A Good Day, A Happy Day

“How deep the Father’s love for us. How vast beyond all measure that He should give His only Son and make a wretch His treasure.”

Last week my Scrabble app showed me an ad for Black Friday. I chuckled to myself realizing that Good Friday was just around the corner and Scrabble was showing me an ad for a November event.

But what if it wasn’t? What if the Scrabble app was actually talking about the event two days before Easter rather than the horrendous November tradition?

After all, calling it “Black Friday” seems all the more appropriate since the day’s events are anything but good.

“How great the pain of searing loss. The Father turns His face away. As wounds which mar the Chosen One bring many sons to glory.”

Can you imagine how offended the people who witnessed this day would be if they learned we called it “Good Friday”?

Peter would not call today good. After all, he denied his friend not once but three times. Even with full knowledge that it would happen.

Thomas would not call this weekend good. He was labeled a doubter simply because he wanted the same thing the other disciples already had.

Judas once may have thought it would be good but ended up taking his own life in regret.

Mary could not have thought it good to watch her Son be publicly humiliated before dying an excruciatingly painful death.

And Jesus. Jesus, perfect Jesus, died a criminal’s death.

How could these men (and woman) call it good?

How could they not?

While the cross caught Peter, Thomas, Judas, and Mary off guard, it was not a surprise to Jesus. It was not a surprise to God.

Even while Jesus was on the cross, God was (and is) still good. While Jesus was on the cross, God was (and is) still in control. While Jesus was on the cross, God still knew (and knows) what He was (is) doing.

On the first Good Friday, Peter, Thomas, and Judas did what we all often want to do. We all get so caught up in situations that we forget who’s really in control. We all question and ask God for signs of His power. We all want to tell God we know how to best handle a situation.

The first Good Friday Jesus, the man who could correctly answer any complex question, remained silent while false accusers convicted Him. Though less than thrilled about it, Jesus obediently suffered on our behalf. He was mocked, tortured, and humiliated. For each of us. By each of us.

“Behold the Man upon the cross, my sin upon His shoulders. Ashamed I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers. It was my sin that held Him there until it was accomplished. His dying breath had brought me life. I know that it is finished.”

My friend Christian put on facebook a conversation between his wife and his son. They were talking about what Jesus did on the cross, and she asked if he thought it would be a sad day or a happy day.

The four year old responded that it would be a happy day because Jesus washed away our sins.

“I will not boast in anything. No gifts, no power, no wisdom. But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection. Why should I gain from His reward? I cannot give an answer. But this I know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom.”

Happy Good Friday. Happy day of death because in death, we are given life. A happy day. A good day. Good Friday. A day much better than the absurd November tradition.

<>< Katie

Lyrics from “How Deep the Father’s Love For Us.”

What More Do You Want

"What more do you want from God?" Neal asked the congregation. We all came from very different backgrounds united only in the Lord.

"¿Qué más quiere de Dios?" Manolo translated.

I didn't need to wait for the translation before I began making a mental list of things I wanted from God. All selfish things, too. I was in Nicaragua and still had an out-standing balance on my trip. I had applied to five graduate schools and was still hoping for acceptances. I was hoping to head to China in the summer and was waiting for those pieces to fall into place.

"He's already give you Jesus." Neal's words slapped my list-making face. I needed to hear them again.

"Él ya te dio Jesús."

What more can I want from God when He's already give me the best He can: His Son. He's already given me all that I need, and it's called grace. He's engraved my name on the palm of His hand, and I'm asking for money.  He's given me purpose, hope, and a future and there I sat in an uncomfortable Nicaraguan folding chair asking for more.

I felt naked, like my selfish, dirty list had been broadcast by the broken LCD projector. In a way, they were. They were available for One to know.

I like to think God chuckled when He watched me frantically try to erase them, delete them, unthink them.

I gave up on my list that day. I took peace in Abba giving me His Son. What more could I ever need or dare to want?

Days like today it's easy to start making a list again. I want this job interview to go well. I want to see her joy and her smile on this earth once again. I want reassurance that God truly is good and in control.

I want everyone to know the hope we all have in Jesus. Jesús. 耶稣.

I want all of God's children to know how loved they are by their Father. I want them to know forgiveness as intimately as I do. To know they don't need any more than that.

Abba, use me to reach Your people. May my life show Your love today and every day. In the States and across the world. When things go well and when dreams aren't achieved. Lord, let my love for You be contagious. When people see me may they have no choice but to love You more. Draw them into Your loving arms, Lord. May they know that no matter what life brings, Jesus is enough. Our greatest need has been satisfied. Thank You for Jesus. Teach me to remember that He is enough, always more than enough.

This is my prayer. My hope. My desire.

<>< Katie

Journey Around the World

All too often people go on mission trips expecting to be taking Jesus to another country, another part of the world.

While there are areas of the world who have never been told the name of Jesus, short-term missionaries often arrive and realized He is already there.

The Lord is working worldwide, and we are oblivious.

I want to offer all of what I have and to tell His story.

