FMF {Five Minute Friday}: Hope

My first experience with timed free-writing was in college. My professor knew we were anxious about the research paper she'd dumped on us the week before, so she came to class that day armed with an unlikely activity.

She passed around lined sheets of paper, set a timer for five minutes, and told us to "word-vomit" every single thought we had about our research onto that paper. We were not allowed to edit, re-think, spell-check, or erase because the point was to simply write, without calculation or consequence. It was magical, and I was hooked.

Now, three years after college, there is a community of bloggers who free-write on a new word every week. We do it for fun, for encouragement, and to remind ourselves that our unedited selves are still worth sharing. For more info, check out Kate Motaung's blog here!

This week's word is HOPE.

Hope? Yeah, I thought I'd lost it.

It got misplaced somewhere after college when I woke up one morning to find myself in a hostile place, doing those mind-numbingly same things day in and out. My friends were gone or out of touch, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt welcome in a crowd. I felt stuck and stupid for getting myself stuck and hopeless that anything would change.

But the Hope of the world was living in me, no matter how dormant I felt.

He was alive and active, even if I wasn't alive to it.

He doesn't merely have hope--He is hope.

He leaned in and whispered to my hopeless heart that He hadn't gone anywhere. Slowly, like crusty ground under a steady soak of rain, I softened.

Hope had found me again.

And to you--yes you, the one scrolling down this post on your iPhone--He whispers, "Child, I am still here. I AM hope. I am hope for your crusty dreams, your family situation and the apathy that numbs you. Open your heart to me."

Hope will find you. 

The story of how I freaked out and received a car anyway.

It was 9:32pm at the end of a long Tuesday. Work was still in crazy mode from the move, laundry sat in forlorn piles in our bedroom, and the empty fridge could not be ignored another day. My calendar was ballooning out of control with unexpected social engagements, and my head ached.

I called hubby on my way to the grocery store, hoping for a pep talk. Instead I heard:
"So, the car place called. They said it's the engine. The guy said they could probably sell our car for parts."

I gripped the steering wheel of our one working car. How could they offer so little for my faithful little Camry with the awesome gas mileage? And we'd just replaced the air conditioning that summer.

Suddenly, out of my mouth were coming fearful, panicky words that flung accusation on my man and fuel on my fear. It wasn't pretty.

Fear leaves little room for trust, especially when I speak it out loud. 

The next night I was still tense. I drove to the gym, popped in my earbuds, and clicked on a podcast by one of my favorite Bible teachers.

My legs and arms began to move in rhythm, and she started to tell a story of a whole nation who panicked. They looked into a new land, and instead of feeling excited that God had finally brought them to this beautiful place, they freaked out because the current residents made them feel small. They worried that they and their kids would be squashed like grasshoppers if they so much as stepped over the border.

The fear fostered amnesia. They forgot how God had rescued them out of slavery. They forgot how He'd fed them for 40 years. They forgot how He had already destroyed two nations for them.

I stepped off the machine and walked to the mats, feeling like the story was mine.

Those Jews looked at their smallness instead of God's bigness, and they shrunk back. Then she said something that made my pounding heart pause: "Their fear was rebellion."

After wiping away the tears that threatened to spill all over the exercise mat, I had an internal dialogue with God.

God, I'm sorry for not trusting you. I'm sorry for panicking instead of remembering how faithful you've ALWAYS been. You will always give me just what I need, even if it's not what I want. I don't want to forget your goodness. I don't want to rebel. 

There in the sweat and clang of the gym, I heard him say, Daughter, I forgive you. And I will always be your shepherd. Trust me. Stay close to me. Don't let your circumstances make you freak out. I am bigger than your circumstances.

A few days after my realization in the gym, hubby and I were actually feeling pretty excited about the one-car thing. After all, it was something we had seriously considered before. It meant less insurance to pay, less gas to buy, and less money to spend on up-keep. And it wasn't like we would be stranded. We have a bike, and we live a mere five minute walk from the University bus route.

We had just about decided that having only one car was the coolest move we ever made when my dad called. He said they had a car they weren't using, and wanted to know when they could drive it down to us.

"Aww, thanks, Dad! You're so sweet to let us borrow it for a while!"

He started laughing on the other end. "Oh, no sweetheart. We want to give you this car."

My jaw dropped, and I almost dropped the phone with the weight of what was being offered. After all my freaking out, my clenching and grasping at control, he was giving us a car.

So unexpected. So extravagant. So undeserved. And I thought to myself, this is what grace looks like.


Ok, I have to add this disclaimer--I don't share this story to say that God is good BECAUSE He gave us a car. Even if we had lost both cars at once, with no replacement, God would still be good because that is who He is. He is good, and He has already shown that goodness and mercy with crazy extravagance on a cross where He died in my place. 

I share this story because I want to remind myself to trust my Shepherd, and I hope that it can encourage someone else too. 

This month as the Christmas lights go up and the stores vie for our attention, I want to hope in Jesus, and not my circumstances. I want to cling to Him, the rock-solid constant, so that finances, social engagements, lack of sleep, or messy kitchens don't throw me for another crazy loop. 

