Last night I had a pretty intense talk with my sister. It wasn't intense in the sense that we cried and laughed and yelled. It was intense in that we talked about stuff that we REALLY wanted to talk about.
I'm so used to the typical conversations I have with my friends. "How was work?" "Good."
"What was the homework for Tuesday?""Who would you vote for?""What are your plans this weekend?"
Last night me & Alex talked about the REAL stuff. The nitty gritty, so to speak.
We talked about how our parent's divorce effected us. About what we think of our parents, about how jealous we are of our friends.
We talked about the 'don't touch' subject in my life. That one boy. I would say his name but stupid girls would gasp. I told her everything that went on between us (stop assuming, I'm not talking about being pregnant). We agreed that one day I should write a novel based on our story and it made me realize that it doesn't have to be a horror thing for me. It can be a cool story and I can leave it at that. She thinks I should write him a letter to make my story cooler. I've tried but I'm just not sure about all that yet.
We talked about what we do and don't like about school. We got to talk about our newfound talents without feeling like stupid people who brag.
We talked about stupid crushes that mean nothing but say everything.
We talked about God a little here and there.She knows I'm in love with Him. I told her about my wonderful church and becoming a member. She thinks it's cool.
We talked about coffee. And how we prefer tea.
We just TALKED.
I wish there were more people in my life who would just TALK. Talk about the stuff that matters. The stuff you don't always want to talk about. Talk about thee stuff that hurts. Talk about stuff that's embarassing. Just TALK.

Relationships aren't build on the playground or at work. Relationships are built over coffee.
Relationships are built when people just TALK.

Unchanging Love

sometimes you fall in love and no one notices
sometimes you lose a tooth and the fairy doesn't show up
sometimes you turn on the lights and the darkness stays
sometimes your hair cut isn't that different
sometimes the trash doesn't get picked up
sometimes nobody hears when you stub your toe


i know that He always notices
He always shows up
He'll bring the light
Nothing will go unseen.

That's why He's my fave.

Lord,

Give me faith.
Give me focus.
Give me passion.
Do Your will

& always remember,

You are my Home.
Home is where the heart is.

Seek His Face

I fear for this world &, most of all, the people in it.

How quick we are to fall in love.
How hungry we are for entertainment.
How STARVING we are for attention.

Mostly, how we hold at such high reguard the things that our Father doesn't esteem.

Money is great but does it really matter?
Hair is pretty but does it REALLY matter?


We're told diamonds are beautiful because they're rare but how much more rare is the heart of a selfless man?

I grieve for us.

On a lighter note, I'll be headed to Bolivia in August to build an orphanage for boys who live in a country that has no room for them. I want them to see that the kingdom our Father built has room for everyone.
Pray for that.

I had a wonderful/interesting/intense/emotional week.
I need prayer.
Period.

Losing Control

I don't really like listening to classical music but I could sit for hours on end watching someone sit at a piano with their fingers gliding over the keys and the invisible memorization of Mozart carrying their arms.

I went recently to Wheaton University to check it out because, it's getting to be that time. Decision time. Anyways, I went to one of Jess Williams' classes and we watched her play a few classical pieces.

At the beginning you can tell that she was focused on what she was doing. Where her fingers were going. Then, eventually, she completely lost herself. If you looked at her fingers and then up at her, you could tell that something else was going on. It was the same with anyone who got up and played. It's as if the music started coming from somewhere else. Like the piano wasn't actually producing any sounds. Or, they weren't even controlling their fingers anymore but it was something deeper.

I wish my faith was like that. I hope my faith is like that.
I hope when people see me serving they don't see that I'M serving them. I hope that they know I don't even know where my hands are going anymore. They see that it comes from somewhere else entirely. They see that I don't control my actions but it's something deep within my spirit that is moving me.

I hope they see that I'm completely lost in the music of His Glory.

Like an Art-Form

The Bible is really inspiring.

I've always looked it as sort of the intellectually charged aspect of my faith but, lately,
I've discovered its many inspirational qualities.

I was planning a children's program last week & then, I'm doing activities for our church's upcoming Woman's Retreat & I've looked in magazines & google, etc etc but the most inspiration I've found came from the Word.

I think that's pretty cool. That's all.

Peace.

Just Can't Seem to Get it Right Today

Tonight is very confusing for me.
My mom hasn't gone grocery shopping since I moved in. There's no laundry detergent in the laundry room. She went straight from work to her boyfriend's house.

How the hell can someone claim to care about you so much and treat you like you're a vapor in their whirlwind????

I love her so much. I really do.
Her faults shove me into the arms of My Father.

Sometimes, though, I want a mom who doesn't have to shove me. Sometimes, I want a mom who lifts me, a mom who carries me to the Father.

