The Beginning

I am nearly 30 years old and madly in love with the most amazing man I've ever had the joy to meet. But it hasn't always been that way and that's not the whole story.

It was here I began to share a piece of my story. My story today, as it is now. The beginning of the end that I so desperately have longed for and prayed for throughout the last decade or so. The "ending" that's not really the end at all, but only the first step in a lifetime of loving and serving Jesus with a Godly man by my side. It sounds like a fairy tale now, but it hasn't always felt like one (and is yet to have its 'happy ending'!).

I have in my possession fourteen journals that capture the essence of my life and heart, starting in 2006 when I graduated from high school and began my adult life. It is fascinating to read back and recall significant moments, to read about what was on my heart at age 18, to see how God has molded and shaped me throughout the years, how he has guided and led me to where I am now and who I am today. One thing is certain: God is faithful yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

It is clear as I skim through my entries that I consistently had three things on my mind: a heart to serve and love Jesus, the call to be a "missionary," and the longing to marry a Godly man. All three have been interwoven desires as far back as I can remember.  These desires are evidenced by the abundant prayers etched on the pages of my journals, some of which still bear stains from tears shed as I laid my heart before God time and time again.

My faith really had the opportunity to take flight as I entered my college years.  I experienced real discipleship for the first time, "mission" trips--both international and domestic--that fueled the burning fire in my heart to live and serve abroad, fellowship and Christian community abounding.  However, my childhood dream of getting married by the 'perfect' age of 21 slid by like a train slowly pulling out of the station, picking up speed and, soon, disappearing into the horizon.

So, as I found myself a college senior with no real marriage prospect in sight, I had to make a decision. Do I wait around to live my purpose until God gives me what I want, or do I set out to fuel the embers of passion in my heart to chase after God's purpose, possibly alone?  I had heard the saying plenty of times, "Run fast as you can towards God and then look beside you and see who is running as fast as you are." That sounds great, but the problem with running as fast as you can is that, eventually, you get tired and weary and, well, lonely. There comes a point when you want to slow down and let someone, anyone, catch up. I did that a few times over the years, convincing myself in one way or another that it was okay at the time.

I close my hand around something and refuse to let go because I'm afraid I won't be able to find a better alternative, I'm tired of waiting and, if I do, I can no longer attempt to manipulate the situation. I hang on for so long with such a tight grip that when I decide that I have to let go, it physically hurts. My fingers cramp up and I literally have to pry them open. It hurts to let go of something you truly desire, but doing so really proves my belief that God is good all the time.

November 18, 2010

Praise God for his strength in those moments, to make the hard decisions and, sometimes, being okay with having the hard decisions made for me. In January of 2014, I once again found myself in that place.  

Abba, thank you for loving me enough to go to extreme, painful measures to teach me about contentment in Christ. To teach me that you, really, are enough. Don't let me be happy with anyone outside of you. Oh, how it's a hard lesson to learn and re-learn, but I am so grateful you're patient to teach and re-teach me. 

Circumstances in my life pushed me back to the feet of my Abba, my daddy, my good good father. I knew that I could not plan for the future, I could not count on my own efforts to make the dream of a Godly marriage come to fruition. This time I prayed specifically, with hope, expectation, and utter dependence on my heavenly Father:

May I have a husband totally devoted to you and your purposes?

A man that understands the implications of marriage and seeks 

to use it to draw people to you? 

I had no idea that it would mean waiting another two years before I saw that seedling of a prayer poke up through the barren ground and produce the beginnings of life. I had no idea that it would mean waiting another four and a half years beyond that for my prayer to bear real fruit. But, Oh, how the heart of my Abba has delighted to answer my prayer. He delights to be in the mist of answering my prayer even now.

And I am still in the waiting, more than four years later. But how sweet is the knowledge that I have a Father who is using his divine wisdom to work all things for the good of his precious daughter? I have such confidence that, a decade or two from now, we will look back upon that small seedling and see a full and fruitful garden that glorifies God by its mere presence and beauty.  

Hope's Whisper

There is a saying out there somewhere that says you find love when you least expect it. There was a point in my life when I scoffed at a saying like that, thinking that by age 27 I had very clearly experienced or imagined every possible scenario within which I could meet the man of my dreams. I certainly did not expect to find him in prison.

"Sarah, I know the perfect person for you."

"Oh really?" I responded.  Skepticism quickly sprang up, attempting to stamp out any tiny bit of hope I might have felt in that moment. "Yeah right," I whispered in my head, "I've heard that before." And I had. Typically instances like what had just transpired only resulted in deep disappointment on my end.  It honestly didn't shock me when she shared that he was in prison, but it did fuel the chorus of doubt in my mind.  "No way," I told myself.  But as the evening continued and she shared more about this "mystery man," hope had indeed peeked its way through the cloud of doubt. My journal entry from 12.5.15 says it all:

Tonight Abba, you gave me hope. Hope for the future, for my future husband. I don't know who he is, but he is out there, and I am reminded that you can drop him from the sky at literally any moment. I don't know if this Dillon guy has anything to do with my future, or if you brought him up simply to demonstrate your utter control (in the best possible way) and to assure me that you ARE working, no matter how little I can see.