What if God DOES give us more than we can handle?

What do you say when your friend gets arrested for accidentally forgetting the item at the bottom of his cart before he walks out the door? What words can you possibly find for the friend awash in grief because her grown up sister suddenly drowned last week in a creek?  How do you answer the why in their tired eyes when a couple sits across from you at your kitchen table, describing how a house fire destroyed their home that morning?

And in case you're wondering--yes, all of those things happened last month to people I love. 

September was rough. 

When the lives of people around us are messy, when the pain they feel is bigger or different from any we've ever walked through, we get scared. It's uncomfortable, right? So we want to fix it, to say a magic word that will suddenly make it all better. Maybe we just want to be the hero.

Whatever the reason, if you feel the urge to tell them, "God won't give you more than you can handle"...just don't. 

The first reason is that it's simply not true. God DOES give us more than we can handle.

We know this from personal experience. Anyone who has ever had an EBD (emotional breakdown) knows that there are days we just. Can't. Deal. Life is chock-full of stress, and it only increases as we grow into our adult lives and accumulate more responsibilities.

But stress or tragedy in the lives of people who follow God is nothing new. What about Joseph, trafficked into slavery by his own brothers? What about Job, who lost his wealth and his kids all in one horrible day? What about Moses, terribly insecure and shaking in his bare feet when God told him to lead millions of people out of a country where they'd been slaves for 400 years? All of them were handed far more than they could handle.

Telling someone that they'll never be given more than they can handle feeds several lies:

1. It sets up an unrealistic expectation that life will be relatively easy for those with faith.

This sounds great, and is a key part of the Prosperity Theology preached by many. However, it is the complete opposite of what Jesus actually told his disciples to expect. Jesus said that "in this life you will have trouble" (John 16:33). He also declares that "if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me" (Mark 8:34).

 Faith in God does not guarantee an easy life. In fact, the sheer number of verses calling believers to self-sacrifice, suffering, and endurance indicate the opposite.

2. If you do find yourself falling apart, it must be because you don't believe strongly enough that you have what it takes. 

This is such a terrible lie, straight from Hell. Not only does it further isolate the person, it also piles a heap of guilt on an already painful situation.

There is definitely a Biblical call to stand firm on the promises of God. But did Jesus promise an easy life? Did he promise that you would never have a meltdown or feel depressed? We must be careful that the promises we are claiming are actually from the Lord. (See point number 1.)



One of the reasons that folk theology takes root and gains popular acceptance is because it sounds so much like the truth. Telling someone that God won't give them more than they can handle is almost  a true statement.

However, the truth is that God will never give you more than His grace is sufficient for.

The Apostle Paul had a struggle that seemed to crush him. Three times he pleaded with God to take it away, but each time God said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Not only did God promise to give grace that is enough for all I need, he even seems to say that the best circumstance through which to display His power is our weakness. What kind of crazy, backward display of power is this? But that is the mystery of the majesty of our God.

The truth is that God never intended you to handle it alone. 

Our loving Father wants us to rely on Him, and not on ourselves. Our natural normal state is not independence, as if God wanted us to eventually remove the training wheels of His love and grace. Our natural, normal state is deep, constant dependence on Him for every need, every moment.

Our natural state is also community. Even about Adam, a sinless man in a perfect, pre-curse world, God said, "it is not good for man to be alone." (Genesis 2:18)

I firmly believe that one of God's primary and most tangible expressions of grace to believers is other believers. When we, as the Body of Christ, are all built up into the unity of the Spirit, we share one member's pain as our own. We bear one another's burdens.

The truth is that God loves us so much that he is even willing to allow painful circumstances in our lives to bring about this intimacy with Himself and within his Body. 

This is a delicate topic. I was so nervous to bring it up that I almost skipped it entirely.

I realize that it would be completely arrogant for me to look at anyone's pain and assume that I know the reason God allowed it. When God allows cancer, or sexual abuse, or a house fire, or a machete massacre in a Nigerian village, I have no words.

And friend, I don't know the "why" behind your story of loss.

But I know that the ultimate good for humans--the absolute best thing that can ever happen to us--is to know God. To see Him for who He is, to experience His greatness and love, to become intimate friends with the Creator who call us His own--this is the best, most joyful thing.

Your loving Father might allow pain and loss in order to bring you into the deep intimacy with Himself and his Church that is your ultimate good.

Paul described this experience in his own life like this:

8 We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters,[a] about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God,who raises the dead. (2 Corinthians 1:8-9)

I firmly believe that there is no evil or pain that God cannot redeem for our good and His glory.

After all, the brutal murder of an innocent man named Jesus was the way God chose to bring salvation to the world. 

Five Minute Friday::Glue

Today I am linking up with Five Minute Friday, a writing exercise where you set a timer for five minutes and write on a specific topic until it chimes at you to lift your fingers from the keyboard. You can join in here!

Today's word = GLUE

Yesterday was all unraveled and ragged. I flew out the door with my shoes barely on my feet and a granola bar in my hand. Seriously, God bless granola bar makers.

