His Story, Not Mine

Often, life seems like a mess of tangled yarn. There are many threads running through my days. Many lessons, many events, many feelings, dreams, ideas. But... every once in awhile, the threads pull taut and everything is put in order. All that seemed random and unrelated suddenly collides and makes sense and I see. I see my life. I see the One who speaks and orders my days and guides my footsteps. He opens my eyes and I see clearly. My mind, and I understand. April 17th was one such day. It happened quietly, softly.

April 17, 2013

I'm sitting up above the ocean. Doors locked, windows sealed tight, the sound of its rolling waves still reaches my ears clearly. I used to go down to the ocean. I used to walk in and feel cold silk as it murmured against my legs. Why am I up here?I see the place I have often gone - in storms, in the sunshine, at sunset, early on Christmas morning.  Part of me longs to be there, to surrender. But I am stubborn and self-centered and I hold myself back. I don't want to get my feet wet. I don't want to be cold. I don't want to get in trouble for tracking sand into the house. That's it. Before Africa, when I came back, I chose to surrender as fully as I knew how. When did I change? Why? It seems I care more about my own comfort and others' opinions than my Reason for living. That simply should not be.

A train rumbles by between my locked doors and the ocean. It shakes the ground, making a mighty noise and blowing its whistle. But you know what? If I listen closely, I can still faintly hear the rolling waves. I can see them. They still call my name. A train and the ocean get in a fight. Who wins? Yes, that's right. The ocean. Even though the train looks unsurpassable in power, the ocean would swallow it whole and it would rust in the depths.  No matter how hard it pounds the waters, it can't hurt the ocean. The train obscures my view of the ocean, but it's right there. Always. The ocean is a constant reality. It moves, but it doesn't move. It will always be right here, until this earth passes away.

So what does one do when she realizes she is holding herself back like a child keeping a lollipop out of her brother's reach? She gets down on her face and thanks her Father for His grace and asks that He would change her heart and give her the will and the courage to let go. Let go. Death grip relaxed. Hands open. Let it go. He knows how to care for your fragile heart. He is more than enough. He whispers love to my soul.

The existence, character, and importance of the ocean becomes harder and harder to deny or distort. Over time not only does the sound of the waves pass through these walls, but the smell of the salty air slowly seeps in. The air within the walls cools to match that which lies outside. It is impossible to remain unchanged in His presence.

I drove home and, on a whim, decided to check the mailbox although I was certain someone would have picked the mail up much earlier. I was waiting for a letter. A letter to affirm my path and cement my plans. No one had picked the mail up, it was still there. I picked up the stack and casually flipped through it. There it was, right in the middle. Moody Bible Institute. Emily Hall. I hadn't really expected it to be there. I thought I would have to wait until I got home from my weekend choir trip. Down the driveway, into the garage. The moment of truth.  I was fully aware that I might not have been admitted. Happy, but nervous, I opened it. As I read, the first thing I noticed was that the letter didn't begin the way acceptance letters usually do, with a big "Congratulations! Welcome to _____! You're a _____! We can't wait to see you on campus!" Nope. None of that. But it didn't sound like a rejection letter, either. There it was. The black ink congratulated me on my acceptance to Moody. But... there was no more space in Chicago. I could either go to the Spokane campus or do 1+3 FYOP (First Year Online Program). If I went to Spokane, I could reapply to Chicago after my first year. With 1+3 FYOP, I would complete my first year online and then I would be guaranteed transfer to Chicago for the next three years.

The world stopped. I wasn't crushed, but I didn't understand what had just happened. I expected something nice and neat. Acceptance or rejection. Yes or no. Clean, easy, final. Apparently, that wasn't the plan.

"I'm not going to Chicago." Disappointment started to creep in. And then I laughed. Oh Lord. You never cease to amaze me. No conversation with You is random or irrelevant or inapplicable. "Surrender. Do you believe I am who I say I am? Do you believe I love you? Do you believe I have a plan and  that I have led you here?" He's asking me if I will trust Him even when His plan isn't exactly what I expected, not exactly what I wanted. "I have not changed. My plan for you has not changed. I just want to lead you on a bit of a different route. I know you didn't expect this, but I knew all along. Will you trust me, little one?"

In Africa, my sisters and I often spoke of dangerous prayers - praying for things like patience and faith and boldness. These prayers are "dangerous" because He answers by giving us opportunities to be patient, to exercise faith, to step out boldly. These situations are not easy or even necessarily safe by the world's standards sometimes. That is why we pray for these things - to be able to glorify God in the hard places. Dangerous prayers are so good. We grow, we cut down fear, we see lives change because God gave us opportunities, the desire, and the strength to choose the hard options, practicing what we prayed for. On April 17th, up above the ocean, I prayed for the courage to let go, to surrender. Not ten minutes later, He placed an opportunity right in my lap. Literally. Oh Daddy.

I am not disappointed. I am not crushed. My world has not been turned upside down. My idea of what my life should be has not been ripped to shreds. This is not what I expected but... you know what? I'm okay with that. I am glad I have this opportunity to say "I trust You", to surrender, to be obedient, to do these things and not just say them. To demonstrate that I mean what I say.

I see my life up to this point, a jumble, a mess, and so many things make sense. I see struggle and faith and fear and lessons learned and Africa and Mexico and conversations and tears and plans, and they have all collided and fallen into line, everything orchestrated by the Most High God, the One who sees me. Last year, I wasn't ready for wherever I am going, but last year prepared me for this year and I am more ready than I was before. If we wait until we feel qualified and ready, we'll never get anywhere or do anything. If we choose to follow Him and take the first step in faith, He is faithful to lead us and prepare us on the way.

I have chosen to be a part of 1+3 FYOP. I see so many good things I believe He has in store for this year. I have so many things to experience, many more lessons to learn, and He knows this is the best way.  Lead me where You will, Lord.  This is not my story.  It's Yours.

This is the year for trust and surrender and belief. This is the year to rise up, Faithfull. For you know He who called is faithful and He will finish it.

Words of Hope

Words.  Words are powerful.  They build up and tear down.  They inspire fear, anger, awe, and hope.
Hope.  Hope is mysterious.  Trusting that a yet unseen reality is or somehow will be.  It's crazy, it's wonderful, it... changes everything.  Hope offers a reason to live, a reason to fight, a reason to be joyful.  Of course, there is the ultimate hope of seeing Christ glorified in all the earth and spending eternity with Him, but He also plants seeds of hope for things along the way.

Someone said something to me once.  I realize that happens to each of us thousands of times a day, but this was different.  In a moment of despair, the words caused my heart to leap and flutter in joyful, surprised anxiety.  Could it be true?  Could that ever be?

