Kevin and Whitney and Fried Chicken

I just wanted to tell all of you how honored I am to have spent this
past weekend with you. There was just so much glory to behold at this
wedding of Kevin and Whitney Hughes and I'm simply honored to spend
even the most sparing moments of this season of life with all of you
and get to share in so much joy. I was reading Isaiah 35 on the way
home to Northern VA, where my parents live, and I was so taken aback
by the image of the highway:

"And a highway will be there;
it will be called the Way of Holiness.
The unclean will not journey on it;
it will be for those who walk in that Way;
wicked fools will not go about on it...

but only the redeemed will walk there
and the ransomed of the Lord will return." (Isaiah 35: 8-10)

I love this as a picture of what we were able to witness together, not
only what Whit and Kevin did by getting married, but also the picture
of what Christ is doing for us...for all his redeemed. Luckily for
most of us, the term "unclean" here has nothing to do with nasty hotel
rooms with fried chicken crumbs all over the floor... it's simply
Christ's redemption that buys us passage to this highway. What an
honor to celebrate these things in such real ways. Mike and I were
just about to drift off to bed the night of the wedding after everyone
had left and he asked me to pray with him for Whit and Kev as they
traveled to Charlotte. I realized then that my heart in praying for
them had so much to do with the reality that this passage has and is
the same heart that I was overwhelmed to share with all of you during
this weekend, just by being present and alive in Christ during this
time. So, I was moved to write a poem about it...go figure.


"Fried Chicken and vodka"

The song's sung with strength, resonating in my mind
a rhythm of a wholly different kind--
one full of grace and truth. I celebrate
the day as we choose to consecrate
our lives, poured out as an offering,
as we take up our cross, rejoicing in Christ's suffering.

Let the light rain tumble on old roofs and plastic
chairs as we sing. There, the tenor rises like
the steady hands of Christ on the resurrection morning.
He reaches down and feels rough earth, the blowing
of a violent wind come from heaven filling up the house.
And there, the Spirit sings, too, "Praise to the risen king!" Our

lips speak, "Hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come; your will be done. Remain
the sovereign one among these brothers and sisters
as we praise you and receive your favor."
Then, we dance the dance only the redeemed can dance--
trusting the hips and rhythms under an affirmed stance.

The days give way to night
as we dance, small globes of light
shining like the purity of a couple set apart.
The rain drives down and wonder starts
to brim about how we will stay dry in such places
where the unplanned becomes the glory on our faces.

We meet again in our temporary home
with glad and sincere hearts to share what glories come
upon the heart. I break the skin off my fried chicken
and pass it to my friends, hoping that my thoughts within
can count as thanksgiving and praise. I witness before me
the signs and wonders of the many redeemed beginning

to love one another, sharing our vodka and iced tea,
and I am filled with awe. With each word that I hear them speak,
I hear the glory and the splendor of our God.
We wander down the Redeemed Road and pause at the peak of nod,
giving thanks for what was before and what will be again: our Father
standing at the end to accept his ransomed ones once more.

...