My house looks like a garage sale after all the good pickings have been picked over. Ever since our washing machine decided to re-create Noah's Flood two weeks ago, we've been living in a carpet-less home without baseboards or doors or basic organization. Just getting out the door is a feat of memory and agility. Where was my jacket again...? *wracks brain, bumps into furniture*

It really hasn't been too bad. Now that the thirteen rumbling red industrial fans and honking-huge dehumidifier are gone, at least I have a kitchen again. Even while the fans roared, we laughed about their white noise making it easy to sleep.

But yesterday at work my shoulders and neck creaked with painful lumps as the phone constantly rang and rang and rang and my throat grew dry from explaining. The papers piled up faster than I could sort them. My fingers clicked constantly, almost independent of my tired brain as the mental to-do list grew longer and heavier.

It felt like I was coming unglued. Can anyone relate?

I stumbled up the stairs to our homegroup meeting with only half a heart to be there. Heavy-eyed, foggy-brained from my desperate post-work nap, I willed myself to sit.

"Between the songs", they said,  "let's tell what God has been doing in our hearts". What have You been doing, Lord? I wondered. I'm so unglued and discombobulated.

As I flipped backward in the blue journal looking for scraps I'd chanced to record, I found the sweetest words. Words that had patched me together on another ragged, teary day in January.

"Cherise, you do not have less at this moment when you are exhausted and fighting a cold than you do on days when you are well-rested, healthy, and feel in control. You have Me in abundance at all times, and I am all you need."

Wonderful truth.

He is not diminished if I am depleted, and He holds even my unraveled, unglued moments together by his powerful Word.


Side note: My homegroup will notice that this journal entry wasn't what I shared last night with the group. It felt like a personal hug from Jesus for that moment, something just between the two of us for me to feel his love while I shared something else out loud. But now, in the light of a new day, it seemed  appropriate to share.  I hope someone else will feel His love in the middle of an unglued moment like mine. 

Less than two months away!

The excitement has been slowly building in my heart since January, when our letters were signed and sent. Part of me still can't believe that we are actually returning to Milan! (Click here for last year's post on returning...it's still a true expression of how we feel to be going back!)

In case you're new to the blog, or just need a reminder, here's what's going on:

Our church has linked arms in partnership with a tiny, brave church plant in Milan, Italy. Like us, they focus their ministry on the college students at a local university. Also like us, they are passionate about discipleship.

This was our team with the students last year on an excursion. Such a fun day! Hubby and I are front, left.  

Each year, we send a team of students to encourage and help this church by putting together fun, interactive English Clubs for the students of Bicocca University. The clubs provide a great setting to meet students and build relationships.

We love the fact that we stay for two full weeks! That second week gives time for trust to form and conversations to go beyond the surface.

For many young people in Italy's post-Christian secularism, broken homes and shallow relationships are the norm. Knowing this, my husband and I have tried to text and Facebook our Italian friends throughout the year. Going back to the team and to our Italian friends--well, it's a bit like a family reunion.

Even though support raising is far from complete, my heart is full to bursting right now with thanks for friends like you who give to make it possible for us to return!

By our returning we tell the Italian students that they are more than a two-week project. The returning lends weight, not only to the friendships, but also to the declaration that Jesus is just as real and alive and life-changing as the first time we told them.

Never underestimate the power of persistent love. My own heart is proof that it can soften, redeem, transform.

Will you help us return? Click here for Fellowship Church's secure giving site.
**NOTE: please put "Castille Italy Mission" in the comment box before clicking "submit". This helps your gift go to the right place.

Will you pray?
Mark the dates for our trip in your phone calendar! (May 11-25)

• Pray for hearts to be open to the love of Jesus.
• Pray for us to be humble.
• Pray for courage and cultural sensitivity.
• Pray for Frank, Pam, Stacy, and Debbie--the long-term missionaries in Milan.
• Pray for every team member to reach their support goal by April 11.
• Most of all, pray for God's name to be famous and lifted high.

 

Five Minute Friday::Fight

A new year, and I'm linking back up with Lisa-Jo at her online writer's party, Five Minute Friday! The basic idea is this: a one-word prompt, five minutes, and the courage to see what comes out.

Ok, ok, this took me WAY longer than five minutes. It was typed between phone calls with grad students and faculty, my lunch break, and conversations with student workers. Every time I turned back to the screen, my mind had to take a minute or two to regroup.

And then the prompt was just so GOOD this time, or maybe the things it stirred were so good, that five minutes just wasn't enough to sift through it all.

PROMPT: "Fight"

Three days ago, the year quietly turned over.

In Decembers past, I have knelt on the floor with the pieces of the previous year and made better plans. The lists have gotten longer each year, the sense of failure harder to sweep into the trash. But I have fought on, doggedly. I craved a sense of control, something to fight and strive for. It scratched my performance itch, that old wound that wondered “am I enough?”

But three days ago, there were no lists. There were no pre-failure tears. There were no crowding ambitions to stroke my pride.

The birth of this New Year carried the same peace as the Birth celebrated five days earlier. A miracle.