You see, over the past decade, I couldn't even begin to tell you how many countless prayers were said and tears shed for my future husband. I was only really looking for one thing: a man of God, sold out for Christ. Heartache, hope, disappointment, expectancy...the cycle at times felt endless.  But that's for another post.

Soon I received word that he had written me. So, as I checked my mail every day with expectancy, it was Christmas Eve, 2015, when I found my very first treasure. I raced up the stairs, the heartbeat in my chest matching the patter of my footsteps.  I curled up on my couch, carefully opened the envelope, and in the dim light cast by a single lamp, I savored every word that Dillon had so thoughtfully put down on the page.  It was only later that I learned just how carefully constructed and purposely focused that first letter was.  To some it would be merely an introduction, but to me it packed a punch. It was this letter that very clearly confirmed to me that he "checked all the boxes," so to speak. Tears stained my cheeks as I finished that first letter, hope having transformed from a slight whisper to a clanging symbol in my ear. I journaled on 12.28.15:

But honestly...prison isn't what makes me nervous. And after receiving a letter from him, prison is still not what makes me nervous. Hope is.  You see, there is this part of me, a big part if I'm being completely honest, that is hopeful that he is the one. And that terrifies me because it is like I am setting the stage for disappointment and heartache.

After that first letter, Dillon and I continued writing at an accelerated pace. I would devour his letters as soon as I got them and write back as quickly as I could in hopes that I would receive a prompt reply. He didn't disappoint. Those first letters were filled with openness, honestly, and vulnerability...three characteristics that we have since vowed will positively mark our relationship for the rest of our lives. 

I have numerous journal entries from that time that echo the following sentiment: 

Lord, if this man is not my husband, I pray you will intervene quickly and effectively to either remove him from my life or establish that knowledge with peace in my heart. Soon. 

Abba, I yield my heart to you. I lay it open and exposed at your feet. It's vulnerable and unprotected. Take it and do with it what you will, because my trust is in you. 

I had known in my heart for a long time that my story would be unique. I knew that I would wait whatever length was necessary to find a man who was sold-out to Jesus.  I have since come to learn just how different my story would look from what is seen as "typical." 

It didn't take long before Dillon asked me to consider coming to visit him.  It also didn't take long for me to answer with a resounding "Yes!" in my heart. And so, on 2.14.16, I wrote: 

I could very well be meeting the love of my life tomorrow. 

So there, my friends, is where it all began. And that is where it will end tonight. I promise to keep working on this.  I know this likely leaves you with more questions than answers, and I would honestly love to hear what questions you have. Comment or message me, whichever is more comfortable. Thanks for sticking it out! 

{visiting the temple}

On a recent trip to the Buddhist temple, I was overwhelmed with sights and sounds. There was chanting from the monk, somewhere not visible but loud enough to reverberate throughout the building. There was the pungent smell of incense burning, a fragrance offering, reminding the worshiper to be good and moral. Mixed in with the smell of incense was the smell of flowers, which had been laid on every open surface, including the many altars in front of statues of Buddha or other gods. The people were rushing, pushing to get up the stairs in time to see the holy tooth relic, typically in a closed room, just out of sight of the worshiper. But today, for a short window of time, the room had been opened and people pushed and shoved, just to get a glimpse. That glimpse would bring them luck, they said. Food offerings were laying out on a table, piled up haphazardly. In one particular sanctuary there were people sitting on the floor, some bowed prostrate toward the statues, others with hands clasped near their mouths, chanting prayers and hymns. In another room outside of the temple there were rows and rows of candles, where people were ushered through to light one and move on.
The most striking of scenes for me was to see  was this:

This temple worker was clearing off the altar into the garbage. Flowers that, only moments before, had been offered up in reverence were now being thrown into the trash. It reminded me of God's words in the Bible, "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings." (Hosea 6:6) More than laying flowers before a statue, more than rituals and lighting candles and incense, more than offerings of money, God desires our heart. He wants us. He wants us to love Him and his people out of an overflow of his love for us.

Bring no more vain offerings;

incense is an abomination to me.

New moon and Sabbath and the calling of convocations—

I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly.

Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hates;

they have become a burden to me;

I am weary of bearing them.

When you spread out your hands,

I will hide my eyes from you;

even though you make many prayers,

I will not listen;

your hands are full of blood.

Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean;

remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes;

cease to do evil, learn to do good;

seek justice, correct oppression;

bring justice to the fatherless,

plead the widow's cause.

Isaiah 1:13-17

So, while my visit to the temple was overwhelming, it was a beautiful reminder of God's grace and love towards me so that I no longer have to make offerings or make up for my sin. I can trust in the blood of Jesus to do that for me.  Praising him.

{a simple prayer}

Lord, as I reflect on this past year and look ahead to what's left, you have put little sprouts in my heart of things that I hope to see happen over the next year. Let these sprouts fully blossom, don't let the dream die. I need you, for:

 apart from you, I can do nothing

It's freeing and, at the same time, I feel like I need to cry out with all my heart and beg and urge you to work. But I know you're not a lazy mule that I have to pull, push, kick, or shove into action. You are my Abba, who gives good gifts. You are the God who sees me. You are the Lord who loves these people and this place more than I ever could! So, as I ask you to work, I know you will, because you asked me to come, called me to be here.
                                                        
                                                     Thank you, Abba.