I've had a lot of people offer me their homes lately. Obviously, she would never allow that.

& I just don't know that I could allow myself to skip out on my life. You know what I mean?
Doesn't it seem like a cop-out?

I just want to wait around & see if she'll come around. And I want to wait around and see how weak I can be, so God can be strong for me.



On a lighter note:
I love people. I totally get why God created us this way: needy.
I just can't imagine what's it's like for Him to see someone look elsewhere for satisfaction just to come to the realization that it's only found in Him. Must be a beautiful moment for Him. & if the angels are rejoicing... well, God must be beaming.

I don't know the answers. But, just the assurance that I know who does. It makes me look at human beings in a whole new light. It makes me love their shortcomings because I know that God created them with those so that He could be proven in His all-fulfilling nature.


It's a beautiful thing that we all NEED God.

Yesterday, I felt like someone was praying for me. Do you ever get that feeling?
The feeling that people are just interceding.

It's a beautiful thing: intercession.


Writing helps me so much. Two minutes ago I was rippin' mad.

Now, I'm just chipper. It amazes me.

Nowhere to Be Found

Avoiding the PAST
Running away from the PRESENT
Scared of the FUTURE

I'm going in circles.
Circles are getting me nowhere.






The worst part is:
I think nowhere is exactly where I want to be.
Nowhere is safe.
Nobody else is nowhere.

Nothing takes faith, when I'm nowhere.



But when people start going somewhere, when people start going There,
no one can find me if I'm nowhere to be found.

No one can find me if I'm nowhere.

Forgive them, Father

Last night I went to a church service at my dad's church & while one of the speaker's was... well... speaking, he told a really moving story.

One of his friends worked at the slaughter house and he was in the "cutting position". So, these lambs would come by him on a conveyor belt and he would quite literally cut their head off. I know, it seems pretty gruesome but stick with me. One time, this guy was at work and a lamb came by, he slit its throat and then the conveyor belt malfunctioned. So, he was talking to one of his buddies when, all of the sudden, he feels a warm sensation in his palm. He looks down to see the very lamb he just decapitated licking the blood off his fingers.

A lot of you are going "eeeeww" and squirming in your seat. I was a little, too, when I first heard it. But, this guy made a good point. Show me a more accurate representation of Christ's love for us.

It is because of our sin that He was sacrificed. And, had none of you done anything wrong, He would have done it for just me. He would've done it for only you.

Then, after He was beaten and hung on a cross, He rose again. To lick our wounds. To remove His blood from the very hands that hung Him on the cross.

To present us blameless before the Father.
He cried out to Him
"Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do! They know not what they do."

I have no doubt that as Christ intercedes for us at the right hand of the throne of God, He has to intercede daily for me, saying, "Forgive Rachel, Father, she knows not what she does."

And I walk around, we all do, taking flippantly the sacrifice that was made for us. For our sins. To cleanse us.

There is the Lamb, who we didn't kill, but who offered Himself for us. And turning His broken body, He looks at the children of God and says, "It was worth it." He looks at liars, greedy, selfish, ugly people and says, "How beautiful are my sons & daughters."

And He licks His blood off of our garments, comforting us in this world of sin, presenting us holy & blameless before the Father.

We know not what we do.

Yiayia & Papou: Ministry, Kosovo Crisis in '99

Don't start reading this blog unless you have a lot of time on your hands. I have a lot to reflect on & I don't need your help.


Ever since I moved in with my grandparents I've learned more & more about their mission in Albania.

I don't know how I could ever tell about everything they do and every area of ministry they're plugged into. And, every time I think I have a grasp on it, another story or question pops up & I find out something new.

It started years ago as: my grandparents own a restaurant & a few churches in Tirana, Albania.
Then: My grandparents own a bookstore.
Lately: My grandparents own a bookstore, a restaurant, churches, orphanages, moving company, electrical company, warehouse, etc etc etc.

Now, when I say they "own" it I mean they "run" it for the Lord who "owns" it. Never in my life have I admired two people more than I admire my grandparents. As I sit & write, tears flow down my cheeks in awe of how God has turned a gypsies son & a poor schoolgirl into History Makers.

When my grandparents were first deciding to go onto the mission field my dad was the one who was going to pray the prayer on the morning the church commissioned them.
He recently told me that during the service the Lord gave him a vision, God spoke to him and told him that my grandparent's names would be written in history books in years to come. Dad never said this in front of the congregation because that's a lofty claim to make. It was a simple lack of faith on his part, but I don't think it makes the statement any less true. They are history makers.

And I can't explain how aside from absolute faith in God, and willingness to go where He leads.