Has anyone ever spoken words to you that inspired crazy hope like that?  It seems so unlikely, so far out there, but everything in me yearns for it to be true.  For this reason, it rests nestled in my heart.  We know our ultimate hope is true.  He who has promised is faithful.  The hope of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ should be shouted from the rooftops.  This little hope, though, is different.  It may be realized, it may not.  I do so want it to be.  So for now, it is not to be spoken.  It's delicate and treasured and I will wait and see, though it may take a lifetime to be realized.

May we use our words to build up.  May we use our words to inspire hope.  May we use our words to point to Jesus.

May we treasure the Gospel.  May our hearts leap at the name of Jesus.  May we shout from the rooftops of His glory, love, and grace.  He is worthy.  

Tale of a Broken Pot

The broken pot sits on the shelf among countless others. There is a large crack through her base from the time she was dropped, a gaping hole in her side from the day she rolled off the wooden table and fell to the hard ground. She is chipped and punctured and scraped.

Every day, she squirms as close as possible to the wall and angles herself so only the most whole part shows. The gaping hole to the wall, the jagged crack to the shelf. Now the other pots won't see her brokenness. Now the Potter won't see her - He'll forget and let her be, right? Safe, right?

All the other pots are radiant. They're shiny and beautiful. If they could see, surely they would laugh, mock her, snub her, shove her off the shelf to be dashed into countless fragments on the cold, stone floor.

The pots around her worry. She stays aloof. She's hard, solid, unyielding. "What's wrong? Why are you hiding back there?" they gently inquire.

"Nothing. Why would anything be wrong? I'm fine. Everything's alright."

She is made keenly aware by their questions of the chips, scratches, and holes in even her most whole side. She twists and turns, trying to position herself so the light and shadows conceal them as completely as possible.

One day as she hides in the dark corner, she hears the purposeful steps of the Potter. She shrinks back as far as possible and hopes He will pass over her and take a different pot - a radiant pot from the front of the shelf. Surely that is what He wants.

But today is not like other days. He calls her name and she trembles violently. He begins to reach for her and she desperately fights to become one with the wall, but to no avail. She is afraid. What will the Potter do with her? Surely a broken pot is detestable to Him. Every day she watches Him put beautiful, new, radiant pots on the shelf. She dare not think about what is coming. Not sitting here in His strong hands. The One who makes such glorious vessels must utterly despise such a disgrace as herself.

But as He gently cradles her in His hands, He whispers, "Remember." And she does. She remembers the day she lay empty, broken, abandoned, dirty on the ground. He knelt in the dirt by her side and picked her up, even as He was scraped and abused by her jagged, broken pieces. That day, He washed her with His tears and carried her to His own house, where He watched over her day after day.

He knows her thoughts. "Why are you ashamed? Why are you afraid? I love you. I brought you into my own house. You are safe and secure and accepted."

A trembling whisper."I don't know"

"I did something else the day I took you in. You've forgotten. Let me show you."
He begins to turn the broken, little pot in His hands and she fights and screams and kicks. "No! No! Don't do that! It's broken! It's ugly!"

All of a sudden, she's facing a mirror and it's so incredibly bright, she can barely stand to look at it. "Ack! What is that?!?!" she cries and averts her eyes.

"Look," He urges. "Look."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns her gaze upon the shining mirror and... what is that? She knows that scar. Yes, and that crack. And that chip. And that... gaping hole! "But how... ?"

"You're beautiful," He sings.

And it all floods back. He picked her up, He bore her abuse, He washed her with His own tears, He brought her into His own home, and then. Then He put a great treasure inside of her, a shining treasure of indescribable worth.

She remembers. She had sat in His hand that day and marveled at its splendor. It was perfect. And He had given it to her! She had known that day that she was beautiful because the shining treasure within made her so.

"Who told you that you were ugly? Who made you ashamed of your brokenness? It's through your brokenness that the great treasure shines through. Every day you hid your cracks and holes, you tried to hide the glory, the indescribable beauty I gave you to hold within."

There lay the truth. Her best attempt to hide her ugliness had never made her beautiful. It had hidden the one thing that could make her beautiful.

As she stared intently at her reflection, she saw she was more broken than she ever imagined... but she was also more beautiful than she ever could have dreamed.

"Forgive me. Break my pride. You make this little broken pot beautiful."

"No more hiding, you beautiful, little pot. Let your light shine before men."

Hide-and-Seek

You're lying in the dirt under the prickly leaves of a bush in the backyard. The torrential rain is pouring down and the soft dirt is quickly turning to oozing mud. Something brushes past your arm, sending a shiver up your spine. Spider! You stifle a scream, flail frantically looking for a stick and flick it far away - or so you hope. But then there's another hanging only inches from your face. The flashlight of someone looking for you passes by every once in awhile, stinging and blinding your eyes that have adjusted to the thick blackness. A voice calls, "Where are you, child? Why are you hiding?". You don't dare answer, certain you will be rejected and condemned if the voice discovers where you've been hiding and what a mess you are. Your heart races and your whole body shakes every time you hear footsteps disturb the eerie silence. Is it the seeker or a wanted criminal? You most certainly don't want to be found, but you would rather face the stinging, blinding flashlight and hear your name called, even condemningly, than be carried off deeper into the night.

Fear takes hold and you have to act, so you crawl out from your dingy hiding place and hesitatingly present yourself to the seeker. Matted hair, skin scratched by thorns, clothes caked with mud and torn by jagged rocks. You stand there blinded by comforting light as the pain of leaving the thorny bush's cold embrace slowly eases. You're ashamed to stand there in such a deplorable state. You say, "This is where I've been hiding. It's cold, wet, dirty, painful, and frightening. I thought hiding there was a good idea, but I realize, now, it wasn't. I want to go inside now." Love says, "I'm so glad you came out. I've been waiting for you a long time. Come get warm, dry, and clean. It's safe and comfortable inside."

But then, "It won't be easy to get clean, warm, and dry," you think. "I'm such a mess. Cleaning these scratches will hurt. No, I'd better not go inside." You've forgotten how awful it was in your hiding place and all about your fear of the wanted criminal. So you turn around and scramble back under the thorny bush. Back to the mud, cold, spiders, wet, and black of night.

But... you just don't do that when you're playing hide-and-seek. You can't. Why? Because you just told the seeker where you are hiding. You can't hide anymore! Your ugly has been brought into the light. Love saw it and love also saw when you went back into hiding. And love doesn't let you hide because of your ugly without a hard fight. Love will fight for you to go inside and be made warm and dry, clean and healed, safe and comfortable.

Love runs after you to your hiding place and says, "Beloved, I know where you are. Hiding will only hurt you more. I long for you to be made whole. Please, beloved. Come out. Come inside the house with me."

You say to yourself like you did before, "If I just wait, the spiders and wanted criminal will go away. I'll become clean and dry and warm, eventually. These scratches will heal. If I leave my hiding place, I'll be hated and condemned. Yes, I'll just wait here and everything will get better, and then I'll come out and no one will ever know I was cold and dirty and wet and scared and scratched. Everything will be fine if I just stay."

