“Guys, Summer’s Almost Over”

 

In the wise words of August Paul: Guys, summer’s almost over.

Except this time it’s true.  I leave for school in 11 days.  Where did all the time go?  I feel like I’ve asked that question a lot in the last couple of months.  It’s like a theme for my life this last year.  Interesting timing. 

I’ve really failed at updating this thing.  Everything felt so hectic once I got back and I just didn’t exactly want to face much of life for a while.  Now, I really am just busy.  But I wanted to take this time to record my dreams for this year.  I want to store them here in writing, so I won’t deny to the Lord later what I know He has prepared me for.

I want to continue being vulnerable.  The scary-I-could-get-hurt-this-way kind.
I want to pour myself into freshman in my dorm.  I want to be their big sister.
I want to be a slave to righteousness.  In the face of challenge that calls me to my knees.
I want to be an intercessor.  My campus is a broken campus, just like me.
I want to call on the Lord for strength when I need it.  Which is always.
I want to grow with my brothers and sisters in prayer.
I want to trust the Lord more intentionally.  Because He is who He says He is.
I want to be led.

He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.  After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high   - Hebrews 1:3

That’s MY King.

singin’ Forever Young.. singin’ songs underneath that sun

It’s taken me a long time to get here.  I kept sitting down to write and then I’d end up just looking at a blank page for 5 minutes trying to figure out where to begin before giving up.  Even while I was still in Togo, I had a few opportunities to update but when I thought about writing, I just got tired. I asked myself a few times what the point of this place even is anymore.  I realized that I don’t know who reads it, and more than that, I don’t really care who reads it.  Which is when I also realized that it’s not really for anyone else.  This is where I process the best way I know how. 
It started because my sister practically begged me to do it, and it’s like she somehow knew how important it’d be for me this year.  It’s like she knew I’d need the accountability of it.  Even though only one person might be reading this, or none, I have that conviction to tell what’s actually going on inside my head because I’ve already written here in plain print that I want to be real and honest.  And as far as I know, there’s a possibility that even one person is counting on me to do that.  I don’t want to be made out to be a liar.  In a way, it’s like I’m holding myself accountable.  It’s like I’m reading back on all my aspirations and dreams for myself and not wanting to be a disappointment.  I can read back over all the things I’ve learned this past year and be reminded constantly of the Lord’s work in me, and how it’s a process that He’s still carrying out. 

It wasn’t just here that I couldn’t face yet.  It was the letters to my supporters to tell them how the trip went, and the stories to my friends who all want to know what “Africa is like.”  I never know where to start, what’s important to tell.  I want to tell everything until they feel it; I want to show them.  I want them to see the streets, and hear the rain, and hold those little hands so they can experience Jesus just like I did this summer.  I want to give them a piece of my heart so they can understand how the Lord revealed Himself to me in Togo.  But all I have is words, and I’ve never been so dissatisfied with that. 

I’ve felt so outside of everything since I’ve been back, which was expected.  They warned us about this, and I braced myself.  But it’s still strange.  It’s not like my first year of college wasn’t unfamiliar enough; it’s not like coming “home” to a place that’s not quite home anymore isn’t weird enough.  It’s not like I didn’t feel somewhat outside of what used to be comfortable to me when I came back from school already.  Throw into the equation that I immediately left for Togo and it’s almost like I really don’t belong.  I spent the beginning of my summer in a different continent, in a different culture, in a different world.  Six weeks seemed so short when we were living there; it was never enough time to do everything we wanted to do.  But now, six weeks has proved to be much longer than I’d hoped for.  It was plenty of time to change me to the core.  It was plenty of time to move us all further into the future.  I feel like so much changed while I was gone.  

And sometimes I just want to go back to that slow circular time, where things just came as they did.  Little went the way we wanted and when something finally worked out, it wasn’t on our time.  And we waited, because we had to.  There was just so much beauty in patience and having to rely on being led.  I feel like I’m scrambling to keep up with the fast demanding pace of this American world.

I don’t know if I’m being bold in saying that I’m not who I was when I left that day for Kansas City almost 2 months ago.  But I pray that I am.  BOLD.

In l'Afrique

Bonsoir, Brothers and Sisters in the States

I do not have the best internet connection so I have to make this brief.

This is my update:
We were meant to leave on Thursday 2 weeks ago. Our flights were canceled and we ended up splitting our team in two to make 2 separate journeys on 2 separate days to Togo. My team left last Saturday. We spent 22 hours in flight, 18 hours in airports, slept in a lot of chairs, ate our "last American meal" of McDonalds in the Frankfurt airport, stepped on Ethiopian ground, tried to decipher a whole lot of French, and arrived in Lome, Togo last Monday. The other half of our team encountered just as much opposition as we did, but arrived safely (and together, after also being split a second time) on Tuesday.

When we finally all made it here, we were so thankful to be back together after separating 3 days before and were incredibly eager to get on the University campus and share the Gospel with students there. And we are still eager.

When we finally got everyone together, our project leader had to share with us that there had been rioting on campus (which seems to the popular thing here in french-speaking Africa... this is why we couldn't go to Cote D'Ivoire). Negotiations have failed to be made and the campus has been closed since we got here.

I cannot express the emotions my team has gone through together, but we are confident of the Lord's faithfulness. It was our leaders' idea to contact supporters in this time of potential discouragement and ask for joined prayer that this wouldn't be so.
Pray that:
a peaceful negotiation will be made
the campus will open and we will be allowed on it
while we are waiting, we are learning more about the character of the Lord
He is filling us with a Spirit of unity and peace and boldness in preparation for when we do get the opportunity to minister to the students

In the mean time, we have been blessed to meet students outside of campus. And we practice our french with the staff at the compound we are staying at. We are enjoying immersing ourselves in this culture and language. But this city needs hope. Please pray for that. Pray that our brothers and sisters in Togo would see the Lord, that they would experience His joy, that they would be filled with hope. Right now, the church down the road from our compound is joining for days on end of unceasing prayer for the Holy Spirit to fill this city. Pray with them that they would experience the fullness of God. Pray without ceasing.

Praise God that none of our team has gotten sick yet. Praise Him that we were called to this place where no other project has ever ventured before, and that He has specific work that He has prepared in advance for us to do here.

I pray that God blesses you with the immeasurable riches of His mercy and grace, and that He is keeping each of you near to Him, that each of you are growing in wisdom and knowledge of His character.

Thank you for a being a part of this adventure He has called us on.

