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.

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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. 

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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.