In 2013, I was glaringly inadequate. Far from the familiar realm of academic success, the working world was harsh to this newbie who didn’t understand the sarcastic culture of unkindness in which I found myself.

Gone were the grades, the part-time job where I knew what I was doing, the leadership role that was defined and comfortable.

But I was held.

My brokenness devastated me, but not Him. At the end of my striving, there He was, the same Savior who captivated my little-girl heart. I was tired of the fight for sanity and acceptance and rest and blog hits and emotional stability, but when I collapsed I found myself caught. Caught by the arms that had already streached out to me and the world two millenia prior.

I am realizing for the first time in experience what I have long known:

He Himself is my peace.

Not my ability to bring order to the chaos. Not the cleanness of my counters. Not whether friends remember my birthday or I remember theirs.

He. The Prince of Peace. The baby who folded small into a teen mom and yanked Heaven into our messy world so strangely.

He still holds the helpless (me), still accepts the unacceptable (me again), and still meets my mess with love.

My brokenness will only find wholeness when I rest in the hands that were broken for me.

My ceasefire can only come when I believe the fight he won was sufficient. Before 2014 begins, it is finished.

And I can rest from the fight.

 

 

Now the big stuff!

After my previous post about God using "small things" in Italy, I realized that I should probably clarify something:

God did big things in Italy, and answered big, outrageous prayers.

It was my faith that was puny that morning, seeing only smallness. I was insecure, focused on my efforts instead of God's power.

That other post was not a trip summary. It was just a personal reflection on something I was learning--something that I needed to know just as much here in the states as overseas.

THIS post, however, is a report! :)
Because of the mixed crowd that reads this blog, I can't share personal details about friends' names and specific conversations. Just respecting my friends' privacy here. However, I'm excited to give a bullet-point update of how God answered some of your prayers!

• Three Salvations!
  Three of our friends decided to begin a relationship with Jesus, trusting that His death is the only way to be saved from the death penalty we all deserve. Technically, I now have two new sisters and a brother. "Thrilled" isn't a big enough word to describe how excited we are!
  
• Continued friendships & awesome conversations
  As I wrote in a previous post, I love returning. I love catching up, reuniting, re-hashing old jokes and making new ones. Thanks to Facebook, many of the friends we made last year returned to English Clubs to see us! 

  

  Team plus students at the beach of Santa Margherita, Ligura

• Hubby's allergies were fine!
  The land of pizza, pasta and cheese is a hard place for the gluten and dairy intolerant, but these supplements made life so much easier.
  
• Team unity
  Without unity, a team flops. Most of the team members were at the acqaintance level when we boarded the plane for Milan. Add this to the fact that we had a patchwork of ages, personalities, and mission trip experience, and you can understand why unity was at the top of our prayer list.
  I personally felt God connect me to the team during a fun lunch with the other girls. Some appointments fell through, so was only team members--a disappointment turned blessing.
  
• Minimal jet lag
  One of the girls on the team has a history of HORRIBLE jet lag. I'm talking konk-out-for-fourty-eight-hours horrible jet lag. We prayed that she wouldn't experience this, and she barely felt tired!

So once again, THANK YOU all for praying, for giving, and for being a very literal part of our team even if you didn't leave your home. We couldn't have done it without you. 

A Report to Celebrate!

For all of you who read the last post about our (quickly!) upcoming mission trip, this is a celebration report of God's faithfulness!

A silly picture from last year at a Milano coffee shop. (I'm wearing the hat.)

Last Thursday was the deadline, the critical day when all of the funds had to be collected, in hand, and on their way to the bank. Only one week before, our team was falling far behind, collectively in the red by more than six thousand dollars.

The team was praying, but even they were unaware of another circumstance that threatened to add an additional two thousand dollars to the overall team goal. If the university in Milan would let us use their free classrooms for the English Clubs, we would be ok. If not...well, let's just say that renting hotel conference rooms would be pricey.

This alarming news had come Tuesday. To avoid a team-wide freak out, hubby and I were praying quietly between ourselves.

On Thursday, I went to work as usual and sat there praying between customers, waiting for news.

By the end of the afternoon, ALL the money had come in--to the penny!
AND the university had agreed to let us use their classrooms! Not only did this reduce the price of the trip, the convenience of the location will also make it easier for more students to attend and meet our team. We are thrilled to see how God will use this close location to connect students with the church in Milan.

So if you prayed,
or gave,
or did both,

THANK YOU!

We will need more prayer than ever as we go, so please don't stop! I know from last year that I can do absolutely nothing without His power. 

Five Minute Friday::Broken

A Christan radio station recently made an Easter comment that resonated with me. They said that Easter was about breaking: a broken world, a broken Body that redeemed us, and a broken curtain that used to separate us from a Holy God. (Ok, torn, but I guess that's what we call broken fabric.)

I feel broken. In many ways I am a person who needs fixing, like a broken lamp, shattered by anger or careless mistakes. 

I am also emotionally broken when I see the brokenness it took to fix me. And right now, on the Saturday between sacrifice and victory, I feel a kinship with the heart-rending brokenness his followers must have felt as they sat, fearful, their dreams shattered the day after He died. 