7 days away and 3000 dollars out; this is a cry out

Countdown to l’Afrique: 1 week; 7 days; 168 hours
Support raised: 2300
Support still needed: 3000

Six months ago, I was standing in front of this girl I didn’t know at DCC when my life was changing drastically and I didn’t even know it.  She went to a West African summer project last summer, and she’d just stood up with her team in one of the smaller seminars to talk to a room of people interested in going to Africa this summer.  I couldn’t tell you why I’d picked that room.  Indecisive, as always, I walked up and down the corridor to choose one of the informational meetings on a specific project.  Finally, I chose the room at the very end of the hallway with a big poster reading “Côte d'Ivoire” across the front.  I didn’t even know what part of Africa that was in.

After the meeting, a few of the girls were standing outside of the room, and I was just looking at some of the pictures from the project that were set up on the poster. One of them asked me if I was thinking about going.  I kind of laughed and told her it’d be really cool and all, but that it wasn’t very probable.  I was about to walk away when she said, “If it’s about money, don’t let that stop you.”  I didn’t say anything about money, so I just said okay and started to leave, but she still called after me, “I was 2800 dollars away from my support goal less then 2 weeks away from the trip, and it all came in.  Don’t let it be about the money!”

The funny thing is that it wasn’t about the money at all then.  But it was like there was this Spirit living in her that is all-knowing or something and spoke those words because He knew I’d need them now…

I applied to the trip in a haze.  One minute it wasn’t even a possibility, and the next I was on the phone with the original project women’s director, being accepted.  But she also told me the project had changed and that she would no longer be going on the trip. 

My project was now venturing to Togo.  We were departing on the 26th instead of the 31st, and we were raising $5250 instead of $4800.  Less time, more money.  But I accepted.  Because money and time didn’t change where I knew Jesus was calling me to plant my feet this summer. 

And it still doesn’t.

The support I’ve raised so far came in very quickly and in bulk.  It was incredibly encouraging.  And then it stopped coming in. 

I am on my hands and knees; I do not regularly ask for help, so all of this has been terribly humbling.  I have these 2 facts at war in my head. 
On one side: 3000 dollars?!  In 7 days? I have no idea where that is going to come from.
On the other side: 3000 dollars?!  In 7 days?  Good thing the Lord is sovereign; good thing I’m confident of what He’s called me to.  Good thing He’s not worried about this trip, or His work in me and in Africa, and He’s most certainly not freaking out right now thinking, “Oh no, how am I going to provide this money?”  I almost have to laugh when I think about the other side of the war in my head. 

So I tell my heart to tell my head that I know who the Lord is, and I know what He promises, and I know that, as a friend reminded me yesterday, God does not just make orders that He can’t pay for. 
I tell my heart to tell the stress-induced hives on my legs, the empty stomach that can’t keep down real food, and this weary soldier soul that’s still persevering by the strength of the Lord that I will make it to Africa just fine.  Because I will. 
Because He wills.

Someone from MoBap who has no idea that I’m struggling raising this support (I’m not entirely sure who they are) sent out a text at this very moment:
“Only people who are resting constantly in the righteousness of Christ will be able to risk it all wholeheartedly for the glory of Christ.”

So I will abide in Jesus in confidence of His righteousness.  I will remain in and rest in the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.  I will trust in the God who commands, 

Cease striving, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.
                                                       PSALM 46 : 1O

Because it’s the only way I can risk this all wholeheartedly.  My pride and my grip on control.  I have to risk that wholeheartedly to glorify Christ. 

United, We Stand; Divided, We Fall

Simply put:

[I screwed up, and I’m sorry for that.]

J, that’s for you.

I’m going to tell you guys a story. I’ve never tried this here, so we’ll see how it goes. In this story, there’s far too much beauty to the brokenness that as much as I want to keep it to myself, because of the hole it left in my heart or even to protect myself from the embarrassment, I can’t. It is stained with the glory of the Lord, and I want to share the glory of the Lord with you.

This one is for the Hartkes.

About two years ago, I told this guy I loved him. Yes, the “L” word- I used it. I’ll tell you: before I used it, that phrase (even more so directed at a man) scared me.
But, that was all before he ever looked at me. Everything changed when all of those reservations were so quickly shoved aside just because of the way he said my name, just because of the way he tapped into my thoughts with all his thoughts and all his words.
So I said it. I told him I loved him, and I meant it. And he told me loved me back, and I believed that. So that was that. We’d said it, and it was enough for me… for a while.
What followed was a whole lot of heartache. Saying those three words was not enough. Hollywood always makes that look like the climatic point. “And they live happily ever after.” Yeah, that’s not true. Especially for two seventeen-year-old kids claiming to follow Jesus and not seeking His counsel through it.
The day he broke up with me is forever burned in my mind. Trust me when I say I tried to forget it and I can’t. But most memorable are the hours I counted down before he came to meet me that morning because I knew it was coming. This is what I wrote that day:

“ I wanted this for so long. And now, as it is coming to an end, I am not sure what I should do- fight for all it’s worth, or let him go easily because there’s nothing left in me.
In Psalm 146, David warns, ‘Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men who cannot save… Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea and everything in them- the Lord who remains faithful forever.’ Maybe I should have stopped to hope as hard for Jesus, as I did this boy I love. ”

It was too late by the time I realized that. All I could do was let him go. If' I’d been stronger, I would have chosen the same thing he did for us. But I wasn’t stronger; I didn’t rest in the power of the Lord. And it hurt.
There are more journals I’ve found more recently with thoughts I never remember thinking, doubts about our relationship I never remember having. I was so struck by that “L” word and the notion that caring about him the way I did was enough, everything else just seemed so small. It seemed so beyond me (and it was) that I was too afraid to let it out of my hands, to give it over to Jesus (which was ironically the safest thing I could have done.) But it took the whole experience to learn the lesson that would have brought me peace a year and a half ago.

We spent the year following our break-up just as close as we’d always been. Emotionally attached and pulling at the strings we knew of each others’ hearts. We talked about pretty much everything, avoiding only the topic of ‘us.’ I cannot speak for him or his intentions; I will not try. But I can speak for myself. My motives were not hidden in the joy of the Lord, my intentions were not built on my trust of Him. They were built on my own selfishness.

A little over six months ago, our communication came to an abrupt halt. A decision I’d made in anger and bitterness. I was out to prove that I could do it- reject love entirely. I just didn’t know it was Jesus’ love I was rejecting. Our friendship didn’t even have the chance to be transformed by the Lord into something edifying; it no longer existed. We took the pieces of each others’ hearts we’d gathered over all that time and went our separate ways.

Brothers and Sisters, no. I screwed up and I am sorry for that. I sinned against my brother with my selfishness and he sinned against me, but repentance and forgiveness were not what my heart would immediately delight in.

Nevertheless,

Sing, O heavens, for the Lord has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the Lord has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel. - Isaiah 44:23

Today I am here.

I have forgiven him, and by the graciousness of God, I have found the strength to tell him. I mustered up the courage to send him a letter after almost 5 months of no communication whatsoever. And 2 months later, he mustered up the courage to face me- repenting, and forgiving me too.