In 2012 we're going to take a blog-series journey around the world. We're going to see God working worldwide through the eyes of our brothers and sisters abroad.

Every Monday for the next fifty-two weeks we're going to be headed to places like the Philippines, Zimbabwe, Guatemala, the Congo, India, Haiti, etc.

These worldwide journeys are coming in the form of guest posts, interviews, and photo diaries from people in a variety of stages of life. And I'm "sups excite" (that's "super excited") about it!

Are you willing to get on the plane with me?

Bon voyage y Dios le bendiga,
<>< Katie

PS: I can't do this without your help. I don't have fifty-two weeks worth of international contacts, so if you have ideas, I'd love to chat. Shoot me an email at KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com. Thanks!

PPS: This blog series needs a title. Any suggestions?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Sometime just prior to Halloween I heard my first Christmas carol of the season. It flipped a switch inside of me and I was ready for Christmas.

Of course, my gifts weren't purchased and I was pleasantly surprised to feel 40 degree days rather than the 4 below I was expecting, but all through November I waited anxiously for the snow and for the rest of the world to be ready to play Christmas songs.

Yet now it's the night before Christmas, the tree is decorated, the gifts are wrapped, the last of the cookies are in the oven, and the snow gently falling. But I am ready to put on the brakes.

Christmas isn't the most wonderful time of the year when you're unemployed. Rather, it's a brutal reminder of your lack of income, your need to pinch every penny, and your wreath decorating your parents' home rather than your apartment.

Giving up isn't an option, but hope is fleeting. Still I pray "Thy will be done" and "Send me." Still I have a nice collection of rejection letters.

I don't mean to be all doom and gloom, but, honestly, singing "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" is lying through my two front teeth.

I try not to linger too long in this world of overwhelming pessimism. Life is hard right now, and I'm sick of repeating myself about my failing job search. I'm well beyond ready to talk about something else.

So let's talk about some other people whose world may have also seemed overwhelmingly pessimistic.

Mary. She's pregnant and engaged but her fiancé isn't the father. I bet she got sick of trying to explain that.

Joseph. Someone else impregnated his betrothed. Well, isn't that a sticky situation?

Herod. Some baby is lobbying for his throne (or so he thinks).

The inn keeper. The "No vacancy" sign is illuminated yet still there's a very, very pregnant woman and her man on the front porch.

The sheep, oxen, and other stable animals. Um, hello, there's a baby in their breakfast bowl.

Jesus. God Himself is being shoved into the skin of an infant. Ouch.

The Christmas story is not exactly what the Jews were expecting. Nope, rewind. Christmas was absolutely nothing like what the Jews have been anticipating, the hope-filled stories they've been passing down for generations.

A king was supposed to come to rescue them. Fallen cities would be restored, a temple would be rebuilt, death would be destroyed, and peace truly would exist on earth.

The long-awaited Messiah... a baby. It didn't make sense.
Emmanuel--God with us---is sleeping in a dirty cow trough.

Yup, definitely not the most wonderful time of the year.

I'm so glad Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, et al. didn't call it quits, didn't tell God how to do His job. Even in these less than ideal conditions, hope shone brighter than the star illuminating the sky.

Like the shepherds, I am willing to drop everything and sing praises to the One who deserves them.

Like the inn keeper, I offer all of what I have, even if it doesn't seem like much.

Like Joseph, I desire to be obedient even when it looks very different than I expected.

Like Mary, I want to be faithful to what God has asked of me

Like Jesus, I seek to do what needs to be done no matter how uncomfortable, how agonizing it may be.

And, unlike Herod, I am not going to take matters into my own hands.

Maybe the most wonderful time of the year doesn't mean a walking in a winter wonderland.

Maybe it means hope and anticipation for something new. It means finding peace and comfort in God's promise never to abandon us. It means joy even in life's less than comfortable moments. It means resting in the loving arms of the Father.

The most wonderful time of the year is any moment when you remember that Christ truly is Emmanuel, God with us, both now and forevermore.

Amen.

Chinese Christmas

Author's Note: If you followed Amber's and my China blog or talked to us about the trip for more than five seconds, you've probably already heard this story. It's our favorite to tell. In the spirit of Christmas, I'd like to tell it again. Even if you've already read/heard it, enjoy it again. Thanks! <>< Katie

There are exceptions to every rule. The exception to what we could and could not teach in China was more of a loophole. We were not to teach religion that was very clear. We were to teach the English language and American culture. In that was our loophole: Christmas, an American holiday.

One day we taught the secular version in the form of a Christmas party where Santa delivered Christmas presents, we ate candy canes, and we sang Christmas carols. Never have I worn sandals and kapris to a Christmas party before. Neither have I ever helped host a Christmas party in August. Welcome to China.

The following morning, Curt and Vernon were to teach the real Christmas story using a reader’s theater script.

First period had been dismissed when Vernon ran into our classroom, script in hand.

“We didn’t finish,” he said breathlessly. I was not sure if he had run from the hotel or from the classroom next door. “Will you finish it for us?”

