Masterpiece?

I thank you for this portion, this life I live, this air I breathe. 

I thank you for the story You are writing in me, with me, through me. I, the spirited, wide-eyed, mess-smeared, child, crimping my small fingers around the paintbrush You have given me, glopping paint on canvas, fingers-covered, face in concentration.

I try so hard to stay between the lines. Eyebrows, neatly pinched together, tongue in the corner of my mouth, I wipe a snotty nose with a rolled-up, paint-covered sleeve and add a little of myself to the already-green canvas.

Some people in an art gallery would call this a glorified mess. They’d stare and point and try to decipher if it is pure madness or pure genius. “I could do that,” they’ll say. But they probably won’t.

And to be honest, You’re the one who really places worth in all my smudgy, mostly-ugly clumping. Blue here, a burst of yellow there. Green, pink, purple, even a corner of black and grey for the sad parts.

Is it a masterpiece, I wonder? Am I worth all the mess, all the wasted paint, all the correcting and redefining, guiding and touching up? Who knows?

All I know is that You smile when You see me try to be like You, when I try to create, emulate, become more like You, the Perfect Creator. I look up, paint-smudged, hair-awry, clothes-covered in muck, “Does it look ok, Daddy?”

You squint your eyes, peering over my shoulder, and smile. You, curl me in your arms, whisper in my ear, “It’s beautiful, princess.” You wrap your clean fingers around mine and add a stroke to the chaotic swirl of colors before You.

I’m thankful You are in the mess with me, no matter what the story looks like as it unfolds.

Ascribe to You

You are good. Always good.

Always working for my good. In perfect timing. In perfect love. You DO love me. You love me even when it doesn’t feel like it. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s hard love, a severe mercy. 

This is truth. You are truth. You are truth even when there are wars raging in me. Even when every fibre of my soul is inclined to doubt You, You never sway, never falter, never change. 

These ugly parts of me, You knew. Even before the foundation of the world. You created me, created these tears in my eyes for this very purpose, fashioned them from Your own, because you knew I would need to grieve. You knew I would need to cry with You over the devastation of sin, the repercussions of a thousand misguided steps, a thousand wrong-turned eyes, a thousand idol-worships.

And still You are sovereign. Still You are omnipotent. Still You knew that even these hurts, these tears cried for brokenness, would all somehow work for Your glory. That somehow even these mis-directions would be used as re-directions to that place we all need to be: the place of sacrifice, of surrender, of weakness, of dependence, of reliance on You and You alone. 

You alone. You are my everything. Everything here. Everything there. You aren’t limited to a location on the globe. You aren’t glorified by me in countries or in campuses, in cities or in states. You are glorified by You in me. And that’s what makes this whole thing possible. You in me. Not me in me, or me plus You, or me then You. 

Just you. That’s it. Right here. Right now. And You’ve promised that will never change. People, places, events, circumstances, hopes, dreams, pursuits, relationships- those will all change. But not You. 

You are my satisfaction and my praise. The only one worthy of my worship, the daily breathing of a soul surrendered to it’s maker. A scandalous grace. A severe mercy. An untamable passion for all that is good, true, and lovely. 

And that’s why I can trust You. Because no matter what, no matter where, no matter who, no matter when, You ARE good.

You are God.

Will You Trust Me?

For those of you who know me, you are aware that this past semester has been a difficult one for me. For those of you who don't, I'd like to give you a brief glimpse into some of the transformation God has been working in my heart since August 2013. 

After spending a summer on mission in Africa, I returned to a very difficult fall semester. Upon returning, the Lord asked me to surrender my heart completely to Him and Him alone. For me, this meant following through with a very difficult request. It meant breaking up with my boyfriend at the time. 

(Let me pause to say that this is not a blog post about my breakup. It's about the heartache, yes, but more than that it's about the healing and the opportunity the Lord has given me to see His sovereignty in a thing that, at the time, felt very, very hard. It's about the grace I've learned in the grieving and about looking back into the beginning of a work that even I didn't see at the time. It's about praying prayers that have hard answers and it's about trusting that even when it doesn't feel like it, God is ALWAYS good.)

I say this because I want to share my heart with you. I want to invite you to look back into my journal at the beginning of this journey to see the questions the Holy Spirit was asking me.

Will you trust Me?

Will you surrender?

Are you willing to sacrifice?

As I think about those questions now, I see that the answer was being prepared to be put into practice. The lessons I learned in Africa were distinctly preparing me for the next step in my walk with the Lord. And really, that's what I've begun to recognize.

That day by day, He gives me the strength and the willingness to say, "Yes," again and again to whatever He asks of me. He gives me the joy and the gratitude to say, "Thank you," for each portion as He leads me through it, whether it is the mountaintops of joy or the valley of the shadow of death. 

I know I've been "reposting" a lot lately and reminiscing, but take a moment with me to look back into how God was shaping my heart in August and help me to look forward into whatever "next step" He is equipping me to take...

A journal entry from 7/9/13

"I'm sitting here in the airport in D.C. waiting to get on my flight back to Fort Worth. I have said goodbye to my entire team and am left alone in silence for a few brief hours to process through the last 50 days of my life. I have been on the verge of tears all day.

Tears of joy because I am glad to be home. Tears of sadness because saying goodbye is so difficult. Tears of confusion because of where I am and the shock of being Back in America. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of facing the unknown. Tears, tears, tears that won't stay away from the corners of my eyes and the front of my thoughts.

This next month is going to be a hard one. If I didn't know it before, I have begun to realize it now. Reintegration won't be easy; I have been altered for life.

Africa has changed me.

And I don't think I ever want to be the same as I was. 

Our team leaders asked us to start processing through our experiences to best know how to give an answer to the people who will inevitably ask, "So, how was it?" In journaling and praying through my answer, I've narrowed down what I've learned into one keyword: TRUST. 

The Lord has asked me and challenged me to trust Him in so many ways this summer and I think that is my biggest take-away. He asked me to trust Him financially. He asked me to trust Him with my relationship with my boyfriend and His future plans for each of us. He asked me to trust Him with ALL of my future. He asked me to trust Him to accomplish a work in Africa that I might never see. He asked me to trust that He wants my heart before He wants my service. He asked me to trust Him to provide security in an insecure location. Trust was at the very center of everything I experienced. 

The Lord brought my faith through fire this summer and refined it with the promise that with greater trust comes greater reward and I am so convinced that I am completely sold out for the gospel to the point of tears because I only want to trust Him more. 

I wrote this earlier in the trip and I believe it still rings true of my heart now:

"I think it is true to say that in my life, I have yet to suffer for the sake of Christ. I have self-pitied, but I have not sacrificed. It is with trepidation that today I ask (for the hope of eternal reward) to suffer for the sake of Christ. I surrender today my self-pity in exchange for true surrender and ask for suffering that Christ might be made great in my life and my joy only be found in Him. I realize the danger of this prayer, but have counted the reward far greater than the risk. From here forward, I resolve that I will no longer live for myself or in my own strength, but for Christ and in His strength. As so many before me have testified to the joy of suffering for Him, so I say with those before me that I will rejoice to be counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the Name! (Acts 5:41) 6/28/13"

This has become a daily heart cry of mine. I want all of Christ everyday and I want to be so fully sacrificed that there is absolutely nothing left of myself to give at the end of everyday. I have realized that this is a dangerous prayer. I have realized that this is also something I must pray daily. I have realized it is the only way to really live satisfied in Christ. Fully surrendered with no comprehension of sacrifice, only of love and joy and thanksgiving at the honor of 'filling what is lacking in Christ's suffering' as Paul says in Colossians. 

Is it bad to ask God to suffer for the sake of His name? I have asked myself that so many times over this summer and I have realized two things. First is that I have no understanding of what suffering really looks or feels like. I have never suffered. Second, that because I consider Christ supremely valuable in my life, I would be insane NOT to ask for suffering because by suffering for His name, my faith is proven and my hope is placed in the treasure box of greater reward in eternity and God is glorified in my life. 