I feel that five, ten, twenty years down the road, the hurt of tearing the seal of 2 hearts that had been sloppily bonded will seem much smaller than it even does to me now. And that hurt already seems smaller than it did a year and a half ago. Immensely so. But I won’t forget it. I won’t forget caring that much. I won’t forget seeing another person the way I saw him.

I share my heart and my failures with you, my family, if- for nothing else- to encourage you. To encourage you to be unified, to urge you to allow the work of His Spirit inside you, to share with you this personal story of redemption through forgiveness, to tell you that the our broken hearts are pleasing sacrifices to the Lord. The situation was terrible. The heartache was great. And our failings were so far past what I ever could have imagined would be redeemed. I didn’t think our story would see resolve. In all honesty, I did not expect him to write me back, much less forgive me. And it was all I could do to rejoice in the Lord when he did. He has been so good to us. He has provided such boldness and, simultaneously, humility for us. I stand in awe. There is peace.

Yes, Hartkes, you were indeed correct. It was His words spoken through you that led me where I did not want to go, that challenged me past what was comfortable. And I praise Him that; I thank my God for you. And I thank my God for the redemption of sin.

“ and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord ”

Countdown to l’Afrique: eighteen. days.

My ride to church texted me at 4 this morning to tell me she couldn’t give me a ride, but I didn’t get it until I woke up- at 10. 

So I’ve spent the better half of my morning listening to some suggestions from K Bake’s music blog that I hadn’t gotten to yet (I had to, after all that musical jam and convo last night) and reading Ephesians. 

Apparently for Project, we are reading through it (I’m guessing 6 chapters, 6 weeks… there’s some correlation there).  I am getting more and more excited every day.  It’s still slightly surreal that hopefully in 3 weeks, I will be on my way to AFRICA.  At the beginning of the school year, if you’d asked me if I ever saw myself doing this, I would have had mild hesitation before saying something about it sounding great in theory, but not realistic.  My fam has one missionary kid already, and for the sole purpose of not wanting to follow in her footsteps, I would have likely rejected the idea.  My only compromise had always been that it would be really cool to travel somewhere on a team with my sister and do a mission for a summer.  But with her, and those pretend plans were imagined much further in the future.  When I was done with school.  And more settled, more grounded.  More secure and more comfortable. 

But it’s funny how I’ve realized that He never works on my time schedule, under my expectations.  He called me out of my life this summer, on my own.  And like I said all those months ago, I wanted to be able to say that like Abraham, when God called me, I got up and went.  No questions asked.  My feet were obeying before my mind even had time to think.  It’s a good thing it worked out that way. 

There’s just so much going on  right now that it’s hard to focus on any one thing.  Between finals, support-raising and preparing my heart for Africa, and getting ready to leave CoMO and preparing my heart for home, the only constant is the sovereignty of God over every aspect of all of it. 

Throughout the week of unceasing prayer, I kind of went in and out of Ephesians 4&5.  And I just love the way the Spirit will reveal new things to my eyes about the same passage in scripture each time I read it.  So even today, I was loving the picture of walking as “children of the light.”  And I’m trying to apply that to each one of the things on my To-Do List. 

Okay, I know this was super short, but I’ve got Developmental Psych and History books that are begging for my attention this Sunday afternoon.  If anything, I know I will update at least one last time before I leave for Togo.  And I can guarantee you that one will be a long one. 

Oh and if you want a little summary of what the ‘Pray Without Ceasing’ week was like, check out this link here:

http://kebedefaith.wordpress.com/2011/05/08/pray-without-ceasing/

Picking Up Where We Left Off

Back in the prayer room.  It is currently 1:13 in the AM.  Don’t worry, there are 2 other people in here… I’m not breaking the prayer chain by writing now.  My “shift” doesn’t technically start until 3 so I’ve got a few hours and since this week has had zero free time, I thought I’d get some blogging done during this time. 

I’m amazed at how worn in and familiar this place feels, and we just set it up.  But it’s like an outside reflection of the place I’ve asked the Lord to dwell in my soul, in my heart.  I suppose it should feel pretty familiar.  In the last couple of days, I was trying to meditate on Scripture that I felt God might be trying to speak to me with pertaining to this week.  Immediately this passage jumped off the page at me:

But will God indeed dwell with man on the earth?  Behold heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, how much less this house that I have built!  Yet have regard to the prayer of your servant and to his plea, O Lord my God, listening to the cry and to the prayer that your servant prays before you, that your eyes may be open day and night toward this house, the place where you have promised to set your name, that you may listen to the prayer that your servant offers toward this place.
                                                                                           2 Chronicles 6:18-20

I love this.  I cannot even explain how much I love this.  Solomon is dedicating this temple that he has built with the wealth that God has provided him.   He has declared that “ The house that I am to build will be great, for our God is greater than all gods ” in chapter 2, verse 5.  He acknowledges at that point that he is no one to build a worthy house for the Lord, only as a place to bring their offerings before Him. 

That is what this place is.  A place to bring our offering.  And all we have to offer is our hearts.  It’s all we have, and so conveniently all we need.  The sacrifices of our God are our spirits- broken.  Our hearts- open.

I think the prayer for this house that is dedicated to God is absolutely beautiful.  What a bold and honest request.  It is the one I’ve been praying for the place we’re asking God to dwell in now.  That He would listen to the cries and prayers of His servants, that His eyes would be open toward this room, day and night.  That He would have open ears to our requests and petitioning on behalf of His people, His children who don’t even know they’re His yet, and His children that do.  That He would hear our pleas to build up the Body on this campus.  And all of that, knowing that this house cannot even contain Him.  We are here to intercede for the voiceless and hardened hearts, and only because Jesus first interceded for us.   He was our voice first.

This room is our temple for every second of the next 7 days.  And we, His dear and beloved children, can come together to seek His Spirit’s counsel.  Together.  In a place that is specifically dedicated for the sacrifice of our open and moldable hearts.  If any of you reading have not experienced this on your campus or in your community, I deeply encourage you to give it a whirl.  God does not ignore the requests of His servants.  I cannot tell you what that looks like, but I can tell you that the Lord is faithful. 

Well I will leave you with a little Isaiah.  Brothers and sisters, I have been so wonderfully encouraged.  And I pray that my encouragement encourages you.

“These I will bring to my holy mountain and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”  The Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, declares,  “I will gather yet others to him besides those already gathered.”  - Isaiah 56:7,8

 

P.S. Countdown to l’Afrique: 27 days

P.P.S. – it is now 2:36.  Can you tell I got distracted?  Story of my life.

P.P.P.S. – there’s no internet in this place.  Not guaranteed to remember to post this tomorrow.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, it’s just that I believe things could get better”

I tried this a couple of days ago.. didn’t work out so well.  We’ll see how it goes this time.