It's a lie. A blatant one, really, but you can't see it for what it is. If you lie in the mud, how will you get clean? If you remain in the prickly embrace of thorns, how will your scratches heal?  If you stay outside in the cold and rain, how will you get warm and dry? If you stay outside in the dark, how will you be safe from spiders and criminals on the loose? The truth is, staying in hiding will only make you more dirty, more cold and wet, more wounded, more scared, and more endangered.

Love is waiting with outstretched arms. Love is fighting for you. Love is yearning for you. Love won't condemn you. Love won't reject you. Love will make you whole. 

You don't have to hide. Run back to love.

The Conductor

His hand guides the baton gliding through the air in steady strokes. 1-2-3, 1-2-3.  He breathes, I breathe with him.  He moves, I move with him.  It’s a dance.  Can you feel it?  We all move and breathe as one and the music flows through.  There is a connection unlike any other between people through whom music washes.  Everything you are is invested in the other musicians and in letting the music free.  How many times has a conductor said, “You must play as one person.  You must sound like one instrument.”?  I couldn’t possibly count.  Complete unison is impossible to accomplish without the connection.  The musicians speak silently, saying, “Come, let’s build the intensity – the storm is coming.  Softly, softly now – don’t wake the children sleeping.  Grieve the loss.  Rejoice in the triumph.  Climb the mountain with me.” 

And the conductor leads.  He gently guides.  He feels the music’s excitement and knows to quicken the tempo – he shows us and we follow.  The music yearns to be cherished and held until the last possible moment.  He feels it, he shows us, and we follow.

This conductor, though, is more than he seems.  The podium is only half of his station.  Yes, he is much more.  He is the composer.  The music is a song that sprang from his soul.  It is a part of him, he knows it inside out.  He knows before it swells like the waves and when it will ease to a gentle lapping along the shore.  Nothing about it surprises him.  He needs no score to conduct.  Surely the definitive black marks on the page would only inhibit the music, hold it back from its full potential.  How could the techniques and dynamics denoted express all that the music is?  One can play a piece perfectly, obeying the command of every masterfully placed accent and tempo marking, but if the ink on the page is all you see, the music is dead.  It cannot live and flow freely.  No one can conduct the music like the one who first set it free.

Because the music belongs to him, the musicians follow without question.  He may decide to slow unexpectedly or repeat a section played before while the audience listens intently, held in rapt attention.  When he directs an unexpected change, it doesn’t always make sense.  Sometimes, the musicians don’t understand why.  But they know that he is their leader, the music is his, and he knows what he is doing.  And so, when the musicians understand that their conductor is also the composer, they trust and they follow, and the music flows through. 

This is the key.  The musicians must know their conductor.  They have to learn how he conducts.  What is that wave of his hand?  What does it mean when his right eyebrow arches slightly?  As we learn, we make mistakes.  He moves his hand and it looks to us like a cutoff so we arrest the movement, but he was only asking the violas to play out a little more.  When we make music together, I can’t bury my head in the written music.  How will I know what the conductor is doing?  What if he signals a cutoff, repeat, decrescendo, accelerando?  How will I know?  I can only ascertain his movements, then, from the sound of the orchestra.  And if he directs a cutoff and I’m not watching, I’ll certainly hear it, but it will be too late for me to stop with all the rest. 

As I play, I see him always before me.  I can trace the path of his gliding baton.  Often, that is enough to get by.  The music will survive.  But, when a difficult passage comes along, it’s easy to lose sight of the conductor – to stare fixedly at the notes that may easily cause you to stumble.  Then what?  You have shut out the only person truly able to guide you through it, to let the music continue to flow. 

Sometimes, a musician becomes filled with pride.  They croon within, “I’m the one who really knows how the music goes.  I don’t need a conductor, I can set it free on my own.”  What then?  That pride causes discord as its intents collide with the music in its purest form.  It clouds and confuses the song of the composer’s heart, and the beauty of the dance, following the lead, is lost.

Simply being aware of his movement out of the corner of one’s eye is often sufficient to keep the music alive, but surely we desire the music to thrive.  When a transition comes, peripheral vision does not suffice.  At that time, the musicians must fix their eyes on the conductor and drink in every movement.  Can they see the nod of his head, the expression on his face, out of the corner of their eyes?  Certainly not.  Music is played most beautifully when the musicians have practiced well with their conductor.  They know the movement of the music and are able to watch their conductor through every phrase.  Can you feel his heartbeat if you are too caught up in the notes in front of you to hold him in your gaze?  If the music is the song of his heart, how can you set it free without his guidance?  The musicians who spend time with their conductor build a deep relationship with him and the musicians know their conductor will lead them through the music, and even the most difficult parts will be made beautiful.  They trust him because he is the composer, also, and he knows what is done, what is being brought into being, and what is to come.  The reward of knowing and following the conductor is the beauty of the music set free together.  And… every now and then when your gaze is fixed on him, his eyes meet yours and nothing in the world can compare to the joy and affirmation in his eyes when you have followed well.    

 

All He Is > All I Wish For

I wish I could be faithful and that my love were steadfast...
but I'm thankful that He is always faithful and His steadfast love pursues me anyway.

I wish everyone who has poured into my life could always be close to me...
but I'm thankful that God blessed me through them and He is always with me AND He will finish the work He began in me, even if they're not nearby.

I wish life could be easy, sweet, and comfortable...
but I'm thankful for the strife, bitter tears, and pain because I know He is refining me, our hardships help us relate to others, these things push me to press in to Him, and He works all things for His glory and my good. Always.

I wish I could go to Moody and BCOM and the Honor Academy and Impact ME and everywhere else my sisters are going next year.  Every place.  At the same time.  Because then I could be with all of them...
but I'm thankful that His plan is perfect, He will remain with each of us, and He is more than enough.

I wish time differences didn't exist and separating distances could be freely spanned in seconds...
but I'm thankful that the Lord gave me friends - from Seattle, Dallas, South Dakota, Pennsylvania, Florida, Johannesburg, Zambia, Seoul, and so many other places - to be with for certain seasons; for letters, cell phones, and the internet; and that His plan is perfect.

I wish I knew how everyone I met in Africa is doing - Lesogo, Maggie, Abdul, Prudence, Piason, and all the others - and that I could be there to encourage them, pray with them, and walk through life with them...
but I'm thankful that prayer spans thousands of miles, He knew them before they came into being, He loves them with an everlasting love, and He has a perfect plan for each of them. 

I wish I didn't break His heart so often...
but I'm thankful that His love is steadfast and His power is made perfect in weakness.

I wish sin were never part of human existence...
but I'm thankful for the cross and God's astounding grace.

