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!