When you wonder if you measure up

The chairs were arranged in an inviting circle and the coffee was sputtering cozily in the corner. On the door was a sign saying "Welcome to the 24-hour prayer meeting"

I walked around, fluffing pillows and making sure that the keyboard was plugged in. I checked my watch: 5:34. Maybe they're all still getting off work. 

Over seventy people had been invited, but I knew that it was Memorial Day weekend and I might have only a handful show up to pray.

At 6:45 the room was still empty, so I sat and held out my similarly empty hands. Lord, I said, this is for you. You asked me to pray with other people, so here I am. I've sent the invitations, but I can't make them come. I hope you like this. I hope you can use this, even if it's just me all night. 

Suddenly, into the expectant space, I felt these words:

"It's already a success. It's already a victory."

I sat up straight and opened my eyes. Really? You aren't disappointed if no one comes? You like it already--before anything happens--just because I obeyed? 

In that moment, relief blew through my heart and the anxiety I didn't know I'd been holding dropped on the floor. I sat there for a minute or so, just enjoying the realization. He was pleased. He even called it victory! Wow.

I felt like Samuel, learning that man looks at the outward appearance while God looks deeper. (Check out 1 Samuel 16:7 for the story)

Things that look"unfruitful" or "a waste" may tip the scale in unseen battles that we will never know until later.

If He calls it a success, who am I to call it failure? So why is the prospect of Christ being formed in me somehow less significant in my eyes than twenty people showing up to a prayer meeting?

Friends did come to pray with me :)

The thing is, we live in a culture pretty obsessed by numbers, stats, and feedback. 

At school, we measure success by grades.
At the gym, it's the number on the scale or the pounds lifted.
At work, we are evaluated on a sliding scale in dozens of categories designed to measure output, growth, and efficiency.
In online dating, it's the number of winks or likes.

So what if the grade is borderline, the scale doesn't move, and the winks don't roll in? 

In the absence of measurable, positive feedback, we can easily conclude that the effort was a failure. Like that age-old riddle about the tree falling in the wood, we ask, if the Instagram post didn't get any likes, was it any good? No, we conclude, it wasn't.

This formula is dangerous and inaccurate. Inaccurate because numbers are only a partial measure of value, often dependent on the human dolling them out. And what if that human is having a bad day? It is dangerous because the value of something--or someone--may be wildly mis-represented.

Now, please don't misunderstand--numbers are good, helpful tools. I use numbers every day at work to help me reach targets. I learn from feedback and rankings. And, in the world of social media, the number of clicks can give helpful clues as to what stories mean the most to readers.

But when the numbers become the only feedback that matters to me, or when I become unwilling to obey the Lord's leading if it flies in the face of those numbers, my heart needs to be re-aligned. 

These are questions that I've been asking myself:

• Do you feel discouraged when no one notices your efforts? 
• Do you get the urge to quit when you feel like your best try just did a bellyflop? 
• Do you hesitate to embark on something that you know won't have a tidy accompanying list of accomplishments to check through?
• Does the thought of being graded--in school, at work, or by friend's opinions--make you nervous?

Oh, yeah, been there. Still there, friend. The good days are the days I choose to step back, and purpose to remember truth.

And the truth is that our God is a God who sees. He sees holistically, accounting for the state of my heart, not just the tally marks on my list. (Genesis 16:13)

Faithfulness in little things matters to him immensely. He notices when you turn to him, try that brave thing, choose to obey--even if no one else is impressed. (Luke 16:10, Matt 25:21)

He does not break the broken--he lifts and heals. Failure or depression or mental illness or addiction do not disqualify you from his love or from serving Him. In fact, He tends to choose weak things and people over the strong ones. (Romans 8:39, 1 Cor. 1:27-29)

The economy of the Kingdom sounds backward. The weak and lowly--even kids--are rulers. The King bends to serve his subjects. The poor are rich and the rich are poor, and the small, weak things are chosen over the strong so that God will be magnified.

It sounds so crazy...but maybe we are the ones living topsy-turvey.

You prayed, this happened.

We're halfway through the bag of espresso from Milan, which means it's high time for an update on how your prayers impacted those two weeks!

*Coffee in Milan, not my kitchen. I wish!

Instead of going on the mission trip as I have for the past three summers, the Lord asked me to stay here while hubs led the team. When I asked God to show me His plans for those two weeks, I got a clear answer. Pray. Pray with other people. 

And many of you did, both online and in the blue living room across from my house.

From my heart--thank you. From the hearts of Italians and Asians who had no idea you prayed--thank you. Your courageous minutes spent in prayer mattered.

Only two of these people knew you were praying for them!