I know that missions is my passion & it's what I will pursue. Oversees missions, I mean. But, I don't know that I'll be successful. However you determine success on the mission field, I haven't a clue. But, I know that there's a voice in my head & a voice in my deceptive heart that is whispering 'You're a failure.' Plain and simple. And, naturally, that's the voice I choose to believe nine times out of 10.

Then, I look at my grandparents. Didn't know they were going to Albania until they randomly saw it on a map one day. Just sitting there next to Greece. All small and deprived. Only just coming out of communism.

So, here's this couple on a plane to Albania. No time to take language courses. They'll learn it when they get there. And they did.

Then, they get there with a task. Which turns into another task. And yet another. Until their ministry is rapidly unfolding before their eyes. Their oh so humble eyes.

They don't question it, they don't advertise it,
Because they have faith in all of God's mysteries. And humility before His very hand.

Tonight, my Aunt Louise got curious about what exactly they do in Albania, much like the rest of us.
I honestly think their ministry is very literally beyond words. So, we try not to ask much.

My grandma (who from now on will be referred to by her proper name: Yiayia) had my grandpa (from now on: Papou) whip out some of the tapes of their ministry. Old, beat up VHS tapes. Shaky footage, grainy picture tapes.

It started with some simple footage of the restaurant, a few orphanages, an old folks home (yet another discovery tonight). Then, we stumbled across a video of Yiayia & Papou serving in the Kosovo crisis. I can't explain this image to you, but I will try.

They hauled one of the largest most monstrous trucks I've ever seen through the mountains of Kosovo along the unpaved cliffs with a 2 foot drop on the one side. Papou hops up onto the back of the truck, swings open the door and you see bread. Heaps, mounds, of unboxed bread. Loaves that were clearly just thrown into the truck on a fly. Loaves upon loaves upon loaves. Straight from Yiayia & Papou's bakery (once again, with the revelations) into that ginormous truck.

Quickly, Papou starts ordering people around to get him boxes. He loads up box after box when 2 other men (I'm assuming they traveled with him) hop into the back as if the 50+ yrs they've been alive has done nothing to their body. I know, of course, soul was taking reign over body for the time being. For this crisis.

Let me explain to you why they needed bread.

A couple of years ago a great tragedy happened in Kosovo (a Serbian region very close to the Albanian border). Kosovo is made up of mostly Albanians. However, it is a territory of Serbia. Therefore, the Serbs are almost always trying to ostracize the Albanians in Kosovo to drive them out & purify the nation. A few years ago, the Serbian army went from house to house in Kosovo collecting all the weapons belonging to each family (gives you a whole new perspective on the right to bear arms, eh?). The army attacked about a week later. Driving the Albanians out of their country. Similar to what is currently happening in Burma, and roughly what is happening again in Kosovo.

So, the Albanian/Serbian border was soon full of refugee camps. I wish I could show you the footage. Rows and rows of white tents, with dark-skinned children and sad faces hanging out, cooking what little food they had. Isolated. Alone. And volunteers EVERYWHERE like busy buys. Distributing, videotaping, interviewing, donating.

The United Nations will not give refugees more than they absolutely need because they want to encourage them to find a home ASAP. My grandparents, however, took them in, thousands of them.

As the trucks arrived at the site full of bread, Papou boxed it up & started passing boxes of bread out to volunteers them out. Soon, you see staff & volunteers at barbed wire fences handing loaves of bread to refugees. Beautiful sight, really.

Later:
Thousands of people were housed by my grandparents in a strong, clean building with partitions for each family. They offered a better refugee camp than the United Nations ever could. Complete with bathrooms and areas for them to cook that didn't mean red clay and ants in your teeth. Not to mention, they offered them love. The purest love. The love of Christ. Which I would be a fool to overlook.

Yiayia talks about this time as a time that you know when you're getting no sleep, not enough food, no rest, God is doing something supernatural. God is making this happen. Because you could never be strong enough.

She said the people they cared for were like a big, gigantic family God put in their pathway.

Being with my grandparents in America makes them seem so ordinary. They make me do the dishes and clean my room. They like to have high-tech gadgets and they grumble when they miss a doctor's appointment.

They aren't easy people. They aren't perfect people.

Just goes to show, God doesn't need those people. Those people can go try to make it on their own, and fail.

Meanwhile, He'll take the broken, the incapable, the HUMBLE, and He'll make something great out of them. He'll give them tasks too long for their granddaughters to write in a blog. He'll touch lives through them. He'll inspire people because of them.

This isn't about my grandparents. This is about God. This is about how afraid I am to do missions work. How afraid I am to even go to Albania for a month. & about how afraid I am NOT to do missions work. This is about God overcoming all of my fears. This is about the fact that God can do ANYTHING.