I think most people would call me crazy for seeing it this way, but if Christ is who He really says He is and He is as valuable as He really claims to be and I love Him as much as I claim I do, I would be rash to believe that any part of my safety and security in life is anything but a gift from Him and He will use me to exemplify His grace if only I will surrender my stubborn, fearful heart to His protection and provision. That includes the risk of suffering- torture, persecution, slander, martyrdom- all of these things were norms in the lives of the early apostles. Who am I to believe that I should be any different?

What right have I to live safely in my own home with the mystery of the Gospel revealed in my life, but not multiplying it into the lives of others? Christ's final words in Matthew 28 were a commission to His disciples to go into EVERY nation (panta ta ethne). When I look around and realize that 2,000 years after He spoke those words, they are still not completed, there is a passion, a zeal, an unquenchable desire to go where Christ has not been named. 

Who will go and whom will God send? I am here, Lord, send me! Let my life be poured out to the very dredges for Him and Him alone. 

When I look back on the last 50 days of my life and see how God has unfolded slowly this flower of truth in my heart- I know it is from Him. Trust is the only legitimate response I can have to everything I have learned. When I look back on the last 50 days of my life and all the joys, hardships, adjustments, and changes that I have experienced, I can't imagine a more fulfilling way to spend my life. 

I am sold- body, mind, and soul. 

I am not sold just for a vague idea of the world and a love for seeing God's Name made great in other's lives, but most importantly in my own relationship with Him. I have realized I cannot love people in my own strength, but only through the overflow of my love for Christ. 

It is with this perspective and this mentality that this summer, I have surrendered fully to God every aspect of my life. He may do with me what He so chooses to glorify Himself most. To Him alone be the glory forever and ever. Amen."

(Follow-up thoughts to be continued in a later post.)

A Glimpse of Transformation

I stumbled across a post from an old blog I began 4 years ago as a freshman just beginning at TCU. As I was rereading it, my soul was encouraged by the fact that so many of my prayers and hopes have been answered, that God is transforming me, and that He is still renewing me everyday. It was neat to look back into the willingness I expressed so many years ago and where the Lord has led me and grown me.

If I Perish, I Perish!

August 10, 2010

So what would my life look like if I unashamedly, without abandon, recklessly, and perhaps foolishly, put my life into the hands of this God of whom I say I serve? What does complete surrender look like, how does it taste; how does it feel; how is it even possible? Most importantly, where does it begin?

"Behold, now is the favorable time; behold now is the day of salvation." (2 Corinthians 6: 2b ESV)

These are the questions I find myself asking right now. Right now, as I enter college as an 18 year old individual experiencing freedom for the first time. Right now, as I explore the endless possibilities this world has to offer in academia, society, humanity, and spirituality. Right now, as I find myself overwhelmed by a growing sense of urgency, an urgency that tells me all these things are great, but there is something better. Something bigger.

God.

I can feel within the fibers of my soul an itching that I have never felt before, a desire to know God and to be known by Him, to serve God and to sacrifice for Him. I want to give Him my all; I want to fall into the depth of His mercy, power, grace, and love. But how?

"I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12: 1-2 ESV)

This is a question that I am learning can't be answered in a day. It takes a lifetime. A lifetime of prayer, of sanctification, of praise, of surrender, of repentance, of fellowship, of seeking God. A lifetime I have, but a lifetime, I also, have not.

A lifetime starts today, this hour, this minute, this second. But a lifetime does not last forever... Time makes no promises. How much time do I have to learn? I will never know. This I do know: I don't want to wait until tomorrow. I don't want to waste one single precious second of the valuable gift of life that God has given me to glorify Him.

In my Bible reading today, I came across the story of Ester and was struck by one phrase which she says when confronted with the fact that she might die in her attempt to save her people from the angry edict of Haman. "I will go to the king, though it is against the law, and if I perish, I perish." (Esther 4:16b ESV) As simple as that: If I perish, I perish. I find myself wondering, could I say the same? Could I stand up for the children of God, against an enemy, against my family, against the government, against the world, and have the courage, the conviction, the faith to say: So what? Would I trust God that no matter the outcome, even in my death, He would be glorified, His will would be done? Would I die knowing that I had stood to the end for what I believed was right? Would I die for the justice of MY GOD?

I am humbled and dare not answer this simple rhetoric. The Bible is truly is the ultimate mirror of our souls. "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks intently into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing." (James 1: 22-25 ESV)

Today, I might not be able to answer the global question of who I am in this world puzzle, how I fit, and what I am meant to do. But today, I am choosing to embark on that journey, to begin to discover what this life has in store, for better or for worse, whatever God's will. I do not know how the end will come or how God will use me for His glory, but when I reach the gates of heaven, I hope that the King of Kings will hold his scepter out to me, sparing my life, and say, "It shall be given to you, even to the half of my kingdom."

May God be my inheritance and my hope, my sanctification and salvation, my praise and my perfecter, my history and my future, the answer to all my needs.

"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." (Colossians 3: 15-17 ESV)

My prayer is that, in all I do, God, You will delight in me. And if I perish, I perish! But through you I will live! Amen.

Eucharisteo in Ecuador

I wrote this as a journal entry during my time in Ecuador this past week and was encouraged by several of my teammates to share it. I have been reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp lately, so the ideas within this entry are largely based on what I have been cultivating from her book. I hope you enjoy it.

January 6, 2014

"Who would have guessed that 3 years ago, sitting cross-legged in a cramped dorm room on the floor of a Colby double, that now, here, today I would be sitting in the back of a Nissan pickup truck in the pouring rain in Ecuador as we (this same group of women) drive down a mountain on our way home from cloud-forest zip-lining? Who would have guessed that this small group of incredible women would have impacted my life so much and that here today, I would be sitting in a living room in Ecuador with missionaries laughing, playing Balderdash, having spent the last week sharing the gospel with little children in Quito? Walking into a stuffy, crammed-up dorm room as a freshman, how could I ever imagine this?

This life I live is so beautiful. And it is so beautifully authored. I cannot find the words to express how grateful I am for this grace, this story, this growing into faith that is strong, communal, and real. A freshman Bible study that has grown into a group of 9 women pursuing mission and reveling in the love of their Maker. I could not have written a better story if I'd even tried.

Why do I so often try? I tinker with ideas of future, of expectations, so often and yet there isn't one iota of me that actually controls the magnificent for-His-glory-and-my-good story that God is unfolding. I am so glad, looking back, that God has so often told me "no", even when it was (and has been) some of the hardest expectations to break. Looking back on this past semester to one of the most painful "no's" yet, I see the work of what "eucharisteo" has been doing in my life. Don't you hear it? I am that child who was making mud-pies in the slums, wallowing in my own pity and deservedness, all the while forgetting and misunderstanding what is meant by a vacation at the beach.

God is good and He does give good gifts. Thank goodness He doesn't just give me what I want, but what I need. More of Him. More of His grace. Patience, sanctification, new desires, a new heart, a new spirit, a new life.

He is the Maker of all things new.

Why do I live so enamored with my own expectations? I disguise them as hopes and dreams, but really they are demands, selfish proclamations that to live really fully, I must have x, y, and z. Or when things don't go my way, when "misfortune" falls, I feel as if I have been cheated of something good. (It's really just in the word itself: "mis"/wrongly "fortune"/what I see as deserved well-being.)

I think of the time we've spent at the camp here in Ecuador and the two blonde-headed boys whose small hearts were so full of ingratitude and complaints already. At such a young age (and really are none of us that different) they have learned to whine and complain and gripe their way into their own desires. When mom doesn't give them the sweets or attention or toys they demand, they scream, cry, talk back, and disrespect the hand that feeds them, raises them, gives them life.

How easy it is for me to look at them and see the sin in their blackened little hearts, all the while forgetting that this spirit of ingratitude is rampant in my own heart as well. The disgust I felt listening to their complaints and crummy attitudes is really how I ought to feel toward myself when I recognize this "anti-eucharisteo" spirit raging in me.

