San Francisco: Check!

View from YWAM SF doorstep

I was excited when informed Mission Adventures staff would spend a week in San Francisco working at their YWAM base. There was much talk about going to the Tenderloin. In my naive Iowa mind, I was confused. What is so good about this Tenderloin joint? I thought we were going for mission work. Yes, Goldie's in Monroe is a big deal with their tenderloins and milkshakes, but to only talk about tenderloins was a little strange to me. Finally, someone explained to me, no, the Tenderloin is an area of San Fran, not a sandwich joint, in fact, they do not even have tenderloins on the West Coast. 

Best hot chocolate evangelism crew in the Tenderloin

The Tenderloin is infamous for their high-crime rates, illicit drug sale and use on the streets, prostitution and homelessness, not their sandwiches. I found myself living a week right in the middle of it. The building we stayed in was once used to shoot porn videos and as a gay club. 

We did many outreaches to the homeless, easy with them literally sleeping on our doorstep. One afternoon we made two sack lunches, one for our self and the other for a homeless person who we would share a meal and conversation with. We served a few meals at a shelter across the street from YWAM SF; one meal I put silverware inside of cups for 500 people, the other meal I scraped plates, tedious and unattractive jobs. We did prayer outreaches, hot chocolate evangelism and hosted a meal in which we brought people in off the streets, sat them at a table inside the base and served them.

Of all the things I learned in school and church about poverty, missions and life, they forgot a few things. They forgot to teach how to love the woman who offers to share her needles with you as you try to share the Gospel with her. They forgot to teach how to respect the transvestite making derogatory comments about your body. They forgot to tell me what to do about the youth safer on the streets than in their homes and how to pray for the man preparing his crack in front of you.They forgot to tell me how alone, desperate and forlorn I could feel on the mission field.

One of the days we were "homeless". We slept on the cold, basement floor of our building, then from 6 am till 4 pm we were on the streets. We had to survive a day searching for public restrooms and eating at shelters. My pride was rocked when we ate breakfast at a homeless shelter. The food was tasteless, I was served by a cheerful volunteer and I identified as homeless. It was pretty obvious the group I was with was not homeless, but I felt different. I struggled to make eye contact with the volunteers. I felt a little less purposeful, worthy, and human. 

The day after our "homeless" experience, the sky was gloomy and overcast. In an already spiritually dark neighborhood, the dirtiness of buildings, people and streets became all the more apparent in the sunless sky. I struggled to find hope. 

Homeless shelter across the street from base

Through all the missions I have been on, not one of them emotionally shook me like this one. The openness of drugs, alcohol, sex and poverty rocked me. The mangled, drug ridden bodies lay lifeless on the sidewalk. There was not much I could do for them, I could not save their life. After each encounter with a person on the street, I walked away a little heavier, a little more hopeless, a little more angry. I did not know what to do. 

The song, Nothing I Hold Onto by Will Reagan, based off Proverbs 3:5, became the theme song for the week. The lyrics say: I lean not on my own understanding, my life is in the hands of the Maker of Heaven; I give it all to you God, trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me.

What I see I can only understand to an extent, I can only trust. I can only have faith, being confident in what I hope for and put my assurance in Him whom I cannot see (Hebrews 11:1). 

On the nine hour car ride, God, being the good good Father that He is, met me where I was. He is never intimidated by our emotions or angry with our thoughts, He will never abandon us. I learned there is a mercy only the streets and the Spirit can teach us. Yes, there is darkness. No, I cannot save every person. No, I cannot end human suffering. No, I cannot make people choose a better life path. No, it will not always be easy, fun and glamorous. But I can obey God in the moment. Out of obedience I can bring Him glory. I can choose to surrender and worship. In recognizing Him I will find hope. Just as the YWAM San Francisco building was once used for desires of the flesh, it has now been redeemed for Him. Out of obedience and prayer, miracles happen. 

