Let the Children Come

The past week has been a particularly hard week. I have been praying into going on international outreach with the current school, what it would look like to lead half of outreach and what to do after the outreach. Decisions. I struggled. I stressed and stressed and stressed. Then I stressed some more. Headaches. Stomach aches. Stress eating. It was bad. 

I spent more time watching the Swiss girls. Two of our staff were gone building a house for a recently widowed Native gal, so we had to distribute their jobs. I held Nira as she drank her bottle and fell asleep. I began to wonder if the reason Jesus wanted the little children to come to him was because they give life.

Nira "helps" me in the kitchen. She likes to be held, taste test the food and stir. She helps me write out the grocery list, as in she scribbles. Mostly she just stands on the counter being cute.

She giggles, ya know, one of those little kid giggles for no apparent reason. Her hair is turning into a mullet with soft curls. She chews on everything, crayons, sticks, fingers, books, mud, everything! She eases the tensions just by smiling. She draws attention from strangers, giving an opportunity to share the Gospel.

Andrina has begun pushing her toy stroller with her "babies" to the beach or the library. She will occasionally stop on the side of the road because her babies need their diapers changed. At the library she enjoys reading to them, sitting them on her lap so they can listen during story time and moving their arms during sign language song time. We have begun communicating in a mash up of English, Swiss-German, noises and hand gestures. I'm sure it is very interesting to observe.

But Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of Heaven."

Matthew 19:14

Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, passion, dreams, talent, guts. It's what these little girls are made of. They remind me what it is to be simple, find joy and to laugh. As Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a Russian philosopher says, "The soul is healed by being with children." They show me how to be present, not overthinking or living to please; making decisions out of the fullness of our hearts; how to be broken, tired and cranky, knowing out of abandoning a performance based life, someone will always be there to love them. 

They remind me more than anything else how to love without any boarders.

Outreach decision: Joining the team in Japan for a week then leading three week outreach in Thailand. More updates to come.

Redeeming Warriors

Monday was Canadian Thanksgiving. After having received a snapchat from a Canadian friend wishing me the happiest of days, I declared celebration. Someone found a whole turkey in the freezer and another gal exclaimed, "We need decorations!" Monday evening, we celebrated Thanksgiving, complete with turkey hats, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. It was silly, especially for grown adults to wear half a paper plate covered in construction paper and crayon on their head, yet everyone willingly participated.

Tuesday evening a friend and I walked the night streets handing out hot chocolate. Three people accepted, 2 hugs were given, and many declined. One man, with a distorted expression of disgust, asked, "Are you trying to poison me?!" Well, no, unless you are lactose intolerant, allergic to chocolate or have a sugar sensitivity, we are not trying to poison you. Almost every person asked, very confused, "Why are you doing this?" For me, I desired to do this because I miss meeting people on the streets the way I would in Vegas. It was an easy way to meet and pray for people. My friend had better words: "We just want to love people." Simple. Her tender heart sought to love people first and foremost because she understood what the love of Christ has done for her. She had a boldness to speak with each person, a smile revealing her joy, and bright eyes seeing the one in front of her as an opportunity to love.

Wednesday we had a good-by party for a Mission Builder (YWAM program). He showed up one day, came into our building and asked if we needed any help. And, naturally, we did not deny him. He quickly became part of the community. I am not sure how long he was here, maybe a month, but it felt as though he was always here. Him and I would often talk about organic food and gardening, working out and the impact of health on our spiritual walk; we could also often be found extra, highly processed desserts in the kitchen. He came and served: painted, cleaned, dug most of the basement, whatever we needed, he was willing. I did not hear him complain once, rather, he saw the value in each one of us at the base, and did not let a single moment go by without being intentional. Full of wisdom, love and displayed a true father's heart, he even cut the turkey for us.

Friday for community outreach we went to long term care. I held a lady's hand for a while. Ruth was viciously shaking, eyes occasionally opening, lips cracked, and soft, confused words. She kept asking me, calling me the operator, to please put her eggs away, they were sitting on the counter. I frequently reintroduce myself to her, she would then turn her head away from me and tell the empty chair on the other side of her of about the nice lady who came to speak with her. As I held her hand, gently rubbing her loose, wrinkly skin, her shaking hands calmed.