I wish I had all the answers to my questions and everyone else's...
but I'm thankful that in His abounding grace, God has revealed His character to us, and He is good and just and holy and faithful, His love endures forever, and He does all things well.

I wish I knew what tomorrow holds and every day after...
but I'm thankful that the Lord knows all things, His power is absolute, and He cares for me.

Wow.  He is so good.  He deserves more than all the praise we could ever give.  Imagine how much more we would praise Him if we set our eyes on all He is and all He has done for us rather than mourning what we do not have.  My foolish heart wears sackcloth and ashes too often, passing over the joy He gives.  We have so much to be thankful for.  If I wish for something I do not have, I am missing something greater that He is to me.  He is far more than enough to satisfy each need.

One night in South Africa, our Project Director asked us to think of all the good things that happened that day and thank God for them.  And then she said, "If you can't think of anything good that happened today, remember the cross."  See, there is always at least one thing to be thankful for. If we have nothing - if we lay dying with no friends, no family, no possessions, no wealth, no happy memories, no great accomplishments, no recognition - we should yet remember the cross, and that alone would still be enough to occupy our every word and thought with thanksgiving, if we set our eyes not on what we do not have, but on all He is.

For this and much more, I thank Him.  All He is > All I wish for.  Always.

"I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart,
and I will glorify your name forever.
For great is your steadfast love toward me;
you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol."
~ Psalm 86:12-13

What are you thankful for?  What has He done for you?

Africa #10 ~ Mulungu/Muzungu Anikonda? ... Both.

Twelve beautiful Zambian children are lined up for lunch. "Mulungu anikonda, mulungu anikonda," they chant. Big smiles. Yes, He loves each of you more deeply than you can ever know. Gideon's face leans out of line. Mischievous smile. "Muzungu anikonda, muzungu anikonda." He leads and the others grin and make the small change in their joyful chant. Mind racing. What?? Muzungu means "white person" in Nyanja. After speaking Zulu for a month in South Africa, I am bound to confuse mulungu and muzungu every once in awhile. Mulungu means "white person" in Zulu, but "God" in Nyanja. This is your language, though! How did you get them confused?
... "Ohhhh!!" They mean I love them. Oops, that was obvious. "Yes! Nikukonda! I love you, too!" I earnestly and giddily blurt.

This is possibly my favorite Camp Hope memory. In a situation with a fairly formidable language barrier, age gap, and cultural contrast, one wonders how much gets across. Do they understand? Do they believe what they hear? Do they see through the stories in the Bible and their experiences that God loves them? Do they know that I love them? Or is this all for nothing? I saw in their faces that my twelve twelve-year-olds really understood that their Creator, the Almighty God, their Father, loves them. That in itself was more than enough to make my heart leap for joy. Then they also let me know that they know I love them, too. Yes, this strange muzungu who butchers phrases in Nyanja and songs in Bemba, who thinks it's hot when all of you are freezing, who sings while we walk and march and dance and run until she has no breath left to make a sound... yes. She loves you. I love each of you very much.

Africa #9 ~ Grace

Once, there was a girl standing on a lawn in South Africa, her eyes welling up with tears she tried desperately to blink away. But then the young woman she was training with saw the pools and moved to reassure her. And then the pools turned to waterfalls and the suppressed sobs bubbled up out of her throat. Unexpectedly, a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder from behind, that drew her in to cradle her head in a mass of lovely, dark, curly hair. And then a sincere face and a purposeful voice that said, "Emily, people like you are the reason I come on these trips." You see, that girl was afraid of failure. That girl was unaware of her value and use. That girl was insecure and believed those watchful, loving eyes were judging her for what she perceived as failure. That girl desperately thirsted for love and affirmation. That girl believed it should never be given to her.

But there was that voice, telling her all those things were lies. That girl was a mess, but, "People like you are the reason I come on these trips." Because that girl doesn't have to be a mess forever. That girl can become, be made, beautiful.

It makes me think of Christ. I may be afraid, unaware, insecure and desperate, believing God is condemning me and agreeing so wholeheartedly with the basis of that condemnation that part of me doesn't want to be loved at all... but Christ says, "People like you are the reason I came."
People like you, friends, are the reason He came. None of your dark, nasty, gritty, disgusting, struggle bus, embarrassing, dirty muck can ever change that. Ever.

That's grace.

But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
- Romans 5:8

Africa #8 ~ Video

I somehow forgot I could post a video here!  Now that I remember, here is the video I put together to give all of you a glimpse into everything that happened while I was in South Africa and Zambia for two months.  I did show it at my sharing time at CCF and posted it in the facebook group, but I wanted to be sure everyone who wanted to saw it.  I hope you enjoy it :)

 

 

As always, questions and comments are welcome :)

Africa #7 ~ Double Blessing

While we were in Texas for training, we were assigned MIG's (ministry groups).  Each ministry group must have a MIG leader who is over 18 and at least one guy over the age of 16.  Only 5 guys had signed up to go to South Africa, so we had 5 ministry groups and the numbers worked out perfectly. 

In South Africa, we did VBS with kids in the squatter camps.  Impact Africa has a 5-day curriculum that we used, so each MIG did VBS one day of every week.  While in Texas, we had to learn the curriculum for our day.  My MIG was assigned Day 2, which is about sin and included a skit of the fall.  Naturally, Nazar, our one guy, was Adam.  We practiced and practiced and wondered if we were ever going to get it right and practiced and drank some water and practiced.  It took a lot of work and a lot of letting go, but it was... okay by the end of training. 

During training, we heard that Nazar and his sister Suza might not be able to go to South Africa with us.  They were still short on funding and, on top of that, they are originally from Russia and their visas hadn't arrived yet so they could go to South Africa.  Much prayer ensued and we contributed to their accounts.  Nazar, being the sweet big brother he is, gave all his money to Suza so she could go. 

It didn't seem to be enough, though.  When we got on the bus and left campus for the airport, Nazar and Suza didn't come with us.  Reality didn't really hit until our first full day in South Africa - training for ministry.  The MIG's were all supposed to practice their VBS day.  Our MIG got together and we realized there was nothing we could do.  We had lost our Adam, we needed some serious help, and we didn't understand why God let that happen.  Our MIG couldn't even go anywhere without a guy over the age of 16.  So, we circled up to pray and as soon as "Jesus!" had escaped our lips, Brennen (our Project Director) said, "Meet your new MIG member!"

Eyes fly open, minds churn, smiles burst out.  "This is Adino." 

Adino lives in South Africa.  His sister is best friends with the daughter of the founder of Impact Africa.  You can imagine how glad we were to see him. 

We got back to work and figured out how we were going to do our curriculum now that we had another Adam.  And it went really well.  And the kids loved it.  And it was easier than we thought.  And it wasn't nearly as scary as we thought.  And kids came to know Christ. 

