Our conversation was brief. Just long enough to drive from the coffee shop back to her dorm.
She spoke about how she was studying for a test in her missiology class. We spoke about Compassion. I mentioned that I'm a writer. She said she feels called by God to open an orphanage in a specific African country.
I wanted to practice asking questions. Why that specific country? What did her call look like? Why start an orphanage rather than work for an existing one? For once I had no shortage of questions.
We did have a shortage of time. So I packed my questions away to save for a future opportunity.
As I drove home I wondered what it would be like to have such a clear calling on my life. To know--at the start of my college career or earlier--what I wanted to do for God's kingdom. I figured it must be nice.
I'm just a writer with a degree and no idea where God's calling her to step next. I was jealous of her and admired her all at the same time. I wanted my own clear calling.
I saw her again two day later. Before I could pour out my question box, she mentioned that maybe she wasn't interested in that specific country. She'd heard some terrifying things that had happened there. Part of me wanted to tell her not to give up her dreams. The other part of me breathed a sigh of relief.
She's just like me: some clue of what to do but no idea what it will actually look like once she gets there. She didn't get a jet-stream message from the Lord. Her confidence was as thin as mine when I said I was a writer.
True, I am a writer. A freelance writer. A ghostwriter. A professional writer. An underpaid/underemployed writer. A blog-writer. I didn't say all of that. I just said, "Writer." It sounds better that way.
True, she's studying missiology (the study of missions) because she's got a heart for missions. True she wants to care for orphans. True she loves Compassion as much as I do. Maybe true she'll start her own orphanage and maybe true it'll be in that specific African country. But who knows.
God does.
And right now, He's not telling.
For either of us.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Friday, March 9, 2012
Monday, December 26, 2011
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?
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?
Monday, December 19, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, November 4, 2011
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?
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
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
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
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Stable
I've been living out of my suitcase for two weeks as I job search. It's been two weeks of ups and downs. Of awkwardly cold-calling strangers and laughing until I can't breathe. Awful and great. Uncomfortable and easy. Yin and yang.
It makes me miss my favorite roller coasters: mission trips. If you've ever been on an international mission trip before, you probably know what I'm talking about. The ups and downs. The high highs and low lows. Encouraged, discouraged. Peaks and valleys. One minute of tears of joy; the next tears of sadness. You switch back and forth so many times in one day that you forget what it's like to be stable.
What is stable? Stable is somewhere in the middle. Somewhere I don't often find on mission trips. Stable is what we cling to in everyday life. Stable is comfort, contentment, conformity. Stable is lukewarm.
In Revelation 3, John transcribes what the Lord commands him to write to the church in Laodicea:
This passage isn't really talking about emotional roller coasters. But I think it applies here, too. When our hearts break for and with others, we connect as God's children. When we rejoice and celebrate, we exalt God and His goodness. It's when we're in the middle, stable, and comfortable that we're in the most dangerous position of all.
We don't want to change. We overlook the needs of others. We're too caught in our own ways to see matters worthy of praise. While I would love for the tears to stop coming so easily, I don't want to be stable. Not now, not ever.
I don't want to be comfortable and content. I want my heart to break for what breaks God's heart. I want to love the way Jesus loved--the least of these, the broken people, the forgotten. I want to live a life worthy of the calling I have received!
I do not ever want to be lukewarm!
<>< Katie
It makes me miss my favorite roller coasters: mission trips. If you've ever been on an international mission trip before, you probably know what I'm talking about. The ups and downs. The high highs and low lows. Encouraged, discouraged. Peaks and valleys. One minute of tears of joy; the next tears of sadness. You switch back and forth so many times in one day that you forget what it's like to be stable.
What is stable? Stable is somewhere in the middle. Somewhere I don't often find on mission trips. Stable is what we cling to in everyday life. Stable is comfort, contentment, conformity. Stable is lukewarm.
In Revelation 3, John transcribes what the Lord commands him to write to the church in Laodicea:
“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:It's like God is saying, "When you're on fire for Me, I can use that. When you're cold, I can use that, too. But when you're apathetic, when you're stable, I don't want you."