In all of His faithfulness, He reveled His majesty most in the sunset as we drove across the desert back home to Vegas. The clouds glowed purple, pink and blue over the mountains flushed in reds and browns, all screaming of His greatness. He is the Maker of Heaven and Earth. He has the name of every prostitute, drug dealer, pimp, business man, barista, student and unborn child tattooed onto the palm of His hand. That, is love.

I will extol the LORD at all times; his praise will always be on my lips.

Psalm 34:1

The Wonder

One of my college professors gave me the book One Word That Will Change Your Life by Jon Gordon, Dan Britton and Jimmy Page. The basis of the book is to choose a word to provide simplicity and implement self-discipline into one's life. They encourage the word to be chosen in accordance to the new year, new season of life or the like, then formulate an action plan to instill the word into the six dimensions of life: mental, physical, emotional, relational, spiritual and financial. The day before I left for Vegas I asked God for a word, He provided the word WONDER.

And Grace calls outs: you are not just a disillusioned old man who may die soon, a middle-aged woman stuck in a job and desperately wanting out, a young person feeling the fire in the belly begin to grow cold. You may be insecure, inadequate, mistaken, or potbellied. Death, panic, depression, and disillusionment may be near you. But you are not just that. You are accepted. Never confuse your perception of yourself with the mystery that you really are accepted. -Brennan Manning

The wonder of gracious acceptance has been prevalent the past week. Last week, in the mornings I helped with VBS hosted by Grace City, a local church YWAM is heavily involved with. I was with the 4s and 5s, a young enough age they do not really want to leave their parents, but old enough they loosen up quickly. There was one boy in particular, Ryan, he was not too lenient of his mom leaving. During VBS, I was the one to replace his mom. He held my hand through everything, including dance time. He sat on my lap during snacks, crafts and lessons. He accepted me. 

Much like the days working at Victory Bible Camps, VBS was a place where being calm, collective and mature was not something the kids desired in a leader. Working with kids, they want crazy, frazzled and real. We worked with a generation hungry for authenticity and vulnerability. Television, billboards and music have all been tempered, edited and altered. When kids are acting out, feel "too much" and do not preform to set standards in all aspects of life, we medicate them back to "normal". When the feelings of death, panic, depression and disillusionment begin to flood a person, we label them, outcast them and walk circles around them. 

These kids are just learning to express themselves. One boy always had to go to the bathroom during lesson time. When asked if he could hold it, he would loudly exclaim, "I am going to start peeing my pants right now!" This boy is learning to express himself. The unfiltered speech of kids is a reminder of the beauty in feeling. 

When I was in college I attended a class called Children With Exceptionalities, a education class. The ideal tactic is to ask the student what they are thinking, why they are feeling a certain way and what is going on with them. A teacher is to listen to his/her student, then proceed with how to reinforce the rules. Within this tactic, the teacher is recognizing each student has unique and individual personalities, there is no set rule to discipline or a solid "go-to" for correction.

Grace works the same way. Abba reveals His grace to His child according to their unique design. 

In our neighborhood there are a plethora of homeless and prostitutes. To mask the hurting, to make myself feel better, I will hand out water. I will look them in the eye, smile, give them some water and walk away, telling myself I am doing the best I can, I am doing all I can do. I go back into the air conditioned base, not knowing what it is to share a concrete sleeping space with strangers, cockroaches and trash. And when the emotion flares up inside me, when the desire to do something more burns within, I sooth the fire, telling myself they chose this, they did it to themselves, they can do something about it, it is their own fault. I sympathize, allowing myself to feel for a short while, then stop, sinking back into ignorance.

The wonder of Abba overcomes this slobbering mess of a life. In His love there is no sympathy, no empathy, no simple acknowledgment of the suffering. The wonder of Abba is the way He sits on the burning concrete next to me, the wonder of grace is the way Abba pulls us to Him, allowing us to rest in His lap. He chooses us in our bedraggled, beat-up, burnt out life. He asks us what we are thinking, how we are feeling, and what we are going through. 