When you are zip-lining through cloud-forests at 10,000 ft. of elevation, it's easy to be grateful. When you are loving 18 elementary Ecuadorian kids who shower you with hugs even when you are a stranger, it's easy to be grateful. When you stand on the edge of a mountainside in Quito and look down onto the grid of the city below, how can your heart be filled with anything but gratitude and praise?

But if God is good, what are you to do with the hard things? If God is always good, always working for our good, how do you reconcile the heartbreaks, the divorces, the deaths, the diseases, the pain that this world dishes out so freely? Is there gratitude to be found even in that?

I'm finding that the answer to that (even if sometimes blindly) is yes. God is good; God is sovereign even in the hurt, even in the heartache. We might not always see the "why" of the goodness in the hear and now, but when did God ever promise to answer our "why's"? He answered, is answering, our "who", and that is the only answer we will ever need.

Christ.

In one word the fullness of all God's mercies, graces, goodness, and promises is found. The name of Jesus Christ.

Sometimes we get a glimpse of the "why" through the "who", like when you are sitting in the rain in the back of a pickup truck in Ecuador and thinking back to the first time you met this crazy group of called women who have become your closest sisters. Sometimes you can see the change, the plan, the promise unfold, but not always, and never fully.

"Now we see through a mirror dimly, then face to face. Now we know in part, then we shall know fully, even as we have been fully known."

Don't you see the beauty of it? I am fully known. I don't have to understand because I am already fully understood! I don't have to know, because I am fully known. All I have to do is trust. Trust that I am being led there, trust that this dim mirror isn't a full revelation of the work being done in me. Someday I will see. Someday I will understand, but not today.

And I am ok with that.

I am ok with surrendering these flimsy expectations for the fullness of trust. It's a hearty trust, a strong unknowing, and that is because the trusting is in a Full-Knower. An all-powerful, GOOD Creator. A Director who connected freshman Bible study to Quito, Ecuador and is connecting moment-to-moment all these fleeting, seemingly random circumstances that I so often let rule me.

A bad day, a harsh word, a breakup, a depression are not equal to my God-concept unless I let them rule me. My filter should not be myself, my circumstances, my emotions, my own understanding. My filter must be Truth. Only then will I not be "tossed like the waves" by every tumultuous doctrine or event. When you are the filter for your own truth, the real Truth is distorted, but when the Truth is the filter for yourself, you can't help but find yourself changed by it (Him).

And as you are changed, you see it. I see it. Am seeing it. Am learning to look with new eyes. There's beauty all around. There's "eucharisteo" in everything. I'm grateful.

Thank you, God, for the "yes's" and the "no's", for the unconnected dots as well as the ones You choose to reveal. Help me walk by faith, to trust you daily with new graces, new beauties, new opportunities for seeing you. Amen."

Ruined for Life

I've tried to write this post several times now, unsuccessfully. I'm not sure if it is the perfectionist in me that wants to get the words just right, or if it is really that I am only scared to put my thoughts into words. Scared that someone might actually read them. Scared that someone might challenge me to live by them. Scared that someone might oppose them. 


I think it is a combination of all those things actually. Because this is a big idea, and I don't want to get it wrong. When you read it, I want you all to see the bigness of it. Not just another blog post. I want you to see my heart- my passion, my brokenness, my dreaming. 


And yet, I hope my words speak nothing of myself, and only of the God that breaths life into the spirit churning within me. Because, again, I think this bigness has nothing to do with me and everything to do with HIM. Everything to do with HIS SPIRIT that lives within me.


So, with these weighty words, I will begin. I only pray that as you read, it is not me you hear speaking, but the Lord. I pray He moves in you as He has and is moving in me. 


In several of my other drafts, I began this post trying to explain myself. "I'm not your typical college student. I'm not your typical Christian." I wanted you to see that I was something out of the ordinary, that I had this completely unique passion about God that has always made me uncomfortable in my own skin. I wanted you to understand that it was this out-of-the-ordinary attitude that drove my heart to burn with discontentment. It was this attitude that justified what I was going to say.


But between draft 1 of this thought, and now, as I seek God's wisdom and guidance, even my approach to this conviction has changed. 


You see, I AM your typical college student. I AM your typical Christian. I AM your typical human. I AM not unique. I have skipped classes. I have stayed out too late the night before a test. I have slept through my alarm for church. I have chosen not to share my faith when the opportunity arose. I have sinned like every other human on this earth. I have ignored God's call in my life. I have been self-centered, righteous in my own eyes, and altogether so blinded by my own "uniqueness" that I missed the point entirely. 


And yet it is so easy for me to say it's not about me. It's so easy to spout out, soli Deo gloria. It's so easy to sign up for leadership positions, to be involved in Bible studies, campus outreach, and volunteer work, and be nowhere near the path and plan of God, much less His glory. 


This breaks my heart. Not only because I am guilty, but because none of that was my intention when I started. Ritual and rote doesn't begin with lukewarm motivation. Those are the culprits of my own humanness. Jesus didn't die for ritual. He didn't die for religion. He died for a relationship- with you, with me, and with every human heart in this world that is so prone to forget that. We cling to our actions; look at what I can do! And we forget; look what HE ALREADY DID! 


But, I'm getting ahead of myself. You see last week, I experienced what I will fondly refer to as a "crisis of self." Every once in awhile, I think these crises are healthy and necessary to shake up my little world, turn it upside down, and wake me up from the self-induced coma I put myself in, boring my brains out with my own human ritual. 


My crisis went something like this: "Oh my gosh. The Perspectives class I am taking is awesome. It makes me want to move to Africa right now and spend the rest of my life doing mission work reaching the unreached and fulfilling the great commission that Jesus gave us to make disciples of all nations. Wow, I don't feel like I am being effective at all in college. I don't need a 4 year degree to go die in the Amazon preaching the name of Jesus. Maybe I should just quit school and follow God to the ends of the earth so He can use me to reach out to Muslims instead of the lost college kids on my campus."


That is a paraphrase. The real crisis in my head lasted a lot longer and had a lot more ME's. But, in a nutshell, these were the thoughts going through my head after Perspectives class last Thursday. And by the speed at which those thoughts were traveling, I doubted whether I would be returning to college in the fall. I mean, in those terms, what was the point?


I must pause here to give credit to my mom, not because she reacted exactly how I expected her to react and said exactly what I expected her to say when I called her Friday almost in tears over my "conviction." No, I think I need to give her credit because she said exactly what I expected in exactly the way I DIDN'T expect her to say it. She had her points: college is good, be faithful where you are, pray about it. But the thing that really threw me off guard was not the advice she gave, but the question she asked. 


You see, I was so adamant in making my point that I didn't need to conform to the 4-year program that our world has set up, so adamant that God needed me somewhere else physically in the world to serve Him best, that by the time I had worked myself up to say how convicted I was, I wasn't prepared for what she was going to ask next. "So where do you feel led to go?"


East Asia, the Middle East, Africa, Europe- just about every continent rushed through my head. "Uh... Well, I mean, He hasn't exactly opened a door for me yet, but that doesn't mean He's not preparing my heart to say yes to wherever He wants to send me when He does." That was the best response I could muster, because honestly, I had no idea WHERE God wanted me to go, just that I had this burning desire to GO.


Thank God for moms.


And for God's faithfulness in that when we draw near to Him, He also will draw near to us. 


You see, what I've found in the last week of searching, praying, seeking wise counsel, and asking God for discernment about what I thought was a question of "where?" ended up being a much more foundational discovery of the who, what, when, and why. Mostly the why. 


Who does God want to use? Me. Who does God want me to reach? His lost sheep. What does He want me to do? Be His witness in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth. When does He want me to do this? Right now. Why?


Why?


I had to think long and hard on this question, because I am beginning to see more clearly that my answer to this question shapes the way in which I approach the rest of my answers. It molds my convictions, motivates my actions, and informs my perspective on... well on everything I say I believe. Why do I believe this gospel is so critical? Why does God want to use me, a sinner? And why is it that when I think of reaching the nations for Christ, I am so drawn to reading it backward? The ends of the earth, Samaria, Judea, Jerusalem? 


It starts here. It starts now. 