'These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.'" Rev. 3:14-16 (italics mine)
This passage isn't really talking about emotional roller coasters. But I think it applies here, too. When our hearts break for and with others, we connect as God's children. When we rejoice and celebrate, we exalt God and His goodness. It's when we're in the middle, stable, and comfortable that we're in the most dangerous position of all.
We don't want to change. We overlook the needs of others. We're too caught in our own ways to see matters worthy of praise. While I would love for the tears to stop coming so easily, I don't want to be stable. Not now, not ever.
I don't want to be comfortable and content. I want my heart to break for what breaks God's heart. I want to love the way Jesus loved--the least of these, the broken people, the forgotten. I want to live a life worthy of the calling I have received!
I do not ever want to be lukewarm!
<>< Katie
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Kitchen
Just as a kitchen has a variety of utensils, so does life have a variety of people.
We can't all be forks. We can't all be ladles. We can't all be cheese graders.
Sometimes God asks us to be uncomfortable and fill anothers' role. At that point, He provides the tools necessary to grow you, stretch you, and complete the job for His glory. As He always does.
The Ladle
Server. Serves deep, serves well, serves always.
The Cheese Grader
The block of cheese is a big dream. I love cheese but a block is not practical. The cheese grader breaks down the dream into manageable slices in order to make it a reality. Big dream. Small pieces. One step at a time. Cheese grader.
The Fork
The fork gets the credit but a lot has to happen before everyone sees the fork move from here to there. The fork's the missionary. But being a fork isn't always glamorous. Would you want to be drown in saliva?
What else can we add to the kitchen?
<>< Katie
We can't all be forks. We can't all be ladles. We can't all be cheese graders.
Sometimes God asks us to be uncomfortable and fill anothers' role. At that point, He provides the tools necessary to grow you, stretch you, and complete the job for His glory. As He always does.
The Ladle
Server. Serves deep, serves well, serves always.
The Cheese Grader
The block of cheese is a big dream. I love cheese but a block is not practical. The cheese grader breaks down the dream into manageable slices in order to make it a reality. Big dream. Small pieces. One step at a time. Cheese grader.
The Fork
The fork gets the credit but a lot has to happen before everyone sees the fork move from here to there. The fork's the missionary. But being a fork isn't always glamorous. Would you want to be drown in saliva?
What else can we add to the kitchen?
<>< Katie
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
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 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
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
China-Bound
Hello, friends! If all is going as planned, I am on a plane bound for China by the time you're reading this.
My friend Amber and I have had an amazing opportunity open up to us to serve the Lord in China. We've been able to see His hand in all of the planning steps along the way.
We would be honored and humbled if you would join us in praying for us for the next three weeks while we teach English and encourage Chinese Christians.
You're also welcome to join us via our blog at http://thechinaadventures.blogspot.com/.
Since our computer time will be very limited (if we have any access at all), most of my time will be spent updating that blog rather than this one. So don't panic if I don't appear on your dashboard for three weeks. I will do everything my power to return safely and share with you all of the wonderful ways we saw God work.
Thanks, friends,
<>< Katie
My friend Amber and I have had an amazing opportunity open up to us to serve the Lord in China. We've been able to see His hand in all of the planning steps along the way.
We would be honored and humbled if you would join us in praying for us for the next three weeks while we teach English and encourage Chinese Christians.
You're also welcome to join us via our blog at http://thechinaadventures.blogspot.com/.
Since our computer time will be very limited (if we have any access at all), most of my time will be spent updating that blog rather than this one. So don't panic if I don't appear on your dashboard for three weeks. I will do everything my power to return safely and share with you all of the wonderful ways we saw God work.
Thanks, friends,
<>< Katie
Friday, June 10, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Nicaragua
I have crayon under my fingernails.
My hair has dirt in it and is uncooperative.
My legs are scratched up, bug-bitten, and hairy.
I'll spare you the details about the revolt happening inside of my body.
I'm physically drained but emotionally and spiritually on a mountain top!
Sorry for the silence last week. I was on a mission trip to Nicaragua. We had one goal and one goal only: serve God.
That meant going to five church services in one week but being the church all week.
It meant entertaining 80 kids for an hour... twice.