Some of you joined the online prayer team, covering each day of the trip via email. 
Those moments set aside while you were sitting at those stop lights, brushing your teeth or standing in line at Starbucks to pray--they counted. They rose like sweet incense, doing battle on behalf of real people with real situations who encountered a real God during those two weeks.

Some of you came to the twenty-four hour prayer meeting in College Station. 
This was so exciting! I had never done anything like this before. It was humbling, exhilarating, and exhausting.

I want you to know that the sleep you sacrificed to come to the apartment in the small hours of midnight, praying on the curling carpet for people you would never meet on earth--it was seen by the Lord of Heaven's Armies. Your prayers meant the world half a world away.

The team felt the difference.
Thanks to an international texting plan, we were able to send encouragement and get up-to-the-minute news from the team during the trip, especially during the 24-hour prayer meeting. It was thrilling to sit on the opposite side of the globe and pray for a conversation happening thousands of miles away, knowing that our God was working.

Here are some specific prayers you prayed, and the response God gave:

1. You prayed that God would give our team the emotional energy to keep going. 

On a team of seven people, five were introverts. For you extroverts reading this, please take my word for it--twelve-hour days filled to the brim with challenging conversations can be extraordinarily draining.
 But the Lord gave the energy we asked for! The quieter ones on the team reported that they were surprised at their own ability to keep engaging in conversations long after their reserves would normally have sputtered out.

2. You asked Him to heal one of the girls on our team, who was sick with stomach cramps. 

The stomach pains ended up being something more serious than a simple virus, and she has spent much of the past week in the hospital. However, we praise God that the hospital visit was not needed until after she had returned from Italy! Please continue to keep her in your prayers.

3. You asked God for unity, and wisdom for the team leader.  

As his wife, this special request for my man really meant a lot to me. He told me later, after the jetlag began to wear off, that he definitely felt the Lord giving him wisdom in some challenging situations. The unity of our team was a key component in the success of the trip.

4. You prayed for students to trust in Jesus Christ.

We have a new brother and a new sister! Amelia*, a Chinese student studying in Italy, befriended our team during the first week. She had heard the gospel in Italian before, but it was not until a girl on our team, also from China, explained salvation in her heart language that it finally clicked. She still has many questions, and we were excited to hear that she met with one of the long-term missionaries just last Sunday to talk about Jesus more.

Marco* decided to follow Jesus as a result of a lunch conversation with two of the guys on our team during the second week. As each of them told about the difference that knowing Jesus has made in their lives, he leaned in eagerly. They sketched a simple bridge to illustrate how Jesus made a way for man to return to a holy God, and he said "yes--I want that."

The team was not just the seven people who got on a plane in Houston. It was also every one of you who prayed. Thank you for being part of God's work in Milan, Italy. 

*Names changed to protect our friend's privacy.

Your Minutes Matter :: an invitation to pray for Italy 2015

This morning I helped hubby roll the suitcases out to his car before I gave him one last kiss. Just five minutes ago, he texted me this picture to tell me that the team was about to board the plane for Italy!

Why am I not in the picture? Earlier this year, God surprised me by asking me to stay home rather than go on the mission trip to Milan. (Click here to read the story.) It was strange. I tend to assume--and I think a lot of Christians assume--that obedience usually means going rather than staying, but I couldn't deny the calm I felt once the decision was made.

I brought those now-empty weeks on the calendar to God. Did you want me to do something else with them, Lord?

The answer came quietly, dropping like a leaf into the calm pool of my heart: Pray. 

The ripple widened and another thought came, quick and insistent after the first: Pray WITH other people. 

All though scripture, there vivid examples of our great God answering prayer. He heard Abraham and made a 90 year old woman pregnant. He heard Moses and made a dry highway through an ocean. He heard Peter and made a dead woman live again. He has made water pour out of a rock, made lions ignore their dinner, and struck a whole army of enemy soldiers dead because of prayer.

One story in particular keeps running through my head, reminding me that prayer has significant results. 

That day the odds were stacked ridiculously high against the Israelites. They were just a bunch of sheep-tending nomads who'd been little kids when their parents left Egypt. Manna and the desert were all they'd ever known. They were about to face the Amalekites--seasoned warriors fighting on their home turf.

Moses told Joshua, "Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands."

When Moses became tired and lowered his hands, the enemy began to beat Joshua and his men. But when he raised his hands in prayer again, the battle went well. As the day went on, he became exhausted, so two other leaders helped hold up his arms. The rag-taggle Jews beat the Amalekites that day not because they were good fighters, but because Moses persistently called on the Lord's help.

If we pray during these two weeks, it will accomplish three purposes:

1. The team in Italy will become more effective.
This one feels too obvious to write, but my half-hearted prayer track record shows that I need the reminder. As we pray, God will work. He will literally intervene in our space-time situations and change circumstances when we ask. He can keep the team joyful when they're jetlagged. He can heal food poisoning (which we pray won't happen!). He can change hearts and make the Good News suddenly clear to Italians.