I don't know how to say this more bluntly. God's mission in my life HAS NEVER BEEN in the future. It has never been about the WHERE, though my weak little eyes have often seen it that way. I have been so caught up in my "saving the world" mindset that I have forgotten that the world starts at my doorstep. It keeps going around the globe, but the point that God seems to be impressing me with is that I DON'T CHOOSE where He uses me. I must simply say yes and hold on for dear life to His plan, wherever it takes me. 


Which might just be across the hall in my dorm. Or across the room in my French class. Or across campus to the library, to the cafeteria, to the rec. 


The point is, I had my bifocals on backward. I was trying to see so far into my future, that I forgot that God might actually have a task for me to complete in the present that is equally as vital and essentially as important as whatever plans God might have for me down the road. Right now, God is using me. And right now, I don't want to miss that opportunity, because it is an opportunity that I will NEVER encounter again.


And yet, I still feel like my words are inadequate to convey the level of conviction I've been feeling this past week. Maybe it's because I have said this before. TCU is my mission field, yada, yada, yada...


Words. If you haven't noticed, words are one of my favorite things. With words I can speak my mind, verbalize my opinions, share my heart, and ask people to join me in my journey seeking God. I think words are one of the biggest blessings God bestowed upon me, a tool that I can use to give Him glory. 


But sometimes I feel like words are a curse. Like right now. How in the world could words ever equal conviction? I can say a million times that I want to be used for God's glory, but until my heart and my life start VISIBLY reflecting that, what good are my empty words?


So. Here is my proposition. I may not have any answers concerning my crisis of self. Maybe God needs me somewhere across the globe, or maybe He needs me at TCU. I don't know. But, this I do know: God will not use me to impact the world until I let go of my inhibitions and allow Him to impact me. 


This is big. Don't you see it? I feel as if I have said this a thousand times. Yes, I will say it again. How much different would my life be if instead of asking WHERE, I asked WHY? Instead of asking WHO, I asked ME? Instead of merely talking about my faith, I leapt. 


In my mind I imagine it like a triangle. So often I am tempted to start with the large perspective, the base of the triangle, the world. I expect God to clarify and narrow me down to the point, the precise place He wants to lead me, like a golden arrow pointing me in the way that I should go. But, I have a feeling that's not really how it works. I think I have it upside down. The arrow is pointing at me. It all starts with me. Do I really believe what I claim I do? If I do, then my life, my ministry, my living, breathing, driving conviction will only expand out from there. You can't contain a passion like that; it's got to spread. 


But it will start here. It will start now. 


As I say to my friend Dom, "My life is ruined... in a good way."


Let's turn our triangles upside down. World, beware.


"I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you." Psalm 32:8

"A man's steps are from the Lord; how then can man understand his way?" Proverbs 20:24

"Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the heart." Proverbs 21: 2

"Let no one deceive himself. If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is folly with God." 1 Corinthians 3:18-19

The Beat of His Heart

Sitting here, sipping coffee in a hippy little coffee shop in Fort Worth, Texas, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that just over a week ago, I was in Africa. I cannot put this feeling into words, except to say that it is surreal. Classes have begun, life has recommenced, and I am left in Africa's wake, dreaming of the hot sun on my shoulders, dirt on my face, and the sweaty little fingers of a hundred orphans in my hands. Real life doesn't feel real anymore. It's just what I do in the meantime.

I know I spoke before of a more comprehensive breakdown of my trip, but honestly in the last week I have talked so much about the logistics of where I went, what I did, and what I learned, I really just want to talk about who it's made me become. I hope, for those of you following me, that this is alright with you. My heart, I feel, is literally exploding at the seams, and I think to contain it any longer would be unwise. So, I offer, unfiltered, my thoughts and passions entering this new year. 

Some recurring mottos of mine this past week in talking to people about what God has been doing in my life are: "God is awesome. He brings things full circle. Soli deo gloria. To Him alone be the glory." I think to express my heart, I will simply follow the outline of these mantras. 

God is awesome. As redundant as this sentence sounds, please bear with me as I expound upon this fundamental truth. Our God is awesome. Let me define awesome for you. Awesome is not the cool tricks my brother can do with a yoyo. It is not the feeling I get when I drive 100 miles an hour on the country roads at home. Its not any person I can think of, any achievement I could name, or anything I could imagine in and of myself. When I typed "awesome" into my web browser, this is what google came up with: "1. extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear. 2. extremely good; excellent." The only entity I can think of that fits those qualifications is my God.

I can't even begin to describe how my heart leaps in my chest, when I think of those qualities of God that pull my heart to praise Him with such a weighty word. He is more than impressive. He is daunting. He does inspire my admiration, apprehension, and fear. He is extremely holy, eternally good, and incomparably excellent. "Our God is an awesome God; He reigns from heaven above, with wisdom, power, and love. Our God is an awesome God."

God brings things full circle. I know everyone has heard the phrase at some point, "God works all things for the good of those that love Him." I think, however, that a lot of times when we say that, we don't actually believe it. Or if we do, we don't really think that the good that will come will be even better than the good that we can imagine. Not true. Our God, who turned the worst of sinners and Christian persecutors, Saul, into arguably one of the most profound apostles in the new testament, Paul, is the same God working in our lives today. He still sanctifies, He still opens blind eyes, He still moves mountains. I have seen His glory, and humbled lie on my face before Him, begging Him to spare me, for I am an unclean sinner.

God brings all things full circle. I think some of you who have heard my testimony will know what story I am referring to when I expound upon this, but not a single day goes by that I am not caught breathless at the mercy and grace my Savior has shown me in the last two years. God brings all things full circle. He does not leave His story with loose ends. (And if He does, chances are, the story is not yet over.) He works all things for the good of those who love Him. 

Such is the story of two girls whose friendship turned sour after sin and idols crept in, where before their God was the glue that brought them together. God works all things for good, even when, heartbroken and torn apart, these girls thought their sin was too great, their friendship irreparable, their testimony, tarnished for life. In May of 2010, I said goodbye to the closest friend that I had ever known. I hoped and prayed that God could restore what our sin-blackened hearts had destroyed, but like Abraham, God asked me to lay my friend upon his altar and let go. Like Moses, I had to place her friendship in a basket and turn her lose to God upon the Nile. I never thought I'd see my friend again. 

Two years later, I look back and see that pain, the endless silence that He held between us, and know exactly why it was necessary for our further sanctification in Him. I never thought He could bring good out of something so terribly bad. But, I'm glad to say I was mistaken. Not only has God restored my heart, torn down the wall of silence, and restored our friendship a thousandfold. He has taught me immeasurable humility, grace, patience, and trust in the process. Without this trial, I cannot say that I would be the person that I am today. It feels strange to say, but I would not change any of that heartache, because I can see through it that I have grown. In faith, in hope, and in love. But mostly love. 

So you are wondering I am sure, at this point, what any of this has to do with Africa. Soli Deo gloria. To God alone be the glory, my last point. I have realized, through my work in Africa, my life here on campus at TCU, my involvement with CRU and my church, going on a Summer Project in Ocean City, going to Joplin, going to Belize, and reading the Word that none of these things in and of themselves has brought me any closer to Christ. They have not sanctified me. They have shaped me, they have molded me, but they have not made me any more righteous.

That is the fingerprint of God in my life.

Reveling in the work of Christ in my life has made me who I am. Allowing him to use the people, the places, and the experiences I've had in the last (eventful!) year, has made me who I am. And that is something I would not change for the world. He could have done all of these things here, at home, but He didn't. He opened my eyes literally and spiritually, to the work of His kingdom. He awakened my soul to the beat of His heart. And let me tell you, it is a glorious beat, an exhilarating beat, a crazy life-changing beat. And the best part is is that the song is not yet over.

I hope, forevermore, to dance to this beat. Be it in Belize, Maryland, Africa, Oman, or a quiet little hippy coffee shop in Fort Worth, Texas. I want my soul to sing His praise, exude His glory, and point the world to do the same. It's a divine dance. I would ask you to join me, if you dare. I cannot say it will always be easy. It will not always be fun, but it will be worth it; I can promise you that!