If anyone made it through this blog, which I doubt, I need to tell you something:

God can do ANYTHING. I know that you claim to know this. And maybe you do know it. But you will never understand it. Because, ANYTHING doesn't fit into our box. ANYTHING is too big.


BUT: NOTHING is too big for God. Not even ANYTHING.

People seem not to know that their opinion of the world is also a confession of their character. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have problems.

I mean we all have problems. But, I'll be the first to shout it from the rooftops.
It's great to live in a world full of fallen people, you know? I mean, it would be better if we could all be in perfect harmony with our Maker and with one another.

But, if we're going to have problems I want it to be all of us. Together.

Many people don't know this about me but I don't remember the last time I got mad at someone for disliking me.

I think a lot of people look at me & think that I think that I have it all together. They hate that about me. Especially people @ school and a few at church. Mostly just the people who know nothing about me and that I have NOTHING together.

Today, I had an encounter with someone who disliked me.
I never had the chance but I was just going to ask him why. I like knowing how people view me. It's kind of odd and some might view it as masochistic but I feel better about myself when I know my faults.

People who get mad at or get sad about people not liking them are a mystery to me.

When I realized the guy today didn't like me, it kind of put a smile on my face. It reminds me we're unique. It reminds me we're fallen. It reminds me that we're all in this together.

Most of all, it reminds me that I agree with him.

I will never deny that I have faults. EVER. You will never hear me do that. Not because I try to be honest, and it makes me even more perfect. But, because if anybody knows my faults, it's God. And then, if anybody else knows all my faults, it's me.

Why would I ever get mad at someone I agree with?

I've always wanted to get together with an intimate group of people and ask them what they like the least about me, in an uplifting way. I would expect them to be honest & realize that my faults don't make up who I am. I would expect them to be sensitive. So, in the least pessimistic way possible, I would want to know what they dislike about me. Mostly because people are always willing to tell you what they like about you. What they DISlike is almost never discussed. I understand, too. It just isn't socially acceptable. And, you'll never find me with enough gumption to bring it up to someone else.

&, the thing is, there are people I don't like. But, I would NEVER get rid of them. They make me stronger. And, I love them. It's easier to love than to like. A beautiful thing, love is.


much love

God loves you.
I love God.
I love you.
God loves me.

Love Love Love
Amor.

Capturing Eternity

We're back from Honduras! An interesting thing happened last night...
I was laying in bed scrolling through my pictures kind of editing some of them within my camera and I think I must have started going fast & not really paying attention to what I was doing because, next thing I know, I deleted ALL my pictures.

It was hard. I know it sounds kind of petty but I just started tearing up. I was heartbroken. There I am, holding memories upon memories and the faces of children that I fell in love with and all the sudden *poof* they're gone. It was no fun. It was a struggle. So I lay there for a while praying that God would miraculously restore those pictures. I thought maybe that if I had enough faith He would just put them back in my camera. And if I promised to glorify Him for it, He would have mercy on me. Then, I realized that while it's important to have faith, God's will will be done anyway. I haven't run into God's voice saying "No" very often. But He says it sometimes, and it was particularly hard for me to hear that last night after I got off a trip full of Him saying "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

I'm not trying to make God out to be a bully. He's so far from it. My point is that God's will is better than any will we could think up on our own. He has blessed me by not restoring those pictures in a way that I don't even understand yet.

And in all of this I learned especially how to store up my treasures in heaven. God spoke to me. He met with me. He knew my pain and He healed it with His soft and comforting voice.

While I can't see the faces of the kids anymore. Those pictures were going to burn one day anyway. What will remain is the hearts & souls that I touched just by being a broken vessel.

In the end, the pictures don't matter. It would be nice to have them, sure.
But God had something better for me than a reel of Honduran sceneries & portraits. He has a kingdom that is welcoming them in one-by-one. He has angels rejoicing after names are scribed in the Book of Life.

And that's enough for me.

"We're pretty tight"

I've been WAY stressed lately. Stressed in a way that I don't think glorifies God. I know I said in a previous post that I had peace.. and I did. But the last three days have been INTENSE. I was at the church for 10hrs Sunday, 7 on Monday, and only 2 & a 1/2 today! There's been a lot to do & I haven't really had time to press in to the Word much lately.

Honestly, I haven't had much faith this week. I thought pretty much if I didn't get stuff done, or make sure that it got done, failure was in store.


God has been faithful, once again, to show me in such a gracious way His great love & power.

I was doing dishes tonight (it helps me unwind, honestly) and I just got to thinking about how much I miss God. We're pretty tight & I haven't had much time lately to talk to Him or listen to Him. So while I was thinking about it, I started talking to God & I'm like "I miss you!" and I just could feel Him speaking to me saying, "I'm right here. I sent my Son so you wouldn't have to miss me ever again."