It meant building relationships and encouraging people in what they're already doing.
It meant loving and serving with everything we have.
It meant visiting the fire station, touring the local hospital, and climbing mountains.
Let me tell you, the Holy Spirit is alive and well in Nicaragua! It was so encouraging to see!
I'm trying to get all of my thoughts into the same language. As I do that, I'll share stories and photos... so don't go anywhere!
But now... I must go to bed. Yesterday was a 22-hour travel day that included a six am pit stop because someone was bus-sick, two plane rides, and a 1am tire-change on a 12-passenger van. But we are all home safe and healthy!
<>< Katie
My hair has dirt in it and is uncooperative.
My legs are scratched up, bug-bitten, and hairy.
I'll spare you the details about the revolt happening inside of my body.
I'm physically drained but emotionally and spiritually on a mountain top!
Sorry for the silence last week. I was on a mission trip to Nicaragua. We had one goal and one goal only: serve God.
That meant going to five church services in one week but being the church all week.
It meant entertaining 80 kids for an hour... twice.
It meant building relationships and encouraging people in what they're already doing.
It meant loving and serving with everything we have.
It meant visiting the fire station, touring the local hospital, and climbing mountains.
Let me tell you, the Holy Spirit is alive and well in Nicaragua! It was so encouraging to see!
I'm trying to get all of my thoughts into the same language. As I do that, I'll share stories and photos... so don't go anywhere!
But now... I must go to bed. Yesterday was a 22-hour travel day that included a six am pit stop because someone was bus-sick, two plane rides, and a 1am tire-change on a 12-passenger van. But we are all home safe and healthy!
<>< Katie
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Tennis Racket
"I carry more to class every day than I pack when I fly across the country."
It's true. But last week Thursday when our campus minister Neal asked me to bring my suitcase to his office to help prepare for our upcoming mission trip, I protested. I didn't want to walk fifteen minutes across campus with my suitcase. I don't usually fly with a suitcase, and I definitely wasn't walking to class with a suitcase.
On Friday, when we were meeting as a mission team Neal said, "I heard some of you care too much about your pride to walk all the way to my office with a suitcase."
He didn't have to say, "'Some of you' means 'Katie.'" I knew. He knew. In case Neal's subtle reminder to keep my pride in check wasn't enough, God took care of it.
Monday my gym class made the mid-semester switch from badminton to tennis. For the rest of the semester, I get to carry around a tennis racket all day twice a week.
Really, I'm ok with it because it means I get to play tennis twice a week, but after about... oh, fifteenth time answering the "Why do you have a tennis racket?" question, it gets a little old.
Has your pride made unexpected appearances today?
What is your "tennis racket" to carry around today to make sure the pride stays in check?
<>< Katie
Update: Neal weighed my backpack today... 25lbs.
It's true. But last week Thursday when our campus minister Neal asked me to bring my suitcase to his office to help prepare for our upcoming mission trip, I protested. I didn't want to walk fifteen minutes across campus with my suitcase. I don't usually fly with a suitcase, and I definitely wasn't walking to class with a suitcase.
On Friday, when we were meeting as a mission team Neal said, "I heard some of you care too much about your pride to walk all the way to my office with a suitcase."
He didn't have to say, "'Some of you' means 'Katie.'" I knew. He knew. In case Neal's subtle reminder to keep my pride in check wasn't enough, God took care of it.
Monday my gym class made the mid-semester switch from badminton to tennis. For the rest of the semester, I get to carry around a tennis racket all day twice a week.
Really, I'm ok with it because it means I get to play tennis twice a week, but after about... oh, fifteenth time answering the "Why do you have a tennis racket?" question, it gets a little old.
Has your pride made unexpected appearances today?
What is your "tennis racket" to carry around today to make sure the pride stays in check?
<>< Katie
Update: Neal weighed my backpack today... 25lbs.
Friday, March 4, 2011
China-Bound
Secretly, I've always dreamed of going to China. In my dreams I've always envisioned my future husband and me going and bringing home a child. As always, God had a different vision. (But I haven't given up mine).
An opportunity has been made available for Amber and me to go to China for three weeks this summer. We will be teaching English but--more importantly--we will be witnesses for Christ.