Ruth could not impart wisdom she acquired over the years, share favorite recipes, or go for walks and laugh. Occasionally she would say something relevant or in recognition of her surroundings, but mostly she was confused and incomprehensible. She could do nothing but show me the frailty of life and the future reality for many. It was awkward. I did not know what to do. I wanted to leave, turn my eye away, take my hand back, put the reality of her daily activity being a confused body restrained to a chair away, not thinking any more about her, but going on in comfortable living. I did not want to love her widowed, orphaned state. I did not want to be uncomfortable any longer. 

In 1 Samuel 22, David is hiding from Saul who is looking to kill him. As David is hiding in a cave, his family and all those in distress, debt and bitter in soul come and join him (22:2), about 400 in all. With these 400 outcast men, David forms an army to fight for the Lord's will. This is the redeeming heart of the Father: calling all those in distress, debt and bitter in soul, come, fight for Me. Looking past the physical, He seeks to redeem us back to our warrior state. 

We hosted many extra people Monday and Tuesday who wanted to here the DTS lecture speaker. In Canadian Thanksgiving, loving people with hot chocolate, Bart's going away party and sitting with people who may not have remembered us five minutes after we left, we are seeking to honor and respect them for the warrior God made them to be. Each one of us has the characteristics of the outcast. We are the outcast, created to furiously love the one, redeemed to boldly fight for the Kingdom to come to earth, and chosen to tenderly hold the hands of our brothers and sisters.

"The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creation. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian."

-Brennan Manning

The Dream

"You would not have called to me unless I had been calling you."

-Aslan

I went to see the documentary Meru last week with a couple friends. It is a documentary about a climber Jimmy Chin who with a team climbed a mountain peak in India no other climber has reached the summit before. I was so excited! I have been waiting over a month to see it, living in Alaska things are slightly outdated when they reach us. After the movie was over, one of the girls looked at me and joked, "So are you ready to go buy all your gear and climb?"

Not really actually. The movie excited me. It was people setting their minds to do things other have tried, failed, and deemed impossible. They pushed themselves, not succumbing to limits they put upon themselves, they risked and pursued. They found something they loved and chased their passion.

Moving to Alaska was part of a dream spurred by summers working at camp. I desired to come back. There was one evening at camp I hiked one mountain with a friend and we were staring at another mountain across the valley. It was a late July evening, the sun was kind of setting, creating an early dusk feel. He said, "Crazy to think God says if we have faith the size of a mustard seed we could move those mountains." Yeah. It is crazy.

I returned to Alaska entering into what I felt God calling a season of rest. Rest does not mean easy. For example, I can see the mountains, but I can't get to them. Not easy.

Last week community outreach was to the Alaska Coast Studies Center. I had seen their building next to the ocean, so I contacted them to see if they would need volunteers. They did! For manual labor and entering computer data. We arrive, split our group into labor and computers. The gal shows us around the outside of the building pointing to all this stuff that needs to be moved. We would also have to be working around two of their interns who were skinning the sea otter hanging from a tree. We quickly finished our labor, and went to fold shirts and sweatshirts for two hours.

This week we went to AK Coastal Studies Center again. I almost vacuumed a bunch of animal bones I thought were twigs on the floor. I have never volunteer and found myself in situations like these before.

Sometimes we just have to lay on the floor and laugh with God about the adventure He has us in.

For work duties the past couple weeks we have been digging under our apartment building. Something about basement, water proof and some other things. I do not know. All I know, is we have to dig, fill 5 gallon buckets with wet dirt, haul those buckets about 5 meters on our knees, lift the buckets above ground, fill a wheel barrow then empty the wheel barrow. 7 of us. My spot: squatting to lift the buckets out of a stomach deep hole (sure seems like a Crossfit move put into the practicalities of the mission field).