But that's not the end.

Nazar and Suza made it to South Africa!  A few days after we got there, but they made it.  God had a better plan all along and it included stretching our faith.  We were devastated when Nazar was taken from us, but then God sent us Adino and gave back Nazar after that.  They were our double blessing.

       
Before Nazar and Suza made it to South Africa

Front: Me, Lacy
Back: Mikaela, Bones (our translator, actually Bonghani), Ellie, Jannell, and Adino

The whole team :)

Front: Me, Ellie, Adino, Jannell, Mikaela, Lacy
Back: Nazar, Bones


I know half of us are wearing the same clothes in both pictures, but they really were completely different days haha :)

Africa #6 ~ Lesogo

The post in which I finally tell an actual ministry story. 

If you've asked me about Africa, I have most likely told you this story.  People often ask about my favorite moment or the most amazing thing that happened while I was in Africa.  I have so much trouble picking a favorite anything and stories from my time in Africa are no exception.  However, this is the story that usually comes out because it is so very close to my heart.  This is not the story of a woman being healed of AIDS or a blind man seeing or of a sangoma being used for God's glory, although those are incredible stories of God's love and power, which should be told.  It is a story beautiful in its simplicity.  A quiet, unobtrusive story easily overlooked though full of God's workings. 

That day, Team VESSELS was ministering in Kya Sand.  My MIG (ministry group) had noticed that, when we encountered women who attend church, they often said took their children to church, but their husbands wouldn't go.  You see, heavy drinking and gambling is rampant in these squatter camps and many men there think they have to fix themselves before they can go to church.  Because the men don't think they belong at church, there is a widely accepted sentiment that "church is for women".  During ministry, my MIG encountered many women, but the men were often out drinking, gambling, doing piece jobs (odd jobs), or looking for work.

Before leaving the creche (preschool, run by Impact Africa) for ministry, my MIG decided to pray that God would lead us to men to minister to that day and that he would raise up men in Kya Sand to be spiritual leaders.  Then we left and walked through the camp, across the river, and up to the other side of Kya Sand, where we were doing ministry that day.

Surprise!  There were No. Women.  There were large groups of men everywhere.  Before we knew it, the two guys in our group and our translator were sitting with and talking to a big group of these men.  GE has a lot of rules about girls approaching men for safety reasons, so we couldn't really talk to anyone.  But then two women showed up a few feet away, so we sat down and began to talk to them, but they both got up and walked away without saying much.  As they were leaving, six or seven children appeared and we decided to do an impromptu VBS.  (This happened with several MIG's while on hut-to-hut ministry - telling the kids a Bible story, presenting the Gospel, playing games, and singing songs wherever a group of children happened to be, whether it was at a soccer pitch, behind a group of shacks, on the side of the road.)  Several children decided to follow Jesus, which was very exciting.  After the VBS, we decided to pray for the community of Kya Sand and the kids followed and stood with us as we prayed in the street.  When we looked up, there was a man walking toward us.  One man.  We were allowed to talk to one man, just not groups of men.  Most of my MIG was on the side of the circle closest to the man and they began to talk to him.  I was mostly surrounded by the kids. 

As I listened to the conversation unfold, one of the girls who had accepted Christ walked up to me and asked to borrow my Bible.  I gave it to her and she started flipping through it, saying, "John... John... John...".  I helped her find the book of John and asked, "What chapter?"  She said, "14.  John 14:6".  As I opened to John 14:6, she quoted it to me.  "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  No one comes to the Father except through Me."  When we got there, we read it together and she said, "I don't understand.  Will you explain it to me?"  Of course I would explain it to her!  When I was done, her face lit up and she said, "I get it!".  She then offered another reference, which was a parable involving money.  We read it together and she again asked me to explain what it meant.  As we were finishing our conversation about the parable, my MIG was ready to move and the girl, Lesogo, held my hand and walked with me as I continued to explain.  She stayed with me the whole ministry day - walking between shacks, sitting in the road - as we read portions of the Bible and talked about what they meant. 

Lesogo is a beautiful 11-year-old girl.  Her mother takes her to church every Sunday, but, like most churches in the squatter camps, it is full of false doctrine.  The leaders of the church Lesogo went to teach ancestor worship and that there are many ways to be saved, among other false teachings, and only read passages from the Bible that involve money.  The whole point of the church seemed to be to make the leaders rich.  I took Lesogo through many different parts of the Bible, addressing these topics and emphasizing most of all that Jesus is the only way.  I also found out Lesogo had never heard of heaven - had no idea there was something after death.  (This was common among the people we met in the squatter camps.  Even people who had gone to church their whole lives didn't know about heaven.)  Her face lit up every time I explained something to her and, at the end, she said, "I get it!  Jesus is the only way!  I'm going to tell my parents, my family, and all my friends that Jesus is the only way because I want them to come to heaven with me, too!".      

I may never see Lesogo again on this earth, but I pray for her daily and I know my God is faithful and I trust that He will finish the work He has begun in Lesogo's life.    


   Sadly, I didn't have my camera that day, but here is a picture of my fantastic MIG :)

 
    Me, Ellie, Adino, Nazar, Jannell, Mikaela, Bones (our translator, actually Bonghani), and Lacy

Africa #5 ~ Morning in South Africa

An alarm goes off at 6:30.  Brittany jumps out of bed, turns on the light, and does cartwheels up and down the long space between our bunks while singing, "Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory..." Lauren sits up a few minutes later and says, "Good morning, everyone!  The King is enthralled with your beauty!"  Mikaela shakes Lacy and tries to get her to wake up.  There are a few squeals as bare feet hit the cold floor.  Hairbrushes, toothpaste, socks, Bibles, coats.  At 6:50, Gwen and I walk out the door early to run across the field and back before sitting on the cold, hard ground.  A little before 7, the others follow and everyone finds a place to have their quiet time for an hour.  The red sun rises over the hills in the distance.  Some walk through the field, some sit quietly, some dance.   The air puffs out of our mouths in little clouds of steam.  At 7:50, we walk to another building and stand outside, waiting for everyone to arrive.  We say the Declaration of a World-Changer, pray, and, at 8:00, we walk through the sliding glass door single file with hats off, saying good morning and thanking the ladies for breakfast.  We sit down and eat our porridge, oatmeal, or eggs with our daily toast covered in butter and apricot jam.  Each table asks Gurt for more toast and, when we thank him, he says "Pleasure!" in his South African accent.  When breakfast is done, we return to our dorm to grab everything we need for the day.  Water bottles, pens, Bibles, Gospels of John, cameras, hand sanitizer.  At 9:00, we board the bus and head out to Diepsloot, Kya Sand, or Msawawa.  This is morning in South Africa. 