Obedience one sentence at a time...

The concept showed up to me on a lengthy bus ride recently. As several ladies sat by me throughout the bus ride (PTL, because it is not out of the ordinary that they would be creepy men), I began to pray, "Lord, give me the words." And he did.  One sentence at a time, He guided my words. I thought, if He asks me to be obedient to say what He wants me to say one sentence at a time, I can do that.

I think if I lived that way more often, I would struggle less with being obedient. One step at a time. No need to worry about all the things I should be doing or could be doing when I am listening to the Spirit for each step.

Commit your way to the Lord;
    trust in him, and he will act.

                                       Psalm 37:5

Lord, you do it. I give each step, each moment, each sentence up to you.

The beauty of a mess

At the end of the month I was feeling down.  Praise Him that I had an update to write, to remind me of all the things that happened in May and all the ways God was faithful. Part of my being down related to the fact that I didn't really develop any new relationships this month. It felt like failure. That being said, I tend to recognize lies when I see them and, looking back over the past few weeks, I realize that while I may not have made new friendships, the ones I do have are beginning to reach a depth that only comes with time and investment.  And through the deepening relationships, I am reminded...

                                                                                                   ...real relationships are messy.

But they're worth the mess.

There's the 20 year-old girl, married less than 6 months, who is already experiencing the heartache of divorce. There's the friend whose father is terminally ill and watching him live his last days in suffering. There's the friend who has been waiting with the expectation of pregnancy for the last 2 and a half years and continues to come up with disappointment. There's the young friend who is feeling the loss of her best friend and love, due to cultural rules that cannot be broken.

I weep over these ladies, over their heartaches and difficulties they are facing. What can I even say, what can I possibly offer them?

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." 
2 Corinthians 1:3-5

And oh, how I've experienced that comfort.  I was given assurance through the Holy Spirit that part of my job is to comfort the broken, hurting, seeking people that he has placed in my life. Some of these ladies don't know Jesus and the love and comfort he gives, but they all desperately need him.  And, as I continue in 2 Corinthians, I see that no comfort I give is of myself. God alone gives me sufficiency to minister to these ladies who are broken and hurting.

And at the end of it all, I recognize that a handful of deep, meaningful relationships will likely impact the kingdom far more than a sweeping, surface-level relationship with everyone. I pray that it would be so, that God would make a crown of beauty from the ashes, oil of gladness from the mourning, and joyous praise from their despair.

{my bloody adventure}

Last week we decided to go hiking up a rather gigantic mountain. The view from the top was incredible, which was good because I was able to conclude that the sweaty-out-of-breath-exhaustion was worth it. 

But, before we even got started, we encountered several of these little guys milling around on the road up. They looked as though they may have been a bit hungry, so we fed them little candies that someone had. 

However, a combination of a vehicle coming down the road and one of the guys walking up behind it resulted in the horse giving a not-so-friendly "get out of my way" kick to the leg of said guy. Thankfully he was fine, but the unrest caused us girls to jump up off the road into the brush until the horses continued on with their journey, past us.

The hike then proceeded without problem. Besides breathing and all that.

I did say breathtaking, didn't I?  But the fun doesn't stop there.

As we were reaching the top of the mountain, I realized that my foot was bleeding quite a bit. Thankfully there was water nearby and we had a handy first aid kit, so we doctored it up and headed to the top of this insanely scary spire.

As we made our descent, I realized that my foot was still bleeding and the band-aid wasn't sticking. B and I went to doctor it up once again, this time with tape and gauze. I found it odd that it wasn't hurting, but was thankful, as we still had to hike down the huge mountain.

As B and I waited for the rest of the group, we looked down and noticed that her foot was bleeding too. Except hers was way more bloody. At this point, we began to suspect more than mere "sandals rubbing in the wrong place" and as she pulled her pant leg up, only to reveal another "wound," we realized that we must have been attacked by leeches.

Leeches. 

Gross, I know.  We never actually saw the leeches, but it dawned on us that while we were sparing ourselves from horse kicks, we must have jumped into a lair of leaches. If there is such a thing. Anyways, we must have been giving them so much blood from our hearts pumping up the mountain, that they got too full and fell off before we got to the top.  We bled the whole way home, through gauze and all, but we made it out alive.

Oh, and that's not even the grossest part. [is "grossest" a word??]

 

If you look closely at this picture, on my left foot near my big toe you can see the ugly bloodsucker. I hope this picture is too small and you can't actually see it, but it's there. And I was so unsuspecting.

So there you have it. My bloody adventure.

{eating adventures}

This is an embarrassing story, but not so embarrassing that I won't share.  Circumstances like the following occur more often than you would probably think, and give good insight into what living abroad does to you. Well, living abroad HERE, that is.


You see, what happened was that B did an amazing thing. On her most recent visa run {a trip out of the country, required after an allotted period of time in order to renew your visa and thus be allowed to return to said country} she brought back Krispy Kreme. Yes, the manna from heaven that is a soft and delicious doughnut.

And so, as we went for the box to indulge in our long-lost craving, we opened to find our worst fears realized. The ants had arrived first.