2. The Church will become connected to God's heart for the nations. 
Prayer doesn't just change the things we pray for; it changes us.  If we spend our precious free time praying that God's purposes would happen, those purposes soon grow in importance to us. If we as the Church pray earnestly for lost people, those lost people soon become more and more precious to us and the love of Christ will dwell in us richly. The division between those who go and those who stay will be simply a matter of physical location. We are ALL commissioned by Jesus' command to "make disciples of all nations."

3. God will be glorified. 
This is the heartbeat pulsing through everything already mentioned. When God answers a specific prayer, He receives thanks, and his power over every circumstance is put on grand display. And to whom is it displayed? To us, certainly, but we are surrounded in a very real sense with a "great cloud of witnesses." When the angels in the unseen realms see our faith expressed through prayer, who can imagine what songs they sing to Him for it? When they see the way that His love causes us, His adopted children, to run to Him, the mysteries of his greatness and wisdom become the anthem of Heaven.

If God is stirring your heart, there are two ways to get involved:

Join the Online Prayer Team!

We need prayer cover for each day that the team is in Italy. You can sign up to pray for a specific day of the week, or the whole two-week trip--ask the Lord what He wants you to do.

As a member of the prayer team, you will get an email reminder on the night before your prayer day with prayer requests from Italy.

To join, click HERE.  

Gather in College Station for 24 hours of prayer!

There is power, encouragement and JOY when believers meet together to pray! The 24-hour prayer gathering will start next Friday, May 22nd at 5pm and will end the next day at the same time. It is a come-and-go event; guests are welcome to stay as long as they like and leave as needed.

Why this 24 hours, you ask?

This particular 24 hour period coincides with one of the most important days of ministry for the team in Milan. After a week of meeting students through the English Clubs on campus, our team always invites their new friends to join them for a full day excursion at a beautiful location several hours away from the city. The long bus ride and the relaxed setting of the Excursion Day has traditionally been one of the best days for deeper conversations about the Gospel with students.

To get the Evite to the event with more details, click HERE. 

Italy this year looks different

I *almost* posted this Wednesday, but it was the first of April, and the common wisdom says that nothing posted on April Fools Day should be trusted as fact.

I wanted you to believe me when I tell you this.

After much prayer and thought, I have decided to remain state-side this year while my husband goes back to Milan in May.

To explain why, let me tell you the story.

Around November, as I was praying for my friends in Italy and for the coming mission trip, I felt a hesitancy that was as unexpected as it was strong. Why does this year feel different? I wondered.

 The following week, my beautiful younger sister got a sparkling rock on her left hand. A wedding was quickly set for June. Only a few short weeks later, my other sister and her husband welcomed a sweet baby girl to our family. In our close-knit clan, babies and weddings are all-hands-on-deck affairs--a chance to pour love through action and presence.

I was torn. On the one hand, I could not wait to see my friends in Milan. I longed to grieve with the church there over the recent death of one of the missionaries, to continue the conversations about life and Jesus with those I met in the last three years, and to feel the joy of serving alongside my husband in a place we've both come to love.

On the other hand was a growing desire to grasp these momentous moments with my sisters. But it felt almost selfish to consider choosing family over a mission trip.

There was not enough vacation for both.

However, as I prayed, I became convinced that loving my sisters and their families was this year's mission. And, as I realized several years ago, even spiritual things like a mission trip overseas can be downright disobedient if the Lord is asking me to do something else.

So while it feels odd to reach March without a flurry of support-raising, I am filled with peace. When I get home and see the coffee cups from an Italy meeting cluttering the countertop by the sink, I smile, knowing that God has hand-picked these seven volunteers. It is a good team, and they will succeed.

And that's not all.

God has been dropping ideas into the now-peaceful pool of my heart. Each one sends excited ripples to the very edges of me until I can hardly sit still! I may be here, an ocean away from the team for two weeks, but those two weeks have a purpose. The purpose is slowly forming into a plan, but that will have to wait until the next post. :)

Stay tuned! 

On our way to Italy again!

The New York skyline is just barely visible past the forest of airplane fins jutting into the sky, and our team is sitting excitedly as we wait to board our second flight. We're finally on our way to Italy!

It's been a marathon of a week. Several people on our team (including my own hubby) are still sleep-deprived from final exams. Two of the girls actually graduated from Texas A&M this weekend (whoop!), and I worked two of the graduation ceremonies as a marshal because of my job in the graduate studies office. But we definitely feel that God is sustaining us and answering the prayers of our support team! Keep on praying!