Dream: mountains, Jesus, nations.

Reality: digging holes.

God, how did I get myself into this?

It is a wild ride when we choose to give our lives back to God. We suddenly have this freedom to enter the Throne Room. As Zechariah sees in a vision in the third chapter of his book, God brings us into His court room and says, "Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments." We have the right of access to enter into His presence and dream with Papa.

When we stand in the Heavenly court room, we stand justified, free from all accusation. In understanding our true identity, that of the free sons and daughters, we are able to enact the heart of the Father to the nations. We have the identity of Christ the hope of nations, as the Royale Priesthood, it is now our duty to be the hope of glory in bringing our brothers and sisters back to the table.

The dream does not always play into the reality. Yet the reality always plays into the dream. The dream remains the same: more Jesus, more nations. We, the Royale Priesthood, the freedom chasers, the dreamers, the nation changers, are the missionaries sent to go.

The lies require performance, comparison expectation and standards all resulting in us never being good enough. Before you are tempted to spend the night in the arms of lies, spend time in the arms of our Heavenly Father. He knows us. In Him we find peace as we await His perfect plans to guide our feet. Lean into Him, rest your head upon His heart beating for His children. Listen intently to Him calling you. There is no great adventure then listening to Him calling you further up and further in.

"I have made you. I will sustain you. I will carry you. I will save you."

-God 

(Isaiah 46:4)

Unfiltered Love

We all have those photos were we look in the background and say, "What?!" Or those photos of dad mowing the lawn in too short of shorts and you question why the photos was ever taken, or the shorts ever purchased. Or those photos of you with the chicken pox, mom lined us all up and took photos as we were practically dying. Then those vacation photos of people awkwardly in the background, tourists with tall socks and crocks or fanny packs and mullets. We all have those photos, you know which ones I'm talking about, and you know you are the one awkwardly in the background being laughed at by someone, somewhere in the world.

Have we begun eliminating these moments?

We begin to see things through the lens of a life to be edited. We crop out the hard, the tough, the uncomfortable. The more time we spend editing out, the more time we spend disconnected. We miss the funny in the process of creating the perfect. All those little details will be cropped out to eliminate distractions from the center focus.

If we took the Bible, edited out the awkward, cringing, slightly questionable material, what would be left? The Old Testament had a lot of war, adultery and death. Ester would acquire a lot of photos likes with her queen like treatment. Solomon probably in the process of blueprints (think, dramatic shot from above of blue prints, ink well and pen, oh ya, super hipster). The birth of Jesus would be taken out cause let's be honest, birth in a stable without medication would be sick nasty! Jesus hung out with the demon possessed, lepers, prostitutes, fisherman, sick people, and outcasts, most of his life wouldn't make it. His water-to-wine miracle may acquire a friend-brag photo. John the Baptist lived in nature wearing weird animal skins and ate locusts (maybe the locust dinners would make Insta for the shock). The dramatic missionary journeys of Paul and Timothy would get some sweet likes, until Paul landed himself in prison again (again, Paul, really?). John on Patmos, dramatic nature shots with deep revelations (get it?). Okay, so maybe there would be some Biblical quality photos that wouldn't need edited, but what would the message behind the photo convey?

To Insta-worthy the Bible, things such as sin and death would be eliminated, taking out the entire concept of grace, redemption, love, acceptance, adoption, being heirs to the Kingdom, the things that give life quality and purpose. 

We snap one, two, three photos, flip through, choose, delete, edit, post, continue to check likes or comments. We capture the glory moments. We post the photo of how beautiful the sun reflects off the water at the well, missing the Samaritan woman and all her beauty.

This is not to dismiss the way photos inspire and share stories. We capture moments and carry them around. Each photos carries with it a testimony. Behind each mocha with impeccable foam is an artist displaying the creativity of a Creator. We document moments of intense bravery, moments where we courageously step outside our comfort zones, conquering what we once label as impossible. We push ourselves to limits, celebrating the weights lifted in the gym, the heights achieved on cliff sides, and speeches given with our knees trembling. We cannot begin to idolize the photo, linger on the moment, and forget the story.