 

We each quickly grabbed a doughnut, hoping that ours was one that had been spared. And, although they were mostly free of ants, we did have to do a bit of picking to make sure. 

And then...

...we went for it. 

And if we happened to get a little extra protein, so be it. I'm sure it's not the first an I've eaten here, nor the last.

Surrendering Praise

It has been almost a month since my dad died.  Two days ago I found out my cousin was being hospitalized and they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her.  I was and am suddenly overwhelmed with fear. Fear that something else will happen to a family member or a friend. Fear of being so far away, so out of control.  Over the past couple of days I have been contemplating my level of surrender to the Lord.  Have I not fully surrendered the possibility of more tragedy? Today, as I was thinking about it all, the song “I Surrender All” came to my head. Wanting to be reminded and encouraged, I began to listen:

All to Jesus I surrender,

All to Him I freely give.

Really? The lyrics echo in my heart as empty words, false words. Can God ask me to give him my mom? My sister? My brother? My niece? How can I be okay with that?

Then, I remembered a different song:

Though you slay me, yet I will praise you

Though you take from me, I will bless your name

Though you ruin me, still I will worship

Sing a song to the one who is all I need.

I was reminded this morning at church as I partook of the Lord’s Supper that Christ’s body was broken for me. His blood was spilled for me. 

Lifted high upon that day

Behold the Lamb that was slain

And I'll know that every tear was worth it all

Telling God that I fully surrender all to him, when my heart tells me a different thing, feels like I am pretending. I know everything is in God's hands, everything happens with His permission, but today, right now, I just can't let go of those I hold most dear in my heart. 

Though tonight I'm crying out

"Let this cup pass from me now" 

You're still more than I need

You're enough for me

You're enough for me

I know that whatever he puts in my path, every pain and heartache, every hurt and affliction, has purpose. As John Piper puts it,

"Every millisecond of your pain from the fallen nature or fallen man, every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that." 

One thing I will always surrender to the Lord is my praise. I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall continually be in my mouth. Even in the midst of difficulties, I know God is with me. Even if, in the future, God does slay me, take from me, ask things of me that I don't think I can handle, I know that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted. I have experienced it firsthand. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all (Psalm 34:1,18,19). 

Even in the times when I find myself too weak to surrender all that I hold dear in life, I know he won't keep me here. In the meantime, I will surrender my praise. 

P.S. You won't regret checking out this song: 

Doing the Dirty Work

Forgiveness.

It's difficult, right? 

For me at least, I have been finding forgiveness to be a struggle.
You see, when I zoom out and see the big picture of life, I can see God at work.  I am able to find time every day to be thankful for His working and interventions.
It's when I zoom in that I struggle to move past the hurts, and sometimes the anger. There are specific memories that I can call to mind for which I am withholding forgiveness.
Can one truly forgive and still feel hurt and anger? I don't know the answer to that question, but I tend towards true forgiveness being a letting go of those feelings.  And as long as I hold onto unforgiveness, those memories are still there, haunting me. That chapter, whatever it may be, is still open, when it simply needs to be firmly shut.

I can think of it this way:
My life is a diverse flower garden.  There is life and beauty there.  But what happens when the weeds spring up? They choke out the life, kill the beauty.  Each memory, each "offense" that I choose not to forgive is like a weed in my garden. It has such power over me, to choke out life, to kill my joy, to prevent new beauty from springing up.

What to do?
It's time to put on some gloves and get down on my knees. I have the hard, dirty work of pulling up each weed, one at a time. That means taking each memory, the hurt, and the anger--examining it for what it is--and discarding it to a place outside of my garden, my life. Once I do that, it no longer has the power over me like it did when it was allowed to choke out my joy.
And it's an exercise I will need to perform regularly in my life, to keep everything growing.
For me specifically, it means handing it all over to Jesus, one by one, and asking him to fill the void, the hole, with something new and beautiful. I choose to forgive. And it means I get to move forward, no holding back, with joy and contentment, to see what else God has for me in this life.

Forgiveness.

It's beautiful, right? 

Falling apart, to be put back together

Lord I come, I confess

Bowing here, I find my rest

Without you, I fall apart

You're the one that guides my heart

                                                                                      (Lord I Need You, Matt Maher)

These lyrics so accurately describe what I was just thinking. I love the way that music has the power to make beautiful my thoughts that can be oh so ugly. When left alone with just my thoughts lately, I have the tendency to be pretty depressing. The enormity of our task, of all that lies ahead of us, weighs heavily on my heart. My own inadequacies and weaknesses seem so overwhelming.  When I forget about God's presence, about God's call to be here, that's when I tend to fall apart. I guess it's that whole taking my eyes off of Jesus in the midst of the storm--I just plain sink. And some days nights, I'll just be honest, I feel as though I'm drowning.  But it's in the LORD that I find my rest. He is the one that guides my heart, and my steps--NOT my emotions. 

"Don't doubt in the dark what he has revealed in the light." 

God is SO so good. His blessings and affirmations are abundant, when I choose to see them. Therefore, I will share just a few stories of ways that God has worked and affirmed me in the past months. 

