Becoming

It's pushing the year mark since I chose to move back to Lancaster, something I was absolutely sure I would never do.
More recently, I've been quite certain that I'm ready to "do" something again.
It has occupied and consumed a lot of my time and thoughts and energy.

What Jesus strongly impressed on my heart recently is this: Right now it's not so much about what He wants me to do, but rather who He wants me to become.

I'll blame it on the culture I live in, the ideas I surround myself with, or the books I read. Everywhere I go, I am called upon to "Do something."
Doing and action are absolutely vital to my life.
But I quickly put the cart before the horse, so to speak.
Somehow, doing is more important than becoming.

I have been convicted of the Truth of Scripture in this area, because while commands are given to go and do, the same emphasis, if not more, is placed on this: He wants us to become more like Him. Without that foundation, I am so very ineffective.
^"Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." [John 15]

"If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging symbol..." [1 Corinthians 13]
He wants me to become all that Love is.
"Alicia is patient, Alicia is kind..."
Ouch. There is so much more I need to learn. 


Right now, He has placed me here in Lancaster.

If I can't learn the lessons He has placed in front of me right here, what guarantee is there that I will learn said lessons somewhere else?
If I'm honest, sometimes I would much rather be anywhere else in the world instead of Lancaster. It is as if I think my spiritual life will suddenly move in great leaps and bounds, life will magically make more sense, I will be less selfish, and the temptation to buy cute clothes or overpriced lattes will be obsolete.
While that could be the case, it doesn't change the fact that lasting growth and change usually involve a thousand little baby steps. Maybe it started with a grandiose vision or calling. Maybe it started with an old-fashioned altar call or words spoken by a friend or inspirational speaker.
No matter how we start, I'm realizing it's how I continue that counts. No matter where I live, growth doesn't just "happen." Doing is not always the answer to growth. It can occasionally mean the exact opposite, because maybe I know how to do, but am I wanting to become more like Him?

It's a painful process, and Jesus is incredibly patient in my weakness and failures.
He doesn't give up on us, on me. It makes no earthly sense at all.
As messy as I think I am, if I focus on my messiness, that's all I am going to see.

If I focus on who He wants me to become, and Who He is, I can actually thrive no matter where I live, no matter what I do.

Maybe the biggest lesson I am learning right now is that it's not so much about what and where, it's more about embracing the right now. This isn't so I can immerse myself in the right now, but in preparation for a deeper tomorrow.

If there was a tidy way to end these thoughts, I would most likely try it.
The best part of learning to become is that it never ends. 
As such, this post will never end (just kidding).


 "My goal is God himself. Not joy or peace or even blessing, but Himself, my God."                [Leonard Ravenhill]

"This is the very place meant by God to turn our eyes on Him." [Elisabeth Elliot] 

Searching for Hidden Treasure

[[Just a short, previously unpublished post from camp days- because it was a good reminder for me today. And maybe it will be so for you, too.]]
 
One of my favorite activities as a kid (which, I suppose, wasn't so long ago) was to dig through dumpster-like garbage sheds in our trailer court with my best friend. They were probably stinky and smelly and gross, full of dirt and grime and other unmentionable things.
But all we saw and all that I remember was the potential for hidden treasure.
Gift bags with leftover pennies on the bottom, an old medicine cabinet, a bag of flour half-full... Simple, ordinary things, but to the imaginary mind, GOLD.

{Yes, there is an object lesson here}

You see, now that I'm no longer a child, there are big-girl problems (or whatever the equivalent is). I lock the keys in the car, forget to wash the very filthy floor, become frustrated with people that I think just don't know how to communicate the right way, and miss deadlines by a day or more.  

The other day found us doing our weekly unloading of camp trash at the local dump. Noticing some random items sitting off to the side, we asked the man in charge if we could take it with us.
"One man's junk is another man's treasure"? Of course.
Even though the free items were simple and ordinary, I felt like a giddy 7-year old all over again. We had found treasure in junk.

{And here comes the object lesson...}
Sometimes living in a big-person world, I get distracted by the "junk" of life: my junk and other people's junk. Sometimes it's all I see, and it sure does stink. And the more it piles up, the more it stinks. It can seem like a never-ending mountain of stench and mess.

I want to reach a place where I am more earnestly looking for treasure than getting so distracted by the junk. To reach for the moments that I am reminded to look for beauty in the most unlikely places.
Jesus tells me to look beyond the "big people problems," and search for treasure, because there is a delight in the unexpected.
Imagine walking into a store full of beautiful, shimmering diamonds. There may be excitement at seeing such beauty, but not the kind of delight one would feel if they found a beautiful, perfect diamond in the middle of a trash pile.
It has to do with finding the unexpected in the ordinary, and finding that it is good.
It has to do with finding Jesus in the ordinary, and finding that He is good.