Africa #4 ~ Vessels (South Africa Team)

Twenty-nine teens and young adults showed up in Texas on June 11th (later joined by two more in South Africa).  Most were strangers - only a few of them knew other members of the group.They were from different states, different families, and different walks of life.  Each one came with their own past, insecurities, and expectations.  Why were they together in Texas anyway?  Well, they had a few things in common.  They are all people who have been redeemed, rescued by a holy God.  They all love Jesus and want His name to be made great among the nations. 

The purpose: To bring God glory.

The task: To take the Gospel to those who had never heard in the squatter camps of South Africa.

This is one reason I looked for a missions organization to go with rather than going on a trip with my youth group.  Strangers from across the United States coming together, united in Christ with one faith, one love, one mission is such an amazing image of the body of Christ.  It doesn't matter that some of us were pastors' kids and others' parents don't believe, that some have done drugs and others live in sheltered families, that some live in North Carolina and others are from Alaska.  Each of our stories, personalities, and abilities are a part of the body.  Jesus died for us all and each testimony carries truth and power.

From the very beginning, I asked for prayer that my team would be united and love, trust, and respect each other.  That prayer was answered to a greater degree than I ever hoped.  We came as strangers, but we left a family.  It was obvious that God hand-chose each person on our team.  Of course that would have been true even if we had a horrible experience, but this was incredible.  Looking around, we could tell that each person is called into ministry.  Each person is going to go out and do crazy things for God.

God gave us the grace to be transparent and open with each other.  It didn't happen right away, but when it did, it flung open doors.  Because we knew each others' strengths, sins, fears, desires, etc. we got to see God work in each others' lives.  We were able to encourage one another, hold each other accountable, rejoice in victories, and cry when our hearts were overwhelmed.  Best of all, we got to intercede for one another at the throne.  I can't count the number of times one of us nudged another because God used someone to speak to them.  It was our silent way of saying, "Did you hear that?  We talked about that!  God just spoke to you!  That's so cool!"  The value of being transparent was a big lesson I learned in South Africa.  As James 5:16 says, confessing your sins to one another and praying for each other brings healing.  Sharing your heart brings freedom.  Sin, shame, and hurt fester and grow in the darkness, but they can be healed when brought into the light. 

Now we are apart as we were before.  I miss the intimacy - being constantly surrounded by sisters and brothers who know my heart.  I miss the way Mikaela knows when I need to cry by my voice.  I miss the way Brennen knows how my day is going by the way I walk.  I miss Taylor counting the minutes until lights out for us and Brittany singing "Rise and Shine" while doing cartwheels through the room in the morning.  I miss our songs and raps and serving our glorious God side by side.  It's different now, but that's okay.  We are far apart, but that's another cool thing about being the body of Christ.  Christ is everywhere.  We can still pray for each other.  With modern technology, we can talk to each other any day on the phone or on facebook.  I love that.  

Our team name was Vessels, based on 2 Corinthians 4:7.  Together, we learned to be vessels - to let God work through us, understand that God uses broken vessels, and know that God is glorified by showing Himself strong in our weakness.  We sought each day to be filled by God and to pour out on others.          

Together we stand and say, "My life for the Gospel".  And our Father continues to guide us, work in and through us, and reveal to us what living for the Gospel really means. 

 

V.E.S.S.E.L.S - Very Empowered Souls Sharing Earth's Loving Savior

 

 

   

Africa #3 - kcohS erutluC

kcohs erutluc.  That's not how you say hello in Zulu, just reverse culture shock.  One of the questions I get a lot is about culture shock - what Zambian and South African culture is like and what it's like being back in America.

I didn't experience much culture shock going to Africa.  There were all the same differences, but they didn't really stick out to me. Coming back, I noticed, but it wasn't so bad I wanted to hide under my covers for the next year. As soon as my team got to US customs, we couldn't look anywhere without seeing something that wasn't normal anymore. We were harshly reintroduced to the "me first" mentality by a customs official who yelled at us to get in the shortest line. "We're Americans! This is what we do!"  I wish I could say I went out of my way to show that woman love, to tell her about Jesus, but I didn't.  America is a mission field, though.  That's for sure.

This is a list of differences that caught my attention after being in Africa for two months. Some relate to South Africa, some Zambia, and some to my team's general culture and GE rules. Some are heavy, some make me laugh. Many are only skin deep, but some reach to the heart.

- In America, it's not normal to greet everyone you pass.
- Bursting into song is not socially acceptable, let alone a regular part of life.
- The water is safe. I questioned the condition of the water in every faucet for a week after being back in the US. In South Africa, most running water was safe but, in Zambia, the water is full of parasites.
- Americans don't smile nearly as much as the people in South African squatter camps.
- American chip flavors taste like they're supposed to. They have the same flavors in South Africa, but they taste different, as does pretty much everything else that we also have in the US.
- Chocolate sauce tastes like chocolate and is brown. South African chocolate sauce is red and doesn't taste like chocolate.
- Every restaurant has ketchup (which they don't call tomato sauce) and none have peri peri.
- There is an abundance of free internet and no Internet cafes.
- The prices look low. 5,000 Zambian kwatcha  = 1 US dollar
- Prices are actually very high, comparatively.
- People think you're weird if you start conversations with random strangers.
- The highways are free of speed bumps.
- The police don't set up checkpoints in the middle of the highway or pull you over to check your first aid kit.
- I can communicate clearly without a translator. Most of the time.
- Drivers use their brakes. In Zambia: Why use the brakes when you can just accelerate and go around the car you're about to hit?
- No one builds their own house out of scrap metal or mud, sticks, and grass.
- My bedroom is bigger than the average shack in a South Africa squatter camp or hut in the Zambian bush.
- Pop cans are lighter. South African cans are made of a different metal and significantly heavier on the bottom, so you think there's more pop, but it's really just the can messing with your mind.
- It is NOT okay to walk away with a stranger's children.
- Gambling is perfectly legal.
- You don't get proposed to on a regular basis because you're white.
- The worship team at church doesn't lead dancing as well as singing.
- Conga lines during worship are not a regular occurance, to say the least.
- Whoever is preaching or helping to lead a service knows it before said service commences.
- Credit cards. 'nuff said.
- Americans have many goals and desires, but not many Americans spend their whole day, every day just trying to find enough food.
- The accessibility and ease of obtaining water. I don't know anyone who walks to a well, draws water, and carries a full, 5-gallon bucket of water back home.
- I can go places by myself.
- No one I've met in Washington uses "y'all" on a regular basis.
- I'm not constantly surrounded by 19 sisters, all with different accents, but the same fiery passion for Jesus.
- American children don't point, shout "mulungu" ("white person" in Zulu), and run after me, nor do children grab my hand and walk with me wherever I'm going. I so miss that.
- Time zones. 5 hours, one country. Not including Hawaii.
- I'm allowed, even expected, to do my own dishes.
- Dishwashers, washing machines, and dryers. No need for bars of laundry soap.
- Showers with consistent pressure and temperature.
- Mainstream media and secular influence. Violence, sex, drugs, materialism, idolatry, repeat. It makes me feel sick.
- Most children I see have two living parents.
- Carpeting, wood, etc. instead of dirt or cement floors.
- Options. There is so much to eat, do, or buy, and every choice leads to five more necessary decisions.
- The majority of the population showers every day.  At first it was weird and I would find myself thinking, I'm not covered in dirt!  Why would I take a shower?
- No one understands when I say "unkulunku uyakuthanda", "mulungu ndi wabwino", or "takwaba uwaba nga Yesu". (That's "God loves you" in Zulu, "God is good" in Nyanja, and "there's no one like Jesus" in Bemba.) 