"Being called" to do something was not part of my church lingo growing up, and I've really wrestled with what it means to "be called" to China. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I am perusing this opportunity with the intention of doing God's will rather than not doing it because I'm unsure if it's His will or not. (My friend Ron gave me that advice years ago and it was pretty much the best advice ever).
Even though there is still a lot of unknown, I officially submitted my application today. Now I need your help, friends.
1. Pray. Pray. Pray. Right now. Pray for me as I venture on this journey. Pray for Amber and all of the other volunteers we'll be working with. Pray for the people already in China. Pray for safety and health. Pray for us as we prepare to answer tough, blunt questions about our faith. Daily. Pray. Pray. Pray. Please.
2. I have no idea where on a college student's budget I'm going to come up with $3,000 to pay for the program. I firmly believe that God provides. Support letters, bake sales, begging on my hands and knees... If you have ideas or can support us financially, leave a comment or shoot me an email (katieaxelson [at] gmail [dot] com). Even just a dollar or two helps because God can use anything!
3. If you have any materials, teaching advice, donations, etc. We'd love to hear it. Haven't really thought that far ahead, but it's never too early to start planning.
My calendar officially doesn't end until August now! I'm really excited to see what God does with this trip! This is my first trip to a foreign country where I don't speak the language. I'll let you know how well Chinese people speak Spanish and ASL... I don't promise to blog every other day while I'm in China, but I will try to update you all periodically.
Thanks!
For His glory,
<>< Katie
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
Isaiah 6:8
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Acts 1:8
An opportunity has been made available for Amber and me to go to China for three weeks this summer. We will be teaching English but--more importantly--we will be witnesses for Christ.
"Being called" to do something was not part of my church lingo growing up, and I've really wrestled with what it means to "be called" to China. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I am perusing this opportunity with the intention of doing God's will rather than not doing it because I'm unsure if it's His will or not. (My friend Ron gave me that advice years ago and it was pretty much the best advice ever).
Even though there is still a lot of unknown, I officially submitted my application today. Now I need your help, friends.
1. Pray. Pray. Pray. Right now. Pray for me as I venture on this journey. Pray for Amber and all of the other volunteers we'll be working with. Pray for the people already in China. Pray for safety and health. Pray for us as we prepare to answer tough, blunt questions about our faith. Daily. Pray. Pray. Pray. Please.
2. I have no idea where on a college student's budget I'm going to come up with $3,000 to pay for the program. I firmly believe that God provides. Support letters, bake sales, begging on my hands and knees... If you have ideas or can support us financially, leave a comment or shoot me an email (katieaxelson [at] gmail [dot] com). Even just a dollar or two helps because God can use anything!
3. If you have any materials, teaching advice, donations, etc. We'd love to hear it. Haven't really thought that far ahead, but it's never too early to start planning.
My calendar officially doesn't end until August now! I'm really excited to see what God does with this trip! This is my first trip to a foreign country where I don't speak the language. I'll let you know how well Chinese people speak Spanish and ASL... I don't promise to blog every other day while I'm in China, but I will try to update you all periodically.
Thanks!
For His glory,
<>< Katie
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
Isaiah 6:8
"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Acts 1:8
Monday, March 15, 2010
Te Amo or Te Quiero
As per tradition, the night before a mission trip our friends gather on the floot and pray over those leaving. Last year when I went to Guatemala, Amber prayed in ASL. This year Amber was headed on an ASL mission trip, so I teased about praying in Spanish. I wasn't actually prepared to do that, but I did end with some Spanish just for kicks and giggles. I said, "Dios, Te amo" or "God, I love You."
Unlike in English, Spanish has multiple words for the word "love" and multiple ways to say, "I love you." When I first learned how to say "I love you" the teacher taught me "te amo," but I've since learned it's an intimate love typically only used between husband and wife. A better term to use on a daily basis is "te quiero" or more of a friendship love. I'm slowly working "te amo" out of my vocabulary and felt dumb when I said it in our prayer. Not really like Amber knew, but I knew I used the wrong type of love.
The more I was thinking about it, the more I decided I didn't actually mess it up. I want to know Him in an intimate way. I want to be able to say to Him "te amo." Don't you?