Soli Deo gloria.

Will you dance?

Soul Poetry

Oh, that my soul would seek You more,
In longing passion, grace implore.
Oh, that my heart would cherish Thee
Above all else, my eyes would see
The glory of your righteous worth.
Exchange my death for your rebirth.
My soul, encumbered, dead to sin,
Not of my works does yours begin;
To turn a hardened heart to praise
And in that work, a dead man raise.
Oh, that my cry would ever be
Not of myself, but all to Thee:
My God, my God, consume my soul.
Break me, fill me, make me whole.
Turn my heart alone to you;
In spirit worship all that's true,
In goodness seek your glory's plan
Upon eternal heaven's span.
Too oft I look upon the scale
Of earthly treasures, men that fail,
Forgetting that in all I need
You sent your Son for me to bleed.
Upon a cross for mercy's sake
Your justice hung upon that stake.
And yet, in wisdom joy was found
When death was forfeit from the ground.
You rose triumphant from the grave
And to your glory, men did save.
Oh, Maker of my life and breath,
Sanctify me in this death!
That in your sacrifice for me,
I would not my own worth see.
But rather unto myself die
And make your glory my sole cry.
Praise Him, praise Him, heart of stone!
Spirit, wake to Him alone!
Oh, God, I beg you, make me thine
And through my life, let your Light shine!

The Toothpaste Gospel

I see tiny dirty fingers grabbing at my skirt. Little voices raised angrily as the children around me push and shove their way to the front of the line. "Me, me!" they shout and reach for the flimsy little toothbrushes I am handing out. Toothbrushes. There is toothpaste further down the line, which I later see the kids squirting into their mouths like candy. Something in my heart doesn't feel right as I give them these things after so little time getting to know them. They want what I can give them so badly, and overlook the simplest and best thing I have to offer: love.

On the bus ride home, my heart is torn between anger and frustration as I think about their little grabby hands. I wonder how they could be so greedy that they cared more about the gifts than the giver. We came in planning to do crafts with them, love them, tell them about Jesus, and hold them in our arms. We wanted to show them the reason we love, because He first loved us.

Instead we ended up watching them perform for us for over an hour before being asked by the pastor to hand out the goodies we had come bearing. Chaos ensued and I wondered just how effective our materialism gospel really was. The kids got their toothbrushes, which would last them a couple of months at best. They got their toothpaste, which was lucky to even make it home for its proper use. But what else did they go home with? A better picture of the philanthropic mindset that white people with nice clothes have lots of money and like to give things away?

Maybe. I hope and pray they saw a small glimpse of the love and light we tried so desperately to reflect, but with only a few hours of organized chaos, I couldn't help but wonder on the bus ride home: is this stop and drop gospel really even the gospel at all?

Don't get me wrong- this trip has been one of the best experiences of my life so far. I can give you twice as many awesome stories about how God is using this trip exponentially to grow my spiritual worldview and do amazing works in these orphans lives as well, but I think every now and then a little team analysis is healthy and necessary.

Sitting on the bus, trying not to be sour about how unsuccessful I had labeled the day in my brain, God tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to look at the situation from His eyes.

"I see tiny dirty fingers grabbing at my throne. Little voices raised angrily in prayer, pushing and shoving and complaining as they scream, "Me, me, me!" They grab and reach for the temporal blessings I can give. They ask for prosperity and good health and then turn around and squander their blessings on idols. Something in my heart doesn't feel right giving them these things, knowing that they barely even know me. They want what I can give them so badly, and overlook the simplest and best thing I have to offer: my love."

Looking in the mirror of my Savior's broken heart, I can't help but become convicted. I am just like those children. I want the gifts and not the love of the giver. I am so consumed with what I think God's best for me should be, that I forget that He is standing right in front of me waiting for me to crawl into his lap and let Him love me. I forget to let Him show me what His best really is. I break His heart swallowing the toothpaste He gives me and grab with grubby fingers at the temporal blessings in this life that pass away.

God, thank you for convicting me of the ways I fall short of your glorious plan. Help me always to seek You and your love above all else. Thank You for showing me my own weakness. Help me to desire You more and more and help me to find my joy in your love only. Amen.

"Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright." Proverbs 20:11

Blessings from Kenya

What a blessing it is to be sitting in Nairobi, Kenya typing my first blog entry of 2012. Who would have imagined a year ago as I welcomed in the new year that this opportunity would even be a possibility, much less a reality. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good and that's His nature. Wow. (as the kids from Fiwagoh orphanage have taught me to say.

A week into the trip, I can't even begin to tell you how humbled I am daily by the humility and love I have experienced while here. Every orphanage we have visited has left me wondering what exactly God brought me here to do. The kids love us so deeply and so wholly, I can't imagine my meager contributions here have any significance compared to how much they loved me. I couldn't help but cry as I thanked my little Kenyan friends for their hospitality this week as out team packed our bags to move to Uganda tonight. It was a bittersweet goodbye. I can't say it didn't leave my heart a little broken. I think I left a piece of it in the red African soil; we shall see what God can grow from it.

In my reading this week I came across a verse that really spoke to my heart right now.

"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" Psalm 8:1-4

This Psalm reminds me of the beautiful sound of children's voices we heard raised in praise to our Lord when we attended worship at Fiwagoh. "Een theh sweeeht bye end bye,bye end bye, we shall meet en thaht beeyouteeful shore..." It brings a smile to my face, even sitting here remembering the sound of their precious voices, and I know God smiles in heaven every morning that He hears them begin their day praising Him.

The Psalm also talks about the heavens praising God. Let me tell you that the sunsets and sunrises here everyday praise God with glorious splendor. Waking early in the morning to shower before our long, tiresome days, I was tempted to complain about our cold, tiny shower, or the little amount of sleep I got, but all I had to do was look out the window of our tiny bunk house and I knew that these days were ordained by the Lord.

The trip is only halfway over and already I am so excited for the things God is teaching me. He truly is an awesome God, and I am so blessed to be experiencing the power of His love here in Africa. I pray daily that He will continue to open my eyes and my heart to the people He brings into my life here. Thank you all so much for your prayers an support. Keep me in your prayers still for the final week I am here and continue to ask God to show me more of Him.

Much love, and greetings from Kenya!

"If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me." Psalm 139:9-10

Bleeding Heart

I want to live with a bleeding heart. I know those words sound strange, but I think as my life unfolds I see more and more the richness of a life lived wide open. I don't want to live in the shadows of what could have been, the ghosts of what were. I want to live daily in the love, pain, and anticipation of what is to come. I want to live in the mess. I want to live in the heartache, because a bleeding heart is an alive heart. Love is alive and that is exactly where I want to be, right in the middle of love.

As I sit here, waiting in the Austin airport to get on a plane that will take me to Africa, I wonder how crazy I sound. I don't even know the people I am going to meet, and yet I am praying for the pain of loving them. That's why I'm going. And I don't think it's an unhealthy kind of desire. It's a desire to love more wholly than a closed up heart ever could. A wide open heart is a broken heart and in this broken world, I think to love you must be broken...

Because in the brokenness we are made whole in Christ. Broken love still hopes, but broken love still hurts. The day is not yet come when we will look, perfected, into the face of Christ and hear those coveted words- Well done. In the meantime, though, we must not give up. Live, love, and look forward to that day. Live with a bleeding heart, alive in Christ, hoping for the glory that is to come.

A motto of mine recently lately has been, "Open your spiritual eyes." it makes me think of the lyric from Hillsong that says, "Open our eyes to see the things that make Your heart cry..." that is what I mean to say here. I think too often I live blind, oblivious to the pain of others, apathetic to the eternal perspectives of this world, or even dully turning rote the relationship of heart binding fullness God invites me to plunge into. I trust too fully in my own goodness, my own law, my own self-control. I think a better prayer for my numb heart would be a loss of all abandon. I think a better connection would be made if I unplugged my computer and plugged my blind eyes into the bleeding heart of Christ. What a catastrophe that would be!