One wonderful answer to prayer is that we did NOT have to wake up at an insane hour and drive to the airport this morning. The parents of one of the girls on the team generously hosted our whole troop last night, fed us delicious homemade meals, and drove us to the airport this morning before church. Thank you, Mrs. Spachek, for mothering us all on Mother's Day! 

A second answer to prayer came this afternoon during our layover when another teammate discovered that her debit card was missing. This particular friend is planning to stay the entire summer in Milan for an internship with the church plant team, so the loss of her card was not a small thing. We started praying while she and my hubby went to retrace her steps. God answered! Some wonderful honest person turned the card in to the lost and found desk and we all felt so relieved.

A few things to pray for:

• Continued safety as we fly to Milan tonight
• The safe arrival of all luggage, and that we don't lose any more important items! :)
• Good health. Because so many on our team are tired, we're praying for protection against sickness and headaches. 
• Opportunities to talk about Jesus with people on the flight 

Enjoy a few pictures from today! I will update y'all soon from Milan once we arrive. 

The first flight from Houston

Waiting in the Newark airport during our 5-hr layover

Newark, NJ

Paul taught us now to play spades!

Global Week

Last week our church tried something new.

We have always been a “missional” church. We are dedicated to evangelism and discipleship both here in our college town and overseas. For years, we have had special partnerships with churches overseas in countries like Nigeria, Italy, and Mexico, and we send teams each year to those partners. (Shameless plug for the Italy mission trip! It will change your life!)

We usually talk about the trips in spaced-out spurts: Mexico one week, Nigeria another week.

Not this year.

This year, our leaders decided to streamline, focus, and intensify by creating Global Week: a seven day period of teachings, prayer, worship and information about Jesus' Great Commission. We had a free missions conference by The Traveling Team, a half-night of prayer, info lunches about each mission trip—the works.

To be honest, I was nervous about last week. I was afraid that all this talk of missions would rip the band-aid off the old, unmet desire to go to the ends of the earth. That it would poke the wound raw, stir up the discontent I had almost ignored.

Here is my old pattern:
1) I see a need.
2) It’s huge.
3) My heart breaks.
4) I jump to the rescue.

And just to clarify,“Rescue” usually involves prayer, tears, and an intense desire to sell my car and hop on a plane. In the end, I feel frustrated because I’m here, not there.

Like I said, this is the old pattern.

 On that Sunday as the last session by The Traveling Team ended and we folded our chairs to leave, I realized that something was missing. The heart-wrenching, hopeless, urgent feeling was gone. In its place was a quiet, growing excitement to be so stratigically placed.

I remembered with a jolt that almost every hero of the Traveling Team’s stories was a man or woman whose most meaningful work was the mobilization of students. They were willing to go themselves, but humble enough to realize that God’s glory is often more magnified through community than through a single man or woman's zeal. It made me feel honored—not displaced—to be living here among college students.

After all, what could be more strategic?

He has placed me here. Until he reassigns me, I will be faithful in this place, with these students, with these kids and the kids on our street. At this moment, I simply feel content to pray, trusting that God will tell me the next step.

If you’d like to read more, check out this post, in which I realized that staying and sending can sometimes be radical obedience.

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. 

Small things

Again, I find that the ambition to blog regularly on a mission trip like this proved to be completely unrealistic. Oh well. There is grace in the doing and not-doing, and sometimes the call to sit and rest--to simply be--outshines the trophies we give ourselves for checking boxes off lists.


Our two weeks in Milan are drawing to a close. Sunday, we will eat one last brioche and point our noses back to the land of Starbucks and larger cars. I will miss Italy so much.

We have been living the refreshing rhythm of days measured by the quality of conversations with God and with others rather than by errands run or hours worked.

Even then, "measure" is a mis-nomer. Because how can you measure what God might do through a seemingly inconsequential hug? Or a friendly chat over a maroccino?

Two weeks is a blip on eternity's timeline, but if love was expressed, that blip carries the weight of eternity.

This morning I forgot this. For about three hours, I walked in a fog of self-doubt which was really God-doubt in disguise. It hit me after breakfast, causing me to question my effectiveness, my abilities, and whether I had wasted my time coming.

As I type, I'm scoffing at the absurdity. But even the absurd can sound true when you're tired.

I looked over the past two weeks and saw only a string of inconsequential moments, conversations, and activities. Only two weeks, when I longed to give the whole shebang and move here for good. It seemed so paltry. Like loose change in my coin purse.

But there was that day when Jesus called her two coins the biggest offering of all. 

And there was another afternoon when a kid's lunch, given to Jesus, fed enough people to fill a stadium. 

He loves to use the weak things, the small things, the awkward things, even the boring things.
By this, He shames the strong.
If I feel strong, I'm actually weak.
But when I give Him the small things--my little lunch, my loose change--His strength is obvious.