There is a Steffany Gretzinger song with lyrics that say: It was you I was thinking of when I rose from the grave.

Imagine this. There is a beautiful sunrise with rays of light beaming through the trees of a garden. Inside of a cave there are these perfectly laid white rags, these rags fell naturally perfect, they were not folded eight times to give a perfect appearance, it happened naturally. The sun is hitting the rags and the white washed stone, the stone is shimmering. It is the most perfect photo, no need to edit. Jesus take a photo, tags you, and captions: "Shout of to my best friend (insert name here). She/He is incredible. It was him/her I was thinking of when I rose from the grave. #lovethem #eternalpartywiththem #nofilter #resurrection."

We write our testimony and say it many times, perfecting it to the core. We adjust details depending on our audience. There will always be one constant, no matter what filter you choose, God was always there with an unfiltered love and acceptance of us. The way Papa interacts with us is natural. He doesn't look through His options and decide which will look the best. He doesn't spend time contemplating what others will think or will gain Him a repost or a share. He sees our inner thoughts, feelings and emotions. He intimately knows us. He knows, and cares, when we rise and when we fall. Each moment was written long ago. Our days have been planned since the beginning of time, naturally written, unedited lives. He sees all our life, probably laughs at our ridiculous fashion choices and funny poses, and keeps them all. And all those photos of us messing up, there is a word, written with a big, fat, red, permanent marker: Forgiven.

Personal challenge this week: see the testimony within the photo.

And yes, *sigh* I will continue to contemplate my captions and edit my Instagram.

Side note: no photos were edited in the making of this blog

Transparency

A struggle for me has been not knowing the community, people, places and needs. The people all look the same, I cannot tell the homeless apart from the wealthy, they all wear Xtratuffs and flannel! Everything I need is within walking distance, limiting my ventures to other parts of the town. And the needs have been well concealed to preserve an outward appearance. 

I sent emails, made phone calls, and asked at different places for volunteer opportunities. Yes! Many! Many that require background checks, 30 hours of training, health inspections, high school or college transcripts, ability to lift 50 pounds, and no children! 

*Insert hopelessness, doubt and questioning if I am fit for the job*

A friend in the community (it's true! Yes, she used to work on staff here, but still!) suggested I call long-term care at the hospital, the last DTS here went there often. I called. Begging, compromising, telling God I would give up peanut butter for a week if He just opened a door! Not the best way to pray. I called, was passed to three different people, finally a cheery voice greeted me, ecstatic to hear we wanted to come. 

Thank you Jesus!

9 of us loaded into the large van yesterday and went to visit. There were two elderly ladies in the room, and two more "watching" Disney's Tarzan with their heads back, eyes closed and mouths open. 

An old song by Bon Iver has been coming to mind a lot this week. Part of the lyrics say: At once I knew, I was not magnificent. That is how I felt at long term care. 

Each one of us had a connection. The Swiss couple and a staff lady from California played games with a lady originally from California who spoke German; the couple was able to speak German with her. The Russian on staff had a previous connection with a guy in long-term care who came into the room; they spoke Russian to each other. The other student was able to pray and hold hands with an elderly lady; both in need of human touch. I helped served ice-cream with a long-term staff lady; she is originally from Iowa and her daughter is going to the same college I went too. And the Swiss girls scored ice-cream cones, their smiles ringed with vanilla sugary goodness expressed their delight in the day!

When I stopped, gave my desires all to Him, surrendered and prayed, He provided. No, it was not my idea to go to long-term, in fact I thought it sounded mundane, something everybody does, I wanted something "more exciting". I was slightly embarrassed, it was something the old school did all the time, I am the fresh new staff person from flashy Vegas, my pride said I should have equally as fresh, new and flashy ideas. 