Countdown to l’Afrique: 37 days.

I started my research job training on Saturday.  We spent about 2 and a half hours learning the standard procedure for administering the Woodcock-Johnson proficiency and progress test, measuring the competency and reading/mathematical abilities of kindergarten - third grade kids.  Then we spent another 2 and a half hours role playing for practice.  I felt weird calling the 20 year old guy next to me “Little Johnny” for an hour and pointing to words like “thorough” and “plentiful” and asking him to tell me what they were. 

Well, that was about the most eventful part of my weekend.  After my hectic schedule last week, I didn’t know what to do with myself with absolutely NOTHING to study or read for 3 whole days.  I find it nearly impossible sometimes to rest.  I get anxious.  And sometimes I’m anxious about being anxious.  And sometimes I worry when I’m not anxious because I feel like there’s got to be something to be anxious about, and maybe I’m not anxious because I’m forgetting what I’m supposed to be anxious about, and what if it’s something with a deadline, and what if I miss the deadline and it’s something that affects my being in school or being able to go to Africa, and it’s so annoying that I forget things that affect my being in school or being able to go to Africa anyway, why don’t I just write these things down, oh because I don’t have a planner, because all the planners at the bookstore are inefficient, and most of the times I’ve gone to get one the employees tell me they’re out of stock and that they’ll be getting better ones soon, I don’t know when soon is but it’s the middle of April and I obviously don’t really need a planner with only a month of school left.     
                        Welcome to my brain.  I wish there was a “Shut Down” button.

I have a brain that will manage to analyze any given subject down to the core.  It goes in circles and circles on its own, and I know better than to fight it by now.  I’ve learned to laugh at my controlling tendencies and acknowledge sooner, rather than later, that they are impractical.  I’ve better learned to shake off the little stuff.  However, I’ve noticed lately that my mind’s natural defense is to focus on the little stuff— to perfect details, and somehow ignore a bigger picture.  In letting the small debris dust over me as it  may, my eyes have the chance to finally see some of the rooted issues planted much deeper.  And those I cannot shake. 

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Psalm 51:17                                                    
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

---

A week ago my project director asked us to be thinking about something specific that we want to be grown in this summer while we’re in Africa.  He asked us to bring a book or podcasts or something specifically pertaining to whatever we’re asking the Lord to stir up in us.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot and, like I said, my brain never stops running, so I’ve got more than a few ideas.  Maybe I want to ask Him to teach me to eagerly pursue a spirit of patience, or gentleness, or kindness, or peace… or any of the other fruit haha.  Maybe I want to ask Him to teach me to endure, to dress myself in strength.  Or maybe to speak in wisdom and love.  Or maybe to be more bold and let the Word of God flow from my mouth more easily.  Surely, you can see how I’ve felt pulled in many directions.  I want all of these things, and trust He is growing me into them, even now.  But what I’m finding myself most drawn to is GRACE.  Giving and receiving grace—I do neither very well at all.  More specifically, I want Him to teach me more about forgiving in grace and accepting forgiveness.  I’ve been challenged to accept the extreme measures I know this will entail, the stark brokenness I know I will have to become. 

I think I’d be good at hiding treasure.  Because, to me, that’s what this is.  Only this treasure is dangerous—notions that threaten to steal hope, or cover light, or will me away from trust.   Something so alarmingly delicate, preciously and invaluably vulnerable.   There is a pain so deeply buried in my soul that I can’t even find it.  It is because of its dangerous delicacy and vulnerability that I’ve gone to the most intricate means to hide it.  I was a success. 

---

Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice. Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.
                                                    - Psalm 51:8 - 12

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As if I needed further confirmation that grace and forgiveness were both things I needed to focus on, I opened up Relevant today and came across an article about generational sins. 

“ I look at my battered but relatively unscathed self in the shadow of generations of sin, wickedness of biblical proportions, mental illness and general suffering, and know it is only by the grace of a Savior that I’m here and serving the God who pursued me even through my ancestors. ”

Even through my family.  Even through the people who are supposed to protect me, people who have said they’d protect me, and didn’t.  Two weeks ago, my discipler broke sin into two categories for me: sins that I commit and sins that are committed against me.  Immediately I realized how far away I push sins that have been committed against me.  Adverse to confrontation, I fear the rejection—in acknowledging these sins to be forgiven—is far too great to overcome.  But whether I’ve ever been able to admit the affects of sin committed against me, I have the scars to prove it.  Truth is still Truth when I call it a lie. 

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
                                   Psalm 51:1,2
              

Rescue is Coming

“The race is not to just the swift and strong, because I’m not strong”

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in likeness of men.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.   
                                                                                                   - Philippians 2:5-8

Miawoe zɔ, friends.

That means “welcome.” I like to pretend I know a little Éwé (Eʋegbe) which is the most popular Togolese vernacular language, though French is the nation’s “official language.” That one is easier for me. Salut, mes amis.  Je suis très heureux pour cet été.  J’ai appris un peu français ce semestre seulement… So we’ll see how far that takes me.  Madame Joyce told me there are actually a handful of professors here who are from/have been and are familiar with French-speaking African countries.  Yeah… why didn’t I get one of those?

There are 38 days until my semester ends, and 51 until I leave for Togo.  I am fully aware that time is going to fly and I’ll be on that plane before I know it.  I am so thrilled to dive into another culture and learn more about my God, and sometimes anxious about where this funding is coming from, but at an understanding with Him about just how much control I have over the financial support coming in.  Which is none.  I am not He who changes hearts and beckons servants to give cheerfully and generously.  It’s been really weird… to acknowledge that this part- which is so obviously essential to the trip- is completely out of my hands.  It’s been a relief too.  It’s been a test in surrender and trust, a forceful one at that.  But I just stand here in awe as I witness Him deliver every time. 

I came back to CoMO early during my Spring break.  I just love school so much I couldn’t stand to be away for more than 5 days.  Just kidding.  I do love Columbia though.  I think about that passage in Matthew 9 where Jesus is just blazing through cities and villages, talking about the Father and “proclaiming the gospel of the Kingdom.”  He’s encountering people who don’t even believe at all, and then people who are so overwhelmed by His presence.  He is encountering the dirty and the dying and the sick, and it says that He looked out at the masses of people and “had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matt. 9:36).  That’s how I feel sometimes.  I’ve said that here before- how I walk through this campus sometimes and just feel grief. 