I want to be a 7 year-old prairie girl again.
Delighting in the little, unexpected things that come because there is treasure, and there is hope. 

Post-Ministry Burn Out & Rest

////This post was started soon after I moved back home... er, back to PA. God has showed me so much since then, but in the process of moving back and choosing to rest I am sharing this because maybe there are others who need to know that there IS life and purpose and hope in the middle of exhaustion.///

Ministry is HARD WORK.
It's exhausting and excruciating and painful and glorious and fulfilling and has the potential to be chocked full of joy and sorrow simultaneously.

The past 2 years have been some of the most painful and most beautiful years of my short life thus far.
They have been the most exhausting 2 years of my life thus far.

I didn't go into full-time missionary life expecting to come out so soon and so...tired.

It feels rather raw to write such personal details when all the feelings of burn out and vision-less-ness still make their presence known.

It's not disappointment in the different ministries I worked under, though I know very deeply that ministry has an imperfect human side to it. It's not disappointment in the people I spent hours and days and months with. It's not disappointment in the daily and not-so-daily tasks I did.

I found I was disappointed with me.

There was this expectation placed on my heart that I should be all things to all people. I began to believe that people only like me or look up to me based on what I do and how well I perform and....
I began to live out of this idea.

So maybe I didn't "begin" to do this, because somehow I looked back and realized I had been doing this performance-based thing for a very long time.

It's just that I never had to notice it before now- before your character is tested, and you are responsible for things you know nothing about, and patience turns threadbare.

Living a performance-based life only gives you a stage and an audience.
Acting is hard work.
At some point you have to get off the stage and hide in the dressing room, because you see what a mess you really are.

I wanted to stay behind the facade of performance. It's comfortable.
Jesus gently nudges me to leave the performance behind.
I want to stay because it's easier, I think.

He uses a friend to ask, "What do you want?"
I want Him.
But it's anything but easy.

Life is hard.
Not because I am a pessimist, but because accusations hurt and God doesn't always give you nice cars and the soup always seems to burn sticky, black goo on the bottom of the kettle no matter how much I stir it.

I copied the following words of Amy Carmichael into my journal at the beginning of the year. They gave me this ridiculous hope for mankind, for myself.

"Looking back there is so much to grieve over. We can see nothing at all in ourselves to praise, but so much in our Savior. He has never given up hope for us. There is something very heartening in this. All that we see as sin, He sees, He saw, and far, far more. But "Thou knewest me before I was," so nothing can surprise Him out of loving me... The Cross covers, the Blood cleanses, and His eternal love will keep that which we have committed unto Him, until that day..."

"That day" is beholding the glorious-ness of heaven.

I'm so glad my story, your story, doesn't end with burn out and exhaustion and the feeling of hopelessness.

He never gives up on us when He would have every reason to.

These days of raw searching and vision refining don't become easier.
They were never meant to be easy in the first place.

But Jesus is somehow, unexplicably, giving hope- that the story is far from over, and He DOES restore and He IS good.

YES.

///I do want to clarify that if you are burnt out, it does not mean you're not spiritual enough or strong enough or ____ enough. I'm learning to take it as a signal to my mind, body, and soul that it's time to rest, because work and rest are both biblical and I believe they hold equal value. I have spent a lot of time in the past week gazing at the picture below- It embodies what I believe He delights in- us being content to rest in His presence.///   

Apron DIY, Soap Suds, and Obedience

I'll admit I am not much of a sewing-type nor much of a DIY type.
Sewing takes too much meticulous concentration. DIY is too trendy {insert cough}.

(The beginnings of the apron: I bought a XL men's shirt, mostly cause it was cheap and I like the fabric. 
And mostly because I thought maybe, perhaps, it would make a cool apron. I added the lace hoping it would add a nice, feminine touch.)

However, considering the next step before me, I braved the unknown.

 (it was rather simple. Chop off the sleeves, hem up the edges...)

                                                         
Actually, God's been teaching me this past year to brave the unknown not once, but twice.
You see, almost exactly a year ago He sent me to the little town of Honeybrook.
He called me to be a schoolteacher {official title}
Unofficially, I learned that teaching in a DIY mode is absolutely impossible.
I learned that being a front-line missionary is HARD WORK, but when dependent on Him, SO FULL OF JOY.

Halfway through the school year, He decided to use a little humor and give me an unusual opportunity. Because of a mishap involving a pogo stick (see pogo stick post here if you want to know how it happened), God showed me a new place.
I went back home and He kept pressing it... not letting me forget it.
And so it brings me to today.
Leaving teacher-hood, with all its ups and downs, behind. And embarking on the new adventure of... camp cook.