So this is what I'm learning. It's only something small...but I guess I could be wrong about that. :)

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. 

Returning

My least favorite part of any mission trip has always been the goodbye. You pray, prepare, go, serve and love with all your heart--and then the moment comes when you leave, taking only photos and a certain but far-away hope that you'll see them again in Heaven.

But this year is different! This year will be the first time that I get to return, making last year's goodbyes simply see-you-laters.

Lord willing, in three short weeks hubby and I will once again be walking the streets of Milan.

I can't wait to hug our friends who live there and serve year-round.
I can't wait to drink a real cappuccino at breakfast.
I can't wait to see how the little church, Il Refugio, has grown.
I can't wait to spend long hours at pizzerias, discussing life, Jesus, and our cultural quirks with students.
I can't wait to pick up the strands of friendships we began to weave last year.

The returning will be dolce--sweet.

I haven't been blogging about Italy, but many of you have heard through a letter, a Facebook update, or a phone call.

What you may not have heard is that this year's support raising has been unusually difficult.

So many people have been generous, even sacrificial. Every gift that has come to our mailbox or to the online giving site has humbled is to the core (and sometimes made us jump around our living room like kids on a sugar high!)

But I'd be lying if I said that this process hasn't tested my faith. It always does, but it's been tough this year.

The conversations have gone something like this:

Me: Jesus, I know you're not slow, but you sure aren't following my schedule. The deadline is Thursday.

Jesus: Trust Me.

Me: Ok I do trust you. Help me trust. I know you can do even more than I ask.

Jesus: My ways are higher than yours, remember?

Me: I remember. Keep reminding me.

Because sometimes I need to return to what is, no matter the state of my emotions or my bank balance. His faithfulness is a constant, His love is forever.

And the return to those truths is always dolce.

Sodom's Crime

Death is a taker, not a giver. The taking it has done this week in Boston, and last night in West, TX, have made me sit weeping in my car for the moms, the spouses, the kids who are reeling in the aftermath.

Always receiving, but never giving, salt seas are dead too.

Dead and briny, like the tears in Boston and West after the taking.

Salty and barren like a little ghost town once called Sodom.

Sodom. We always peg it for its sodomy. (Ever wonder where the name came from?) Yes, Sodom had sexual sin, but that was not the crime that fit them for destruction.

The crime was taking-without-giving.

They hoarded wealth like a salt sea hoards water.

Small-town Sodom was full of gluttons. It was full of excess, of waste, of shutting eyes to the poor and plugging ears against compassion that would cost them comfort.

I had never known this, never realized that this was why God destroyed it, but there it was, in the middle of a rant against Israel, (who apparently was worse than Sodom!):

"...this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. ...So I removed them." (Ezekiel 16:48-50 ESV)

Sound like any place you know?

I'm not bringing this up so I can stand on my soapbox against America's wealth, her ease and prosperity, or her greed.  No, I'm bringing this up because I'm guilty.

I have shut my eyes. I have closed my ears. I have snapped my checkbook closed too many times when I knew He would have counted it as a personal gift to Him.

When I receive without giving, I am like like a salt sea: deader with every drop.

"Truly I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." (Matt 25:45) - Jesus

He, the Ultimate Giver, is supremely alive.

I received and began to live. Now when I give, His life is expressed sweet, full. I have life to the full.




As I was chewing on the passage in Ezekiel, I started journaling a prayer out of desperation and frustration with how similar I was to Sodom. This poem was the result.



Rescue me from wealth
the consuming
and grasping 
and wasting
of things
unnecessarily bought
and garaged
and shelved
while their bellies bloat.

Save me from success
the endless striving
comparing 
and lifting
of self
unconscionably proud 
discontent
and anxious
lest the accolades stop.

Ransom me from passion
for those worthless
and emptying
pursuits
unbearably hollow
preoccupying
distracting
from the Life that truly lives.

Spring homegroup update!

It's about time for an update about homegroup! That is, after all, the fiber of the student ministry here at Fellowship Church, the rhythm of meetings and life in nourishing community.

We lost a lot of people last December: some to graduation and new grown-up jobs elsewhere, some to student teaching assignments in other cities. It's natural and expected--the population of a college town is in constant flux, and students themselves are in transition...but I was sad. I miss people when they leave.

This is why the perpetual prayer for those of us in college ministry is,  "Jesus, send us new people you have in mind, people who are hungry for you."

One way He is answering that prayer is through a sweet girl who isn't exactly new, but whose new-found confidence and humility in her new leadership role is a breath of fresh air to the homegroup! Sarah met us as a quiet freshman at last year's Spring Rally, and has since grown so much in her heart for other students and her understanding of the Bible. Most weeks, she brings along a new friend from one of her classes, and invites them to coffee or lunch on her free time. Yay for new leaders who are faithful!