They waited, broken. But isn't waiting the thing to do in our brokenness? To wait on the One who heals?


Want to join or just want to know what Five Minute Friday is all about? Head over to Lisa Jo's blog and find out :) And while you're there, be sure to visit & leave some comment love for the other bloggers who linked up! 

Invisible Gardening

Buried in darkness, the germ of life waits in secret. So much potential packaged so tiny, lost in the loam, out of sight.

Under the heat lamp and the peat and the dark, the first finger of growth presses through membrane into the earth and tiny fibers take shape. Cells add themselves to each other feverishly, exploding quietly.

But above the lamp, I hover. I'm impatient. I see none of the growth below, and the dirt is just dirt, and I wait.

You might have noticed that I haven’t blogged. Normally, I’m not one to lack words, but the creativity seemed buried as well this Christmas. In many ways, my heart has been like a seed in one of my peat trays, growing invisibly, even to me. 

Most mornings I’ve had to take a deep breath, releasing my desire to perform and achieve and produce, trusting that even in the darkness, the Gardener was doing something good in me.

Out my back door lies a freshly dug hole, wide and shallow. My biceps ache, but I’m happy. In the hole rests a new wooden box I made, open to receive compost and the baby plants that now stretch green toward my desk lamp.

So much preparation, weeks in advance of any growth.

For the past few months, I have plugging away doggedly at the things I know are good for my heart. I’ve been reading a challenging book, asking myself the challenging questions, choosing to be vulnerable. And honestly, the lack of visible growth been frustrating.  I’m a more patient gardener than I am a garden, it seems.

But last night, a friend told me that I seemed less anxious and more trusting than I was in the fall. A tendril of green that I had overlooked!

Even when our hearts feel like bare dirt, He is good, and He is at work.

Being Like the Blond

It was the year I turned five, and her hair was bottle-blond. Blond and curly.

That’s all I can remember about my Sunday School teacher’s appearance, but I vividly remember the love I felt in her class. She gave soft, frequent hugs, and her excitement about Jesus was magnetic. She probably didn't have a great singing voice, a perfect figure, or a seminary degree, but she loved two people well: me and Jesus.

Flash forward to another teacher, a taller, ganglier me. This time I remember the lipstick. It was sunset orange, and whenever she saw me it was stretched wide into the most welcoming smile. Ms. Kay had sadness in her life—I found out later—but she was full of Jesus’ joy and it spilled out on all of us.

(found on the website for iHeart Radio)

Even as a kid, I saw the impact that their love and willingness had on my own attitude toward Jesus, the Bible, and ministry. Jesus wasn't only for adults. We worshiped him kid-style: with fun tunes and hand motions and wiggling that exactly expressed how I was learning to know Him. We were kids and He was the One who held kids on his lap, who loved us and our Picasso-esque attempts to color him.

So why share the memories with you today?

After years of being a kid in the class, a teenage helper, and more recently a volunteer teacher, I'm humbled and thrilled to take on the role of Sunday School Coordinator for the older classes!

I will be working under one of our pastors, helping to choose the curriculum, stock the supplies, and train our awesome volunteer teachers and helpers. We're even dreaming of how to use the puppets and costumes that I have stashed in a box in my living room!

I don't have a degree in kid's ministry or elementary education, and I am the first to admit that any parent will probably know how to manage their kid better than I will. Honestly, when I let myself dwell on my inadequacies and the magnitude of what I've signed up for, I start to tremble a little in my new Chacos.

But God loves to use small stuff and weak people. Like the beloved ladies of my past, I don't have all my junk together, but I'm learning that God cherishes willingness and humility more than talent. May I be so.

Salty and Everlasting

One of my best and longest friends got married this weekend!  But before we all indulge in the gorgeous photos, I have a question: Have you ever heard of a salt covenant?

Instead of a unity candle, my beautiful friend and her new husband poured salt from two containers into a common one as part of the marriage vows.  Just as you could never return every grain of salt to it's original owner, their covenant will never be broken.

This might sound similar to the newly popular unity sand that some couples choose to do, but because the salt itself is a throwback to ancient Biblical offerings to the Lord, it means far more than inseparability. In the Law of Moses, it says:

"Season all your grain offerings with salt. Do not leave the salt of the covenant of your God out of your grain offerings; add salt to all your offerings." Leviticus 2:13

The pastor explained that in ancient Middle Eastern culture, salt was essential for curing wounds, preserving food, and was even used as money. Soldiers were often paid in salt rather than gold, which is why we still refer to a good worker as "someone worth his salt". (You always wondered, didn't you?) Wars were fought over access to this essential mineral, and it was seen as a symbol of permanence and purity.

It was valuable, which meant that it cost the giver something.
It was used to heal.
It was used to season and preserve the goodness of food.
It could cleanse impurities.
And it created thirst.

My friend and her husband were charged to be like the salt of their covenant, and I, listening, was stirred to do the same.

Here is a link to the blog where I believe the pastor got most of his information about the salt covenant. 

Identity and my Job Search

If you know me, you'll be excited about this news! If you don't, maybe you'll at least be encouraged by what God is teaching me about his goodness.