One day, after praying for opportunities to share while we were out, we met a cute family that were super interested in us strange, white Americans. However, instead of going out of our way to walk with them, I hastily said my goodbyes as I turned to go do some pre-planned errands. Only afterwards did I realize my missed opportunity, and asked our gracious God to give me another shot, even if it took me off course. And answer he DID! A few days later we were on a bus, on our way to head home, and we sat next to two different ladies. We both struck up conversations and they happened to be friends, going together to visit a sick father in the hospital. However, they were so excited about meeting us that they immediately invited us over to their house for tea.  So, I silently thanked the Lord, and we completely changed our course for the day! It was a sweet time of meeting and getting to know a family, sharing a story of Jesus as healer, and praying for them. My plans were completely different, but His plans were infinitely better. 

Our sweet new friend

My second story involves our awesome local dress, pictured below. It's totally adorable, right? And honestly, very comfortable.

 But sometimes I just miss wearing my American clothing. On this particular day, I was expressing my thoughts to Becca, as we were walking to a tourist shop to buy some Christmas gifts. I was asking, "Do you really think it makes a difference, that we dress differently?" I mean, our skin reveals our foreign-ness, we can never hide that, and we will never truly fit in. Right? As we arrived to the store, I set aside my questions, and began to shop. But God didn't forget my questions. 

As I was checking out, the cashier sweetly asked me, "Do you live here?" (As opposed to visiting)  I happily responded that, yes in fact, I do live here. Her response? "I can tell. You look like a [local] girl." 

Go ahead, tell me "coincidence." 

Lastly was our most recent jaw-dropping, God moment. First, we have been praying for where we should live and Second, we have been praying for direction with language, as we've lost one helper to wedding planning and the second is just wholly busy.  We were visiting our *potential* future apartment, just to see what the area was like on a different day, at a different time. As we were walking away, a man in the house next door came out and asked us if we'd like help (apparently, two white girls wandering on a dead end road up a mountain says "lost").

As we explained to him that we were considering renting in the area, he warmly invited us in (in a totally not creepy way) to chat.  He gave us advice, told us about the area, talked about the country in general, and told us about his family. Did I mention he is part of our people group?? The people group that feels elusive in our city sometimes? Not only that, but then he drove us down the mountain (it's quite the trek), showed us his jewelry shop, and introduced us to his assistants. Did I mention that his assistant is "an expert" in Tamil and could even give us lessons?? 

Go ahead, say "coincidence." 

The Apartment! 

God is GOOD, people. He answers us when we call on him. He is gracious and compassionate when we fail. When we doubt him, he doesn't walk away frustrated. He gives us rest and comfort in the midst of the storm. 

Being your bride

I don't understand. 

I don't understand how you could ever want me as your bride, when I have been so unfaithful. It's like I have arrived to the wedding scraped and tattered, my dress, once sparkling white, is now stained with spots, dirty from sin.  My head hangs low, shamefully, the smile that was once so brilliant and eager for my groom has been replaced with quivering lips. A river silently runs down my tear stained cheeks, giving away my unfaithfulness. But, before I can even attempt to explain, to make excuses, to apologize--you, the radiant, spotless groom--you rush down the aisle and take me into your arms, with not even so much as a question on your lips. You sweetly whisper in my ear, "You will call me 'My Husband' and no longer will you call me 'My Baal.' For I will remove the names of the Baals from your mouth, and they will be remembered by name no more...And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord." You gently wipe the tears from my face and exchange the dirty, torn gown for a brand new, spotless white dress. 

I don't understand. 

This is humbling--a picture of grace that baffles the mind. Is this a deserved response? Absolutely not. Is it right that you should accept me, take me in, after I have turned to so many places outside of you? No. 

Yet you do.

This is grace. It's taking what is unclean and making it pure and spotless once again. It's redeeming love, restorative, selfless. When you look at me, you don't see my past, my mistakes, my failures. You see your beloved, your bride, that has been washed by the blood of Jesus--holy and consecrated--before you. While I was still sinning, you chose me. Knowing I would sin again and again, you chose me. Knowing that I will continue to sin, you choose me. 

Your love, your forgiveness, your grace, is truly incomprehensible to me. But, in faith, I accept it. In faith I say "yes" to being your bride. 

Identity Crisis

By no means do I want my first blog post in my new country to be negative, so I'll start out with something positive:

I love it here. The people are friendly, life is slower paced, it's warm and tropical, and we have had no major issues thus far. We are learning how to use several buses, negotiate an auto, and bargain at the market. We have been loving our homestay, spending time with our family, learning from them and teaching them some about our culture too.

So here's the problem.

I'm learning that I hate being stared at. The first few days, no problem. But after the 3rd week, it's already getting old. I get it. It's weird to see a white person, period. Weirder still to see a white person that dresses different than most and attempts to speak a clearly foreign language. But I'm insecure enough as it is, without being laughed at when I attempt to order at a new restaurant or eat with my hand, or stared at when I get on a bus, or whispered about when I walk down the street. Most times whispering is too subtle even, and it's not even a secret that they're talking about me in a language I don't understand.

Maybe as I gain confidence in living here and doing every day tasks, the staring, laughing, talking will bother me less. But I will never "blend in" or be mistaken for a national, and that's just something that I will have to get used to.