In addition to old members stepping into leadership roles, we have had about eleven new students check out our homegroup since January. While not all will stick, we are praying that many will, and that we will be able to share our lives and the love of Jesus with them.

In other homegroup news, the first girl sleepover of 2013 was a smashing success! Hubby went elsewhere for the night while we stuffed ourselves with salad, homemade enchiladas and ripe strawberries, and then danced ourselves silly to the wii game, "Just Dance". Oh, and we painted toenails. Duh.

Another incredible time happened last weekend at the women's retreat...but that weekend deserves its own post...HERE.

Staying = Radical Obedience? Sometimes.

They were sitting there on our blue couch, earnest and eager as they told us about the Bright Mountain People*. Hubby and I traced curious fingers over pictures they had brought and tried to imagine living there, with all the foreign tastes, sounds and mannerisms. Such a beautiful people, but such a hopeless future without a Savior.

(not actual picture...only my imaginings)

As teens, our friends had heard about missionaries like Wycliff, Carmichal, and Elliot, but always as a history lesson to encourage the now. All the dangerous work had been done, they thought.

But then, they had a profound realization:

There are still entire cultures that have never heard the name of Jesus. 

 And each year, millions of people die without ever hearing of the God who loved them and died to buy their freedom from death. So our friends went, committing to a lifetime of language learning, relationship-building, and sacrificial living so that the statistic could change.

I was sitting there on the other couch, feeling as if I had swallowed a bag of hot marbles. What am I doing here while people are dying? I wondered. The faces from the pictures were still there when I shut my eyes, and I had a sudden urge to quit my job, sell my car, and book a flight. What if I missed my calling? I even felt a throb of jealousy, that they were living my old dream while I did laundry and brought home paychecks.

My response was not entirely wrong; it is right to be heartbroken over the eternal death of millions of people. If we feel more sadness over a flat tire or a disappointing football game, we need to do a serious gut check.

But I have a tendency to want to rescue people myself, rather than looking to the Rescuer.

An even bigger confession: I have a deep, inner aversion to averageness. Even as a 2nd grader, I hated earning less than an A+ on school assignments.  As a teenager, when I pictured my future, it never included the typical elements of the American Dream. I never wanted the picket fence, the cul-de-sac, the 2.5 kids or the fat paycheck. I wanted to be 100% sold out for Jesus and His Kingdom. In my mind, that meant that I would live sacrificially,  give extravagantly, and home school my nine children while my husband and I went to the furthest corners of the globe with the good news that Jesus reconciles broken people.

And none of this is bad in the least. Even now, many godly people are living this lifestyle and giving all the glory to Jesus.

 But do I desire this radical lifestyle because Jesus desires it from me? Or is it because I want to be "a cut above" your average Jesus-follower? Maybe it's a mix. Most of my movitations are, if I get real with myself.

Truth: even good activities can be downright disobedient if God hasn't asked you to do them. 
(King Saul found that out the hard way. For his story, check out 1 Samuel 15:22)

As I've prayed and journaled through these thoughts, here are some in-progress conclusions:

1) I should make sure my heart is in a position of continual availability to go. Maybe the answer I have taken as "no" is in reality "not yet." If I knew He would send me outside the US in five years, how would that knowledge affect the way I live today? As my cousin, Jeremy recently tweeted: "Your vision of the future affects the decisions of your life today. Without a heart set on eternity you will live for only temporary things."

2) I should be humble enough to realize that Jesus may want me to live a life of faithfulness and relative obscurity, devoid of the moving stories, exotic passport stamps or flashy sacrifices. Am I willing to accept obscurity, the life of the suburban soccer mom and "sideline involvement" in missions if that's what Jesus asks of me? It takes faith to believe that being still and patient can accomplish as much as radical action. Staying can be its own sacrifice, and secret prayer may be more news-worthy in Heaven than any foreign travels on earth.

*The "Bright Mountain People" are called by a pseudonym here, to protect our friends and other workers who bring them the Good News. 

Part of the Club

My husband and I joke that our street is a tiny slice of ghetto in a suburbia pie. There are old cars and weeds instead of sculpted lawns, and the cracked concrete probably dates to a time before my birth. But none of this stops the kids of our street from turning our neighborhood strip into a half-mile play zone.

I love the kids. They run and bike and scooter and clump noisily in driveways and stairwells, taller ones toting toddlers. If you stop between car door and front door to talk, shyness will evaporate, brown eyes will sparkle, and suddenly you have a friend.

google pic

Ever since I moved in over a year ago, I've daydreamed of building relationships and even organizing a simple Bible Club with stories, games, and snacks. What could be easier? I live here, right? But my student life left no margin, and I've found time just as scarce now that I'm a working woman. God, I prayed,  I want to be involved somehow, but the thought of starting something from scratch feels so overwhelming. 