(It worked! Lace added a very pleasant touch.)

I know, it's a pretty far shot from being a teacher. What do they have in common anyways??
Not much save the fact that He never wastes each moment, each season of life.
Whether doing something "great" like teaching middle school girls, or something "insignificant" like cooking at a residential girls camp.

(natural evening light and a nautical, almost taylored look)

"...we ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed..." -Brother Lawrence

All this to say, you now know where I will be for the next year... or 2 or 3.
While my ideas and dreams of travels to places like inner-city Paris and the slums of India have not materialized yet, He is teaching me that the best place to be is the place He puts me.
It doesn't require a fancy calling or a glamorous idea.
It requires obedience and hard work and simple faith. {All of which I'm still learning, by the way}

So yes, I will spend my next year making food, washing dishes, and making more food for 25 girls (all in a kitchen in the backwoods of South Carolina).
But I know God calls a person to more than just "be."

"That the end we ought to propose to ourselves is to become, in this life, the most perfect worshipers of God we can possibly be, as we hope to be through all eternity."

I hope to be, like Brother Lawrence (a dishwashing monk in the 1500's), one who practices His presence, no matter where I am or what I do.
It sounds high and spiritual and unattainable.
With His help, I want it to be a daily, livable reality.
{Even awash in soap suds and wearing a DIY apron.}

On Being Poured Out and Filled Up

pour [verb]:
1. to send flowing or falling, as from one container to another, or into, over, or on something
2. to emit or propel, especially continuously or rapidly
3. to produce or utter in or as in a stream or flood

fill [verb]:

1. to make full; put as much as can be held into

2. to supply to an extreme degree or plentifully: to fill a house with furniture; to fill the heart with joy.

3. to satisfy fully the hunger of; satiate
  
I don't mean to make this a long, drawn-out post. 
However, the understanding of these words as they relate to life, specifically the life of a Christian, has taken a long, drawn-out walk. 

If I am honest, I used to believe it was glamorous and exciting and a thrill to be "poured out." You get to love on orphans, feed the hungry, hang out with city kids on dangerous streets, buy the homeless person lunch. And then you walk away, patting yourself on the back for being such a good Christian and thinking to yourself, "Hey God, did you see what I just did there? You totally used ME to show that child YOU! That's so cool!"
And it is. 
However, it never required a lot of me aside from time and a little bit of energy. In reality, it wasn't pouring out because I really wasn't denying myself. I was helping my spiritual ego. 
And because I was doing such, I never really thought much of being filled up.

God took me to a season of life where I had to pour out every single day no matter if I felt like it or wanted to. It appeared to be fun and exciting and challenging... for a while. When pouring out becomes a daily thing, it ceases to be a glamorous and an easy, pat-yourself-on-the-back moment.  It actually becomes hard because the human nature in you doesn't like giving all the time. It hates denying itself of its comforts and privileges. It dislikes giving on the days when your head throbs and your "pouring out" isn't even noticed. It yells for attention when a situation arises that would be so nice to run away from.

And so, when you are pouring out every single day, something else that you never realized was so important suddenly becomes of the utmost importance: being filled up. 
Now, the secular and the even the Christian world told me that being filled up involves relaxing- pull your feet up, watch a pointless movie, maybe do your nails or read some easy fiction. Don't forget some chocolate or a good coffee drink. Ta-da! You're filled up. 
I tried this method for a while... It didn't work.
It took me a while to see that actually being "filled up" involves none of those things.
I found myself complaining to my mother about burn-out the one day.

She gave an illustration: "You're like a bucket with a hole in the bottom. You're bucket is full of water, but it's constantly draining out of the bottom of the bucket. You need to allow yourself to fill up, so you don't run dry."
Ah, the Source of the water.

To put it simply, if we are being "poured out" because of Christ, guess where we are going to be filled up?

Once again, human nature (more commonly known as self), doesn't like this idea. It wants to find it's own source. It wants to be self-sufficient or even deceiving.
"A dry bucket? Pawsh. Of course my bucket isn't dry. Granted, it's a lot emptier than it used to be, but look, it's still kind of pouring out... if you tip it on it's side you can get a couple good drops."
"Let myself be filled up? But isn't that selfish?"

No, my friend. Selfish is when you refuse to see that you need to be filled up. 
It appears to be self-explanatory. Fill means to "supply plentifully..." and that's what He does if we let Him. If we gorge, feast, delight in the Presence of God and ask Him to fill us up with more of Himself when there is nothing of us left.
(And as an added bonus- when you are filled up His way, He ends up filling you with so much joy that even though it doesn't always become easier, it does become an honor, a divine privilege, instead of a burden.)