I have a good community of friends here now who have that same compassion.  So we came back early to immerse ourselves into the hurting or struggling areas of our own community.  Of our brothers and sisters that have a hard time coming up with food for every meal, of children without their parents, of the helping hands of this city.  There were 7 of us, and let me tell you: 4 straight days with a group this size and you’re like a little family by the end.    I suppose that is kind of the point.  We played Bingo and Dominos with an old and wise generation together, and packaged like 4 tons of cheesy hotdogs together, and painted a handful of doors and learned how to caulk the walls from Bob the Builder together, and raked a whole lot of mulch together, and played Signs in the break room at the Mid Missouri Food Bank together, and talked for a lot of hours about our lives before Jesus together, and relayed the importance of weighing all consequences of a choice in “Make It, Take It, or Break It” together, and slept in the same beds together (haha boys at the boy house, girls at the girl house), and we discussed a lot of Scripture together, and prepared a delicious amount of food for one another, and played with 10 little kids that were so hungry for our attention together, and ate a meal with our brother Thomas (and his Rhodesian Ridgeback, Daisy), who live in Columbia and don’t have a home, together.  We prayed together, and broke bread together, and we were emptied together, and then also filled together.  I just said “together” 15 times.  And my point is that all of those things, “serving” our community, wouldn’t have changed us in this way if we hadn’t been together.  Because when the 4 days were over, I realized our community had really served us.  It taught us to be more generous and humbled servants with each other, and to be so thankful for where the Lord has placed us in our lives and what He’s placed in them, and also to be selfless with giving and focused on bringing His Kingdom to meet us where we are every day.  All of that in 4 days.  He is Jesus.

Not to mention that the day we worked on the house for Habitat happened to be a gorgeous day.  Check out that pretty blue sky. 

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.  But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.  And because of Him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”
                                                                                       - 1 Corinthians 1:26:31

I like the part where it says that because of Him I am in Christ Jesus.  When Paul challenged the church in Philippi to be humbled servants, he tells them to be encouraged by Jesus’ example.  Being able to feel that compassion and great compeller to love selflessly and give not only money, but time and myself is straight from Jesus.  That was His mind, His love.  We share that with Him, and its absolutely beautiful.

So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, and participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord of one mind.
                                                                                               - Philippians 2:1-2

That’s how we’re humbled.  By taking on His mind, sharing His compassion and love for man, but ultimately sharing a love for the glory of the Father.

For He is the Lord, my God

 

Every once in a while, I catch a real bad case of nostalgia.  And I find myself stuck in “the way things used to be” – which, for me, is probably just as bad as “what could have been.”

I would favor being a this or that person.  Confined to the definites and extremes.  Hot or cold.  Loving or fighting.  All in or all out.  Broken or bound.  The problem with these is that I’m never really either/or.  I just want to be.  That’s when I find myself caught in between putting on the mask of a real extreme. 

Half the time, I don’t even know what is definite, so I just choose to be what seems most appealing, or easy.  So much is based in fear.  Found in the ruins of a broken and wounded heart.  Sometimes it’s just hard to hurt.  And I have to fight all instincts for flight.  I get so lost in the way I want things to be.  This blog used to keep me accountable-- people used to keep me accountable.  But it’s just too natural for me to run.  Inside my own head.  It’s just too natural for me to avoid.  So I’ll try not to. 

It’s easy to think that you know the ins and outs of a situation, that you could recite the facts backwards and forwards.  I do that—get everything under control. But what God’s been teaching me lately is that I don’t get to be in control.  And I especially don’t get to say He is in control and use it as an excuse to run away, which is ultimately placing me in the role to call the shots.  I don’t get to say when or how.  What if I should stand in the midst of chaos with my hands open; maybe there’s fire and the steady drumming of wind or waves high above my head that have brought me to my knees, but what if I should plant my soul firmly in the foundation of a King, with my heart uncovered and my face to the ground?

I don’t trust the Spirit that is in me.  I don’t ask for His discernment because I am too afraid to fail.  And yet, if I were asking the Spirit to discern, I have to know that He would not fail.  I don’t know how to rest in His grace and His mercy, His depth and His sovereignty.  I don’t know how to trust that He’ll provide healing.  I try to heal myself.    I try to fix my wrongs. 

The truth is that there is only one constant that I know, one definite fact.  And that is that the Lord is who He says He is.  He is good and He endures forever.  He is the sacrifice that I don’t know how to be. 

I cannot change the past, but I  cannot forget it.  I want to learn from it—and not learn to run, or arm my heart, or keep people far away. But to learn to care better, and give grace, and show mercy, and pull love closer.  I want to learn to care through the hurt, and extend grace even when it challenges my pride.  I want to learn to stand in the storm, with the fire and the wind, with the raging waters threatening my life, and plant my soul in the Lord who is my God. 

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
I give Egypt as your ransom,
Cush and Seba in exchange for you.
Because you are precious in my eyes,
and honored, and I love you,
I give men in return for you,
peoples in exchange for your life.” – Isaiah 43:1-4

“I’ve wondered for a long time why it is that writers hate to write. William Zinsser says that writers ‘love to have written,’ and I agree with that.”–Donald Miller

I used to identify myself with writing.  I used to say that’s who I was – a writer.  I also used to say that I loved to write, but I think I “love to have written” much more than the actual writing process.  I used to feel the same way about shopping.  I don’t shop anymore.

I haven’t written apart from here in some time now.  That 130-page document - it’s stayed right where it’s at since November.  And part of it is because I talk now.  I let my sisters, my family, carry with me the weight my hurt imposes, hoping I’ll recognize every opportunity to do the same for them.  But mostly it’s because I let Jesus heal.  I let Jesus bind up those things I thought I had to write about.  I let Him do what He said He would-- and carry my sin, and my shame, and my little broken heart- all bruised from exposure- on His own shoulders. 

But today I barely opened my eyes, and immediately knew it was a writing day.  I praise God for the clarity that comes with this process, however excruciating it may come to play out. 
I praise Him that it can play out.

---

I’ve been discouraged the past week.  At the start of this semester, God called some pretty big things from this tiny servant.  And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, He told me not to fear.  He told me He’d gone before me and made the way, built the ground I was treading, won the war before my battle even begun.

I was reading His word, genuinely praising Him for what He’d done and what He was doing, bringing my heart in worship to Him that He might accept the vulnerable state I was in.  And somewhere in that, I stopped meditating on a living Word that was meant to sustain me and my worship was brought in distraction.  I was distracted by glory.  But it wasn’t His glory.  I was distracted by trying to do everything right, forgetting that who I am to Him doesn’t rest on what I can make from my own two hands. 

Last night was our weekly time to gather for prayer as a family.  The church we meet at is about a thirteen minute walk from my dorm, so I left twenty before.  I talked to Him the whole way there, and then on the floor of the empty church where I felt like my thoughts and words were just bouncing off the white walls and echoing back to me.  I started with my face to the ground, asking to be humbled, and never really got to the end of my prayer.  He began to soften my heart and I think I only wanted Him to a little bit because  I got terribly uncomfortable as it started slipping in between ribs to form a puddle on the floor. 