Enter: the awesomeness that is answered prayer. Boom. 

I wanted to work out at a nearby gym, but instead of driving, I decided--for the first time ever--to walk.

I was halfway down the street, when I heard an excited female voice ask"...And what do you think Joseph did then? He went right to his brothers and told them his dream!" Who is telling a Bible story? I wondered.

As I rounded a group of parked cars, I saw a tiny crowd of children, all giving rapt attention to an elderly blond woman who held a picture for them to admire. Another elderly woman sat nearby with a curly-headed girl in her lap. I quietly came close and sat cross-legged on the edge of the blanket. This was so much better than lifting weights.

At the end, as the kids smeared their mouths red with popsicles, I introduced myself to the women. I discovered that the Bible Club that God had placed on my heart had already been in progress every week for fourteen years! Their faithfulness humbled me to the core. Ms. M actually lives on my street, and though she usually leaves the storytelling to her friend, it is her willingness to host and fund the Club that has kept it going for over a decade.

Yesterday, I went back, and I feel so encouraged! Here is a place for the dream I've held so long. Here I can meet the kids, show them love, know their names and stories. Here I can use the puppets that have languished, unused, in my old trunk for three years. Here I can learn from the faith and faithfulness of the older women, and begin to make love a tangible verb on my street.

(AND, if you live on my street or anywhere nearby, you should come! 4pm, Wednesdays.)

Balloons over the Rockies

What weighs you down? 

So many things settle with undue weight into the corners of our hearts, puncturing our tank of joy and contentment with devastating precision: 

Worries about our families

Fears of an unknown, uncontrollable future

Hurts from words spoken years ago

Hurts from words that might have healed, but went unspoken

Secret shame

Insecurities that taunt us from the mirror or our GPA

Tight finances

In the desert with a complaining group of nomads, God used symbolism to seal the significance of deep truth in their hearts. Physical rituals like washing, celebrating, and sacrificing made unseen promises tangible, concrete, and less easily forgotten. 

So my life group leader got a great idea. 

We would write out the worries, fears, hurts, shames and insecurities in a letter to Jesus. Then, we would attach them to helium globes and literally release them to Him from a mountain top. 

When we found that our letters were too heavy for our little balloons, we took a marker and improvised. :)

We shared our burdens, gave them to Him as a group. As we let the plastic ribbons slip from our hands, we felt weightless in the freedom of surrender. 

We are spiritual beings, but we are also physical. These two aspects of our nature are so enmeshed that we cannot be wholly well if one is broken. Doctors and psychologists and ministers have long known that cheerful patients heal faster and that depression increases the risk of all kinds of life-threatening diseases. When we physically lift the edges of our mouths there is a corresponding glimmer of joy in our hearts. When we physically place our hands over our breast pockets and sing, we feel a soulful camaraderie with a nation of others doing the same. 

All that to say, I personally need physical reminders of spiritual truths. I need to kneel--it humbles me. I need to sing out--it reminds my heart of the reasons for singing. 

And sometimes I need to literally release my burdens to the Lord in a balloon. 

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)

Italy: Ciao for now!

Even though the goodbyes were hard, this last day in Italy was sweet and full. 

We spent the day in Milan's throbbing heart: a bustling downtown area filled with tourists, shops, and ancient architecture. After lunch with other teammates, many of our new friends from English clubs met us at the Duomo. (see pic!>>) Some of us climbed to the roof, and I was amazed by the detail carved into parts of the building that would never be seen from the ground. Even though the name of the cathedral means "made by man", the building's creators must have had a greater Audience in mind, one who would see the painstaking details so far from the street. 

As we walked, I thanked God for the Italian students and for the friendships we've formed in these past two weeks. Helena, Stefano, Belentina, Natalya, Lisa, Federico, Andrea...and so many others--all are so precious to me now. I knew before I came that it was a relational trip, but now I am beginning to understand the importance of long-term investment in these students. 

Some of my teammates had been here before, and I was amazed at their persistent, faithful love shown to the students that they had met in past years. It was because they had prayed, facebooked, and continued contact with those students that so many returned. Not only did they return; many of them were open to discussing spiritual things for the first time, and almost five of them have even said that they want to begin studying the Bible with the long-term missionaries here! 

Love shown once can be good, even influential. But to persistently, constantly, faithfully love someone over time--this could change the world. 

I am seriously asking God whether He wants me to come back next year (as I hope!), and asking Him for wisdom in how to keep up with my new friends. 

The beautiful sky last night! 

