked  a few times (a fool-proof stall tactic I use when I'm thinking), and mumbled one word: LOVE.

Silence blanketed the group and I didn't know whether they thought it was a cliche answer or something profound. Instead of listening to Israeli crickets chirp, I opened my mouth and filled in the gaps. 1 John 4:8 says that God IS love. If we really believe this statement, then our interactions with prostitutes or professors, hood rats or Hollywood's elite, those who are Christian or those who are carnal will be motivated and predicated by the LOVE of God. God IS love... therefore wherever I walk, whenever I talk, when I teach or when I preach, I want to do everything in the name of LOVE, for God is LOVE. 

No one moved until Sonny let out a long sigh. It was almost as if they were awaiting his sage response as affirmation of my statement... good thing he nodded his head and replied, That's deep, Bianca, that's deep. I let out a long sigh and felt like I had a revelation; like a glimmer of Life coming from the Dead Sea. It was fabulous. It was magical. It was needed. 

I returned home and made the vow that things were going to change in all aspects of my life. So here I am! This is the genesis of a new season in my life and I am happy. I'm going to live in LOVE in the name of LOVE... for God is LOVE.

Walk. Talk. Teach. Preach. In The Name Of Love.

Bianca