And suddenly, what St. John of the Cross called the dark night of the soul, does not seem so scary any more. Suddenly, the wonder of Abba makes us unafraid to feel. The wonder of Abba makes it okay for me to be misunderstood because He was first misunderstood, it makes it okay to cry because He is weeping alongside me, it is okay feel because He feels so immeasurably more. The wonder of Abba allows me to recognize I am insecure, inadequate, mistaken and potbellied, and I am accepted.

For ragamuffins, God's name is Mercy. We see our darkness as a prized possession because it drives us into the heart of God. Without mercy our darkness would plunge us into despair - and for some, self-destruction. We are so poor that even our poverty is not our own: It belongs to the mysterium tremendum of a loving God. In prayer we drink the dregs of this poverty. In a sudden and luminous moment we realize that we are being accosted by Mercy and embraced even before we lay hold of ourselves. - Brennan Manning

To the Ragamuffins Alike

The church is not a Sunday morning, Wednesday evening event. The church is community. It is what gathers on Monday mornings for prayer and Thursday evening for fellowship dinners. It is what meets in coffee shops, street corners and living rooms. The church is what goes out of their way to reach others. The church does not have an agenda, but they have a Guide. The church may have a building to gather in, but the church is mobile, traveling by foot, trains, bicycles and backs of donkeys. 

The church is full of Samuels, dedicated from birth to the building of the Kingdom. There are the Sauls to Pauls, the tax collectors willing to drop everything to follow, the Priscillas and Aquilas always having opened doors, the Tabithas of a town where others cannot imagine life without her. The church is the people.

I arrived in Vegas six days ago ecstatic to be home. Sunday evening I attended the church I attended during my DTS this past fall. Grace City, the church, is filled with the ragamuffins of Vegas. It is a place of freedom, a small room filled with life. I was touched during greeting time, as in physically touched; forget the informal handshakes and table talk, these people hug you, and I mean the real deal Grandma style hugs that are deep, full and intimate. Strangers who desire to bridge the gap into family. 

It was in worship I was reminded again of what worship is. I was in awe of the freedom to jump and dance again, to clap and sing loudly again, unashamed with the fact I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. There were those speaking in tongues, some with their eyes open, some with their eyes closed. Some were sitting, some still talking with others and some were on their knees. Freedom. It is for freedom Christ came, lived, died, and lives again. Freedom.

Monday morning I attended a prayer group with Grace City church. The church currently has 10 interns living at the YWAM Las Vegas base for the summer and a team of seven from Indiana who were here for the week, also living at the YWAM base. There was a room full of people on a Monday morning gathered to lift their voices and intercede on behalf of strangers. We were praising God for things He had done this week, including salvation from a block party this past Saturday and salvation in church Sunday evening. We were praising God for healing and encouraging encounters with strangers. We were praying for current events in the new, such as ISIS. Then we prayed for those we want to give up on, throw the towel in on and deem them unchangeable, starting with those in our families. We, as a body of brothers and sisters, gathered around those who had siblings in need of prayer, and then around those who needed prayer for parents or spouses. 

There was freedom to be broken and vulnerable. There was no place for judgement, pride and condemnation because the space was imbued with the presence of God. In the presence of God there is only room for love, grace and redemption.

One of my favorite authors, Shane Claiborne, said in his book Irresistible Revolution, “And I think that's what our world is desperately in need of - lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow stragglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about.” 

Through the past six days I have been reminded of what it is to be a straggler in need of prayer, and to be the straggler being crumbled under the immense grace of God in a room full of fellow stragglers. To the ragamuffins, the stragglers, the mess-ups and the outcasts, we are the church, we are the body, unified under the cross, celebrating in the freedom of the resurrection.

Daring Life

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.~ James Kavanaugh

This is an excerpt from the book "There are Men Too Gentle To Live Among Wolves", an excerpt sent to me by a friend. These two sentences encapsulate my emotion well.