There are a lot more, but I think that's enough.  With all that being said, it is good to be back because I know God has a purpose for me here for the time being and, of course, I get to spend time with all of you! 

I am excited to tell many of you about my experiences in Africa, tonight.  For those of you who can't make it, I'll be posting the video I made either tonight or tomorrow morning and we are going to try to record tonight's sharing time. 

You are still absolutely welcome to leave a question in the comments!

Drawing water from a well for a woman during hut-to-hut ministry in Zambia.

Africa #2 ~ Ready for Takeoff

I promised to blog all about Africa when I got home but, despite my best intentions, that endeavor failed even to clear preflight diagnostics (like our plane from DC to Johannesburg).  This is how quite a few conversations went soon after I found myself back in our little corner of the US:

Enthusiastic, completely innocent, genuinely interested friend - "How was Africa???"
Me [with astounding eloquence of course] - ... *stares back with open mouth*

First of all, I am so sorry if you were one of the people who have firsthand experience with that conversation.  It's not that there isn't anything to say - quite the opposite!  The problem is, when I consider an open-ended question like "How was Africa?", two months of experiences, thoughts, changes, and emotions try to cram into one coherent idea and... well... they don't fit.

This is my first update after 26 days of being home for the very same reason.  Where to start?  How do I describe two months of God-moments that all worked together to change my life?  Every detail rushes in, the stream too rapid for articulation.  Like our plane to South Africa, my blog updating was grounded because the back-up brakes were not functioning.  If I took off, I ran the risk of being unable to slow my thoughts and would quite possibly crash and burn.  I am daunted by the prospect of attempting to explain supernatural events in human words.  There will indefinitely be an overuse of fairly non-descriptive words such as "awesome", "amazing", and "cool", but I promise to do my best and hope you can manage to bear with me.  After sitting on the plane for at least an hour, it suddenly occurred to us that our God cannot be deterred by a brake malfunction and we prayed that God would fix those back-up brakes, choosing to trust that He had the power and He would do it.  The pilot had been updating us periodically on the situation and it was clear no one knew what was wrong with the back-up brakes.  After we prayed, the pilot came back on the intercom and said, "I'm not sure what happened but, for some reason, the back-up brakes are now working!  Let's go to South Africa!"  I am choosing to trust that my God, who gave me words of Truth and Life to speak to His lost sheep in South Africa and Zambia, will give me the words to speak to you of His glorious works. 

Ready for takeoff. 

 

Our plane to Jo'burg before boarding in D.C.

 

Waiting for the back-up brakes to work so we can take off.

From left: Heidi, me, Elizabeth, Olivia, Mikaela

 

Note: I'm going to start by addressing frequently asked questions.  If you have a question about my time in Africa, drop me a line in the comments and I will gladly answer it to the best of my ability in a blog post. 

Africa #1

In case you haven't heard, I'm going on a mission trip to South Africa and Zambia this summer!  We are in single digits, my friends!  Only 9 days left!  There is a new page called "Africa" that has some information on the trip (including my itinerary and flights) and how this all got started.  There are some helpful links at the bottom of the page.  You can get there by clicking on the tab at the top of this page.  I am so excited!  It's been sneaking up on me!  My last day of school is Friday, June 8th and I leave on Monday, June 11th.  It will be like any other Monday except, instead of going to school, I'll be boarding a flight to Dallas.  Crazy!
There is so much to do!  I'm shocked that I don't have my suitcase out yet.  There's still some shopping and wrapping up financial matters to do.  I have so many thank you notes to write!  I love that there are so many to write because it is a constant reminder of all the love and support all of you have poured out and God's provision.  From day one, I have been reminding myself that when God calls us, He will send us - He will provide all that is necessary to fulfill the calling.  Otherwise, why would He call?  He has shown Himself faithful time and again from the day I said "Yes, Lord" to today.  My parents said yes, He is providing all the money I need to go, surrounding me with people to encourage and celebrate with me, overcoming every obstacle.  $5,337 is a lot of money, but today, I am only about $100 from being fully funded.  Thanks be to God!  In addition to all the preparations for the trip, I'm working on finishing up my junior year of high school.  June 6: AP Calculus test, French written final, French Q&A final; June 7: Spring Choir Concert; June 8: AP US History project due, AP Language and Composition project due, Physics test, Physics final.  Fun stuff!  And the SAT is tomorrow!  I almost forgot.  It will all get done by the grace of God.   

So I know I'm leaving in 9 days, but I still feel oblivious.  I don't think the reality will hit me until I'm at least through SEA-TAC security... maybe not until I walk out of the airport in Johannesburg. 

There are so many things to look forward to, along with all the things I will miss.  I will miss my family, my kitty, my friends, and the people here who walk with my heart.  The 4th of July, family trips to Orcas Island, summer youth group.  I am so excited to have my birthday in Zambia!!! Best birthday ever!  I'll be surrounded by beautiful children that I will have the privilege of loving. 

I can't wait to meet my team!  We have been able to talk on facebook and skype to begin to get to know one another.  It has been such a blessing to be able to encourage and pray for one another, laugh and cry together (that sounds so cheesy, but it's true).

You can send me a message while I'm in Africa!  Click here to get to the page.  The link is also on the Africa page of this blog.  I will be updating this blog as much as possible while I am away, but it's not certain how often we will have internet access.  Our leaders will also be updating our facebook trip page with stories and pictures, so make sure you like it!  And.... one more :) I made my mom an administrator of the facebook group I created for the trip and she will be posting updates when she hears from me.  You are more than welcome to join!  Don't be shy! 

My brain is all over the place and I can't think of everything else I was going to say, so I'm going to stop rambling and do some homework.  I would love to answer any questions you may have, though!  Leave a comment, send me an email, text, facebook message, randomly show up at my house... :) Really, though, I love questions! 

Thank you so much for all the encouragement, support, and prayer!  It's amazing to have so many people invest in the work God has called me to this summer!