Te quiero,
<>< Katie
PS. The last part of our mission trip tradition will come to fruition on Sunday when I return to campus and take a window marker to Amber's car... dun, dun, dun. :-)
Oh, and by the way, where's the spell check button on the new blogger? Sorry!
Unlike in English, Spanish has multiple words for the word "love" and multiple ways to say, "I love you." When I first learned how to say "I love you" the teacher taught me "te amo," but I've since learned it's an intimate love typically only used between husband and wife. A better term to use on a daily basis is "te quiero" or more of a friendship love. I'm slowly working "te amo" out of my vocabulary and felt dumb when I said it in our prayer. Not really like Amber knew, but I knew I used the wrong type of love.
The more I was thinking about it, the more I decided I didn't actually mess it up. I want to know Him in an intimate way. I want to be able to say to Him "te amo." Don't you?
Te quiero,
<>< Katie
PS. The last part of our mission trip tradition will come to fruition on Sunday when I return to campus and take a window marker to Amber's car... dun, dun, dun. :-)
Oh, and by the way, where's the spell check button on the new blogger? Sorry!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Jesus Shoes
"It's so funny because guitar is one of the biggest things I'm going to use in India, and I haven't touched mine in almost a week," Jesus Shoes told us this afternoon.
On Thursday he's headed to India for six months to be a witness for Christ and live up to his name: Jesus Shoes. That isn't his real name.
Last spring, my ministry team and I led a weekend youth retreat where we had a plethora of very similar names. For some reason, the youth could not get our worship leaders' names right. Instead of refering to them by instrument, the high school girls nicknamed both of them: Broken Arm Guy and Jesus Shoes. Jesus Shoes wore Chacos, and Broken Arm Guy proving it is possible to play piano while sporting a beautiful lime green cast.
At first neither one of our worship leaders liked their nicknames but didn't have the hearts to correct the youth; it was only for a weekend, after all. Personally, I think the nicknames were pretty appropriate, but I let Broken Arm Guy drop his nickname after the weekend. Jesus Shoes, however, has stuck in my mind.
As Jesus Shoes prepares for his journey to India, his name seems even more appropriate. After all, he's headed across the world to be Jesus' hands and feet. Jesus' shoes?
While what area of ministry exactly he's going to be working with in India is still being determined, he knows he'll be teaching guitar to some of the youth. This actually worries him because he doesn't have any idea how to teach guitar. Besides his putzing a little bit in my living room this afternoon, he hasn't played guitar in almost a week. When he gets to India, his guitar-playing hours will be almost unlimited, but due to time contraints he hasn't been able to play much lately.
Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to teach guitar but you haven't played this week. Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to preach the gospel, have you read it this week? I realize that's a dumb question. Or is it?
I think it's something we all need to ask ourselves on a regular basis. If we're here to be witnesses, have we showed God's love this week? No matter where we are, we're on a mission. Are we being Jesus' hands and feet?
Know you are loved and will be missed; riding the dolly through the storage unit in a tornado warning just isn't the same without you, brother. Represent our Father well. Be safe in India, but never forget that you are to be Jesus' Shoes.
With love,
<>< Katie
On Thursday he's headed to India for six months to be a witness for Christ and live up to his name: Jesus Shoes. That isn't his real name.
Last spring, my ministry team and I led a weekend youth retreat where we had a plethora of very similar names. For some reason, the youth could not get our worship leaders' names right. Instead of refering to them by instrument, the high school girls nicknamed both of them: Broken Arm Guy and Jesus Shoes. Jesus Shoes wore Chacos, and Broken Arm Guy proving it is possible to play piano while sporting a beautiful lime green cast.
At first neither one of our worship leaders liked their nicknames but didn't have the hearts to correct the youth; it was only for a weekend, after all. Personally, I think the nicknames were pretty appropriate, but I let Broken Arm Guy drop his nickname after the weekend. Jesus Shoes, however, has stuck in my mind.
As Jesus Shoes prepares for his journey to India, his name seems even more appropriate. After all, he's headed across the world to be Jesus' hands and feet. Jesus' shoes?
