Pray for SPU

Someone opened fire on my campus.  

I grieve.

For the death of Paul Lee.

That my people have to face this tragedy.

I am angry.

At the shooter who killed Paul Lee and injured Sarah Williams and Thomas Fowler. 

At my society that produced this person.

I am grateful.

For John Meis, who took decisive action.

For the strength of my community as we support each other.

I chose to come to SPU after discovering my Grandma had a terminal illness.  I hoped that when tragedy struck I would be in a loving community.

Now, we collectively walk through the valley of the shadow of death. The truth of who we are is obvious.  In every building, on every lawn I see people being Christ to each other and I am proud to be here.


I pray.

For everyone grieving the loss of Paul Lee.

For the full healing of Sarah Williams and Thomas Fowler.

For the redemption of Otto Miller Hall.

For wisdom for the leaders who make the hard decisions as we move forward.

For grace and justice for the shooter and his family.  

For all unspoken prayers only my heart can say.

For grief to happen.

For peace to be felt.

For us all to find forgiveness.

I stand.

On the thresholds of my campus and declare that evil will not have the final word here.

In confidence that our God reigns.



Click here to support the victims and their families through SPU's "Rise Above" fund.

Light and Shadows

The shadow of death.

An image described with every recitation of the 23rd Psalms, but how many of us really think about what it means?

The shadow of death.

Death ahead, death behind, blocking the sun with its mammoth frame.

The feeling:

Like metal on your teeth.

Like a vice wrapped with waiting to squeeze your throat.

But then, a light.

Not the dull glimmer of a dying ember.

Not the weak beam of a flashlight in need of new batteries.

A bright light.

A great light.

Like a light house standing proud.

Like a baby growing inside its mother.

Like the glow of a bride walking the aisle to meet her groom.  White dress rustling, hair alight with the pleasure of the family she passes, all pleased with the union.

The music swells with joyous epiphany.

Sweet vanilla fills the air.

Glorious.

Dark is the absence of light.

Peace is not the absence of weeping.

The Prince of Peace wept.

God does not say no more distress.

He says no more gloom for those in distress.

Just glorious light.

1 Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—

² The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:1-2