I love Him! He always speaks into my heart the right things at the right time. Then again, He is God.

So after 3 days of spiritual thirst & hunger, come to find out, the food was sitting right in front of me the whole time.


How comforting to know He's never going to leave. He'll be with me in America, Honduras, Albania, Thailand, Jamaica. Wherever I go, He's with me. He's the ONLY One who's always with me.


"They were all filled with awe and praised God. 'A great prophet has appeared among us,' they said. 'God has come to help his people.' "
Luke 7:16

"Ain't love the sweetest thing?" -Bono

I feel kind of obligated to write a blog about how excited I am about Honduras. Oh, am I EXCITED. But, that's not really what I feel like writing about because, if you know me, you know how excited I am. You know where my heart is.
I've been trying to figure out excitement lately. Before we left for Thailand (feels like just
yesterday), I remember only ever being able to say "I'm stoked, I'm excited, I'm pumped, I'm amped!" and so on...

What does that really mean if you're excited? I don't get it. I know that's ridiculous. It's like asking why the sky is blue. It just is. Excitement means you're just excited. I don't know,

though, I feel like I should feel more than that... & I do. Oh words, how you cheat me. I feel so

peaceful. I've been going CRAZY lately with preparations. Making copies, revising schedules,

making phone calls, stapling, paper clipping, stuffing stuff in folders, organizing, & reorganizing,

revising, revising, revising. YOU KNOW WHAT? I'm peaceful. I know that things are going to

work out. I don't care about the crafts, I don't care about the games, I don't care about the kids

learning English. I want to show these kids the very love of Christ. Those are just the ways I'm choosing to do that. Those are merely tools. Organization, being prepared--these aren't my goals. These are stepping stones getting us to our ultimate goal. Our goal of sharing the love of Christ with every child we come in contact with. Every person we come in contact with.

Our theme for the week in Honduras is creation (I all of the sudden put all the team members on Blog spot at a slight advantage.. you lucky ducks). I looked over the curriculum last night & it talks about basic stuff (God reveals Himself through creation, God is glorified by creation, God created everything in 7 days, etc). It reminded me of a poem I wrote once about being God's work of art.

art of love

oh and you've made us such beautiful people
wrapped in crisp sheets of faith around our ankles

finding redemption in submission

and only you could stroke our hearts in such a manor

that the breeze screams out your name

my hair caresses the dome of my shoulder

you've made my eyes to reveal your dwelling place in my heart

from the shadows on my neck to the curl of my toes

you painted me, your portrait

i feel the bristles of the brush as you stroke me into existence

you texture me throughout the canvas of your glory

my voice it sings your name

my arms they want to reach you

i stretch each fine muscle in my body

in hopes of embracing your nature

and every time i sing that tune

every time i sketch that daydream

every time i paint that fantasy

i feel you.

oh yes, i feel you.

from the part of my hair

to the arch of my foot.

you are my dwelling place

take me, I'm yours

your work of art.

my art, your work.

I know, I'm no Robert Frost.
Anyways, I was reading an old article today from the April 2006 publication of National Geographic called "Inside Chernobyl". After I finished reading it I referred back to the chapter in Searching for God Knows What where Donald Miller talks about the "Children of Chernobyl". In a portion of that chapter he mentions a boy named Sasha who is severely deformed as a result of the Chernobyl devastation. I googled Sasha's picture expecting to be repulsed and humbled. Nope, Sasha is BEAUTIFUL. Not to our standards. Put him next to an ordinary human & he looks deformed. But if you look in Sasha's eyes you'll see his beauty.

"you've made my eyes to reveal your dwelling place in my heart"

His childlike creativity. He's not even smiling but I know that he holds great things in that bound up heart of his. It amazes me that the Devil can mark all over God's sketch of the world & even still, His glory is evident, His beauty shines through. Satan can take Sasha's body, but he can't touch Sasha's spirit.

That is beauty, friends.

Mr. Bucket vs. Mr. Bench

During the summer I find myself walking on the boardwalk with friends in the evening a lot. It was only a couple years ago that I became familiar with the "Bucket Preacher". There's a man who flips over a bucket & stands on it. He waves a stiff index finger at people, calling them out in a thick southern accent, the kind you hear in the old movies shouting at black people after the Civil War. So there he stands, pointing his finger at scantily clad young ladies and boys with their drawers too low:

"WHORE MONGERS! THIEVES! LIARS! YOU'LL BURN IN THE PITS OF HELL IF YOU DO NOT REPENT OF YOUR WICKED WAYS!!!"

He quotes scripture... But when I say scripture I mean select bits of scripture like Matthew 23:3--
"You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?!"