The directors of Columbia’s House of Prayer joined us last night, and the Spirit met with us as we asked Him to fill the room.

In the middle of singing and prayer, everything became still, like the air before a tornado shows itself.  It seemed strange but  I took a very audible breath because I really felt like I was going to need it—and I heard someone else do the same.  Then the ceiling opened up and the floor fell out from underneath us, and we sat in a chasm of praise and song, petitioning and intercession.  My words weren’t bouncing off of the empty walls.  There weren’t any walls.  I actually didn’t have words.  I didn’t speak at all.  I listened, which is never easy for me.  But I told Him I was tired of talking all the time, and I wanted to hear Him.  He filled us with the still, heavy air that calls of the Tornado.  The air that warns- we have to prepare for this Storm. And He came in a whirlwind. 
We cried out passionately to Him for guidance. 

Yesterday before going to meet at the church, I’d been reading about John 16:7. 

“Right now, imagine what it would be like to have Christ standing beside you in the flesh, functioning as your personal Counselor.  Imagine the peace that would come from knowing you would always receive perfect truth and flawless direction from Him.  That sounds amazing, and none of us could deny the benefit of having Jesus here physically, guiding and enabling us every step of the way.  Yet why do we assume that this would be any better than the literal presence of the Holy Spirit.” – Francis Chan, Forgotten God

Chan talks about John 16:7, how Jesus says that it’s to their “advantage” that He goes away, because if He didn’t, the Counselor- who is the “Forgotten God,” the least understood of the Godhead- wouldn’t be able to come. 

And when He comes, He will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment; concerning sin, because they do not believe in me; concerning righteousness, because I go to my Father, and you will see me no longer; concerning judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged.  I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.  When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all the truth, for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak, and He will declare to you the things that are to come.   
                                                                                                       - John 16: 8-13

We were all sitting there, feeling the weight of still air turn to this whirlwind as it was consumed in Fire, when one of my sisters began reading this.  And one of the directors was singing out, “I keep feeling You say, ‘Don’t be afraid!’”  And He stopped me in that moment, and confirmed yet again that everything He’s promised until this point remains true. 

I sat there in that circle of believers, the piano guiding our moving and breathing and praying as one; all the walls were pushed aside, the ceiling too far above our heads to see.  I sat there and didn’t say a thing, resting not on the works of my two hands, but on the fact that He interceded for me.  He spoke on my behalf. 

I love to have written, but the words aren’t mine to write. 
I love this story, because it isn’t about me.

Praise Jesus.

“We have to connect our faith to the world we live in, not just use it as a ticket into heaven or an excuse to ignore the hells around us”–A New Way to Pray

What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him? – Deut. 4:7

Mmmmm.  Now what a thought.  Prayer is most definitely my new favorite thing to use words for.  Writing? Psh. Not even a close second.  Talking. To the Author and Perfecter of our faith.  What other people are struck with the presence of God as they pray to Him than the children of the Lord?  And isn’t that why we complain about “this life” so much anyway?  On a day to day, I hear so much complacency in this world.  As if it’s just this big waiting room to get to Heaven.  But why?  The goal isn’t getting to Heaven.  The goal is getting to Jesus. 
No, we will not experience the fullness of God, the fullness of love, the fullness of a reality we’ve set so far from the world until we see Him face to face.  But our God is near to us now.  When we pray to Him.

Is it not the way Jesus taught us to pray that God’s kingdom would come to earth “as it is in Heaven” (Matthew 6:10)?  So how selfish a notion that we can just sit around [while families are broken, and children are starving, and husbands and fathers are falling at war, and world leaders are corrupting their nations, and disease is spreading, and little girls don’t know their worth and little boys don’t know they were made to lead tomorrow] and hope that we’ll be comfortable till we get to Heaven. 

---

“With the elders as well, we sat down and realized, ‘Where did we get this idea that the goal of the church was to fill a room just to hear the word of God and sing worship songs to Him?’ There’s so much more in Scripture.”
                                                 - Francis Chan, The Crazy Mission of Francis Chan 

---

Last semester, in the November entry called Here World: Here’s My God,  I wrote about how God made clear to me in a night of prayer that He was moving me to stand up, and I didn’t even know for what at the time.  Something about boldness and a voice for the voiceless.  But I had no idea what that meant.  All I knew was that I’m a freshman girl, and even with a big voice, why would anyone want to listen to what I had to say?  I do clearly remember Him telling me that my unbelief wouldn’t stop Him from bringing Life to my campus.  And I knew I was either for Him, or against Him.

He broke me a lot at the beginning of this semester, putting new passions in my soul and burdens for my community on my heart, still urging me to walk like Him and talk like Him and stand for righteousness and justice like Him, and all the while reminding me that He hadn’t forgotten what He told me so clearly in November.  Slowly, I saw myself submitting and giving up my grasp on every firm root in my life that wasn’t Him.  Which only enabled me to be more rooted in Love.  But also made me look like a crazy.  One of those “radicals” threatening all hopes for a purely comfortable conservatism.  Jesus defended the weak and the poor, and stood for righteousness and justice, while the Pharisees scoffed at Him and hated His compassion for the “least of these” because it threatened their ideology of religion.  If I can do the same-- defend and stand up-- I know my Father is pleased with me, even if no one else approves.  I say that, but of course I wasn’t prepared when so many really didn’t approve.

---

We set out to change the world … and then we realized we couldn’t even change ourselves. Our passion for justice has brought us face to face not only with the world’s brokenness, but with our own limitations. It is within this tension that we have relearned what it means to pray.
                                – Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

---

But, like Shane and Jonathan explain, this is where I relearned (or maybe even learned for the first time) what it means to pray.  What it means that we can lay our burdened hearts before Him and have Him near us to direct us, and comfort us in the affliction that comes with the cost of picking up our crosses daily and following Him because He said “If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you” (John 15:18).  There is no way to follow Jesus and also be comfortable in the world.  It is supposed to reject us.

So since He made that evident, I’ve just been placing my feet in the God-made footsteps before me despite the rejection and discouragement.  And it hurts and it is uncomfortable but He keeps assuring me in all my weakness, “Faithful Daughter, I am all-sustaining and I am the Lord of Your life.”

“And all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.  And I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me.“
                                                                             – David Crowder

And just as He promises that if we abide in Him, He will abide in us (John 15:4), He does just that.   This brings me back to prayer and my point now, I promise. 