Jori and I graciously accepted. The lesson plan we had stayed up all night revising had flopped first hour anyway. Jori revised our lesson again while I skim-read the script.

The sixteen-person class of college students and English teachers took their seats in the horse-shoe we had set up. I prayed silently and began asking them questions about where they’d left off. Jesus had been born and the magi were asking Herod where they could find this new king.

I summarized the remainder of the story being relatively brief since we had another lesson to teach but not so brief so as they could have missed the point. Then Jori and I welcomed questions. This was one of our more talkative classes but we were not in the least prepared for the forty-five minutes of questioning that followed. We ended up scrapping our entire planned lesson to answer their difficult questions.

What happened next?
Why did God choose Mary?
Was Jesus a king?
Joseph was king, right?
Where Mary and Joseph his real parents?
Jesus was killed, right?
So Jesus is a god? What do you mean there are three gods?
How do you believe something you don’t understand?
Does God still speak through dreams like He did to the magi?
Did Jesus talk to special people?
Was Jesus rich?
How do you (as Christians) make decisions?
What is faith?

We were flabbergasted. So many questions don’t have pat answers. While I spoke, Jori prayed. While Jori spoke, I prayed. We both quoted scripture and read directly from the New Testament. So many questions were directly answered by the Holy Spirit speaking through us.

As soon as the class left, Jori and I joined hands and prayed until tears filled our eyes. It was an incredibly humbling experience we were excited to share with our mission team at lunch.

But God wasn’t done.

Two periods later the same students were in a class co-taught by Amber and Juanita who had no knowledge of what happened earlier. They were teaching the five love languages and discussing the love language of giving and receiving gifts. Juanita held an empty gift back and asked the students what they most hoped would be in the bag. Money, food, books, and jewelry were the most common answers. One girl said she wished a Bible would be in the bag. Amber was immediately on the edge of her chair, anxious for the end of class.

Everyone on the mission team had been given a New Testament in Chinese and English to give away. Immediately, Amber knew hers was for this student, Monica. As soon as class was over, Amber approached Monica to ask if she was serious. Monica confirmed she was serious about wanting a Bible, so Amber handed her the New Testament. As per Chinese customs, Monica refused to accept the gift. However, Amber insisted, and Monica got misty-eyed when she accepted it with a huge smile. She was so grateful and so excited! Amber also connected Monica to a woman who attends the local church.

Once morning classes were over, we sought refuge in a classroom to wait out the rain. To Juanita, rain means that God is near. Before heading back to our hotel for lunch we were able to piece together the puzzle and allow God to reveal Himself to us. It had been a rough morning of team disunity yet still the Lord used it ways beyond what we ever imagined!

We were all grateful for loopholes and exceptions. We could not teach religion but we were permitted to answer all questions honestly. We were not permitted to distribute religious materials, but we were able to gift Bibles if the student directly asked for it. Above all, we were grateful for God’s prompting through the necessary loopholes and exceptions to be able to openly speak about Him even in communist China.

The Most Holy Place

During Bible study one girl made the comment that she is always blown away by the tearing of the temple curtain. Another admitted she was unfamiliar with that aspect of the story of Jesus's death and resurrection.

In ancient Jewish temples, there were different areas where people were permitted or prohibited from traveling based on their religion, gender, and profession.

The Most Holy Place was the most-restrictive area of the temple where only the rabbi was allowed and only once a year on The Day of Atonement. This was so strict that when the rabbi entered The Most Holy Place to make the annual sacrifice, he was required to bathe himself, wear specific linen garments prior to entering and then remove them and re-bathe upon his departure.

The Most Holy Place was considered to be the very presence of God. (Leviticus 16)

When Christ breathed His final breath on the cross, the thick curtain separating The Most Holy Place from the rest of the tabernacle was torn into two.

"Then Jesus shouted out again, and He released His spirit. At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They left the cemetery after Jesus’ resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people." Matthew 27:50-53 NLT

"Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed His last. And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. When the Roman officer who stood facing Him saw how He had died, he exclaimed, 'This man truly was the Son of God!'” Mark 15:37-39 NLT

"By this time it was about noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock. The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn down the middle. Then Jesus shouted, 'Father, I entrust My spirit into Your hands!' And with those words, He breathed His last breath." Luke 23:44-46 NLT

There's a lot going on. It's easy to miss. I mean, the Messiah is dead, hello! Roman soldiers are declaring Him the Son of God, saints are being raised, there's a huge earthquake, and it's dark in the middle of the afternoon. Who cares about some curtain way over in the temple tearing?

I do.

With the removal of the curtain, we are able to enter into the presence of the Lord. We are invited, welcomed, and encouraged go to before God directly. No longer do we need a mediator, a rabbi, a go-between.

As His beloved sons and daughters, we are ushered directly into the presence of our Abba Father. Our harsh words, our love, our fears, our praise, our frustrations are spoken straight to Him.

I tend to take this for granted. And today I am especially grateful for it. I am once again blown away by the significance of a temple curtain, an Old Testament regulation, ripped to shreds. For you. For me.