When I got back to hot and humid Texas three weeks ago, I leaped headlong into the job search with all the intensity and drive of an Olympic swimmer. Translated, this means I came home each night from training my replacement at my part time job, perched on the couch with laptop and a bowl of dinner, and systematically searched and applied for any opening that remotely interested me.

For hours.

I edited cover letter and resume for each application. I kept detailed files of everything I sent. I even took copies of said cover letters and resumes to the taupe-colored offices in person, just to give it a personal touch. There were blisters on my feet from the flats I wore that day, but I didn't mind. And as you might have noticed, I hardly blogged. The computer was otherwise employed.

I was serious, and I was eager for the job market to take me seriously.

This employment hunt reminded me of my research papers in college.The harder I searched, the more blisters I acquired, and the less I slept, the more likely I would be to find a job, right? The underlying assumption was this: the grade depends on me. 

Then, about two weeks ago, I was at work, training my replacement in the art of balancing bank statements. Except...they wouldn't balance. I dialed our bank, and C___ answered. We've had a great working relationship for years now, ever since I started handling the finances for our church over two years ago.

"How's your summer been?" she asked. "Great! I've been in Colorado, and now I'm job hunting." I paused, and on a whim went on: "Are you guys hiring?"

"Actually," she said, "we are! Go online and apply, and make sure you put my name on it."

I sat across from them in an interview four days later. Two days after that, they called to offer me a full-time position at the bank!  Not a single employer had responded from any of my hard, Olympian work in the previous two weeks. But here, without me hardly lifting a little finger, God had dropped an offer into my lap.

But I have a hard time with easy gifts. They feel too easy. This whole week, my mind has spun with doubts.  I wondered if God wanted to encourage me with the offer, but wanted me to hold out for something ideal, something awesome and exciting. Would I feel trapped, doing something that didn't involve writing, teaching, or children? What if I got stuck there for twenty years! And what if the "ideal "job was waiting just one or two weeks away? What if's are torturous.

And then a friend tweeted a cool quote about identity that stopped my "what ifs" in mid stride:

We have been conditioned to find our identity in what we do. However, Scripture tells us that we are children of God adopted through the grace of Christ, through whom we derive our identity. My identity is not what I do; I do out of my identity. - Brad House

This reminder of truth was like salve to my heart. I'm not an actress, who, when she chooses a role as a ditz, will never be cast as anything else. I am also not living in Huxley's dystopia, where I was bred for one thing, and one thing only. My role simply does not equate to my identity. It doesn't come from my performance or my job title, or anything else self-generated. Instead, my identity rests in the fact that I am created, loved, and forgiven by the only One whose opinion matters.

If you know me, you'll know this is a familiar refrain. How many layers of performance-driven identity will Jesus have to peel away before I rest in Him? I'm not sure, but it's really reassuring to know His persistent love doesn't fail, even if I do.

So, long story short, I took the job.

I'm resting in the truth that it doesn't define me, limit me, or make me. Instead, at least for now, it is a good gift from a good Father who takes good care of me and my heart. 

More Than We Imagined

I am floored. I am blown away. I don't know whether it's more appropriate to jump up and down or to kneel--so I'm sitting here, shaking my head in amazement as I type. Have you ever asked God for something so huge that you felt nervous to ask, only to have Him completely dwarf your request with His generosity? Then you can understand. 

Yesterday, JC called an old friend. Just to chat, catch up, reconnect. I have always been amazed and challenged by my husband's talent for maintaining friendships through the years. This one in particular stretches back to high school.

New Isuzu transmission

As they traded recent stories, hubby shared the epic saga of last week's anniversary adventure: the car trouble, the attempts to fix it, the late-night rescue by our friend, the need for a complete transmission rebuild, and the reasonable price we found at a local shop in Denver.

We have been car-less ever since returning to Estes while our poor Isuzu has been in the shop, but we were just so thankful that the price was less than the $2,500 we were originally quoted. Yikes! We were thankful for savings to cover it, thankful that good friends came to pick us up, and thankful that to live at the Y, where walking is not only feasible but fun. Just a good story for a good laugh later.

But at the end of the conversation, our friend said, "I know you didn't ask, but I'm looking at our bank accounts. We have some money set aside for stuff like this..."

Yes. Our friend paid for our new transmission.

Not only did he pay for it; the amount he and his wife had saved to give away was the exact amount quoted to us by the repair shop.

I'm realizing all over again that God is bigger, richer, and more generous than I had imagined or hoped for. Here I was, asking for a fix that we could afford, never imagining that He wanted to do something like this!

If you're facing something that looks like it will drain you financially, emotionally, or in some other way, I hope that this can encourage you too!

The God who holds you is bigger than that giant.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Light hearted

My eyes are heavy, but my heart is feeling lighter than it has felt in weeks!

Part of the lightness is due to the fact that I am now a FORMER student of Texas A&M University. Yes, by the grace of God, I am done with my college degree!