The gifts of the Spirit have been overwhelming.  I’ve been lead to a somewhat scattered (but in-sync) community that shares my heart in intimate and specific ways.  We share a passion for prayer and an awareness for the power it possesses.  We pray fervently and with urgency for this city and our campus, in terms of both community outreach and inward growth for our ministries.  We want to see a heart of compassion shared across the widespread Body of Christ just at Mizzou made up of the 22 ministries on campus and we want to see His love, poured out from His servants, transform hearts.  And we believe that is possible, but only by our God that is a consuming fire.  We want to be a part of His ministry to Mizzou and we know that because we have faith in His sovereignty, He will use us.
  [If you abide in Me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. – John 15:7].

Some of the most compelling movements in the world have grown out of people whose whole life became a prayer for God’s Kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.
                              – Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

Seeing how prayer is already connecting the members of our Body and striking passion throughout its appendages, I stand in awe.  Seeing how we’re already more eager to adapting and submitting to the will of God is further proof of this power possessed by only prayer.  Seeing how God is all the more near to us when we seek and listen, and sit in stillness, and allow Him to be the overflow from our hearts, we pray publically and privately, in community and alone.  We want Him near always.

“ ‘Is there hope for America?’ I said yes… because I live with young people who pray and fast for this nation daily.  And it’s because of their lives that I know God has a purpose for this nation.”  – Matt Lockett

read about this guy and The Cause here: http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/mission/features/24782-praying-abortion-to-death

End note:  There are a plethora of quoted portions in this post, and it is because I came across SO many articles in the last week, focusing on or including the importance of prayer, that inspired and encouraged me.  So I decided I should spread a little of that encouragement.

Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will

I have “Spurgeon’s Daily Meditations” bookmarked on my computer (thanks to a little Dougie), but most days I forget that it’s there and it’s only when my eyes do wander to that particular tab in the space beneath my search bar that I am blessed with the wisdom of a real man truly after God’s heart, personal thoughts from over 100 years ago.  I find stuff like that entirely fascinating. 

Today’s morning devotion was based off 2 Peter 3:18.

“To Him be glory both now and forever.”

Here’s a little excerpt from it:

Believer, you are anticipating the time when you shall join the saints above in ascribing all glory to Jesus; but are you glorifying Him now? The apostle's words are, "To Him be glory both now and for ever." Will you not this day make it your prayer? "Lord, help me to glorify Thee; I am poor, help me to glorify Thee by contentment; I am sick, help me to give Thee honour by patience; I have talents, help me to extol Thee by spending them for Thee; I have time, Lord, help me to redeem it, that I may serve thee; I have a heart to feel, Lord, let that heart feel no love but Thine, and glow with no flame but affection for Thee; I have a head to think, Lord, help me to think of Thee and for Thee; Thou hast put me in this world for something, Lord, show me what that is, and help me to work out my life-purpose: I cannot do much, but as the widow put in her two mites, which were all her living, so, Lord, I cast my time and eternity too into Thy treasury; I am all Thine; take me, and enable me to glorify Thee now, in all that I say, in all that I do, and with all that I have."

I love that.  In every circumstance, in every opportunity at all, give God the glory.  In every good thing I have been given- my heart, my mind, my time, my story; and in every hardship thrown my way- when my soul is sick, when my pockets are empty- glorify, honor, praise.  What a thought.  What an action.

In the last few months, I’ve found that this is all I want to do.  I’ve tried to analyze that so many times to better understand it, so I can better explain it, but that’s really of no use.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that I won’t understand the science of being drawn to Jesus.  I just am.  It just is.

But:

he [Jesus] said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.
                                                                                        - Luke 9:23 & 24

What a war.  Deny myself what I want, for what I want.  Take up our crosses daily, follow Jesus; a bunch of little revolutionaries singing praise to one Father, loving our brothers and sisters, having compassion for them, patient in our afflictions, submissive to the will of God, abhorring unTruth and reckless empty worship of our God because our love for Him is so passionate, so deep that we cannot understand or remove the reality of a mockery being made. 

Deny myself.  What a cost.  Because Jesus said:

Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. – Luke 14:27

and reiterated even more bluntly:

So therefore, any of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple. – Luke 14:33

Look like Jesus.  What a calling.  In the midst of this world, in the midst of mocking and unbelief and people thinking you’re downright mad-- GLORIFY GOD. 
How would Jesus do that?
What would Jesus do? 
What did Jesus do?

In Gethsemane before Jesus was handed over to death:

And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled.  Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” – Matthew 26:37-39

I find this passage displays so much human in Jesus, and yet so much God.
“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”
Weakness?  Selfishness?                    No.
Pain.  And overwhelming distress.  The weight of the world’s sin, the wholeness of the corruption of utter perfection and holiness set on God’s shoulders.  Anguish.  I don’t believe the yearning in the soul of Creation to be united with Creator is a one-way street.  It’s a pull, like a magnetic force.  We have to be enveloped into Him.  He knows it better than we do. 
So, sick with sorrow Jesus prays to God, “if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”
We pray that a lot.  We hope that a lot.  But Jesus isn’t done.  Jesus knows the meaning of glorifying the Creator.

“Nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.”

                                                                      Beautiful.

Father, never as I will, but as You will.  Father, never praise to me, but praise to You.  Father, I hold no pride in myself, let me boast of Your grace, and Your mercy.  Father, glory is not mine, it is Yours.

I’m sick of hearing “good for you,” or “good job,” or “glad to hear you’re doing well” (what??) when I describe, in my small and insufficient vocabulary that in no way displays the depth of His glory, how He is building up a healthy Body here or how He is showing a glimpse of His intimacy and sovereignty to us. 

This isn’t good for me.  Brothers and sisters, this is good for you, too.  The Spirit isn’t just working in me; It’s working in you, too.  I haven’t done a good job.  Encourage me, yes (I mean, please do).  But I don’t want to feel like you’re praising me at the end of the day for the things I’ve done.  I haven’t done them.  The joy you feel when I tell you how God is working here deserves His praise.  Praise Him.  Do not disconnect yourself from the work of His hands in me.  He has built me up to build you up, to build the Church up.  Please do not tell me that I’ve succeeded, that I’ve won; I have much still to learn.  Challenge me.  Encourage me to be more open to Him, to call on His direction more fervently, to love Him in every opportunity, to give grace and mercy like He’s taught us, and to lay down my life-- renounce all I have-- as He’s asked me.

I know I haven’t the approval of all men.  And that is something I’ll never need.  I have the calling, the name, of a good and faithful servant- a daughter in Christ.  But I do not wish for the praises of men either, telling me all that I’ve done right.  Be encouraged, brothers and sisters, by how good He is.  By how He has redeemed me.  But remember that I was the little girl lying on the floor, broken and bruised, addicted to using and feeling used, crying out to a God I didn’t know by name to save me.  And in that, know that my strength belongs to Him.  My love belongs to Him.  Our praise belongs to Him. 