Excuse me now as I, a Gentile woman, enter into The Most Holy Place.

<>< Katie

The Cup

Something crunches beneath my tires as I parallel park outside of a Christian bookstore. Coming around to pay the meter, I see the crunching came from what used to be a coffee cup that is now smashed to smithereens. Clearly, I was not the first one to run it over.

"You alone hold my broken cup."

I can't help but smile at the irony of the moment. Over coffee a few days before, I had a conversation about (among other things) parking meters, Christian books, and cracked cups.

"You alone hold my broken cup. My heart's so dusty and dry."

Two days earlier I stood in the audience and listened to singer/songwriter Peder Eide talk about cracked cups.

We all have cups. God pours out love, affirmation, encouragement intending to fill our cup until it overflows. Yet fear, abandonment, rejection, etc. have cracked our cups. Some cracks are bigger than others yet still the goodness of God leaks out and the cup never overflows. This is not what God intended.

"I'll ache 'til You make me whole."

As an audience, we extended our hand-cups into the air, handing them to our Abba Father like a small child hands a broken object to a parent. Individually we identified a specific crack and asked Him to fix it.

"Abba, this belongs to You."

I had just spent the last hour closely examining the multiple cracks in my cup. The cracks that are causing fast leaks and those that are slower. The causes of the cracks and the repercussions of them. The need for the Lord to repair the cracks and fill my cup.

"Abba, this belongs to You. This belongs to You, Abba Father."

Mending takes time, especially when your cup has been run over... twice.  Especially when the cause of the cracks lead to multiple, "Oh, Honey"s.  Yet when you, when I, lift our broken cups before the Lord, He graciously repairs them and pours into them until they are overflowing.  He fills them until it's not the former cracks or even the cup itself that can be seen but rather His love pouring over the edges.

"I thirst for You, Jesus, fill me up!"

<>< Katie

Lyrics from "Make Me Whole" and "Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide.

Quality Time

As my week back home in Baptist Country was drawing to a close, I pondered who I had gotten to see for a substantial amount of time and who I wanted to spend more time with.

The friends I am closest to, naturally, fit into the "I want more time!" category. But I began to wonder, how much more time did I want? If life and other obligations were no object, how much time would be sufficient with them?

Forever.

I wanted to stay in their apartment forever.  I wanted to sit in their offices and chat days away.  I wanted to never ever leave again.

Of course, an infinite amount of time with my friends would be fun.

But I decided that's what kind of relationship I want with the Lord. I want to lock myself in the prayer room and never come out. I want to sit at His feet and never move. I want to rest on the chest of my Abba Father.

Forever.

<>< Katie

Who are the Poor?

For the last week I have been dog-sitting in a very nice neighborhood.  Day after day, I walk the dog down the freshy-swept street looking at the fancy homes, the manicured lawns, and expensive cars.  Part of me wonders if I could ever afford to live here.

Financially, it's a lofty goal for this unemployed recent grad. That's not what I meant.

I mean, could I afford to live here

when some live here?

Can I live here

having been here?

The Bible doesn't say "Don't live in a nice house"... but it does say "give everything you have to the poor."

But who are the poor?

Are the poor the children in a hogar in Guatemala who play with one-armed Barbies but have the joy of the Lord in their hearts and it shows on their faces?

Are the poor the people paying taxes on their 4,000 square-foot homes who are on the brink of divorce, have disrespectful children, and hire someone else to pick up their dog poop?

Part of me says, no way, I will never live in a classy neighborhood. (Especially based on those stereotypes). I've seen too much poverty to be comfortable in a large, neat home.

Perhaps that is true. For just me and the dog, this four-bedroom, three-bath home is way too big. But what if I had a husband and children?

Through trial and error, I have learned some aspects of third-world ministry. I have been to places where hand sanitizer and toilet paper are luxuries. The girls in the photo above aren't just children worlds away with stories that would break your heart. We know each others' names, they are my sisters, and they almost knocked me fifteen feet off that ledge ten seconds after that photo was taken when they tried to all see it simultaneously.

Yet, as I walk through this nice neighborhood and wonder about the people inside of the homes, I wonder about them and their lives. Do they know their neighbors? Do they realize there's more to life than fnancial success? Most importantly, do they know that God loves them?

How can I walk my dog down this street

knowing stray dogs roam down this street?

Easy. On both streets there are people that have never heard the name of Jesus.

How can I limit ministry to the without-money poor without including the without-Jesus poor?

Third world ministry may be teaching people how to brush their teeth, handing out bracelets, and fitting them with eye glasses. It can be loving them, making a fool of yourself, and living the gospel.

Is that not also what is the first world also needs? Love, humor, and (most importantly) Jesus.

First world ministry is greeting neighbors as you pass them on the street, hand-delivering a warm breakfast to the neighbor's housesitter and inviting her over for dinner, or cutting someone else's grass because they're having a busy week. It can be releasing a child from poverty through child sponsorship and telling others about your Fridge Kid. It's loving the way Christ commands us and living the gospel.