I said good by to many this week who are "daring to ask of life everything good and beautiful". These are the people who have strengthened me, challenged me and walked through life with me since my return in January. They are people who were willing to wake early to catch the sunrise, willing to go on crazy adventures through the woods, and willing to be vulnerable as we share our hearts.  These gentle people are the ones who feel, they are not naive of the world's trembling hands. The gentle ones listen to words, yet hear the heart behind each syllable.

This morning was spent with a dear friend of mine I met two years ago while at Victory Bible Camp in Sutton, Alaska. We made our way through Estes Park, for me the first time being in Colorado and the Rocky Mountains. The mountains were still wearing their glistening snow crowns. We climbed an area of the park to Alberta Falls. This climb included sliding down snow laden trails, leaping from boulder to boulder bare foot, and stringing up my hammock by the roaring falls. I was able to reflect upon an incredible gift God has given me called life.

The past few weeks have not been easy. Some places I have avoided, others I could easily have been mistaken for living there. I have rushed, drifted, and worried the days away until I left for a short vacation before reaching YWAM Las Vegas for the summer. I have had many good-byes; the hardest ones reminding me I found something good.

All of it is reminding me how mundane I often created life to be. The precious moments are lost. The
pure love of a two year old holding out a dandelion is overshadowed by the bug ridden weed shoved in your face. I suppose even if Jesus had a car He would still walk, taking in every strange person, site, smell, taste and feel. He knew how to look at the person before Him, not simply the body before Him. Jesus dared the times to be different. He spoke to the outcasts and diseased. He dared physics and walked on water. He dared math and fed thousands with two fish and five loaves. He dared life to be something greater than mundane.

Unfortunately, unlike Jesus I cannot make some grand commission, remind my disciples of who I am and elevate into the sky. I can only give my finale lectures to the kids ("Make good choices!" "Wear sunscreen!" "Drink lots of water and eat fruit!"), remind my family of who they are to me and fly off into the sky.

I may find myself wondering, dreaming, loving and lonely, but I will choose to seek out of God a life dripping of freedom. Then the day will come, when He decides I have lived among the wolves for too long. He will take me home to the place I have wondered and dreamed about, a place my soul yearns for. Until I am taken, I will choose to surround myself with those who also dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful.

Current location: Scottsbluff, Nebraska. Departing: June 3 for Las Vegas, Nevada.

All That I Know

I know I love them and will miss them like crazy!!

The most common phrase I have used in the past year is: I don't know.

At first it was used and it did not bother me to much. Why Vegas? Why YWAM? Are you coming back to college? Why now and not later?

Then it started to freak me out a little. How are you paying for this? Where is the money coming from? How much luggage can you bring? Who is picking you up from the airport? What is living conditions? Who are these people? What do these people do? What will you be learning? What will you be doing? What is the security of your location like?

Then it became funny to me. How did so many people fit into the cars? Where did the money come from? What did you eat? How did you meet that person? How did you survive the Himalayan hike? How did just you get worms? What are you doing next?

Now it is just a common phrase to me. The more I say, "I don't know," the more I realize it can only be described in one word: God.

I am moving to Homer, Alaska in August after spending the summer working with YWAM Las Vegas. I do not know what I will be doing in Homer, for how long, or what living conditions are like. I do not know who is picking me up from the airport, what weather is like or how to out smart a bear. I do not know how much sunlight there will be in the winter, what I will be wearing or what community projects will look like. I do not know.

I know I will be missing my office... I mean Smokey Row

But this is what I do know. June 2-August 6, I will be serving God in Vegas. August 16 I will be
moving to Alaska for a minimum of a year commitment with YWAM Homer. I will be in a new place, a new culture, living with new strangers and serving a new community. I will be living financially by faith, missing the high school youth group at Federated and will be separated from my family for a year. I will miss another Thanksgiving, another Christmas, another New Year. This time I will miss all of my families' Birthdays, Easter and my brothers college graduation.

I will be training others to be missionaries, just like those who have trained me. I will be pouring into others the way I have been poured into. I have a creator who breathed life into me and a history of people who have fueled my fire for God. I live to serve just as my Servant Savior lived.