A catastrophe of soul. What does it take to live alive? When parents kill the dreams of hoping children? When children break the hearts of loving parents? When divorce splits love into a fractured mask of God's ordained masterpiece? When lies, deceit, mockery, bitterness, pain, and doubt fill the minds of people beaten down by the state of sin in which we live? When countries are at war, when families are torn, when friends betray, and people walk away? What then? What then?

Tell me... WHAT THEN?

What bridges this gap, this chasm that is far too wide? Scars run deep and blood is shed for what? Why bleed more?

Because I want to be like Him, because He bridged the gap. Not only the chasm that he crossed, but carried my lifeless body away from the grave. He did what I could not do; He covered the canyon I could not breach. And when He held out his hand to offer me the answer, I spat in His face. I nailed Him to a cross and I sentenced Him to death. I find it hard, therefore, in light of His persistence, to say no to the sole thing He asks for in return: my heart.

How could I not split open that which he sacrificed so freely for me, to show a broken world the road to redemption He carried me down.

Wide open eyes and a bleeding heart: that's all I ask. And the humility and courage to believe when the rest of the world turns its back.

Go. Be. Love.

Castles in the Sand

I was reading over some of my journal entries from this summer and found one that I really want to share with all of you. It really spoke to my heart right now, as I hope it does yours. It's funny how easily we forget the lessons that we learn, how easily we throw aside the pearls that God gives us, the trials that He puts us through, and cling instead to the ugly shells of who we once were.

God, clean me out, tear me down, and pour into me instead the fullness of who you are.

June 24, 2011:

"I've had the song by Addison Road stuck in my head lately, What Do I Know Of Holy? The line in the song that says, 'Where have I even stood, but the shore along your ocean?' always gets in my head when I look out over the vast expanse of ocean here at Ocean City. It's so huge- and scary and unknown. I can never see, feel, or understand the whole ocean and that's how big God is- but even more so.

I will never comprehend His love, His power, His glory. I will spend my whole life trying, but I will never measure up. I will never be an ocean. I won't even be a puddle or a drop in the sea. I will only ever be one tiny grain of sand. A speck of dust that falls between the fingers of a vast eternity. I am nothing except what God makes me. It's humbling. It makes me want to fall on my knees and weep.

How easy it is for us to magnify our sand castles, to think we are making something great out of ourselves, something worth God's mighty attention. We forget, until one of His waves comes crashing down around us and the tide erases whatever brief forged royalty we claimed to have, humbling us before the one True King. I built my house on sand and God washed it away.

What would my faith look like, how much more glory would I direct to the King of Kings if I lived with a remembrance of this daily? What if I daily, physically bowed myself before the Lord? What if I tore down my cheap sandy altars and threw away my pride and reputation to the tide of His waves of mercy? What is faith that I could call myself an heir to the King? I am wretched. I am unworthy. I am a spec of dust. I can only pray daily that His love washes over me and kills my castles in the sand. I want to be a part of something greater than me, greater than my mind, greater than anything I could comprehend or imagine. I want to dive into His very self. I love the ocean."

Psalm 139:17-18
"How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand..."

Micah 7:19
"He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea."

Children of the Light

Once upon a time there was a girl who had everything her heart desired. She had lots of wonderful friends, parents who loved and supported her, and most of all a God who cherished and provided for her more than she even deserved. The little girl grew up with her heart on her sleeve. She loved people with every fiber of her being and was terribly sad when people didn't love her back.

However, she soon learned that although she was so filled up with love, the world wasn't always a nice place. Sometimes it was dark in the world, and many times the girl got scared of the dark. She didn't realize it at first but, her heart was a light that shone in the darkness and she didn't have to be afraid. But sometimes she was very afraid. She didn't know it, but when she was afraid, the light in her heart would grow dim. It would never go completely out, but her fear made it so much less bright that sometimes people didn't even see it.

The light she had came from a much bigger light that she loved so very much. He was the Ultimate Light. And the girl knew in the very bottom of her heart that he loved her, and that's why he put his light in her. But sometimes, when the darkness terrified her and it seemed like the world would overwhelm her, she would forget about his love. And she would stumble in the darkness and fall. And her heart on her sleeve would get cut up and bleed. And she would cry because she didn't understand why the world was so very mean to her. Her perfect friends would hurt her feelings, her parents wouldn't understand, and all the time the girl would cry and blind herself with sad, sad tears that made her feel all alone.

But she was never alone. The Ultimate Light was always there, even in the darkness. But the little girl thought it was her responsibility to keep her light shining bright, and she would get mad at herself when she fell and her heart on her sleeve began to bleed. She thought she was doing something wrong because big girls aren't supposed to cry. She'd gather all the ugly sticks in her life and try to burn them on her own so that maybe she could make her light shine a little brighter. And it would work sometimes, but a lot of times it would only make her cry harder. Because the sticks would scratch her, and the fire would burn her. She couldn't try hard enough to make her light glow.

And then she would look around and see all the dark faces around her, the ones who needed her light so badly, the ones who expected to see her shine. And she was afraid they wouldn't love her as much if she didn't shine for them. Her heart on her sleeve would get harder when she thought about them not loving her; it would turn cold and start to wither. And then she would put on a plastic mask around her friends, because she thought that maybe they would like her better if they didn't know the real her. And all the while her heart would grow colder and her tears would freeze and cut her eyes so that she didn't even see the Truth at all anymore.

And then one day the Ultimate Light came to her and wrapped her in his light and melted away the ice around her heart and put his kisses on her scratches and ignited her little light again. He wiped away her tears and picked her up out of her little black pile of ashes, brushed her off and told her, "You are my little girl. I love you and I want you just the way you are. You don't have to be afraid of the dark. You just have to love me most." And he took the bleeding heart on her sleeve, slipped it off of her wrist and put his heart there instead. Then he patted her on the back and told her to keep going- that he'd be right behind her.

And the little girl beamed. And she wasn't afraid anymore. She danced on pretty feet back into the mean world and didn't even care when other people made fun of her. Her heart glowed again and her friends snmiled and saw the light in her eyes. And she remembered the whole time that the Ultimate Light was right behind her.

Until she forgot. Somewhere down the road between Trust Lane and Memories Avenue, she looked around and forget exactly where she was going. And that ugly monster called Fear snuck out of the darkness and began to frighten her again. And she looked behind her and she didn't see the Ultimate light anymore. Panic overwhelmed her and her eyes started to water as a lump came to her throat. Her lip quivered as she braced herself for the fall.

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She knew Who it was, but she was too scared to look. She thought the Ultimate Light would be mad that she had led herself back into scary places. So she didn't look. She bit her lip and told herself not to cry. She bit it so hard that it started to bleed, though, and she remembered how she'd bled before. Except this time she knew what bleeding felt like and she was comfortable with it. As long as she didn't have to face the Ultimate Light and tell him about it again, she thought she'd be okay. So she started to tiptoe away from the woods, but she stepped in a thorn bush and fell again, and cut her feet. She wanted to cry.

But she bit her lip even harder and tried not to cry and tried to do it on her own. She fought with the bush and tried to get back up, but the more she tried to do it on her own, the more it cut her up again and again. And so she stopped fighting, and her heart started breaking because the thorns hurt. They didn't feel at all like the kisses from the Ultimate Light. Her feet couldn't take her where she wanted to go because they were caught in the bush, but she didn't want to be stuck in the bush forever. She wanted to dance for the King. But, she told herself that surely the King didn't want broken, tangled up dancers. She wasn't good enough. One tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her sleeve. And when she looked she realized that it had fallen onto her heart.

The heart on her wrist that wasn't her heart. It was His heart. And it wasn't bleeding. It was glowing brighter than it ever had before. And it was beating, keeping her light from growing dim. And that's when she realized, she wasn't herself anymore. She was bought with a price. She was not her own. She was not just a girl, she already was a Dancer for the King. She could dance on broken feet. She could love with a broken heart. She could shine in a dark world.

Why?

She was a Child of the Light. She was made new.

"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not become partners with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, 'Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.' Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is." Ephesians 5:6-17

Sing His Praise

The sun beats down cheerfully, the sound of hammering in the distance. Green grass is beneath my feet, leafy trees, swaying in the breeze, and the sound of life murmurs in my ears. This place is alive.