He is the God of this city

just as He is of this one.

Can I afford it?

How can I NOT?

The Great Commission commands us to GO and make disciples of ALL nations (Matthew 28:19, emphasis mine). I like to GO to another nation; it has become comfortable to me. But GO can also mean GO to the other side of the shurbery.

No matter where you live, GO and be the missionary you were called to be (Acts 1:8).

It starts with me.

<>< Katie

Hallelujah

A Chinese woman noticed the English Bible in Mike's hand.

She pointed to it and, with a huge smile on her face, pulled her Chinese Bible out of her purse. Mike smiled back, and the exchange ended. At least as far as I could see from my seat across the over-crowded public bus.

The bus only got hotter and more crowded as we approached our destination: a Chinese church meeting at a chicken plant because they spent thirty years fighting the government to regain their land that was seized.*

Our team and several Chinese people got off at the stop at the church's gate. This woman was thrilled!

She grabbed Juanita by the arm, looked directly in her eyes, and began to ramble in Chinese. Juanita didn't understand a word of it, but she understood this woman's joy.

The woman kept trying different phrases, willing Juanita to understand.

"Hallelujah," the Chinese woman said.  Juanita understood.

"Hallelujah!"

It's not identical in both languages, but it's a cognate. The two sisters could not converse with words, but they could worship together.

What more does one need?

Hallelujah,
<>< Katie

Note: Words like "Amen" and "Jesus" are also cognates. That's about all we understood of the service.

* Though it is significantly smaller and more out of the way than the original land, the Chinese government has given the church land along with monetary contributions (to make up for the rest of the acreage) and a promise to assist in the placement of a bus stop near church property. This fall, they hope to break ground to complete the 1,500-seat building by Christmas 2012.  The pastor of this church rotates between it and at least ten other local churches.

Looks Like

Amber and I were dragging a little as we walked through yet another airport.  This was our sixth airport and sixth flight involved in our journey to and from China.

We got fifteen hours of sleep between Friday morning and Monday-Round Two.  Then sixteen hours between Monday-Round Two and Tuesday.  There was a lot still to make up for.

A man shouted at us, "Would you care to hear about the Lord Jesus Christ?"

Normally I would have ignored him.  I'm not a fan of street-corner preachers.  And I just got back from China where you are constantly heckled to buy this product, hire this taxi, etc.  But in a burst of energy, I turned to him, pumped my first in the air, and proudly proclaimed, "We know the Lord!"

"Doesn't look like it," he said.

We kept walking.  Amber laughed.  But I was annoyed.

What does it look like to love the Lord?

Does it look like this Christian t-shirt I'm wearing?

Does it look like the cross around my neck?

Does it look like kapris rather than short-shorts?

Does it look like a pep in my step even though I'm exhausted?

Does it look like the bags under my eyes from a three-week mission trip?

Maybe it's not physical.

Maybe it looks like loving, even those people who are hard to love.

Maybe it looks like serving others, even when you'd rather fall into bed.

Maybe it looks like being patient and understanding, even as you explain something for the hundredth time.
Maybe it looks like being kind to everyone, even the man in the airport using tracts.

Maybe it doesn't look like I love the Lord.

Maybe that's something I need to work on.  Now and always.

<>< Katie

Ice Cream Stains

Every ice cream cone you eat is a race: you versus the melting ice cream.

On Wednesday, I lost the race when a drop of chocolate ice cream landed on my Carolina-blue shirt.  Of course, I was devastated and used every means available to remove the evidence.

After all, this wasn't just any blue t-shirt.  This t-shirt was purchased as part of a fundraiser to send my friend Hannah to eleven countries in eleven months through The World Race.  Hannah is important to me, and I want to proudly wear her missions shirt to support her.  I don't want it to have chocolate ice cream stains on it.

Wait just a second.

What's the shirt for?  Hannah's mission work through The World Race.  I wonder if she has Shout wipes in her pack.  I wonder if she's going to come home unstained after visiting eleven countries in eleven months.

I doubt it. 

Friends, God doesn't call us to look as nice as pristine as we can.  We're called to get dirty.

Jesus got dirty: He washed sore, dusty feet. (See John 13:1-17)
Jesus got dirty: He spent His time with tax collectors.  (See Matthew 9:9-13)
Jesus got dirty: He wept when His friend died. (See John 11:1-44)
Jesus got dirty: He touched lepers.  (See Matthew 8:1-4)
Jesus got dirty: He spit on His own fingers to heal.  (See Mark 7:32-35)
Jesus got dirty: He was whipped, mocked, and crucified. (See Luke 22:47-24:12)
Jesus got dirty; why don't we?

Do I care more about the chocolate stain on Hannah's Race shirt than the people she's going to be ministering to, loving, and serving?  Of course not.  At least not anymore. 

Do you?

<>< Katie

PS: The stain washed out of my shirt, but I don't want this lesson to wash out of my heart.