I know I am going to Homer, Alaska in obedience to Him who has called and laid the path before me, I know I will not pass on the chance to live in His will. All those other details, I'm sure He knows them all. Or at least I am hoping, because I sure do not know!!

I am asking for two things: prayer and financial support. American missionary Samuel Zwemer said, "The history of missions is the history of answered prayer." Please be in prayer as I prepare to go awake our brothers and sisters and bring them back to the table. I cannot do this without your prayer support. Also financial support, as my work with Homer does not come with a salary. Please prayerfully consider financially supporting me to obey God's call on my life in going.

He has offered me life. I accepted and lived it to the fullest.

MA Spring Break: Check!

My spectacular small group for the week!

The return flight from Vegas to Iowa was a lovely two and a half hour nap for me, I cannot speak for the hung over frat boys around me who spring breaked a little to hard however. And we begin re-entry, though it was not as difficult this time as compared to five months away from home with two of those months being in third world countries, there is still an initial shock when reflecting upon the week.

Thursday evening we had a commitment service for the group. The idea was to have a time of Holy Spirit led worship allowing the students a time to talk with God in reflection over the week and to decided where He should lead them next. After the night of worship, each of the 13 students could say they had heard the voice of God and had felt the Holy Spirit sometime during the week. It was beautiful, not simply because each of them were speaking with God, but they were also speaking with each other, student-to-student, the time became real. It is easy to rely on leaders, us crazy YWAM staff, their Bible teacher or the like, but to have built the community among their peers is different. In speaking to each other, they were soon encouraging each other, speaking the heart of the Father to each other, and reaffirming each others original design.

There were so many group photos taken this past week, yet
we were never able to get one of everybody looking at the
camera...

One of the convicting moments of the week was Friday morning when we gathered to go over highs and lows of the week. One of the boys said how amazing the week was, however he did not want to see the group clique up, rather reach others and hold each other accountable. It is so easy to be cliquey when others have not gone through the same experiences, I know because I have secluded myself on the basis of no one understanding, when in reality I did not allow them to understand.

This young man, a high school sophomore, was very wise. The community of Christ can only be built when we expand beyond our own walls. Jesus was not one to stay in the same town, nor did He tell His disciples to be stationary. Abraham, sometimes considered the first missionary, was commanded to go into the land God would show him once he began walking in blind obedience. Leviticus repeatedly says to take care of the aliens in the land for you, Israel, were once aliens. Our Ever Present Guide has marked the path before us, and it requires us to walks.

Even though the city lights shine bright for miles, we will
be the shining city on a hill.

Another comment that touched my heart was a late night conversation I was having with one of the DTS girls in the bathroom. This girl was telling me about another girl, with tears in her eyes she said, "She's my best friend." It caught me off guard, there was no reason to be all teary eyed about it. Then I realized the great love in her words. This was the kind of love that would die for each other, sacrificially giving up the last Dove chocolate and forgiving any grievance.

This is the community of Christ. To awaken the nations we are to find our best friend, go in twos with the Royal Priesthood supporting us and bring the children back to the table. Like the young man reminded our group, community is vital, however community can become an exclusive idol when we tell others they do not understand and turn our backs.

My gorgeous roommates!

The week was filled with 24 DTS girls who ate mass quantities of ice-cream and were excellent at sharing with me. These girls welcomed me into their week with arms wide, allowing me into their lives as I allowed them into mine. I shared a room with my old DTS roommates, only this time our room was not nearly as orderly as before, pretty much that was all my fault. 13 high schoolers and and their 3 leaders encouraged me with their faith. They had such a willingness to pray for strangers, pick up trash, wash dishes and live with so many girls (or at least I did not hear them complain...). MA partook in different evangelism tactics I did last fall, correctly stated, that I did with much disdain and not a positive attitude, yet this group climb the mountain with their arms wide open so to speak. The joy of the Living One inside of them shone brightly in our dark city. Their desire to ravish the nations with the love of our Abba was a reflection of the love of our Abba that so ravished their hearts.