As we fluttered down the hallway in our polyester robes and tassels and rounded the corner, the huge, humming stadium opened to receive us. The girl beside me gasped. "Ohmygosh--this is happening!" It reminded me a little of the moment before I walked down the aisle at my wedding.  It was certainly less emotional, but there was the same sense of moment--that I was living my own history.

My diploma!

On stage, I gave our President a high five instead of shaking his hand. This was partially because he begged the 7,000 of us to be merciful with his poor overworked hand-shaking fingers, and partially because a high five is so much more celebratory than a handshake. :)

Afterward, there were hugs and pictures and playing with the diploma tube (because apparently it makes an amazing sound if opened fast), and then my families came together to celebrate.

Seriously, I love having two families through marriage! Each is so unique and beautiful, and I felt so incredibly loved to be surrounded by all of them. Sweet, generous friends came too, offering their hugs and conversation and time and gifts to the beautiful mix until the ice cream was melting and the windows were dark.

But the lightness I feel doesn't only come from relief at being finished with a difficult season of school. It doesn't even come from being done with work for a little while, (although that is VERY welcome!) It came softly, gradually, as a different kind of weight was lifted.

To be honest, I've been more than physically tired. I've been soul-beat these days. I told Jesus, "I know you're good", but it came out more as a challenge than a statement of glad fact. I've been afraid of failing at this new season of life, terrified that friendships will flake away or that I'll spend myself into a shred of perfectionism even when there are no teachers to give grades.

But today, God told me that He is taking care of me.

As my family prayed for hubby and I, I got a picture in my head of my joyful Savior.
His face was glowing like a parent who just can't WAIT to give his child a gift, or like a master chef who was about to excitedly unveil his masterpiece to dinner guests. He was spreading a table with sparkling linen and sweet drinks and cakes and roasted turkeys and anything delicious you can imagine-all of it appearing on a bare table like a magical scene from Narnia. And all of it--amazingly--for me.

Seeing God that way melted my heart. I often subconsciously weigh myself down with standards and rules and expectations. I begin believing that God is distant until I am perfect, as if I could earn his love.

How far from the truth! Grace is undeserved by definition. If I could earn His love, it wouldn't be grace. My true "job", if it can be called a job, is to believe and receive.

²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” - Jesus (Matthew 11:29-30)

No Worrying Allowed

All this mental stretching, the waiting, the groaning under the weight of everything that I have to do.

Hmm...I think final exam week must be a small taste of what the final stage of pregnancy is like.

A) Pregnant girls can't go to the rec center and work out very hard, and neither can I.

B) They can't get very good sleep, and neither can I. 

C) They also have weird cravings for certain snack foods. (My craving: salted, roasted almonds, mixed with chocolate chips.)

If it's not a good comparison, my pregnant friend, Mrs. Kroeger, can correct me later. 

In the meantime, here's a little guy who made me smile today while I was walking on campus: 

Someone put a bowl of food for him outside their office window. Mr. Squirrel was so absorbed in his meal that he hardly noticed as I crept close and snapped this shot with my phone. 

It brought to mind something that my Savior said one day to a crowd: 

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" (Matthew 6:25-34) 

Yes. My heart totally needed that reminder. If God feeds this little squirrel, He can certainly give me enough time and energy to finish this paper. 

And to get ready for graduation. 

And to pack for Italy.

And to train my replacement at work. 

He is faithful. :)

Italy update

Today I realized that some of you are probably wondering...is that Italy trip thing still happening? Haven't heard about it in a while...

I’m afraid that this is one area in which the blogosphere has been getting the short end of the breadstick, simply because our Italy facebook group has been a much more convenient place to post updates.

But today I have news—news that not even facebook has seen! (Drumroll, please…)

It looks like once all promised money arrives, I will have all the funds necessary for the trip!

Only two days ago, I lacked over $400—a seemingly impossible sum after weeks and weeks of an achingly slow trickle of support.  I was still asking God to provide, still telling him that I believed He could do it, but… my confidence was starting to mirror the puniness of the money coming in instead of the bigness of the God I was talking to. 

So often I focus on the problem instead of on the One who can solve it.

I only realized I had been doubting when He suddenly answered...and I was surprised.

I got a facebook message.

Then a phone call.

Then an envelope under my windshield, stuffed with cash. (No idea how long it had been there before I saw it on my way to work!)

I feel so humbled, knowing that God was able—and willing—to provide it the whole time.

Update #2: Our team membership has shifted!

Originally, our team included two from beyond the borders of the USA: a young man from Hong Kong, and a sweet young woman from Mexico. Since then, difficulties in raising support from across the world have caused our Asian teammate to make different plans, trusting that God has something better in mind for him during those two weeks.

Karla, our lovely Latina, is still Italy-bound, but her funding levels continue to lag far behind the rest of us. The trip is especially important for her, because she is strongly considering joining the Italian team on a long-term basis. In many ways, this initial trip with our team is a scouting trip, allowing her to form a more accurate picture of life in Italy.

If you would like to help her with her trip costs, you can use this secure PayPayl link.

Because fundraising is so crucial to getting there, (free plane tickets, anyone? J) it might seem from Facebook and the above discussion that nothing else matters. Wrong!

