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?