Trust, Even in the Desert

Let's be honest for a minute: some days I don't want to read my Bible, don't want to pray, don't want to spend time with the Lord.

It was one of those days.  Even though I wasn't tired, I was ready to call it a night.  I just didn't feel like doing a devotion.

Grudgingly I threw my Bible on my bed and flipped to where I was reading in Nehemiah.  Chapter 9.  The same chapter the pastor used in his sermon on Sunday.  The same chapter we'd read in small group.  In two days I had gone from oblivious to practically an expert on Nehemiah 9; I didn't want to read it yet again.  I figured I'd skim it quickly and go to bed.  Wrong.

Here's what you need to know: my favorite Bible is held together by purple duct tape.  If you drop it, a tree of papers will fall out.  The margins notes are numerous.  It's in such rough shape that I rarely take it out of my room.  But it's in that Bible where all of my sermon notes have been transferred... since sixth grade.

I flipped to Nehemiah 9 and lo and behold sometime in the last ten years (excluding this past Sunday), I heard a sermon on Nehemiah 9.  It was at our student worship service a few years back.  It wasn't my favorite guest speaker and based on the date and when that would have fallen in the semester, I debated even going that night.  I'm glad I did.

In Nehemiah 9, the wall around Jerusalem has already been rebuilt.  The people have literally wept upon hearing (and understanding) the Law they have not kept.  Now they're confessing their sins and reminding God of how He's been faithful to them through the exodus, the desert, and into the promised land.

It's an exercise I have been encouraged to use myself.  Since we're being honest, post-college life is a bit (ok, a lot) like a desert.  My days are filled with job searching and rejections.  My support system in 900 miles away.  I have to constantly remind myself of God's faithfulness.  But, as He did not abandon the Israelites many thousand years ago, God has not abandoned me here.

Have I abandoned Him?  Not quite.  But some days I do my devotion grudgingly; I grit my teeth while praying.

The notes in my margins around Nehemiah 9 say:

How far ahead could they see?
1. Not very far due to the pillar
2. As far as they needed to see

"You're not ready for the Promised Land if you can't trust Him in the dessert."

Hum.

Nehemiah 9:21 says, "For forty years You sustained them in the desert; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen."

I could make a list of things I lack here in the desert of unemployment.  But in Matthew 6, Jesus prays for daily bread not daily steak.  I have clothes sticking to on my back, I have a roof and ceiling fan over my head, and I have dinner on my plate.  It's definitely not ideal but it's satisfactory, at least for today.

And still, here I am annoyed that God said, "Not now" to graduate school, disappointed that my ideal job has not been dropped into my lap, and sad visiting my closest friends requires an airplane ticket.

How far ahead can I see?  Not very far.  But just far enough.  Not as far as I would like to see but just as far as God is willing to let me see... for now.  As difficult as it is to remember, He sees beyond the pillar.  He knows what comes next.  As I need to see it, He will reveal it to me.  Until then, will I trust Him in the desert?

God, I want to trust You in this desert.  But it's hard.  I am not ready for the Promised Land. Without Your grace and love, I will never be ready.  Prepare me for what lies ahead beyond my vision but not beyond Yours.  Let me focus on You and the pillar You have provided to lead me both by day and night.  I don't have to enjoy this desert, but I want to be found faithful through it.  Thank You for not abandoning me here.  I love You.  Amen.

<>< Katie

Being Christ-Like

What does it mean to be Christ-like?

To be born of a virgin, get lost in the temple, answer questions with questions, cast out demons, and be perfect.

Well, yes.  But also no.

Being Christ-like also mean being rejected by even your family, choosing close friends from unlikely places, doing the dirty jobs, and being obedient to death.

To say you want to be Christ-like doesn't mean you want to be perfect.  It means you're willing to suffer.

Ouch.

Sadness and Joy

A large group gathered together in a dark upper room. The door locked out of fear. No one had bothered to light the lamp. No one wanted to speak. Complete darkness. It was not only a physical surrounding but also an emotional feeling.

Their best friend, their leader... was dead. Three years earlier they'd given up everything to follow Him.  This is not what they had expected.

Not even a week earlier He'd been celebrated. He was welcomed as a king. Not forty-eight hours previous they'd enjoyed a meal together. Now He was gone. Everything happened so quickly.

The room was filled with a myriad of emotions: hurt, regret, failure, longing, desperation, depression, darkness, confusion, loneliness, loss... the list goes on. Yet the most prevalent had to be hopelessness.

"How could this have happened?"

"I really didn't see this coming. Did He?"

"Now what?"

"Where do we go from here?"

The incessant number of unanswerable questions plagued them as they sat, paced, and cried.

Silence in a crowd. Darkness in the middle of the day. Loneliness among great friends.

"Peace be with you." A voice rudely interrupts their pensiveness. Who would offer peace on such a dreary day?

Only the One who can bring light into their darkness.  Only the One who brings hope to the hopeless.  Only the One who was dead but lives again!

Can you imagine the relief of the disciples?  Can you imagine the pure joy?

Place yourself in the upper room with the disciples.  Kneel before Jesus.