Meant to be Free

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves  be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." (Galatians 5:1) Paul, in writing this, was telling the Gentile believers to stop striving for salvation and righteousness by following the Law, the Law being the rules set forth by God for the Israelites before the coming of Jesus. Before Jesus came, the Law was the only means of justification, but when Christ died for our sins, He introduced grace as our means of salvation. "For it is by grace you have been saved, by faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast." (Ephesians 2:8-9)  Now that Jesus had died for their sins, all the Gentiles (and Jews, for that matter) had to do was believe in Him to be saved and made righteous. They could not follow the Law perfectly, nor did they need to because they had already been saved by God's grace, through faith.   

Even though Christ had set them free, some of the Gentile believers were enslaved because the Jewish Christians convinced them that they must follow the Law to the letter as well - that grace wasn't enough. For the Gentile Christians, the pressure to be righteous in the eyes of the Jews was enslaving.  The Gentile Christians did not need to follow the Law to be righteous because their sins were forgiven and they were no longer condemned.  "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.  For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering.  And so He condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit." (Romans 8:1-4) The Gentile Christians felt the pressure of the Jewish Christians' condemnation, but Christ did not condemn them.    

Living as a slave after being set free by Christ didn't stop with those first Gentile believers. It seems obvious that Christ meant us to be free when He set us free, but the truth is, we don't always live like we are free. We let fear, doubt, sin, anger, pain, sickness, death, envy, deceit, addictions, guilt, lies about who we are in Christ and who God is, and countless other things enslave us. We are not meant to be burdened by these. We are not meant to be slaves to these. Christ set us free so that we would be free! More than just setting us free, Christ sent His Spirit to live within us, giving us the power and authority to overcome the things that enslave us, through Him, if we would only ask.

If you are in Christ, you are free and He wants you to live freely. Today I am asking myself, Where am I still chained, where am I burdened? If we are aware of our chains, we can cast them off by the power of the Holy Spirit because Christ has already set us free.

"Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Be resolute in your freedom and give your burdens to Christ, in whom you are free. God did not create us to be enslaved, nor did Christ set us free to live as captives.  All the same, we have a choice every second of our lives - to be enslaved or to be free.  It's never too late to give our burdens to Christ and be free, He is abounding in grace and His love is never-ending and unconditional.       

Choose freedom, friends.  

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

"I am free to dance, I am free to sing, I am free to live for You, I am free.  Who the Son sets free is free indeed."
 

Five-minute Friday ~ Together

Together: in one gathering, in relationship, in unity

This word encompasses so much, but I want to focus on what it means when we lack physical proximity.  Jordan is going to Africa with me. She lives in Alaska, where I have never been, a place far away from Edmonds.  She goes to a school with a bell schedule I don't understand, rolls down the windows of her car when it's 40 degrees because it's so warm, and takes beautiful pictures of a snowy landscape I hope to see with my own eyes one day.

Even though I would have to drive for two days without stopping to reach her house from mine and we have never met face to face, we are together because Jordan walks with my heart.  Through difficulty, through pain, through joy, in laughter, Jordan is only a text, facebook message, or skype call away with togetherness, encouragement, and prayer humbly offered.  I found a sister in Christ and a sister of my heart in Jordan.  On June 11th, I finally get to meet her and be together with her for two months.  So exciting!  Until then, and after August 2nd, we are together even still, together in friendship and in Jesus. 

Philippians 1:3-6 "I thank my God every time I remember you.  In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy  because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."       

In the Blink of an Eye

Driving home from school, I heard this on the radio:

In light of eternity, each of our earthly lives begins and ends in the blink of an eye.  On average, one blink takes 0.3 seconds. That's a little over 3 millionths of one 24-hour day.  Most people blink more than 15,000 times a day, but we blink reflexively and so quickly that we hardly ever notice.  Basic idea: a blink of an eye is an extremely short amount of time. 

Have you ever observed a child being told that a gnat only lives for a few weeks?  I was that child once, and I was shocked at the news.  How could a gnat do anything worthwile in such a short lifetime?  Well, our perception of time is relative.  A few weeks seems short next to the average human lifespan, but even if I lived to be 110, my life would hardly be a speck in the timeline of eternity.             

All the same, there's a reason I'm alive for the blink of an eye.  God has a mission for me and He called my name long before I learned how to breathe. 

How much time do I spend doing worthless things?  Every second, we have the opportunity to further the Kingdom and give God glory.  The only things that matter in eternity are the things of God.  I have been given this life to live for the blink of an eye and I want to do something worthwhile with it.  I want to go on the Father's mission and play a part in changing other people's eternities.  I want to leave a legacy and not waste this life.  In the blink of an eye, my life on earth will be over and I will be closer to our Father than I have ever been.      

He Sees All of Me

I tend to lean toward the logical and intellectual side.  I love to think about problems and mysteries until I find a solution or an answer.  I love the feeling of finally grasping a concept, but the things that hold my attention and make me stand in awe are things I will never understand. 

My mind often lingers on how God is outside of time and space.  How does that even work?  Everything I know of this world is constrained by time and space.  In the beginning, God was there, before time.  Right now, at 6:24 pm on Sunday, April 1st, 2012, God is here, but He is outside of time.  One day, time will end and God will still be there.  He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.  (Revelations 21:6)

Furthermore, God sees it all.  He sees the past, the present, the future. 

I have been feeling incompetent, lately.  Some days have flown by without me stopping and taking the time to have a real conversation with my Daddy and then I lose sight of Him in my daily life.  I am not perfect, I am unworthy, but for some reason, He won't give up on me.  He loves me. 

Today, He told me that He sees all of me.  Of course, I knew that.  If you had asked me yesterday, if God sees all of me, I would have said, "Absolutely!  He sees my thoughts, my motives, the darkest parts of my heart, every good thing He has ingrained in me".  I missed part of what that means, though.  He doesn't only see me as I am right now.  He sees my past, my present, and my future. 

I can sit here and think about all I could be and how much I wish I could become who I really want to be, a person who is completely in love with Jesus, follows Him wherever He leads her without question, who loves well as the Master does.  I could go on and on.  The trouble is, that's not who I am.  At least, that's not how I see myself now.  It is my hope that I will grow into that person.  God, on the other hand, never says, "I wish you would become _____ because that's actually what I want and it's my plan for you, but I just don't know if you'll ever get there."  He sees everything I will be.  To Him, that is part of who I am. 

Take my past, my present, and my future, mash it all together, and that is who I am.  I am not just a sinner, I am redeemed.  I fall again and again, but He picks me up and sets me back on my feet.  He doesn't only see the good in me and he doesn't only see the sin in me.  In my best moments, He knows my sin and in my worst moments, He sees what I will be along with the present.  He sees it all, and together, it creates a beautiful picture of His love and grace and mercy. 

He sees all of me.  Every part of me from my beginning to my end.  I find such a glorious hope and peace in that knowledge.

This is one of my favorites, a little like "Revelation Song".