"Come, all who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!.. Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." -Isa. 55

 

The Problem with Believing in Yourself

 "One of the most common problems with individuals today is that they do not believe in themselves.
Many people constantly doubt their abilities, skills, talents, opinions, and numerous other aspects that makes them who they are. For these individuals, a lot of precious time is wasted on this demeaning method of thinking.
If you are looking to improve yourself, your life, the way that others see you, and the way that you see yourself, it is important to understand the importance of believing in yourself. If you miss the opportunity of accomplishing this very important goal, you will continue to miss opportunities all through your life..."

Ah, yes. I do believe the beginning of this inspiring article was just meant for me. I want to find out if I have a good self-image. Maybe if I realize I don't I'll move onto the solution.
What's the solution? Better self-confidence. aka. Believing in myself.

The first thing they recommend is writing a list of goals and dreams... hmm. Already did that. Funny... I've accomplished maybe one or two of my somewhat outlandish dreams and ideas. And what I'm doing now wasn't even on that list and yet I'm still fulfilled in it.

Moving on... the second part to believing in yourself is finding out what my gifts and talents are. Looking at my career test, spiritual gifts test, and love language test, I probably shouldn't have even attempted the job(s) I have now.

(So far, I think this means I don't believe in myself every much)

Next step... overcoming the obstacle of fear. Ah. Well I've conquered that... I mean I think I have... I mean, well, I don't get scared by certain things anymore... of course, if a snake were to slither its way beside me, I'd... oh never mind.

Last method... challenge yourself. So, once I write down my dreams and goals, find out what my gifts and talents are, and overcome the obstacle of fear, I'm supposed to challenge myself?
Considering that I'm no longer afraid of anything, this should be a piece of cake. Right. And challenging myself is always a piece of cake.

Pardon my sarcastic rant, but I firmly believe that believing in yourself will not create the kind of belief in yourself that you really think you'll have. 

Let me use myself as an example.

People will come up to me occasionally and tell me they hear what a good teacher I am.
I often grin when I hear that, because actually, if I base it on human effort I'm not a very good teacher. I've switched up schedules, said things I shouldn't have, stuttered through many weeks of History lectures, have had moments of confusion over 6th grade Math, and become stumped over the many questions I'm asked.

Now, to the self-esteem promoters, the above paragraph would be saddening. I'm not believing in myself! I'm also speaking negatively about my actions! Horrors!

To the Christ-followers, the above paragraph should be an example of the grace of God. He led me to where I am, was so faithful in calling me to His strength when I felt weak, and has showed off so much of His power because I can't even take credit for answered prayer anyways.

If I had believed in my abilities as a teacher (even though I'd never taught before), and if I had overcome the obstacle of fear I feel when I have to confront, I would have no need for Jesus. After all, if I believe in myself, I don't need anyone else. And THAT, unfortunately, is the core of what believing in yourself really is. It leaves no room for the need of a Savior and Deliverer.
Jesus calls us to deny ourselves, not believe in ourselves.  

All this to say, you can believe in yourself as much as you like.
But I'd rather believe in a God who heals the sick, moves mountains, forgives, restores, redeems, and provides for His pitifully weak children.

"O Lord Almighty, blessed is the man who trusts in you." -Ps. 84:12

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." -Matt. 16:24-25     

When Life Hands You a Pogo Stick

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like." -Lemony Snicket

It was only a simple choice. A pogo stick just calling my name.
A split second decision.
I found myself flat on my back, the wind momentarily knocked out of me.
I try forcing a laugh.
Minutes later my body is going into shock: chills, clamminess, a rush of pain. 

Simple and seemingly pointless decisions can sometimes alter the course of your life.
At least, it can alter the course of your immediate life.
The alterations can sometimes happen for the better... but there may be painful side effects.
Attempting to ride a pogo stick and landing on your tailbone may be a cheesy example.
But it quite literally makes you slow down.
You walk behind the cute old ladies in the grocery store instead of passing them.
Your daily decisions are based on whether or not it is too painful to bend over or if it's too far to walk.  Sometimes you sit and imagine what it would be like to have no stiffness in your neck.

But sometimes... sometimes these little painful incidents are reminders. Reminders that God can work ALL things for our good.
It's easy to breeze through life hoping good things will happen all the time.
It's harder to walk slowly and somehow understand that pain always has a purpose.

I want healing, I want wholeness.
But if I am to hobble around in pain for a few weeks, then I want it to be a pain that makes me want Him more.
If I am granted healing and a release from pain, then I want it to be a healing that makes me want Him more.
  
It's a matter of perspective, really.
It's a daily choice- and today I choose to live dependent on Him.