Of course, he would typically leave out the rest of the chapter in hopes people don't recognize that throughout Matthew 23 Jesus is speaking to the people of the church.
Yeah, that's a tough pill to swallow.
Anyways, one time I was on the boardwalk with my pastor and 2 girlfriends of mine. We were walking along & heard these teenagers who were taunting Mr. Bucket. "So, you think I'm going to hell?"... that kind of stuff. It's a pretty popular thing to do, actually, go down to the boardwalk and take on the Bucket Preacher.
Anyhow, after the teens started drifting away (I think they got a little bored...), we decided to go up to this guy & just see where he was coming from, you know? There was no plan to start a theological argument with him, no plan to tell him where we came from or that we happened to have a particularly wise Man of God with us.

We approach him and start asking questions. Never have I felt the Spirit hold me back like He did that night. I wanted so badly to kick this guy in the shins, I wanted to rip the wedding band off his finger just thinking about how humiliating it must be to walk around arm-in-arm with him. But I stood there, patiently, listening as he ranted on and on. He told us he's sick of the churches teaching 90% grace and 10% commandment. He decided to turn it around and teach 90% law and 10% grace to even things out. (Yeah, I don't understand the logic to it, either.)

After exchanging some words, and slipping a little bit into the doctrine of it all, trying to see how far we could get him... even though he was clearly so far gone, I had to walk away. I had to go "regroup" I guess. My flesh, my heart, my Spirit, my mind, they were all in conflict. There was a battle going on at the beach that night. So I went and sat down next to this kid on one of the benches. He's sitting there eating some fries, observing. I struck up a conversation with him & he told me that he liked to come and watch this guy yell at people, that it was just plain entertaining. In a way, I can't blame him. I could see how if he wasn't personally condemning you or misrepresenting you then, you know, it would be fun. I might sit there with some fries and a milkshake one night, too, if it weren't for the battle that the Bucket Man stirred up in me.

I considered for a second sharing the gospel with this kid. To this day, I don't know why I didn't. I think it might be because I was learning so much from him, actually. He had pity on Mr. Bucket. I was pissed that Mr. Bucket was driving so many away from the Word of God but Mr. Bench I guess realized the depravity in Mr. Bucket. So me & Mr. Bench sat there and I thought about the fact that Mr. Bucket probably hasn't been shown a whole lot of grace in his life. He probably did things wrong as a kid, made simple mistakes, and was shown no mercy. Or maybe he never did anything wrong but was still punished for his innocence and that's when he decided that everyone else should be punished for being so wrong. Whatever it was... Mr. Bench showed me how important it is to show grace to the graceless. To this day I think about the Bucket Man and Mr. Bench. How representative they are of my heart...

How representative they are of life in general. Someone's always yelling & someone's always listening. Sure, it doesn't seem too profound & this blog kind of seems like a waste. But let's think about it. Let's think about Hillary Clinton & Barack Obama (yes, I just brought that up). Now everyone get good and worked up real quick. Start being infuriated about who's winning and who you want to win. Start preaching at me. OK, good, now keep going while I say this:

I DON'T CARE WHO WINS THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION.

Yeah, I know you're offended. Whatever.
Let me tell you something:
I would rather live in America with Hillary Clinton as president than live in Kosovo proclaiming independence. Or live in Burma as an IDP.. running away from a malicious, powerful government. Or live in brothels as an unwilling prostitute.

Here we are: the Mr. Buckets of America getting all worked up, arguing, separating, pointing fingers.
And there they are: the Mr. Benches of Serbia, sitting back, relaxing, being entertained.

Because while we go to a warm, cozy home every night, they're stuck on the bench at the beach, eating fries, thinking, lost.

Yet, so peaceful.
It's these people who are shown the true gospel and cling to it. Not questioning rules or authority. But knowing the love of Christ. Dedicating themselves to Him. Forever.

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far;..."
Philippians 1:21-23

Blinded & Bound

I can't believe that I let it get this bad. The other night my mom & I were sitting in the car on the way to our respective Bible studies & my mom starts talking about how she broke up with her boyfriend recently and how sad she is. You know what I said? I looked out the window all smug, judgmental, prideful, disgusting; and I said:

"I have no sympathy for you."

She started crying & said she knew she screwed up but she would hope that if I screwed up she'd at least be able to have compassion & grace toward me. She's never been so right. I couldn't believe the words that came out of my mouth. My mom is so beautiful, physically & spiritually. She screws up. She makes me feel lonely, sometimes she can make me feel insignificant. She feels lost and she feels alone. But, dangit, she is beautiful. I'll be lucky if I turn into half the woman she is. I actually asked myself, "Did you just say that?". I was on my way to a Bible study that I lead. I was about to go & minister to a group of middle school girls who made me a birthday card saying that I was their "fearless leader". In that moment, I felt like the biggest coward in the world. 3 years ago the Devil started a great work in my life. He planted a weed of bitterness in my heart. The repulsive thing about bitterness is that you don't have to water it for it to grow. You can ignore it & it'll get bigger all the same, as the Devil sticks his foot further and further into your heart.