The Vision

The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.
                                                           You see bones? I see an army.
And they are FREE from materialism.  They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
                                    They could eat caviar on Monday and Crusts on Tuesday.  They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.
They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations.
                          They need no passport… People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. 
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.
              What is the vision?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.  It makes children laugh and adults angry. 
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.     It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.     Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. 
It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.       This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.  A million times a day its soldiers choose to lose that they might one day win the great “Well done” of faithful sons and daughters.       Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night.    They don’t need fame from names.
Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again:  “COME ON!”
                                     And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history in the making, Foundations shaking, Revolutionaries dreaming once again.
                   Mystery is scheming in whispers Conspiracy is breathing… This is the sound of the underground
And the army is discipl(in)ed. 
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.        Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their backs boast “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.  Winners.  Martyrs.  Who can stop them?
Can hormones hold them back?  Can failure succeed?  Can fear scare them or death kill them?
And the generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond talking,
                                                with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting.  Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cozy little hide.
Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials.
                           The advertisers cannot mold them.  Hollywood cannot hold them.  Peer-pressure is powerless
They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive (on the inside).
       On the outside?  They hardly care.  They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide. 
                                                                       Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives- swap seats with the man on death row- guilty as hell.
                                                                                    A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
                                       they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.
        Their DNA chooses JESUS.  (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
                                              Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
                                                                      Their words make demons scream in shopping centers.
Don’t you hear them coming?
Herald the weirdo’s!  Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
                    And this vision will be. It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon.
How do I know?
Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God.
               My tomorrow is His today.  My distant hope is His 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from
countless angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself.
And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
                                                                                                                                               Guaranteed.

-Pete Greig

I wish this was mine.  It isn’t.  Well they aren’t my words, anyway, though an accurate and clear reflection of the yearning and burning in my soul. 

By the way, can you say syntax?  This was brilliantly written.  Originally on the wall of a prayer room in England in September 1999. 
And it’s reached us, dear friends.  Let it impact and stain our souls with the Love and divinity and creativity of God.

You’re the God of this city; You’re the King of these people; You’re the Lord of this nation, You are.

He is the God of this city.  He is the King of these people, even if they don’t know it.  He is the Lord of this nation that mocks and dishonors and disdains His name.  And there are none like Him.  Not even close.

Much of what I wrote the last time I did were complete understatements, overused thoughts and ideas that give little to no justice of the transformation my heart has undertaken.  I’ve been thinking about the concept that of everything I’ve ever made sense of in the world, so little makes sense in Love to me these days.  Things are not easily explained anymore.  I’ve been thinking about a little tidbit my sister gave me a week or so ago.  She said something to the effect of:

“Don’t you know the apostles were real people?  Don’t you know those stories aren’t just stories?”

Of course I knew that. 

But did I?  Those “stories” are history; those stories are real accounts of real people, real miracles, real unexplainable love, real God. 
Real small servants being blessed and used for glory and honor by a real big God.
Those stories are every bit an example of what we have the potential to be.  And the funny thing is that it’s not asking much. 
We see quite easily that the only “heroic figure” in the Bible capable of perfection was Jesus.  The apostles weren’t flawless; they were faithful.  Aside from Jesus, none of God’s servants were perfect; they were obedient.

Yet, their lives were abundant and rich.  They lived in the same world we live in and they didn’t look like they belonged to it. 

That’s what we can be.  Rich.  And maybe we’ll never have anything to hold in our hands, but we’ll have treasure stored in our souls. 

I have such hope for this city.  I have such hope resting in Jesus’ love for us, in His desire to draw us near to Him, in His power to change minds and hearts.  I have such compassion for these people, believers and unbelievers alike.  I have such compassion for their strife, for their struggles, for their brokenness, and for those weights they’re carrying on their shoulders, unable to hand them off to the Comforter who offers rest. This inability to trust in the God who saves, who delivers, who redeems us.   

And I despise my own unbelief; I reject my untrusting heart that cries its claim that I can’t do something.  True, heart, true.  I can do nothing. 

Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.  He who calls you is faithful; He will surely do it. –1 Thessalonians 5:23-24

But I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).  Because it’s not by my own strength, or by my own will but by the will and strength of God.  That’s real.  That verse isn’t meant only to give us hope in times of personal grief and hardships as we so often use it, but also so greatly to empower us in the strength of His Spirit for the grief of His Spirit over His people, to be His vessels and the workmanship of His hands, yielding every good work He has prepared.

And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.
                                                                                              – Isaiah 30:21

I have so much faith in His direction.

Friends, could you be very faithful so as to pray for my(/our) campus with fervency and trust in God’s grace and mercy this same encouragement that Paul sent to the church in Colossae.

And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God.  May you be strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.  He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
                                                        – Colossians 1:9-14

Brothers and sisters, much Love given only through our Lord and Creator.

“Never let the cost of obedience keep you from the path of obedience”

 

^ that’s some Bill Jones for ya.  Courtesy of my dear big Sis. 

I was really going to just do that cop-out post and leave it at that (not that it wasn’t a real and true reflection of my heart), but I decided, as my 3rd entry of the month at the end of the month, I could say a little more.

This is what Jesus has been teaching me.

I know nothing.  He knows everything.
The end.

Just kidding.  He does know everything, and in comparison to His infinite knowledge… I don’t compare.  But that’s not the end. 

Because,
He is still teaching me.  This unworthy and ignorant pupil.  I come before Him with my pad and pen, and He speaks slowly even as I scramble to jot down what I can.  I love Him, my God.  But I’m still learning what that means as well.  [Clearly in Scripture, Jesus says that those who love Him, keep His commandments; we obey the deep aching in our souls to disregard our pride and our flesh as we dive into the Truth that is unknown and unwanted by the World, the Love that is undefiled and uncorrupted by the World, the Life that is unending and uncontained by the World.]  As my heart grows heavy with the desire to be the kind of Love that He is, I still have selfishness.  And there is no selfishness in love.

I’d been so discouraged this past month.  Feeling alone and useless for being alone (which is just silly; I’m not alone, not even here).  But as I’ve been spending time with Him this past week, He’s just been opening my eyes to the things He’s doing, revealing Himself to me and His purpose, piece by piece.  And in Him solely, I’ve been able to find my comfort.  In Him only, I’ve been able to find peace and rest, and courage to keep taking those steps toward everything I am afraid is not comfortable, but sure is only Him.  The more that I take on His Spirit, and the more that I lose myself in His Life, the less I am able to explain my actions, the less I am able to make sense of “why’s”, the less I find myself asking “what if”, and just doing.  It is entirely unknown, and entirely terrifying, and immensely free.  And that is exactly what He desires for us.  That we be free.  Free to love, and die, and Live like only He has showed us. 

So I’m just set on this idea that though it is being made quite apparent that the cost of obedience is sometimes great, its path is still something to be sought after.  Because it is the echo of my love for the Lord of my life.

Ah. Amen.