Notice the holes in his feet.  Touch the wound in His side.  When His nail-scarred hand slides under your chin and lifts gently, don't be ashamed. When your teary eyes meet His compassionate ones, don't look away. Think about all of the power those eyes hold, but now their focus is on you.

"I love you."

Accept the warm embrace from the living Savior and never, ever let go.

Obedience

I'll be honest: I've spent quite a bit of time in our campus' prayer room lately.  On a regular basis that time has involved harsh words, pleading, and tears.

Even though I'm going for the world record number of bloody noses in a single week, there has been no bleeding in the prayer room. There has been no serious sweating in the prayer room.  There has definitely been no sweating blood.

My prayer time always includes, "Not my will but Yours be done."  Words I do not even feel qualified to say given the severity of God's will surrounding the original usage of those words.  God's will meant pain, suffering, abandonment, death.

"Thy will be done."

Obedience is a hard thing to learn.

Ask Abraham, obediently ready to sacrifice is only son, the son given against all odds.

Ask Moses, asked to return to the land where he was considered a murderer and demand the freedom of his people.

Ask Jesus, asked to live perfectly and die a brutal, undeserving death.
"My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

Are you willing to pray, "Not my will but Yours be done"?
Will you be found obedient? 
Even to death?

Suiting up for a wild ride,
<>< Katie

A Lot Can Change

"A lot can change in four weeks."  Using that often-forgotten fact, I was encouraged about post-graduation life.

Of all weeks to be reminded of that small fact, Holy Week.  The time of the year when we remember Christ's warm welcome, final meal, prayerful agony, betrayal, sacrifice, lonely death, and wonderful resurrection.

A lot can change in a week.

On the day now commemorated as Palm Sunday, Christ was warmly welcomed as He entered Jerusalem.

The next day the great crowd that had come for the festival heard that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem. They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna!"
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Blessed is the king of Israel!”
Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, as it is written:
“Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion; see, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.”
At first his disciples did not understand all this. Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him.
Now the crowd that was with him when he called Lazarus from the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to spread the word. Many people, because they had heard that he had performed this sign, went out to meet him. So the Pharisees said to one another, “See, this is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!”
John 12:12-19

Of course, the next week the same crowd shouted for the death of the same Christ.

As soon as the chief priests and their officials saw [Jesus], they shouted, “Crucify! Crucify!”
John 19:6

A lot can change in a week.  A lot can change in four weeks.  The challenges that seem overwhelming this week may seem petty next week.  Things you rejoice in this week could be devestating next week.  And neither is too big for our God to handle.

Take peace in that this week as you remember when God defeated the biggest problem (sin) in the most humiliating, agonizing way (a criminal's death).

<>< Katie

A Saved Catholic?

"I don't know if you can be Catholic and be saved... I'm still figuring that out," cried one of my Catholic friends during our team worship night in Nicaragua.

When she first made the statement, my defenses went up.  I'm not Catholic, but I have a lot of friends and family who are Catholics.  Of course you can be Catholic and be saved.

Throughout the rest of the week, God let me see the plight that literally brought her to tears before us in a moment of transparency.

We walked into Central American cathedrals and my heart broke due to the distorted Jesus so many people have been taught.

The man huddled in the corner fervently praying to the painting of a deceased bishop.

The woman filling the offering box with Cordobas as if she could buy forgiveness.

The crowds ritually progressing through the streets holding a crucifix high in the air.

Jesus still on the cross.

As we walked through those decorated cathedrals, I found myself praying for the lost within the sanctuary.  I wanted to stay and minister there rather than be a tourist.

It wasn't the label "Catholic" that bothered me. It was the un-biblically based Jesus.  The Jesus represented is not the Jesus I know.  That's what broke my heart.  The desire to earn forgiveness and eternal life doesn't take into account for grace and mercy.  The lack of understanding that Jesus is accessible to each and everyone of us, made me sad.

I'm not bashing Catholicism, I promise.  I'm bashing the missing of Jesus that we are all guilty of.  We get caught up in talking about homosexuality, abortion, and divorce rather than showing and teaching the love Jesus was adamant about.

We can call ourselves Christians and not know Christ.  Worship can be a weekly event we attend out of habit not a lifestyle we lead.

Yes, you can be Catholic and be saved.  But going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the race track makes you a race car driver... going to a ballet makes you a ballerina...

The Christ I know is more than a character in a big book.  He's more than a man who did some really nice things.

He's God and man.  He lived by example, practiced what He preached, and gave the ultimate sacrifice.  And He calls us to do the same.

Do you agree? 

Then show it.  Not in my comments section but today on the road, in the classroom, in the cafeteria, and at the store.  Let's redefine Christianity.

It starts with me.

<>< Katie

Anaconda Squeeze

It's very overwhelming for Nicaraguan places to be invaded by 26 Americans.  The first day, half of our team was going to the special needs school and the other half to an orphanage.  We had planned VBS-like activities.  My group was going to teach the story of Daniel and the lion's den with audience participation and a corresponding craft.