Lord help me have my identity totally rooted in you, and who you have made me to be, rather than what others think of me. May you use me being an oddity to get your name spread further and wider and deeper within this country. 

"Same same, but different"

After only being in India for 10 days, this is a phrase that I've heard several different times. People are very open to talking about spiritual matters here and, as we've explored different places of worship and talked to all types of followers of religion, I have to agree. 

All religions are the same. 

They all have the same idea about God and man. God is holy, above us, separate from us. Man is sinful, we do bad things, have bad thoughts, and we are below God. The Hindus, the Muslims, the Siks that I've met, they all agree (separately) that, in order to reach God, we have to do good things, be good people, and outweigh our bad with good. Even a woman I met who doesn't believe in any god believes that we just have to be good people and then our karma will lift us up and good things will result. Bad things happen to bad people (whatever your personal standard may be) and good things happen to good people (again, whatever your personal standard may be). The sad truth is, even many Christians believe that this is the way to eternal life. Yes, all religion and non-religion believe the same thing. 

BUT (c'mon guys, of course there's a but!)

Jesus is different.

He agrees that, yes, God is holy, above us, separate from us. Man is sinful (Rom. 3:23), we do bad things, have bad thoughts, and we must be punished for that (Rom. 6:23). This is where His truth veers from all the beliefs of every other religion and non-religion: Absolutely nothing (NOTHING) we do can allow us to reach God. We are forever separated from Him by our sin, no matter how big or how small (ie: murder or a white lie). 

What to do? Someone has to pay our penalty, someone has to be punished. In every temple and mosque I have visited, the people are frantically scrambling to do all they can to not have to pay that penalty (prayers, offerings of food, money, gifts, good deeds). It breaks my heart to see the futility of their works. 

Jesus is different. While we were still sinners, he came to earth in humility, as a man, and died for us (FOR US!). He took on the penalty, he paid the price, so we don't have to (Rom 5:8). We are free from obligation to do all of those "good works," and we do them instead out of a response for what God has done in us. 

Making offerings at the Hindu temple

Offerings at the Muslim mosque

Temple for Sikhs

I'll just close with a verse from my beloved book of truth:

Romans 10:9-10, and 13 
If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by confessing with your mouth that you are saved ... For “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

All religions are the same, but Jesus is different. 

A Little Reminder.

As I sit here tonight, I ponder the emotions I've felt over the past couple of weeks. Surprisingly, I have felt peaceful, calm (minus the stress of packing), and relatively without sadness.  

I say that tonight, as tears run silently down my cheeks, as my heart aches for the people I will be missing. For the hugs I will miss, the laughter, the moments. 

And then I remember what I wrote in my journal this morning. I think to myself that what I wrote this morning wasn't for me this morning. It was for me tonight. In the sadness, in the wondering, in the questions. Let me share. 

"Reading through the beginning of Exodus this morning, I am reminded of so much. It's so easy to criticize Moses, to be frustrated with his worries, his objections, and protests. "But Moses..." is underlined in my Bible frequently in those beginning chapters. "I never want to be like that!" I think to myself. 
And then I look at the objections Moses raised:

"Who am I that I should go...?" 

"But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice"

"Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent...but I am slow of speech and tongue"

"Oh, my Lord, please send someone else"

"Why did you ever send me?"

"Behold the people...have not listened to me. How then shall Pharaoh listen to me, for I am of uncircumcised lips?"

"Behold I am of uncircumcised lips. How will [he] listen to me?" (repeated just in case God didn't get it the first time?)

Haven't I felt that way? "God, who am I? Why me? Why would they listen to my testimony or message? I am not bold enough, I get so fearful. I am a foreigner, of another culture, why should they listen to me?"
And it seems like after going out and trying to do what God asked of Moses, things got worse! So he begins to question his call. "Why did you even send me?? See, what you said to do? It didn't work! I told you  I wasn't right for the job!" 

But God is so good and so patient. He tells Moses over and over who He is and what He will do, reminding him:

"I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob..."
     ...I will send you...
     ...I will be with you...

"I am who I am..."
     ...I will bring you up out of the affliction...
     ...I will stretch out my hand...
     ...I will give this people favor...
     ...I will be with your mouth...

"I am the Lord..."
     ...I will bring you out...
     ...I will deliver you...
     ...I will take you to be my people...
     ...I will be your God...

"I am the Lord..." 
     ...I will bring you to the land...
     ...I will give it to you...

And ON and ON...

He faithfully reminds Moses in the midst of his doubting and questioning that, just because he's choosing to use Moses, it isn't Moses doing the work. It's God who is speaking, God who is delivering, God who is working on hearts.

May the Lord's anger never be kindled against me for believing that pitiful me could ever mess up God's plan. HE is my warrior, HE fights my battles, HE gets the glory. It was God's plan to use me and even as pitiful as I may be, HE chose me! 

And so I am reminded tonight. God is so faithful. So gracious. He leads me. He guides me. He has called me. And I remember that I am not making a sacrifice but that, in my obedience, God is glorified. And that's all that matters. 

Transitioning Through Transition

Unpacking and re-packing may literally drive me crazy.

I want to make sure I have what I need and some things I want, but that's an interesting endeavor when I've never been to this part of the world before!