{In the meantime, pogo sticks are no longer on my list of things-to-do}
 

Old Cars and the Glamorous Life

 I used to believe the Christian life should be glamorous.
Glamorous because you could win souls (as if it were some sort of game- wins and losses), be highly respected, God would bless you (we mean materially of course. You give away money, and He'll give you lots more... mostly for your bigger house and nicer car.) On top of all this, there would be those world travels full of inspiring stories of praying for people, "winning" more souls, and adventurous adventures.

This past year or two has completely gone against those ideas, but I was reminded of it the other day. Dad had finished fixing up a car to resell. It was a supposed to be mine at one point, but in a roundabout sort of way, it hadn't worked out. Being a kind and helpful daughter, I offered to, you know, test drive it around to make sure it was running okay and everything. So on my weekends home, I would drive it to church, to meet friends, or just because I could:]

Unfortunately, the more I drove it, the more discontent I became with "George," my greenish Honda that's older than me. I found myself whining to God... "Um, hey God? You see my ugly little car, right? I know it works great and all, but I really like this one better. So if you could just, uh, somehow make my car quit working? You know the back window is taped, and my car stereo is out, and well... It's just not how I pictured the "good gifts you give to your children."

Driving back home, I am convicted of course.
I am reminded of my previous belief- the glamorous Christian life I was expecting.
Instead of world travels, "winning souls," and a nice car, I am a small town teacher with an old car and if your comparing it to world travels, rather ordinary sort of adventures.

I am not living the glamorous Christian life in any sort of way.
Instead, I am learning to live in the fulfilled Christian life.
The one that falls exhausted into bed each night, and gets up early the next day because devotions is not just a habit, but a need.
The one where denying yourself and following Him is hard and freeing.
The one in which God works in spite of you.
The one where being a servant is the highest, hardest calling one can imagine.

The choice has been given: A "glamorous" life or a fulfilled life.
Glamorous is easy to live, but fulfilled is closer to the heart of Who Christ is. 
It really depends on what you value more. 

"Whoever finds his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." -Matthew 10:39 

Oh yes. And the green Honda named George? He's still running. And God is still good. 

Refine.

Updating this blog has become a bit of a problem. You see, I have so many half-written, half-spoken thoughts. And most times they just drop off and I move onto the next big thought.
Needless to say, perhaps the theme of the last couple months has been a common thread in the unfinished thought.

SUFFERING.

The past year, sometimes in greater measures and sometimes not at all, God has taught this teacher so much about weakness and suffering and grace. Mostly, He has showed me what worship really IS.
He has taken the clay that I am and put me right in the furnace.

It really hurts sometimes.

The furnace is hot and uncomfortable and sometimes even dangerous.
It refines and purifies the things in me that are me and not Him.
It's like gold... being refined again and again and again.

But in the suffering, He has taught me to rejoice.
He has worked all things for His good.
And when the world (aka my circumstances) come crashing down around me, all I can do is crawl to the cross and cling to it.
But beyond that, I am learning something else. I must not just cling to the cross, I am to cling to it JOYFULLY.
Because joy is something that is there in spite of circumstances. Joy is beyond anything in the natural realm. Beyond what we can perceive from human eyes.

It's not happiness. It's not super-human or bigger than life.
It's an overflow of the Father in us.
How absolutely incredible is that?

"Even though the fig trees have no blossoms,
and there are no grapes on the vines;
even though the olive crop fails,
and the fields lie empty and barren...
yet I will rejoice in the Lord!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!
The Sovereign Lord is my strength!
He makes me as surefooted as a deer,
able to tread upon the heights."
-Habbakuk 3:17-19

My God's got power.
He uses the worst circumstances and gives us a reason to rejoice!
It's not ignoring the problem or avoiding the situation.
It's rejoicing because of who HE is, not because of where you are.

 

It's called Worship.

It's a Honeybrook Life

In approximately 3.5 days I will be moving to an exotic place called Honeybrook.
Most people have never heard of it. That's okay.
And actually, it doesn't appear that exotic. It's your everyday, ordinary American town.
But there are some everyday, ordinary Christians that have been bringing light to this town and who live intentionally and prayer walk through the streets and start youth centers and Bible studies and day camps. And I get to join them.
I'm teaching at a very small private school for kids in the community. And making a cozy attic bedroom my abode for the next 9 months.
I will spare you the details of how everything in my life has led up to this point.
Needless to say, God has been preparing me all summer for this.
There have been good things like spending a week in the town, having good long talks, playing too much jug-a-lug, and building relationships.
And there have been hard things like wrecking your brothers car and being physically and spiritually attacked by evil.
In it all, it's been amazing to see God confirm, and to see Him answer prayer in His own good time.
It's really cool... I get to brag on Him alot right now, because HE is quite honestly the reason I am going.
And I think God likes it best that way anyways. He moves and works, and then lets you sit back and be amazed at what He does.
But He also wants you to be ready and prepared for where He's going to take you. Which is why this summer has been one of the hardest and one of the best.
And I hope God is preparing and refining you, too. Wherever you go, whatever you do.