Flaw in the plan: a miscommunication with the orphanage meant we wouldn't be able to work there.  After some quick re-figuring, we found ourselves working with 5 and 6 year olds at a school.

Flaw in the plan: this was a public school.  That meant no talking about Jesus.  There were two sets of 80 kids each and we had no plan.

Yay for being flexible and thinking on our feet.

We got the first group to sit under the shade of a tree while we introduced ourselves, did some silly skits, and told them why we were in Nicaragua.  (We did slide Jesus in there briefly).

After that we let them play.  We tried to teach them Duck, Duck, Goose (Renamed Gato, Gato, Perro).  It didn't fly.  The soccer balls did.

Eventually recess was over, so "Neo" collected the balls and became a human jungle gym.

No matter how many times he said, "No," those two little boys wouldn't stop reaching for the balls.  I had the perfect distraction: a camera.

One kid became two, became four or five, became thirty... There are about 50 more photos that I want to post just to show you the cuteness of the crowd we drew.

I ran out of funny face ideas before they lost interest.  Instead, I started asking them questions in Spanish.

Katie: Are you having a good day?
Adorable Children: SI!
Katie: Do you like recess?
Adorable Children: SI!
Katie: Is it better than math?
Adorable Children: SI!

They loved every minute of it!  Every "Sí" was more energetic than the previous.

Eventually my other team members came up and introduced themselves, talked about why we were there, and did some skits.  I did all of our interpreting for that group which meant I had no idea what the next plan was and I didn't get thirty second water break during the switching of groups.  When we told them to stand up, they did.

I think it probably started with one child's desire to give me a hug.  As had happened previously, one child turned into two, turned into three or four, turned into fifty.

My very first Anaconda Squeeze!

I deserved to be trampled because I was the one who riled them up... but I loved every minute of it!

I relished that moment.  I tried to touch every child around me and told them all that I love them.  I wish I could have told them about Jesus and how much He loves them.

I also wish I would not have forgotten how to conjugate.  When there are fifty kids latched to your waist, it is almost impossible to stay upright.  But I couldn't find the words, "I'm falling."  I got "to fall," "I dropped it," and "he fell" but not "I'm falling."  I finally realized I was going down and there was nothing I could do about it but try not to crush kids in the process.

When I started to shrink, the rest of my team stopped taking pictures and realized I needed help.

Eventually, we got the 50 kids off of me and divided into groups.  Naturally, my group was the largest, and I still had no idea what we were doing.

As per Erin's suggestion, we started the Hokey Pokey.  In English.  Meaning what?  Katie's solo.

Right arm.
Left arm.
Right leg.
Left leg.
Head.
Stomach.
The kids were starting to get it, so I asked for body parts from them.
Hair.
Chin.
Right knee.
Left knee.
Eyebrows.
Forehead.
Teeth.

Three days of Hokey Pokey later and I was out of breath and thinking about what we were teaching these kids: the Hokey Pokey is what it's all about. 

We could tell these kids we were there because of Jesus but we couldn't tell them who Jesus is.  We couldn't tell them Jesus loves them.  We couldn't tell them about how great Jesus is.

It broke my heart to imagine these kids going home and having this conversation.
Mom: How was school today?
Child: Great!  We tackled some Americans at recess!
Mom: Why were there Americans at you school?
Child: I don't know.

We couldn't tell them about Jesus's love, but I can only hope and pray that we were able to show them the love of Christ through our actions and play time.  They definitely showed us what it mean to love like a child.

It also made me think about how often we have the opportunity to tell people about Jesus and we don't.  When we have the opportunity, we fail to seize it.  When we don't have the opportunity, we desire it.

What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?
But what if it's not? 
And what if we're missing opportunities to speak the Truth?
What if we were better about speaking love?

<>< Katie

The Ultimate Valentine

Happy February 14- the day singles stick out like sore thumbs and couples flaunt their relationship.

I'm not bitter.

No, really, I'm not.  My self worth is not measured in how many flowers are delivered to my doorstep today.  This may be the one day a year when my self esteem is not directly related to what I find in my mailbox. 

Valentine's Day shouldn't be about sappy cards, chocolate, and candy hearts (although, those things are nice), it should be about the same thing the other 364 days a year are about: showing love.  Why celebrate in one day what God commands us to do every day?

Even though today creates a chasm between the two, couples and singles still have something in common: someone loves them.  A spouse, a friend, a parent, a roommate...

A Creator of the Universe?  Uh, yeah!

Friends, God loves you.  Yes, you.  He loves you more than you could ever know.  He loves you so much He sacrificed His Son.  Christ relinquished His position in the eternal, wonderful heaven, came to earth in a germy manger, and lived a perfect life just to die a criminal's death.  Because of that love for you, He didn't stay dead!  Yes, for you.

Jesus provided the perfect example of love, not just for February 14 but every day.

My prayer for you today is that you find peace and comfort in the truth that God loves you.  May the Holy Spirit fill you with His love and may you radiate that love to others.

Love,
<>< Katie