Now it is back to bribing two year old to wear pants and having princess tea parties. Back to fresh fruit, my cats being my alarm clocks and long runs alone. This does not mean it is time to settle, no, there is no time to settle. Shortly now: go!

Vegas: MA Style

My welcoming package!

I arrived 5 days ago in Vegas to work with Mission Adventures. While it is different (being staff, other people living in my old room, sharing the place with 24 other girls), it was a rather natural feeling. I suppose it helps when within 5 minutes of being on base I was whisked away for Starbucks.

The past five days have been wonderful. I have bonded with the DTS girls during a hike Saturday afternoon, laughing over scars from raccoon bites, and worshiping with hearts surrender to our Abba. The MA group consists of 13 high school students from a Christian school in Oregon, two moms chaperons and the student's Bible teacher. With MA we have had lectures on evangelism, Free Prayer on Fremont street, washed dishes and played basketball together. One of the moms and I have gone on morning runs together; we have had heart felt conversations on life, raising children, youth and the church, and bared our testimonies before each other. She does no more than seven miles a day, she sacrificed for me and I upped my game for her. We have joyfully connected as well as shared groans over being tired and still having to "do stuff".

Free Prayer. Two girls praying for strangers!

Monday morning we had MA small group time after breakfast. My two girls show up, obviously tired, and with no idea where the two boys are. We began by reading James 2:17, neither girl is interested in digging deeper. Frustrated, I give up. "Okay, let's just go to the park," I say. We take a Frisbee, and shortly the boys join us at the park. I notice a mom with three daughters. "Okay, God, what do we do?" I pray, and He provides me with the words.

"What does James 2:17 say?" I ask. One of the girls rolls her eyes, "Faith without works is dead." "Correct," I respond, "and what are the two greatest commands Jesus gave?" Another eye roll and look of disgust, "Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself."

"Okay," I say, "go. Faith without works is dead. Love God. Love your neighbor. Go."

Intercession and worship at dusk overlooking Vegas

"What if they say no?" "What do we say?" "WHAT?" "Why?" are some of the responses I receive from these four teenagers. In reality, I was thinking all of those. But in that moment, I pulled up my pride pants, and showed them "it wasn't hard". Truthfully, I was worried the mom would think I was a pedophile and say no. God had other plans, the three girls were ecstatic to play with us!

Soon I saw another mom with her children. She sent her nine year old son to watch out for what looked like a 1 year old baby. The older boy put the baby on the slide. I gladly went over, picked up the baby and asked the boy if he wanted to play Frisbee. And he did!

This baby boy, Soldier, ripped my heart. He had dried vomit on his face, shirt and pants. His diaper was old and needed changing. His eyes did not smile. My heart ache for him knowing he was not being cared for as a prince should. I tried to pass him off to one of the girls and boys in my small group, but Soldier wanted me. As I spoke over him his true identity in Christ and prayed for him, I found each word stung my heart. We smiled, his toes were ticklish, he could walk if I held his hands, and oh how he loved to hold my hands, even when I was just holding him.

Frisbee in the park.

When it was time for us to leave, I gave him back to his mom, a prostitute and mother of seven
children ages one to eleven. Soldier's mom put him in his stroller, immediately he began to cry. I left the park to the screams of a baby. A little boy screaming out to be held, to be prayed for, to be told he is a child of God. My heart screamed for God to do something.

I do not understand why God did this. All those babies I held in India and Nepal, my heart hurts for them. Sometimes I wonder if I knew how much it was going to hurt, would still pick up the baby? Yes. Five minutes of praying over a child, five minutes of love, is worth the pain. Working for Him is excruciatingly hard sometimes. I often want to quit simply because it hurts. And I am reminded of the Abba who turned His face as His little boy cried out of Him. My selfish ambitions resulted in God's baby hanging bloodied on the cross. He never fails to bestow the love necessary in all circumstances.

Here is truth: God heals, God raises the dead, God provides. Go.