2 years in 2 suitcases with weight limits + carry on + backpack = stressful.

The good thing? I will survive without anything I forget. Nothing is life or death. Well, except my new french press, which I might very well die without. But I had better include coffee on that list too, to make it count.

I've heard all of the following about our region, which varies greatly by the country/city:
It's beautiful
It's a difficult place to live
The people are friendly
It's a dark place
It's smelly
It's not so smelly
It's overwhelming
Daily tasks take longer
I love it
I hate it
There are SO many people
We have a small-town feel

All this to say, I am eager to get to my country, my city, to finally experience what life is all about instead of simply hearing 2nd hand what people have to say about it. Although I have appreciated the information, I'm just not sure which actually applies to me.

7 days to go!

The Lord is my Warrior

Something dawned on me last night as I was reflecting on the day's message.

But, before getting to that, I have to share from our time learning about spiritual warfare. Our teacher summed up his message in one sentence:

"God leads us into impossible battles so the nations may hear of his glory."

When God is dealing with his people in the Bible, he often gives them instructions like he did in Exodus 14:13, "Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord..." He gave similar instructions to another people when they were up against 3 armies, saying "You will not need to fight in this battle. Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf" (2 Chron. 20:15). Can you imagine? Being defenseless, with an army (or three) bearing down on you, wondering "Why has the Lord brought me to this place? How can I survive?"  Only to have him answer, "Don't worry, just stand there, I've got this!" Seems a little crazy.

But that's exactly what he does say. Stand firm. Don't move. See my salvation. He is telling his people that HE is in control, that he wants to work on their behalf, that they shouldn't fear the outcome. He clarifies for Jehoshaphat and his men:

 

Do not be afraid and do not

be dismayed at the great horde,

for the battle is not yours but God's.

                                  2 Chronicles 20:15



But Lord, how can you tell me not to worry? The truth is: The Lord is a man of war (Exodus 15:3). He is our warrior, and he fights for us in a battle that has already been won!

 

All of this lesson we learned today really served to clarify the passage of Scripture that says:

 

Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!

                         Psalm 46:10

 

Sound familiar? ("God leads us into impossible battles so the nations may hear of his glory.")

 

I am learning that, in the midst of conflict, in the midst of a battle, when the situation seems impossible, when I don't know what to do, God calls me to "Be still," literally. Do nothing to save myself or redeem the situation. Don't rely on my own plans. Be still. Stand firm, don't be afraid, know that HE has the power, HE is in control, and watch him work. When I do that, when I trust God in a totally "impossible" situation, who gets the credit? HE does! People from all over the world will begin to see his glory and power, just as I do! 

 

I am entering a time in my life when this is completely relevant. I am completely inadequate. I don't know enough, don't know the right words to say. There are days when I will be overwhelmed with lostness, days in which the task will seem impossible. BUT, instead of praying for strength, I have learned to pray for weakness. For stillness. For God says "My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9).

 

The Lord is my warrior. In Him alone will I trust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 







Reflections from an airplane

"Are you headed home?"

 

 

I think this question sums up the essence of my life. When the lady seated next to me on the airplane asked me this question, my first response was "well, I'm kind of between homes right now." And then I began to think about it more and more, realizing the truth in my answer. I have had many homes over the years: Michigan, Argentina, Texas, and my soon-to-be new home! It is making me remember that I truly am a sojourner and earth is not my home.

 

Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me when I have a hard time picturing myself settling down with the same job, same house, same church for a lifetime. But then I am reminded that God has fashioned me like this for a purpose. He delights in my unique desires and guides my steps accordingly.

 

For we know that if the tent that

is our earthly home is destroyed,

we have a building from God,

a house not made with hands,

eternal in the heavens.

For in this tent we groan, longing

to be put in our heavenly dwelling.

                       2 Corinthians 5:1,2

 

 

And, although it is difficult to say goodbye to one home for now, I am comforted by God's promise to provide a "hundredfold, now in this time...and in the age to come, eternal life" (Mark 10:30). I want to be able to respond to Jesus like Peter, who said "see, we have left everything and followed you" (Mark 10:28), rather than the man who had to walk away from Jesus, filled with sorrow, for he had too much stuff that he was unwilling to let go of. Following Jesus is so much sweeter than holding onto things and relationships that will never ultimately satisfy.

 

Paul himself even counts all of his accomplishments "as loss for the sake of Christ" (Phil 3:7).  And he accomplished a lot!  He continues:

 

Indeed I count everything as loss because

of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ

Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered

the loss of all things and count them as

 rubbish in order that I may gain Christ

and be found in him.

                                    Philippians 3:8

 

So, for now, I am laying aside my career, salary, and Spanish to learn a new job, in a new culture, with a new language. And when I start to get scared, I try to remind myself that "...our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ..." (Phil 3:20), and that my goal is not to make for myself a comfortable, easy life here on earth. My goal is to bring glory to God, whatever the means!

 

 

I am headed home. 





[Annual] Review

Because I don't write often enough, here comes another grand review of my life. (Sorry, I will work on changing that, especially in this next season).

God has done amazing things in this past year. Added to that, this has been, without a doubt, the most difficult year for me in Texas so far. For many reasons. However, it is through the difficult times that I have been the most refined. I have learned so much about myself, my sin, and the amazing grace of God.