“Real freedom is freedom from the opinions of others. Above all, freedom from your opinions about yourself. ” 

-Brennan Manning

And the feelings of doubt, hopelessness and questioning, they are real. Insecurities are real. Fear of rejection, not wanting to fail, the desire to please everyone, desiring to do an outstanding job, I struggle with them all, even as a missionary. Sometimes I believe the lie as a missionary I am not suppose to struggle so much, or at least not show it because God will never give me more than I can handle on my own.  

“There is a beautiful transparency of honest disciples who never wear a false face and do not pretend to be anything but who they are.” 

-Brennan Manning

Transparency. This would require us to believe there are others who will love, accept and welcome us, even after they see how broken we are. 

When we pray for divine appointments, expect divine appointments. When we pray for God to provide, expect God to provide. We are praying to the One with fire in His eyes, the One who sees us, knows us and desires to give us good gifts. His passion is far deeper than we can comprehend. He twirls us through a tender mysterious dance called life. And when the song slows enough for us to look around, it may not look as we envisioned, but He never once let go of us and does not plan to until the dance is complete. Then He will hold our hand as we walk into eternity together.

Thank you Abba, for knowing when I am pretending and loving me anyways. Thank you, Daddy, for freedom from expectation and freedom to enter the throne room. Thank you, Daddy, for never running out of grace, forgiveness or patience with me. Thank you, Daddy, for planning things far greater than I could conjure up. And Daddy, thank you for surrounding me with a family of broken Jesus followers.

Alaska update: cooked moose, halibut and salmon this week. Attempted to cook bear but the meat was four years old and did not look the best. A mile up the ridge from us received snow two nights ago, the cars coming into town in the morning bore the evidence. All the mountains across the bay are snow capped. Fall is here. Winter is close behind. 

Homer: in 10 photos.

Quick peek into Homer through pictures!

Our apartment building is two stories, the flat I share with two others is on the second story. Our view from our door is a beautiful one!  Here the fog has settled over the water, some days it is too foggy to see the water, and on clear days, the bay and mountains scream of His glorious creativity!

This past week was the first full week of DTS. Our director was the speaker, giving the three students an introductory to many different topics, including an overview of Genesis, hearing the voice of God, healing and spiritual warfare. I was able to sit in on a couple lectures. The incredible thing about God, is He never reveals Himself the exact same way to every person. Despite having gone through a DTS and hearing many of these topics I was being introduced to many new things. Papa is so rich and mysterious, we are never able to fully grasp all of who He is! 

I have been fostering my inner Alaskan. I wore my Xtra Tuffs all week, some days it wasn't even raining. I told my roommate, who is from Alaska, I felt silly at first wearing my boots on a sunny day, then I saw other people and realized I fit right in!

Tea time! One of my favorite things in my DTS was having tea time! Rachel, my apartment mate who is on staff, made incredible orange cakes with real whip cream. Fancier than Vegas, and the desserts are not expired donated delicacies either.

This is Nira. She is one of the daughters of a Swiss couple who are doing their DTS here. She likes to helps me organize shelves. Actually, she likes to pull food of the shelves, be held, look cute, and eat rice. I love sharing the kitchen with her.

This is Andrinna, the other Swiss girl. She only speaks Swiss German, but In Becoming American 101 by Livia she has learned how to do fist bumps and say, "Whats up!" 

Seriously, how cute is she?!

This past week she has been helping after every meal. She will help dry and put away dishes. Once I was sweeping, she tried to sweep with me, then discovered the broom is much to large for her! Her mom, Anna, the one washing dishes in this picture, makes most of the girl's clothing. Anna will use stripes, polka-dots and patterns all in one outfit. Somehow, the bright colors and patterns look perfect together!

My new favorite coffee shop has a porch, is a 10 minute walk from my apartment and a minute from the ocean. I go there often to read and have coffee dates with Jesus. The current book: Culture of Honor by Danny Silk. Incredible book!

The coffee shop also has a bucket of toys and a pebble area for kids! The past 10 days I had a new roommate, a gal who used to be on staff here. We went for coffee, a lot. She reminded me of the simplicity of Christ, how much Papa loves us, and the heart of worship. In coming here, I have been caught up in trying to figure out how to do things like grocery shop and make connections for outreaches, often overlooking rest, laughter and fellowship.