While what area of ministry exactly he's going to be working with in India is still being determined, he knows he'll be teaching guitar to some of the youth. This actually worries him because he doesn't have any idea how to teach guitar. Besides his putzing a little bit in my living room this afternoon, he hasn't played guitar in almost a week. When he gets to India, his guitar-playing hours will be almost unlimited, but due to time contraints he hasn't been able to play much lately.
Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to teach guitar but you haven't played this week. Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to preach the gospel, have you read it this week? I realize that's a dumb question. Or is it?
I think it's something we all need to ask ourselves on a regular basis. If we're here to be witnesses, have we showed God's love this week? No matter where we are, we're on a mission. Are we being Jesus' hands and feet?
Know you are loved and will be missed; riding the dolly through the storage unit in a tornado warning just isn't the same without you, brother. Represent our Father well. Be safe in India, but never forget that you are to be Jesus' Shoes.
With love,
<>< Katie
PS: My blogs are not pointless. Only some of them.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Crisis Averted
After almost a month of scrapbook, I'm getting close to finishing my Guatemala scrapbook. It's been wonderful to relive that week and reminisce about the silly stories, the God moments, and the tedious work.
One day, we went to Lago Atilan and took a boat ride to a market on the other side of the lake. The bus ride to the boat was about three hours and at one point we hit construction traffic so bad that our driver turned off the bus. The peddlers loved this as they swarmed our bus like bees on a piece of fruit. I can just imagine them saying to each other, "Look at that bus of rich American tourists! Let's go sell some stuff!" First of all, college students are not rich. Secondly, we wanted to buy our souvenirs at our final destination not on the road to the market.
Neal had a short list of items he wanted to take home to his kids, and he knew he wanted to get his son a slingshot. The peddlers had a cute slingshot with a man on the handle. Neal opted against passing up this opportunity and purchased a slingshot through the window.
Evan, one of our team members, had a sunhat he'd been wearing all week. Not very diligently, I might add, or he would not have been burnt to a crisp. Well, while we were on the boat, his hat blew off. We continued out journey leaving Evan's beloved hat in the distance. We teased about the Guatemalan kayaker who would enjoy Evan's hat and cherish it like a prized possession.
As we were about to disembark, our host warned us about an idol worshiped in Guatemala. Since we were indeed a Christian mission team, it would not be good for us to buy this idol but rather use that moment as a witnessing opportunity and scream "SOLO JESÚS CHRISTO" as we fled. :-)
"What does the idol look like so we don't buy it by mistake?"
"It's a man with a cigar and a sun hat," Neal explained.
"Sort of like Evan's that just blew away?"
"Yes! God took care of that one for us," Neal said with a smile.
"Hey, Neal," I asked, "what's the difference between this idol and the little man on the slingshot you bought for your son?"
Oops. The slingshot didn't actually have the idol on it but rather a similar knock-off, but either way Neal could not give this gift to his son.
Be careful what you buy and don't fret if you lose something, maybe God was just taking care of the situation for you.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
One day, we went to Lago Atilan and took a boat ride to a market on the other side of the lake. The bus ride to the boat was about three hours and at one point we hit construction traffic so bad that our driver turned off the bus. The peddlers loved this as they swarmed our bus like bees on a piece of fruit. I can just imagine them saying to each other, "Look at that bus of rich American tourists! Let's go sell some stuff!" First of all, college students are not rich. Secondly, we wanted to buy our souvenirs at our final destination not on the road to the market.
Neal had a short list of items he wanted to take home to his kids, and he knew he wanted to get his son a slingshot. The peddlers had a cute slingshot with a man on the handle. Neal opted against passing up this opportunity and purchased a slingshot through the window.
Evan, one of our team members, had a sunhat he'd been wearing all week. Not very diligently, I might add, or he would not have been burnt to a crisp. Well, while we were on the boat, his hat blew off. We continued out journey leaving Evan's beloved hat in the distance. We teased about the Guatemalan kayaker who would enjoy Evan's hat and cherish it like a prized possession.
As we were about to disembark, our host warned us about an idol worshiped in Guatemala. Since we were indeed a Christian mission team, it would not be good for us to buy this idol but rather use that moment as a witnessing opportunity and scream "SOLO JESÚS CHRISTO" as we fled. :-)
"What does the idol look like so we don't buy it by mistake?"