I imagine, though, standing in the heart of an F5 tornado's path in Joplin, Missouri- that four months previous, I would not have felt the same life I did on that warm, sunny day in October. I try to imagine the church on whose foundation I stand- a mere slab, stripped clean. A little over four months ago, it probably had really nice stained-glass windows. It probably had nice upholstered pews and a communion table that was engraved with the words "In Remembrance Of Me." It probably had a baptismal with a nice mural painted behind it. It was probably a really nice church, at least that's the way I imagined it.

I look down at the plain white slab beneath my feet.

"For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Christ Jesus. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver precious stones, wood, hay, straw- each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done." 1 Corinthians 3:11-13

Looking around I realize how fragile this world really is, how futile our works are in comparison to God's power, and how fleeting the wealths of this world can be. Standing in the rubble of Joplin, Missouri, God tapped me on the shoulder an asked, "Whose foundation are you standing on?"

"Yours, Lord!" is often my hasty response, but standing in the midst of so much devastation, I had to ask myself again. And looking around, I questioned if I really knew.

What if I was one of the people in the church that day when it hit? What if I was one of the four that was killed in the refuge of the Lord's house, this very church? Would I still trust that His foundation would stand, when the wood, hay, and stubble was shredded around me? Would I know that even in allowing me to parish, God's rock was firm beneath my feet?

"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." Psalm 18:2

I believe those words are true. God is my rock. He was the rock in Joplin the day that the tornado hit. And He continues to be the rock in Joplin upon which so many people are rebuilding their lives. He is their rock as well as mine. And His is an eternal Kingdom.

If you were to go to Joplin now, you would see much of the same landscape I saw two weeks ago. To many, it is a sad, sad sight. Empty slabs, demolished houses, and debris litters the grass. Few trees are left standing. It's a desolate sight for a first-time beholder.

But this is my second time, and I think I am beginning to see a theme in Joplin that reveals a tiny piece of God's heart to me. Debris litters the GREEN grass. A few LEAFY trees are left standing. Empty slabs are CLEARED and NEW homes are being built. There is life in Joplin, there is hope in Joplin, and there is a Rock in Joplin proclaiming His redemptive plan.

Chris Newby told us a story the first day that we arrived in Joplin and stepped onto the slab of the church where we would be setting up the food kitchen. For the next four days we had the privilege of serving volunteers and victims hot meals, handing out necessities, and prepping salvaged building material for making sheds to give away to people who had lost their homes. His story was the perfect preface to our trip and an awesome picture of the way God was and is working in Joplin through this tornado.

The tornado hit May 22, 2011 on a Sunday night. High school graduation was over, most people were not at work, but many churches were gathered for fellowship and prayer when the sirens went off. There were 4 minutes between the sound of the first siren and the time that the three tornados merged into one enormous twister. The church to which I have been referring was directly across the street from the collision point. The church was full for a Sunday night Bible study.

All were afraid. Many were injured. Four died in the church that day.

Chris told us this as we stood there, silently taking in the tragedy, and then pointed to a chair sitting in the middle of the slab. It was an old green lounge chair, moldy from the rain, beat up, and tied to a flagpole where a Christian flag was waving in the breeze. "They haven't moved that chair since the tornado hit," he said. "Some kids were at church that night, playing around in the sanctuary with one of the hymnals. When the tornado was over and people were taking stock of what little remained of the church, they found the hymnal open to 'Amazing Grace.'"

Walking over to the hymnal, water-stained and warping from being exposed so long, I ran my finger across the pages and picked it up. I though it was a cool story, but I didn't really think much of it until I flipped it over and looked at the cover.

Sing His Praise

Though everything around you may perish, though you may stand alone, through wind and rain, through trials and temptations, through hardships and death, though battered and broken-

In Joplin Missouri, sing his praise.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to SING GOD'S PRAISE
Than when we've first begun.

"He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet on the rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord." Psalm 40:2-3

Falling in Love

Love.

It's such a simple word, yet it carries so many implications. Four letters with a thousand different meanings. I've been thinking about love a lot recently.

"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on it's own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

This verse comes to mind. Love is so many things that I often times am not. Impatient with the customers at work when I'm at the end of an 8 hour shift? Unkind to the people who cut me off in traffic? Envious of girls whose bodies are 4 sizes smaller than mine? Boastful of my own skills and talents? Persistent with friends who don't want to do things my way? Irritable when I'm stressed by schoolwork? Resentful of friends who are lucky enough to be in relationships?  The list, unfortunately, goes on...

If there is one thing I am not- it is love.

Which leads me to wonder how can I use that word so flippantly on a day to day basis? How can I go from saying I love frozen yogurt to saying I love my mom to saying I love the all-powerful God of the universe in the span of one day? The word, in my opinion, is highly abused.

I am not here to make yet another point on society's abuse of language, though. I'm here to argue what I believe to be a more legitimate claim. It is nicely summed up by a quote from one of the speakers at the mission conference I attended this past weekend.

"When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him!" God, that is.

I'd like to ask you to stop for a minute and think about this with me. I know that people often make this analogy, about treating God like your boyfriend, your husband, or someone else in life that you especially adore. That's not what I want you to imagine here. Those kinds of love are human; they let you down. Even the highest love on earth that you can imagine is still soured by sin. That person wont always love you back. They might forget to call on your birthday; they might even decided at some point that they don't want to be your friend anymore.

No. I don't want you to imagine a human love. I don't want you to compare this statement to anything you've ever experienced in this world before, even if it bliss. Lets go back to 1 Corinthians 13.

"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on it's own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

This is not the love of warm tingly feelings. It's not the love of fiery passion. It's not the love of irrational lovers, overly-protective parents, or fairytales for children. This is rock hard, unwavering, solid, foundational, unchanging, unconditional, unselfish, un-anything-you've-ever-imagined love.

Hold on; so if it's unlike anything you've ever imagined- why am I asking you to imagine it?

Because, I think, like me, if you try, you might just get an idea of the mind-boggling, life-changing collision course that I've been driving around in the last week. I think, just maybe, if you try to wrap you finite brain with me, around the infinite glory of a holy and just God, you might come to the same conclusion I have been racing toward in the past few months.

Worship. Awe. Praise. Gratitude. Passion. Mission.

And no, that last one isn't a typo. Mission, the mission. God's mission. I feel like I am getting ahead of myself. (Yet again- words are so inadequate!)

Over the past five months God has been leading me through a process that some would label as leading  to a "radical" conclusion. I would argue that it isn't that radical at all- but that is beside the point. Mission is a scary word. Even scarier is the idea of vocational missions. Even more scary than that is international vocational missions. I guess any scarier than that is martyrdom.

Another quote from the mission conference last weekend- "If a tribal chief chop's my head off- he's doing me a favor!"

Not too bad, I guess.  I mean considering that the very last thing on my bucket list (no joke) is to die for the sake of His name.

Callie Andra Tatum is radically sold out for the almighty God and wants to be martyred for His eternal kingdom. There you go, in case any of you were wondering what the ultimate goal of my life is- it's now copyrighted. Please don't misquote me for anything less.

So, over the process of going to Belize, Summer Project, Joplin, and jumping on board the leadership team here on campus, God has slowly been cultivating my heart for His people. Up until last weekend, I probably couldn't have told you as eloquently why, but that's what this blog post is for I suppose!

First and foremost, God has been cultivating my heart and my affections to Him. He's been pulling me closer through quiet times (which are on the incline!), prayer, leadership, and hundreds of other witnesses daily. Sometimes I fight back, sometimes I get angry, a lot of times I don't understand, but one thing I cannot deny is that He is working in my life in ways I would never have imagined. He's taken away idols, He's stripped away hopes and dreams, and all that's left is His masterpiece. It looks a lot less like me than I pictured, but then again: I'm not the artist. And I'm glad for that.

