Use Me

I think I over-estimated my number of readers... does anyone actually read these blogs?

Last week Monday, my friend Jessica was concerned about the lack volunteers for VBS. We all concurred that God would provide.

On Wednesday, I went out to lunch with a mutual friend Emily to discuss high school ministry and in the four parking stalls between her car and mine, she somehow convinced me to see if Jessica still needed help for VBS. I knew God would provide for Jessica, but I never expected that I would be the one He provided. In reality, God dropped people from the sky for her, and the fall didn't hurt. God and I had a good laugh all the way home.
"Use me," I said, "but obviously You don't need my permission to do that. Yet I still give it."

Well, a week later I have survived my first VBS ever! There are a plethora of children's songs running on shuffle in my head... where they have been for the last week. Yet the effects of VBS go a whole lot deeper than musical hallucinations.

Last night, I drove past a dead opossum on the road. I chuckled when I contemplated pulling over, putting my hand on it, and saying, "God gives up life!" (And I half expected a loud "Fear not!" to follow).

This afternoon, my VBS kids were running back towards church and I said, "Let's use our walking feet." Imagine my surprise when every single one of them slowed down and began to walk! I was still talking, and one of them turned around and said, "SHHH!!" to me! I forgot, walking feet go with quiet mouths and listening ears! It only took a week for them to learn and less time than that to forget, but it feels good to be shhh-ed by a four year old.

One of my VBS friends loved the firefly he made on Monday. Every day he asked if he could take it home, and everyday the answer was, "You may take it home on Friday." Everyday he told me, "This is my firefly. It reminds me that God is with us! FEAR NOT!" Some lessons do actually stick.

Max Lucado recommends taking a walk with a child every day to see life from their point of view. Well, every day this week I got to see God through the eyes of a four year old, and let me just tell you: He is good!

Learning to Listen,
<>< Katie

Abba, I Belong to You

In Aramaic, the word Abba is an intimate word that means Papa or Daddy. When I saw Peder Eide in concert last summer, I heard his song "Abba, I Belong to You" for the first time. He made the energetic audience sit down and take a pause while we sang to our Daddy.

Since I hear them on my iPod, on the radio, at church, and everywhere I go, worship songs so quickly become just another song. It's refreshing to know I'm singing to Jesus all of the time and cusses aren't slipping out if I'm not playing attention while I sing, but that's not enough. All too often I'm singing to God without paying any attention to the lyrics. I promised myself I'd not do that with "Abba, I Belong to You." Now, whenever I hear it, I stop what I'm doing and give those three minutes to God. If I'm driving, sometimes I even pull over. It's a pretty simple song but touching none the less. Read the lyrics.

"Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide

Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You,
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.

I kneel now,
and feel how I felt You before.
This pausing is causing my heart to explore
Why when I'm weary so often you seem far away
Still I will say:

Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.

What I feel is less real than all that You say.
You told me, You'd hold me through all of my days.
So though my spirit is tossing and turning about
Still there's no doubt:

Abba, I belong to You
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.

Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
Yes, I belong to You.
My Abba, Father, God.

You're my Abba, Father, God."

Peder asked us to raise our hands to our Abba, Father. I'm not one to pull the "fork lift" or the "Statue of Liberty" very often, so outstretching my hands to the sky was a little out of my comfort zone, but I did it. I closed my eyes and half expected my Papa, Daddy to swoop down and scoop me up into His loving arms. I kind of felt like a four year old.

Last night, we sang it again. I put my arms up again, and I still felt like a four year old. Except this time, instead of closing my eyes, I looked up to the dusky sky. I looked at the pen mark on my left hand, like a four year old who is first learning to color with markers. I looked at the band aid on my right hand and thought of my trip to the First Aid tent, like the four year old who cries for the littlest scratch. (I scraped my hand on an old nail in a barn, ok, you would have gone to the First Aid tent, too). I looked up to the deep blue sky between my hands waiting for His smiling face to appear. Waiting to be held close and all of my tears wiped away.

Maybe I wasn't literally scooped up, but God was there. He was indeed holding me in His loving arms. I will forever be a four year old, and that's ok. God calls us to come like a child, and come like a child I shall!

Abba, I belong to You.
<>< Katie

"Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Matthew 19:14