In a way, I'm glad I said it because more than ever I realized how decieved I've been. When my parents split I decided that ignoring them and closing myself off would never leave me dissapointed. I built a wall between myself & my parents, & myself & God. And while I ripped down the wall between God & I, I didn't realize that it'd never be completely gone until I took down the wall between me & my parents. I've been in captivitiy. I've been blinded & bound. By the grace of God, He's made me a loving person. I love people. I'm compassionate. I'm merciful. And there I was all nasty, saying that I had NO sympathy for my hurting mother. I've never felt like such a hypocrite. What a perfect reflection of how hideous Satan is.

I'm glad that the Light in my life is driving out the darkness. It's not a "pleasant" process, so to speak. It's ugly. I feel gross. I feel... infected. I feel broken.

But, I do know that God is refining me by fire. Little by little He shows me my shortcomings, He shows me where I've let go of His hand.

"... let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of God's throne."
Hebrews 12:1&2

Love is in the Air...

"What's the difference between a booger and broccoli?"
"Kids will eat broccoli."

Yes-- that was my date's shining moment at dinner on Thursday night. (Also known as Valentine's Day!)
He was about 60+ yrs old.

I went out to eat with my grandparents & one of their friends (Les) at a quaint little seafood restaurant in P-town. I love elderly people. I have a strong belief that anyone who doubts the wisdom of someone significantly older than them is just plain ignorant. Watching Les tell stories about his grandchildren or share about his days in Albania was was nothing less than inspiring. I'm convinced every crevice and wrinkle on his face isn't a result of old age but a result of passion, excitment, and a zeal for life. I'll never forget the way his face lit up when he was talking about the time he treated 12 Albanian teenagers to a meal at the Stephen's Center (my grandparent's restaurant). His voice got a little louder and his wrinkles a little deeper when he said in his shaky southern accent, "I told them they could order anything on the menu. They said, 'Anything?!'. I said, 'Yep, anything, you can have pizza, you can have a burger, you can have both!'"

It was the best date EVER. Afterward I rode home with my grandparents all curled up in a deep blue Afghan in the backseat. I made a rule that no one was allowed to speak English until we got home (except for me, of course). It was pure bliss.

My grandparents asked me about a week ago to come to Albania with them this summer & start a kids program at one of the churches they planted. They said I could work in the restaurant. Visit orphanages. I'd stay for about a month. I'm praying about it. I'm praying HARD. I know that if I stay the Lord will do great things here and give me plenty of opportunities. I know that if I go, I'll never want to come back.

I know that either way, God will be ever-present.

That's why He's my Valentine. & while we're in the mood...
Let me tell you that there's nothing I wouldn't give to be with Him in eternity.
& yet everything I can offer is already His.
What a beautiful sacrifice.

Hallowed Be Thy Name

I attend a Bible study for a group of middle school girls every Tuesday night. About two weeks ago, Em & I had no particular "lesson plan" and ended up letting the girls talk about a bunch of stuff that they struggle with or are curious about. Let me tell you, the time we have together is powerful. I think I learn more than they do a lot of the time. I might go so far as to say that these 2 hours of the week are more inspiring than all the other 166 hrs put together (but that all depends on the week). There's nothing like seeing what the Lord is doing in the lives of His followers--especially those of an unblemished, childlike faith. One of our girls shared about how she doesn't read her Bible as often as she should. But, every time she does, she cries. Unfailing. Obviously, we started asking her why she cries. Does she feel guilty? Does she get frustrated? Nope, she just loves reading God's Word so much that she cries. If you ask me, she cries because she sees more clearly than the rest of us that this is God actually speaking. I know that if God came and stood in front of me, pouring His words over me, I would cry, because I don't think there's a more comforting & freeing thing than hearing even the faintest whisper of my Father.

I've been living with my grandparents lately. I was SO hesitant when we moved in. It was the day that I got back from Thailand when I was told "Oh, by the way, we're moving!". Yes, it was unpleasant.

Turns out, God had a plan. Shocking, I know. Beth Moore says in one of her books, Breaking Free:
"The ability to believe God develops most often through pure experience. 'I found Him faithful yesterday. He will not be unfaithful today.'"
Can't wait till I finally grasp that. I have a hard time believing; many people do. But that's another story, another time, another blog. =D

We moved into my grandparents house and you know what I found: God.
His love was written on the walls, His peace is palpable in this household.