Ohhhh, I'll miss this food....

Helena!

Lisa!

What an amazing group. And each person is so precious to God! 

Please pray for us to have a safe trip and that we actually sleep on the plane! And pray that hubby and I get over jetlag quickly, especially since we have to re-pack and leave for Colorado on Tuesday. :)  A marathon, but Jesus is enough to help us through it. 

Italy: Bellagio and second week

I recognize now that I was over-ambitious to think I could blog daily here in Italy. Scratch that: it was ridiculous. 

 Every morning we have only a short time to shower, eat breakfast and pray before team devotions. We take the rumbling, swaying tram to campus. There, we eat lunch with the students we've met, getting to know them and talking about spiritual things. 

With our stomachs full of pasta or kebab, we board the tram again, trying to brace ourselves for the sudden stops without looking like sumo wrestlers. At the second (larger) hotel, we spend two hours preparing for English Clubs. Students trickle in and shyly sit. We laugh, talk, explain, and teach for three hours, trying to move beyond the surface to the people. Afterward, many students accept our invitation to dinner, and it gives a great opportunity to build relationships and talk about life and about God. 

Fun times! But sooooo exhausting for this morning-person-girl. By the time we reach our hotel at night, all I can do is take our my contacts, breathe a prayer, and fall into bed.

But I want to give you all a few specifics before starting to bombard you with pictures from Colorado. :) 

Excursion to Bellagio

Bellagio on Lago di Como is, by far, the most beautiful place I have ever seen in Europe. The lake (Lago di Como) is cupped in the foothills of the Alps, surrounded by the red-tiled roofs we Americans always imagined when we thought of Italy. The town itself is pristine, without any trash or graffiti to mar the rose, yellow, and mustard-colored buildings.

On Saturday, thirty of us boarded a huge bus and spent the day together in this picturesque place, enjoying the beautiful scenery, the many cafes, and spontaneous games of Ninga (super fun...ask me to tell you about it if you don't know this game!) As we walked, talked, and ate, meaningful conversations were happening on every side.

Poor hubby...he felt sick the entire day after that winding bus ride. The switch-back road down the mountains was so narrow at points that the bus had to back up and stopped up traffic in both directions! It made me wonder how he'll fare on similar roads in Colorado.



Please pray for my new friends. My deep, deep desire is to show her--and the other students--love. But I need God to help me be a listener, a learner, and make my words culturally sensitive.

I have so much to learn about loving well. 

Italy: My sick day

"Even to your old age and gray hairs

I am he, I am he who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you;

I will sustain you and I will rescue you." (Isaiah 46:4)

I've always been touched by this verse, but always for someone else. Someone who had gray hair. Each time I read it, I would tuck it away in a mental filing cabinet with a little post-it note that said, "For one day when I'm a grandma." After my kids are grown, and I sit, fragile, next to an African Violet in a sterile-smelling nursing home, that's the day I'll need it.

Well, I needed it today.

I woke up late and groggy, with crumpled hair and eyes that refused to open fully. My normal jolt of morning adrenaline kicked in as I showered, but it seemed watered-down somehow.

I wasn't the only one who was feeling bad; Lindsay was fighting sinus issues. The team prayed for us, but as we began to sing, all I could do was sit with my hands open on my lap as if to receive. Jesus, fill me with energy, I prayed.

The previous day's devotion about faith was bumping around in my head like shoes in a dryer. I wondered foggily, would it be more obedient to plunge into the day as usual, trusting God to provide the strength, focus, and energy I lacked? That would definitely take faith.

Or would it be more obedient to lay my tired head down upstairs, trusting God to help the English Clubs go well even if I wasn't there? That would take faith too. And humility. I'm not essential. God can do fine without me. 


At the urging of wise friends, I reluctantly and tearfully rode the tiny red elevator back up to the room. I felt useless. Why am I even here?

I slept for four solid hours. When I awoke in the dim, cool room, I lay there feeling miserable.

Then words from God's Word began to crowd softly, tapping at my memory.

Does God break bruised reeds? No. Does He snuff out smoldering wicks? No. 


"Even to your old age and gray hair, I am he who sustains you..."


In our culture, the helpless are despised. Unwanted babies are discarded daily. Elderly people can't contribute to society. They drool too much. Put them somewhere else. They are smoldering; snuff them out.

How different from the way God sees them!

And today, I was like an old woman. I was fragile, exhausted, and emotionally drained. I was the one who He carried.

"I have made you and I will carry you..."


I think I'm beginning to see the truth: that my value has nothing to do with how much I contribute. It has everything to do with the fact that I am His.

P.S.
Today was our 11-month wedding anniversary! (Yes, we're still celebrating each month...stop rolling your eyes.) He was so incredibly sweet to me today. :)