Three biggest lessons from this week: laugh because life is funny, worship because God is incredible, and seek fellowship because Jesus followers are family, and we need family. 

Joyful Freedom

I talked to my sister on the phone the other day. I am constantly floored by her bravery. She recently moved to Pennsylvania; we now sandwich our family in Iowa. She has over come and accomplished incredible things. She completed high school, excelled through college, flourished in social settings, and walked across the stage this past May receiving a diploma declaring her hard work. She did not settle for anything less than greatness. Just when I thought she was this great woman of ambition, she moved half way across the country to a town she was completely unfamiliar with. In this town she did not have a single friend, did not have a church body, did not know where the grocery store, she didn't even a have an apartment to unpack her belongings in, only a job. She moved with bravery and courage. She is a woman setting the bar high for the rest of us.

I think of my other sister who just received her second college degree. My brother in his senior year of college and his girl friend pursuing a nursing degree who spent her summer working in a nursing home, something she did not want to do and was not excited for. They are pursuing incredible things. I am so proud of them. They will soon all receive a title boxing them into a profession, but what is under their skin is so much more than a title could ever tell.

I am in a strange town. Life is mundane here; normal, average, consistent. I am currently sitting in the public library. Moms are shushing their children talking with voices echoing against the tall ceilings. Typical fashion: jeans tucked into X-tra Tuf boots, long sleeves (most likely flannel buttoned all the way), with a vest on top, or overalls (jean or Carhart) covering flannels and old sweatshirts; none of which is done to foster the hipster community, it is simply life. The fishermen stand out, their eyes seem to be glassy with colors reflecting the ocean, slightly bleached by the sun. Our sea side location welcomes the overcast clouds, the sun shines for about 14 hours a day still, but only when the clouds permit, maybe two or three times a week.

Last week we split base duties among our small staff of nine. My new job: kitchen coordinator, community outreach director, assisting in other administrative duties as needed and occasionally child care. All fancy terms for: grocery shopping, cooking, sweeping, and playing with children. 

I have often sat in silence before my three apartment mates have awoken thinking, "What am I doing with my life?" 

"Yes, God wants you to do signs and wonders. But the love of God manifested through you is what people really need. So you first must see His face. You must become so close to His very heartbeat that you can feel what others feel." 

-Heidi Baker

I sat in silence this past week with eyes looking at my empty hands, seeing nothing. My eyes were turned down ward. Love was standing in front of me, confused as to why I would not look at Him. Mercy wanted me to see Him, Salvation wanted me to see what He gave to me. 

It is the woeful Juliet, dramatically calling to her beloved Romeo, "Tis' but thy name that is my enemy..." 

I have began to read the book Culture of Honor by Danny Silk. In the introduction he speaks on showing honor by calling others by the name of who they are: apostle, prophet, teacher, pastor, evangelist. Names defining how we relate to each other: free sons and daughters, children of light. And names truly describing us: royalty, wealthy, benefactor. 

A couple doing their DTS here have two small girls. In reading Silk's book, these girls are not children of DTS students or my neighbors or cute little Swiss girls. They are life givers, shapers of nations, lovers of curiosity, devourers of eggs and rice, women of standards. They encapsulate vision, passion, dreams, and gifts, uniquely picked for them by the Wild One, not able to be fully expressed through their words yet. These young freedom chasers are missionaries.

"Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion." 

-Brennan Manning

I suggest you all watch this video. Be inspired. Listen to Holy Spirit. Wait in expectancy of Papa Faithful as you cry out, begging for revival, signs, and wonders, not sitting around, but in turn faithfully stepping into the plans before us, loving the one as he has been loved and named by our Daddy.

(And yes, I have repent of calling life mundane. I have actually made many friends at the grocery store, become a regular at a coffee shop, and made new mom friends as I tote around two blond girls. He gives us a funny life if we allow ourselves to walk in joyful freedom!)