Here's to more learning and growing and new experiences and God-dependence.
Soli Deo Gloria.


"I am only a little pencil in the hands of a writing God..." ~Mother Teresa

Fiction in the Real World

Blogger's Note: The following post I have fought against writing for months. I've prayed and wrestled with God about it... obviously He won or else I would not be writing this for the whole world to see.
The following words are uncomfortable, absurd and ridiculous... but there is a burden inside of me to share this. I did not write this so I could tell you how to live. Only consider what these words mean for you and what you will do about it.


















It started with a consistent discontent (doesn't it always?)
A young adolescent girl, looking for an escape from what she deemed, "a miserable life."
Books about cowboys and fair maidens were only temporary, but an escape nonetheless.
There was only one flaw in this grand escape- the parents. Their standard of books was way too high.
That's what she thought.
Her rebellious heart took on the challenge and the bulk of her reading became "Inspirational Romance" right through her early-mid teen years.
Needless to say, God began convicting her heart. Showing her that it was an addiction, it fueled impure thoughts, and if she desired a greater closeness with Him like she said she did, the best thing she could possibly do was to give up the books.
Sounded easy... right?
For the next 2 years, she struggled off and on, sometimes very intensely, with the desire for temporary escape to these books. Sometimes she gave in.
But her greatest victory was one night sitting in an empty church library... she went to pick up a book, read the back cover, and put it back on the shelf, thoroughly confused. She had lost the desire. Nothing in her wanted to read it. And she has not read one since.
Weeks and months went by, and she began piecing together the reasons for why she was so addicted... and why the desire was now completely gone.
But the more she began piecing together the reasons, the more she began to realize how many thousands of other girls and women were and are in the same place she was.

And then there was that fateful conversation with a friend, the hard hitting realization: The biggest selling Christian books on the market today was Amish Romance.
Her heart began to ache and questions swarmed.
The journal entry went something like this:

"Finally brethren, whatsoever things are true, noble, praiseworthy, of good report... think on these things." [phil. 4:8]
Fiction or stories in itself are not wrong. But fiction that centers on the final kiss will rarely, if ever, stir up pure and honorable thoughts...
There is something very wrong with our priorities. If the church of Christ, the heavenly Bride, is so occupied reading love stories about an earthly bride, then imagine how God, our very own Bridegroom, must weep over His bride... worshipping the created instead of the Creator, pursuing the short-lived thrill of fictional romance rather than seeking the heart of the Romancer.
We have reduced holiness to a state-of-being rather than a lifestyle. We have traded the Truth of Christ in for a cute little story about a Western cowboy  and his mail-order bride.
And perhaps worst of all, we have done it all in the name of "Christian."
We believe it's ok, so long as God is mentioned a few times in the course of the story.
But in all sincerity, who reads romance books because it mentions God?
...as Christians, I believe we are called to step up to the challenge and pray desperately for purity in our own hearts, but also pray for freedom from the bondage of this world..."

As she has found freedom, she began desiring that others would find it too.
Freedom to desire something better, to be convicted, to struggle, and then ultimately to be set free from what what weighs down relationships and marriages and personal lives.
And so she wrote a blog post in the hopes that others will begin to ask questions. They will begin to search for answers. And perhaps... perhaps they will begin longing for freedom and redemption, too.

In God I TRUST

TRUST....
-surrendering your desire for something greater
-actually believing Romans 8:28 is possible
-crying out to God but leaving the results in His hands
-learning to live with a quiet peace when everything else around you doesn't make sense
-believing even though you really can't see

[Trust. Quietness. Goals Revised. Jehovah Jireh.]

It's easy to be transparent when everything is going good. Inspiring thoughts, challenging words, a passion to move ahead. But in the "fires of sorrow," we must be willing to be transparent, too.
It keeps us humble.
Makes us human.
Gives others a chance to bless you.
And it grows us up. One tiny step. One leap of faith at a time.

"Thank God that he does give us difficult things to do! His salvation is a joyous thing, but it is also something that requires bravery, courage, and holiness. It tests us for all we are worth." [Oswald Chambers]

Perhaps it's time to dust off the blogging pen.

It’s been a long time.
But truth be told, my computer documents and my mind are full of unfinished thoughts and journal entries talking about obedience instead of emotional highs.

They speak of slowing down, and breathing in deeply. This is instead of trying to look purposeful when I know being busy with a million different projects wears one down and isn’t very fulfilling.