The center, the hub, the real pit of this peach is this: God is passionate for people everywhere.

His heart breaks for people whether they live in dorms or drug allys, in houses or hostels, in suburbs or in slums. He knows them individually, intimately, internally—better than they know themselves. He died for them. He loves them. And only he is powerful enough to provide purpose in pain, security in insecurity, and forgiveness for secret sins.

But so many of them don’t know him.

As a team, we are praying on a weekly basis, asking God to give us cultural sensitivity to the Italian students and a real attitude of humility when we go. We want to be learners and guests first. 

Then, when we get the chance to tell how Jesus changed us, they will know that it’s not a sales pitch—it’s for real.

Lest I give the impression that the Castille family couldn't use any more help for the trip, hubby still has about $700 lacking for his trip costs. Anything that doesn't come in through gifts will come out of our savings...and while I'm thankful that we DO have enough to cover it, we would also welcome help if God leads you! 

I want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a college student who felt like she was going to drown in papers and books and verb conjugations.

Her writing hand was claw-like from clutching the pen.
Her shoulders had grown together from hunching.
Her computer was overheating from research.
Her eyes were scratchy from staring.
Her clothes had wrinkled into a sitting position.

And she missed the outdoors.

Spring Break was shimmering in the future, glowing with the promise of long nights of sleep and the certainty of exercise. Sweet vacation would soon be here. Then the tension would ease, the books lie forgotten for a while.

But the college student needed rest now, or at least a substitute.
Snacks?  Nope, tried that already.
A to-do list? Those only made her knotted shoulders tighter behind her neck.
How about a nap? Too large a risk; she would sleep for a week.

Then, the student stopped still. She had felt a familiar sound. Yes, she felt more than heard, for this Sound reached beyond soundwaves and caressed her heart under the armor she wore. The sound was a Voice, and it spoke from a well of deep rest, deep comfort, and a deep knowing. It invited her to sit close. She was still clutching her pen and her books, but she sat.

The Voice said her name, and she softened, but she still held the pen and books.
"Daughter?" said the Voice. "Do you know that I loved you before you had accomplished anything that you consider worthwhile or valuable?"
The college student held her pen tighter.
"And do you know that I would love you if you completely failed?"
She shuddered at the thought.
"I am the source of your rest, my lovely one," the Voice continued. "If you try to satisfy yourself with other things, you will feel like you're drying up."
"I feel like I'm drowning," she mumbled.
The Voice laughed, warmly, and she could imagine smile creases forming around tender eyes.
"The water I offer never drowns," He said. "It quenches. And the rest I offer isn't limited to vacation. I am always with you, and I don't run out or get tired."

She sat a long time. Gradually, a little bead of realization began to trickle slowly through her thoughts. The water swelled into a sturdy stream, eroding the fears of failure and the tiredness that had crusted there. He could be trusted. He was a deep well that never ran dry. The water soaked her, and her tears of relief flavored the deluge with salt.

And she let the pen fall from her open hands.

My friend, Dana

I had planned to write a happy post today. My sister is in town for a rare visit, and we had a blast last night in historic downtown Bryan. But today, I am grieving the death of my dear friend, Dana Ciumac. This morning, at around 3 am, Jesus took her home to heaven.

Though I lost both of my beautiful grandmothers to cancer, my heart is feeling a deeper, sharper sense of tragedy because this was a friend who had not yet reached her thirties.

I met Dana in the fall of 2006. With my high school graduation only months behind me, I had flown to Europe for a six-month mission trip with Operation Mobilization. I was such an eager, skinny twig, excited to be abroad where nothing was familiar except the Latin sounds that the Romanian language holds in common with Spanish. Dana, who was Romanian, was one of perhaps 3 people on the team who spoke English, and her accepting hugs and smiles made me feel at home almost immediately.

She was young--only 22--but I was only nineteen and deeply admired her. She was so gentle, so cheerful, and if there was a joke or party, Dana was probably in the middle of it. Kids in the villages we visited would flock around her, glowing under the individual attention she gave so freely. As I greedily learned every Romanian word I could, she would patiently help me with spelling and correct my pronunciations. She led teams of young people as we served widows, created puppet shows for kid programs, and told people on the streets about the freedom and joy of knowing God personally.

After I left Europe, she continued to serve on the team, and I would receive emails, facebook messages, and even precious letters from her in Romanian. In November of 2009, she married a young man who had also been our teammate, and I celebrated with her by oooing and ahhhing over her wedding pictures online.

For approximately the last nine months, her husband Eugen has served and loved and encouraged her as few men could have done. He kept hundreds of supporters and friends informed as the cancer gradually took its course, always with unwavering faith in God's goodness and love. Only God could have known that a healthy young woman like Dana would die so soon, and I am so glad that He brought such a wonderful man into her life.

Even this morning, Eugen wrote: "I know that this is a shocking news for you, but I thank God that He released her from all the pain she had...Please pray for our families and all the friends that kept Dana close to their hearts.

Be blessed and don’t forget, God is good!"

Dana, goodbye, my beautiful friend. I will see you someday again soon.