I think sometime in the past I realized that I was not truly broken over my sin. I really had this view of myself that "I'm really not that bad." I asked God to show me what needed to change and how I needed to become more like Him. I am here to tell you that God is completely faithful and answered me with a vengeance. I may not murder, but I can get oh-so angry. I may not engage in sexual immorality, but I lust. I may typically be a pretty nice person, but I am more selfish than anyone realizes. But thanks be to God for forgiving me and being my advocate! I do not have to live under condemnation and I have hope that He is ever working in and through me.

In other life news, I have now almost completed 1 year of working my first big girl job. I am officially a licensed, certified Speech-Language Pathologist. After 7 years, it's quite an accomplishment. Although, I must say that the end was quite anticlimactic. Being "done" is not really being "done" with anything in this profession. The mountain of things I have yet to learn feels as though it may never be conquered.

My job has been a huge blessing throughout this year and I have loved the very relational side of what I do, going into people's homes and really almost becoming part of their families. It has also been extremely challenging. Some days I feel as though I am still in grad school, doing paperwork, planning, and being consumed with work. I have felt super inadequate more times than I can count in the past year for the job that I am doing. I honestly don't think that I would have survived without the help of my amazing supervisor, Sally.

We have also been living at the Fountains for a year now and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else here. It is actually difficult to believe that it has already been a year. Besides literally having the "nations" in my back yard, my favorite part of living here has been being neighbors to Kevin and Lauren. I love living in such close community and it makes me so sad to think about the next season of my life without them just a parking lot away.

I have said this to anyone who will listen, but it is worth repeating. I have been absolutely blessed by my community and church family here in Fort Worth. Our Wedgwood College & Young Adults group has been an amazing part of my life here in these past (almost) 3 years. Anyone who has come to visit me can see immediately what I mean by this. It is not something that can be put into words easily, but something to be experienced.

And now, with only 3 weeks left in Texas, this chapter of my life is coming to a close. It's exciting and heart-breaking, all at the same time.

Stay tuned for an update about the big changes coming my way!!

Glory to God.

God Has His Own Plan...

I am writing this having recently turned 24 years old. I have to say, I never did anticipate my life looking like this at age 24. It's beautiful and messy all at the same time and it truly is a blessing that God is in control and not me, because I would've done things so differently and probably not in my best interest at all! Here I am, having finished my Master's degree at TCU, staying in Fort Worth, Texas! Who would've thought? (Definitely not me!) 

I am still single. Yes, 24 is still young and I am realizing that more and more, but as a girl I always imagined being married by now. At this point, I honestly can't imagine it, although there's no doubt that I crave a relationship more times than not. I am a woman who desires a Godly husband (someday), one with whom I can grow and laugh. I desire a partner in ministry who I can encourage and be encouraged by, bounce ideas off of, and learn from. I never want to compromise on that--a man who will step up and take a chance in pursuing me. 

But God has His own plan, which is far greater than mine. Of that I am sure. I have been broken-hearted in these 24 years. One instance was by a good Christian man who was completely honest with me in saying "something was missing." I never worked up the courage or the want-to to ask about the "something." But I trust that God was just protecting my heart in the long run. 

All that to say, I am still plagued with the girlish insecurities of many girls and women. It takes a real effort to squash the thought of "I'm not pretty enough for him" and, I admit, sometimes I fail. My dad told me that I am too intimidating and, in fact, once questioned my interest in men. Even from a father who is no father at all, that hurt. And obviously it stays with me. It's remembering that real beauty comes from  the inner self that serves to comfort me.  And also knowing that the man I seek will also believe that.

My heart has also changed dramatically in the past couple of years in ways I never would've imagined. My desire to be involved in ministry overseas has only grown, but prior to moving to TX I could only see myself in Spanish-speaking countries and, in fact, it's all I really wanted. Nothing else called to me or tugged on my heart strings. Until Durga. And Yedhu. And Akash and Ashmita. Until I became involved in the world only a few minutes from home. The world that IS my home now. 

You see, a year ago we started a refugee ministry with the college group that has served to minister more to my heart than any other. We came to love on children and families from Nepal, Burma, Sudan, and Iraq who participate in religions that I frankly never cared to learn about. Now I am considering the Journeymen program possibly in Nepal or India. 

God has his own plan, he owns my heart and is free to come in and change and tweak it as He chooses. 

I am also soon to start work in the "real world" as a Speech-Language Pathologist. I wasn't sure this time would actually come! 6 years of college are done and over--no going back. I am no longer a college student, but a professional with a salary. My heart is fighting it and, in this moment, I kind of hate it. Not the job or the children I will be serving, but the circumstances. I don't know, I haven't quite sorted out all of my emotions. Transitioning out of school, becoming a new professional, not knowing enough, not having enough time, being insecure in my skills...it all plays a part. At this point I'm not sure if speech therapy will play a permanent role in my life or not. 

God has his own plan and He is free to change my path at any moment. He knows my passions and desires better than I know them myself and He will plan accordingly. 

So, as I celebrate 24 years of life and growth and trial and blessing, I more importantly celebrate the God who is in control of it all. He has his own plan and for that I am forever grateful.