Furthermore, they speak of letting go: Of dreams, of vision, of practical things like college and saving money. But they hint at a greater mission, because letting go of MY dreams and conforming them to HIS are so much more incredible.
And the more I learn to rest in what He has in store and praying for HIS vision to become mine, the more I realize that this life was never about ME anyways.
Scattered and vague as these thoughts may seem, I believe God is opening a new door of opportunity. And it’s exciting and scary and maybe a little crazy, too.

Stay tuned…

I Dare You

"...the hard part is walking with someone through their pain, being family 2 people who have none, literally making ur home someone elses 2, living on less so somebody else can have more. n that somebody does not live thousands of miles away. they r ur neighbors or the people that u regularly see living on the street. it doesn't mean skimming alittle off my bank account, because alittle bit of my overflow is so much more 2 "those people." maybe God needs ME 2 b uncomfortable 4 the comfort of someone else..."

This was my aunt's response to the last blog post.
I love her response because they aren't just words. She actually lives it. She speaks from real stuff.
And it challenges me.
Because somehow I assume being a missionary is "out there." You know, only in foreign countries or in mission-like settings. But the truth is, Jesus actually said, "Love your neighbor as you love yourself."
Ouch.
It kind of blows my nice little packaged mindset out of whack.
It's so easy to pass out tracts and hang out with city kids when your surrounded by people doing the same. You get to look good. Your ego is helped enormously. It's true. I've been there. Some days I'm still there.
But what about the days you live a normal life?

Yesterday I found myself shaking in my boots. (Ok, so it was cold and rainy, but still).
"I don't know WHAT I'm doing, God. I guess you know."
Small clusters of people stood outside, holding umbrellas and conversing. Rather timidly, I walked up to the first group I saw. A middle aged woman stood there, along with a middle aged man and a boy who looked close to my age. "You look cold," the older man said, holding the umbrella up so I could be dry. All I did was offer them the little bags of cookies I had brought. The woman eventually walked away, and I was left with the 2 men. Paul and Brandon.
Somehow, homeless people become more real to you when they have names.
It wasn't a long conversation. Just exchanging pleasantries and the like.
But as I walked back to my car and drove away, something inside me wanted to go back again. And again.
"If we are the body of Christ- and Christ came not for the healthy but the sick- we need to be fully present in the places where people are most broken." (Mike Yankoski)
I could share many more stories of encounters when simply walking down the street, but the story isn't finished. There is more to be written. 

So I dare you.
Go look for a Brandon or a Paul. They're closer than you think.
They are your neighbor.

http://barefootmissionary.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-finally-obeyed.html
http://beginningofthewatches.wordpress.com/2011/08/03/247/

The Family on Kensington (and Where It Leaves Us)

    A brief glance was all it was really. Abby and I were spending the day in Philly, walking the streets and in that moment, hoping to visit The Simple Way. Searching for Kayla, our contact from there, we rather quickly walked past.

They were a simple family. She sat crocheting a scarf, while he cleaned a fishing pole. Their child sat in a stroller nearby, watching the world with his dull eyes. Surrounding them were several very random items. Clothes were piled neatly in a shopping cart, a small table displayed their wares, and a basket of children’s books completed the scene.

They were homeless.

They were young.

Realizing we were walking the wrong way, we attempted to make a little u-turn, walking past them again. As my eyes swept over them once more, the child caught my attention. He seemed so innocent, yet his dirty, grimy face gave away the poverty that surrounded him.

As our steps carried us away from them, something twisted inside me that hurt. This gypsy-looking family needed more than just a couple dollars from someone who felt empathy. Even the thought of saying a simple prayer for them felt so cheap. “But what?” I ask myself, “What is it that they really need?” Is it a second chance at life and dreams that have long been shattered? Someone who can look out for them, give them that second chance, and see them through?

The easy answer is that they need Jesus, and the love and peace that He has to give them. But in truth, who is going to really BE Jesus to them? We can give them a couple dollars, some good, witness-y like speeches, and then wish them good luck and walk away.

But have we really cared for them?

What are we willing to do for someone who doesn’t benefit us at all, who can’t pay us back, and who might not even seem to like us?

Those are just some of the questions I have been wrestling with and seem no closer to an answer. We are to be the hands and feet of Jesus, right? So in practical terms, in our ordinary, everyday lives, what does being His hands and feet really mean?

And once we have that question answered, how do we go about living as such?

I’ve bombarded this post with questions, but they come from the wrestling inside, and I wonder how long I can ignore the needs in front of me.

It’s not that I don’t have eyes to see.

It’s the terrible truth that I haven’t even tried to see.

But perhaps I’m not alone. Perhaps I’m not the only one that has nursed my blindness for far too long. I wonder if this is the time we quit saving the on-street witnessing/prayer walking until the mission trip. More than likely, it requires individual action, and desperately seeking His heart.