"It's a man with a cigar and a sun hat," Neal explained.
"Sort of like Evan's that just blew away?"
"Yes! God took care of that one for us," Neal said with a smile.
"Hey, Neal," I asked, "what's the difference between this idol and the little man on the slingshot you bought for your son?"
Oops. The slingshot didn't actually have the idol on it but rather a similar knock-off, but either way Neal could not give this gift to his son.
Be careful what you buy and don't fret if you lose something, maybe God was just taking care of the situation for you.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Monday, March 16, 2009
Hola
Long time no chat!
Comments make my day, so when there are no comments this isn't much incentive to blog more. If you take the time to read it, take the time to lemme know you read it. :-)
I just got back from a mission trip, and so I'm formulating my experiences into words. Hopefully there will be some fun stories/ lessons mixed in with the amazing memories.
Learning to listen,
<>< Katie
Comments make my day, so when there are no comments this isn't much incentive to blog more. If you take the time to read it, take the time to lemme know you read it. :-)
I just got back from a mission trip, and so I'm formulating my experiences into words. Hopefully there will be some fun stories/ lessons mixed in with the amazing memories.
Learning to listen,
<>< Katie
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Last Pass
A few years ago, a group of us from school went on a mission trip. To burn off some energy after a loooooong car ride (and another long one coming the next day), we played frisbee in the parking lot the first night. Originally it was going to be a large group of us, but wound up being me and like four or five guys. How'd that happen? Ok, I'm not great at sports, and luckily these weren't the jocks, but I was still kind of intimidated. These men have better hand-eye coordination that I do, we'll just leave it at that. (Just nod approvingly, JPR).
We threw the frisbee around for quite awhile before the chaperone called the last throw. Where does the frisbee happen to go on its last throw of the night? Go figure it's flying at me. I was shocked and amazed when it actually landed in my hands instead of bouncing off my nose. I caught the last pass of the night!
Those memories flooded back to me today when our frisbee game was almost over. The game resumed after an injury time out, and my team was about two steps from the end zone (Like that sports lingo, Melissa?). There were three or four of my teammates in the end zone, but I was the closest to the person with the frisbee. Go figure I just far enough away where I could drop it. The frisbee left his hands, glided across the air, and landed gently in my arms. I caught the last toss! I scored the last field goal! It was pretty exciting for uniquely coordinated me.
My youth leader was on the other team, and he'd been teasing me most of the night about my amazing athletic abilities. He came up to me after I caught it. No "nice catch." No "Good game." (He may be uber competitive, but his team whooped the butts of my team). Nope. What do I get? A "Wouldn't it have been funny if you dropped it?" Thanks! I smacked him with the frisbee. :-)
No deep theological connection today. Just connecting frisbee memories with both of my readers. :-)
<>< Katie
"He said to me: 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.'" Revelation 21:6
We threw the frisbee around for quite awhile before the chaperone called the last throw. Where does the frisbee happen to go on its last throw of the night? Go figure it's flying at me. I was shocked and amazed when it actually landed in my hands instead of bouncing off my nose. I caught the last pass of the night!
Those memories flooded back to me today when our frisbee game was almost over. The game resumed after an injury time out, and my team was about two steps from the end zone (Like that sports lingo, Melissa?). There were three or four of my teammates in the end zone, but I was the closest to the person with the frisbee. Go figure I just far enough away where I could drop it. The frisbee left his hands, glided across the air, and landed gently in my arms. I caught the last toss! I scored the last field goal! It was pretty exciting for uniquely coordinated me.
My youth leader was on the other team, and he'd been teasing me most of the night about my amazing athletic abilities. He came up to me after I caught it. No "nice catch." No "Good game." (He may be uber competitive, but his team whooped the butts of my team). Nope. What do I get? A "Wouldn't it have been funny if you dropped it?" Thanks! I smacked him with the frisbee. :-)
No deep theological connection today. Just connecting frisbee memories with both of my readers. :-)
<>< Katie
"He said to me: 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.'" Revelation 21:6
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