I don't live with my dad and it's rare that I notice it. The first year was hell, but it's pretty much uphill from there. So, I never really realize the absence of my father. & he's not really that absent. We spend time together & everything. But even just the physical absence of a male in my home has dried me up so much that I find myself looking for ways to please my grandfather. I keep my room extra clean, I do the dishes, if he asks me to do something I try to go above and beyond his expectations. His acceptance matters so much to me. And, it made me realize why God gave us fathers. At least, one of many reasons; because he wants us to show Himself to us. He wants us to see how much more He can accept and love us. He wants us to look for ways to please Him, He wants to see us going out of our way to hear "Well done."

I want that so bad.

"He said to me, "You are My son; today I have become your Father. Ask of Me, and I will make the nations your inheritance and the ends of the earth your possession."
Psalms 2:7&8

Oh, Play Along

Today the Lord showed me something pretty interesting.
I was sitting in my room spending time with Him this morning and out of nowhere I started to think about what it would be like if I walked out my door and denied the Lord. If I walked downstairs and told my family I didn't believe in God, that I think it's all a lie. Just a big fib. What if I stopped going to Bible studies? What if I stopped attending church & didn't allow myself to pray or worship? Even further, what if I actually stopped believing?

Nothing in my life would be valid. My goals would become vapor. My love for others would have no meaning. My tesimony would become void. If my life was just a hoax--how much more would the One I worship & adore become like a book full of fictional pages in a library of lies?

& while all of this is quite devastating to dwell on,
there's an element of pure ecstasy in it all. For instance, knowing that my life has been built on a solid rock, a firm foundation. Then knowing that the heart that I hold so dear is also the very heart that the Savior of the world has decided to come and live in... forever.
All very comforting concepts. In a way, looking at what I would lose if I lost Christ gave me a better perspective on what exactly I gained when I gained Christ.
And to take it one step further than that, what I give when I share Christ.

But how can they call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how can they believe without hearing about Him? And how can they hear without a preacher? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written: How welcome are the feet of those who announce the gospel of good things!
Romans 10:14&15

Love & Human Depravity

Ever since Adam & Eve left the garden we have a corrupt view of love. We're forever following our heart into trap after trap & desperation after desperation.

Case & Point:
A good friend started doing drugs a while ago. Dad sends her to NC to live with mom. Boyfriend is still in VA. Girl & boy cheat on on another. Girl & boy make it work. Boy gives girl promise ring. Girl & boy fight too much. Boy hits girl. Girl finds another boy. This one is better. Girl gets pregnant. Girl hates boy.

It breaks my heart that that's how the story goes. But, aside from the Lord, that is ALWAYS how it'll go. Maybe not word for word. But the main theme will remain.

We've been seperated from our Eternal Lover. We'll never communicate with Him again without distraction until the end of time. Did I say it breaks my heart? Because it truly, honestly, literally breaks my heart.

Love
Tell me when we'll see how important it is to love one another. Loving is being involved. Weaping with those who weap. Laughing when your loved one is laughing.

Go. Go Love.

& remember: There is no love aside from the very One who is Love.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved.
Ephesians 2:4&5

The Shepherd & His Sheep

Tonight I realized the phenomonal beauty involved in the relationship between the Shepherd & His Sheep.

It's less about the ways that they can 'relate' to one another & more about the dependant nature
of the bond. In ALL things the sheep look to the shepherd's guidance and have faith that he will
provide for their needs & protect them against adversaries. In the most touching way, the shepherd DESIRES to care for his sheep and is so glorified when they trust in him and remain in the flock.

I don't mean to point out too many Biblical parallels because I think it's clear how much this bond has in common with our bond with Christ (-hopefully-). But, when I think about my role as a wandering sheep I realize how brave I think I am. I almost define "a sheep in wolf's clothing".
I try to wander away & discover new things, green pastures that I've found. Then, I think that I'VE got the herd under control. I think that somehow I've been exempt from my position as a lamb & placed in the position of "Shepherd's Assistant" where I get to influence the path, help guide, lead the group, etc. Then come those humbling experiences that say "You are my lamb.. NOT my assitant." I should be equally as humbled & faithful as the rest of the sheep to merely follow and seek no greater position. Because, in reality, there is no greater position than to be a follower of the King of Kings.

It touches my heart that it brings joy to God's heart when we are faithful. And it should be touching, to a believer, that God is ready & willing to leave the faithful and seek out the straying. Not only touching--but motivating. It should motivate us to hold one another accountable when we see the incredible importance placed on each individual sheep that belongs to the Shepherd.

"See, the Lord God comes with strength,and His power establishes His rule. His reward is with Him, and His gifts accompany Him. He protects His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them in the fold of His garment. He gently leads those that are nursing. "
Isaiah 40:10&11