It’s inspiring to read about the gentleness of Mother Teresa, the boldness of William Booth, and the passion of Hudson Taylor.

But maybe, these qualities are actually alive in our own hearts.

Perhaps they lie dormant under the surface of our lives, crying to be free.

     

So where do we start?  

Jon Schmidt - Michael Meets Mozart - 1 Piano, 2 Guys, 100 Cello Tracks- ...

One of my favorite songs lately.
Music is truly a gift and an art.
They inspire me.

Give Me Your Eyes. Soften my Heart.

Mid-July: Reading Square

She is coming our way- Limping slowly along and pushing a little tote cart. Necklace crosses hang heavily around her neck. I walk towards her. Conversation is started. She sits in the shade for awhile, listening to the rest of the group sing. I ask if there is anything I can pray for. Asthma problems, she says. Taking her hands in mine, I say a simple prayer. And then we sit. “The singing is beautiful,” she says. “Reading needs this. They need Jesus.” As we continue to sit, she tells me of her near-death asthma attack, where Jesus became real to her. She tells of the police officer who was shot a week before. “He was so young. He had a wife and small child. People can be so cruel. They need this. Reading needs Jesus.”

In the hot shade, I watch others of the group praying with people, sharing, singing, and praying in small groups for God’s will to be done here.

(Journal entry July 7: New York City)

Coming away from this day with so much on my heart.- so much burden…There are so many needs, and so many people. How could anyone like me make a difference? …the director of the Bowery Mission shared with us after the service. “You may see all these people in New York, and say they need Jesus. You folks live in a beautiful place. But it isn’t any different there. It may be more hidden, but the need is still there…”

Days such as these prick my conscience. “Alicia, you’ve been so blind. Don’t you care for the souls? What is holding you back from taking the time to listen for the silent cries of humanity? You say you care. Then why don’t you show it?”

Again and again, I am convicted. I feel like I’m back at the start of my journey. The question haunts me again and again, “Do you care, Alicia? Do you really care?”

Perhaps I’m being too hard on myself. Maybe I have cared. But then again, there are many times that I haven’t.

Like the days when the Madison Street girls come to clubs and try my patience once again. When I’m so busy trying to keep up with the group that I hardly notice the homeless man sitting off to the side. When the person across the counter looks like she carries the weight of the world, but I “don’t have time to stop.”

Oh, forgive me.  

A Stranger in a Temporary Land

In approx. 30 minutes we will be leaving the North.
Several people have asked me if I'm ready to leave.
My response varies.
"Well, it's been a nice vacation, but I think I'm ready to go."
"Kinda of ready, but I loved it up here."
You know, that kind of stuff.
The truth is, the question they ask has a deeper meaning that goes beyond a simple visit.
I used to worship this place called Canada. It was my escape from all American problems.
My homeland. Until now.
The past several months, I have turned a new chapter in life. Being here has helped me to see. That crazy place called Lancaster is now home. I have found freedom in letting go of the bitterness I once had.
And being a strange person in a strange land has helped me to see that this home is only temporary. My real home is in Heaven.
This earthly life is only for so long.
I have learned so much from the Canadian culture. I hope I never forget those lessons. I have learned so much from Lancaster culture. I don't want to lose that either. Both places may be home for a little while.

But Heaven is no doubt so much better.

Summer Adventures pt. 1 1/2

Here we are: Confident and Excited as we set out...

But so much lay ahead... we had no idea...

Our second portage... through a small swamp. It was one of the nicer portages. No joke!



The bros showing what they're made of.

And then our first stop. Needless to say, we never realized how far or how hard this trail was going to be.

But at that point it was nice to rest. Great camping on top of a rock by the lake...

Gotta love those freeze-dried goodies. 

The second day started out with a long, wet, muddy, buggy portage. Not sure how this guy got away with snoozing while we sweated and carried the packs :)

This was pretty much how we felt by the end...

 And it was only the first portage of the day.

Next was a little dam of sorts. A nice break from portaging.

The second portage we chose the river route.

It was about as fun as it looks!

Freeze-dried soup never tasted so good that night...

And JJ ended the day by catching a fish.

3rd day- portages were shorter but just as "bushy."

Again. JJ studied the map while we lugged packs and canoes.

Opting to look for a faster way to White Otter, we tried out this road to another lake.

Guess that's why we got a flat tire on the trailer.

And why the sign stated the obvious.

All in all, despite its unexpected-ness, we made lots of memories.

Got some good family time in. The boys built muscle. We all got feasted on by mosquitoes.

 We lived in the wake of God's creation. 

We never did make it to our originally planned destination. But perhaps someday...

"Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me." ~C.S. Lewis