Secondly, with that heart makeover- He's shown me more and more that (big surprise) I'm not the center of His universe. He is. I know, profound, right? But seriously, that is such an easy concept to say, but yet again, not such an easy concept to swallow. God is the center of the universe, my universe- not me. AKA: One of my biggest desires in life is to be married and have children. What if God wants me to fall in love with Him alone and remain single on the mission field? I've been a theatre kid nearly all my life. What if God asks me to change my major to something completely unrelated to serve His kingdom? I'm a people pleaser- I love making other people proud of me, especially my parents. What if God told me to walk away from my family's approval into something scary, unsupported, and unknown?

What if?

"God is most glorified in me, when I am most satisfied in Him." -John Piper

What if?

"Praise doesn't start with us." -Louie Giglio

What if?

What if: Those are the word I utter. Not the words God utters:

Who will go?

God MUST be worshipped because He is God. He is a jealous God, deserving of an entire world's praise. The universe declares (not metaphorically, but literally DECLARES) His name. The sun, the moon, the stars, the creatures of the earth, the valleys and hills, the brooks and streams, the mountains and oceans PRAISE His name. God doesn't NEED my help. He spoke and the earth WAS. He is GOD. He is righteous. He is the only perfect thing worthy of anything and the only thing He asks of me is to worship Him. And make His name known in all the nations.

Who will go?

When you're in love with Him... You're in love with Him. You'll follow Him to the ends of the earth. Why? Because He is God. Because He is LOVE.

Who will go?

Here I am, Lord, send me. I am yours.

Amen. 

Get Real- No Really

I could blame this feeling on post-project blues. I could blame this heartache on Satan, stress, school, or a million other things. I could go on and on about how hard it is coming back to campus and missing so desperately the community and family I came so much to love this summer. I could make a list of all the expectations I had for myself, goals for God, dreams of revolution, determination to change my campus for the glory of God.

 And then I could show you the parallel list of how many ways I have failed at that vision. I could show you all the times I walked past a lonely freshman sitting in the cafeteria by herself, because I already had a table of friends waiting. I could tell you about how, even though I've been physically in person at all the CRU and church events these past 2 weeks, I've somehow felt empty. Empty. What a strange word to describe my life right now...

Oh, and here's the kicker, I could take you through my journals and my Bible reading plan and show you how many quiet times I've skipped in the last 2 weeks.

Probably about 13.

Coming back to my dorm after 5 hours straight of classes today, feeling flustered and defeated, I looked at myself in the mirror and asked, "What the heck is wrong with me?"

It wasn't classes, though 5 hours will do it for the best of us, it wasn't my sore legs from running daily for the past to weeks, it wasn't how dirty my room was, it wasn't the errands I still had to run. If anything on project, I learned to live in motion. So what? Why the bruised heart?

And I realized it. The sparkle was gone. The confident sparkle- the overflowing joy. I've cut off my source of power for the past two weeks, other than bucket stops along the way, and it's no wonder I'm fading. I might as well be a prune for heaven's sake! I hate prunes!

But seriously.

I'm sitting here thinking right now, "How does a person come off of a 10 week Jesus high, and go to nothing? Zero? Zilch? Nada?"

You're asking me.

All I have is silence. Guilty silence. Ringing in my ears. Asking why I could drag myself out of bed for the last two weeks to run every morning, but couldn't get up half an hour earlier to charge up with my Creator first? Asking how I could speak so enthusiastically to all my friends, mentors, strangers even, about the best summer of my life so far, knowing I hadn't even thrown my widow's mite in here at home? Asking how I could pose as a leader in my community here on campus, encouraging people to pray about their lives and seek God first and foremost, all the while allowing myself to slowly shrivel into a paper mask? A pretender?

Is that what I am? One giant ugly pretender?

I hope and pray not. God, with all my heart, I beg you to rescue me from myself! Like some stupid sheep, I don't even know sometimes that I go astray, but Father, I know you lead my beside still waters and restore my soul. For you, oh Lord, do I thirst. For you I plead, lead me down your path of righteousness. Help me never to forget where you have brought me from, that Your praises may increase more and more. Help me follow You, God, Abba, Daddy. I want be with You.

I don't know who will read this. Honestly now that the summer is over, I don't even know that anyone will even keep up with this blog. But the journey didn't end on project... It's still His journey, not my own.

So if you happened to stumble upon this, or if you've been keeping up with me for awhile (wondering why I haven't posted in so long)- can I ask just one thing?

I don't have the answers this time. I like to think I do sometimes. I like my blog posts to end nicely on notes like "here's what I've learned" or "think about this." I don't have that tonight. This is unfinished business. This is raw material. Let's get real- no really.

Here's my question: Pray for me?
Pray for an unquenchable passion in my desire to seek God. Pray for my prayer life- to be in intimate conversations with my Creator constantly. Pray for the people I come in contact with and my own boldness, that I would listen when the Spirit whispers in my soul. Pray for all of this not to be about me checking things off my Jesus list. Pray for me to be humbled daily.

"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33

Less Than a Sparrow?

"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more value than they?" Matthew 6:25-26

I never thought I'd have to take this verse so literally. 

I live in America. I mean c'mon. Growing up my parents gave me everything. They still give me everything. And I, like every other spoiled brat born to an American dream family, take that for granted. I think you know what I mean. They give me everything. Food, transportation, education, clothing, you name it- they gave it to me.

And I love them because of that. I am grateful for not only the material things they have poured into my life, but the spiritual and eternal things as well. I am so grateful for the love my parents have shown me, the grace they have offered with open palms, and the reflection of God's provision they have poured into my life. They gave me the most important nourishment that fosters the soul and shows us what our God really looks like, at least a glimpse of Him. They led me to my Father.

And it's before that Father I stood today, asking, "Feed me?"

I don't mean this as a metaphor. This isn't some sort of allegory to how I'm hungry for His love, wisdom, and grace. No, this is real. This is me looking at my bank account after being on Project for five and a half weeks, realizing that I am in the red. Straight up, broke. Not a word my little pampered life is used to hearing by any means. 

Oh sure, I've been working for at least three weeks now. But, I don't get a paycheck for another week. And the one I did get last week (for one day's worth of work) has to be mailed home to be deposited in my account. You know what that means? Zero dollars until at least Monday. And even then- only thirty-five dollars of grace until my next paycheck...

No public transportation. No going out to dinner with the life group. No random coffee runs when I'm tired. No brunch after church on Sunday. No thrifting with my girls. No new toiletries. No new clothes. No bus. No laundry. No food. 

Am I less than a sparrow here?

I spent a good portion of my day today worrying about how I was going to make it for the next week with absolutely no money and almost an empty pantry. And you know what I discovered? Worry is only good for spoiling your mood, and consequently the mood of others. And you know what? That's not very reflective of God's mercy and Almighty provision in my life.

Trust? Who needs that?

Me. With a capital M.

Food? Well, I just have to say that while I might not be able to have my yummy yogurt, fresh fruit, and protein bars for awhile, the churches here on project are more than generous in donating canned goods, boxes of macaroni, bread, and other food items to our group. Hey, I can live off Ramen Noodles for the next week and a half right? Even in my poverty, I'm still a thousand times more abundantly rich than half the hungry people on this globe who God calls us to feed. I am, by no definition, starving.

And I think that's what God is trying to teach my obese little American brain. 

"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:33-34

Am I less than a sparrow? Heavens no! I am a child of the King and I will feast someday at His table in glory. What more do I need on this earth?

And as for those Ramen Noodles- maybe I'll discover a new favorite food and stop buying my expensive yogurt and fresh raspberries and start supporting a starving child in a third world country. 

"What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ' Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead." James 2:14-17

* Note: I am not asking for money, nor am I bemoaning my state here on project. I'm simply seeking to reveal, even in an extreme light, the ways God is revealing His grace and provision for me. I covet your prayers and ask that if you feel convicted (as I do) about feeding the REAL poor- you would consider supporting a child through International Servants (http://www.internationalservants.com/www) where I served in Belize this summer, or Compassion International (http://www.compassion.com/) which helps provide food and education to underprivileged children worldwide. I'll be "adopting" my first child when my first paycheck comes in a week!