Our last morning in Nicaragua, we left at 4:30am. As we were driving towards Managua we watched the moon go down and the sun rise in the mountains hand-crafted by our God. The moon set was breath-taking.
I handed my camera to Jessica for a photograph. It failed to capture the moment.
"Pitiful," Marie said upon viewing the photo.
Jessica handed the camera back to me. "Beautiful," she said.
It was in that moment that I learned the difference between pitiful and beautiful: the person saying it.
Friends, God tells us we are beautiful. Why do we keep referring to ourselves as pitiful?
We are who we are. We are who He created. Why do we tell Him that His handiwork isn't good enough?
<>< Katie
"You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you."
Song of Solomon 4:7
Showing posts with label mountains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mountains. Show all posts
Monday, March 28, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Climb
"It's not very, how do you say? Es-steep," said our host-pastor, Manolo.
Famous last words.
From my first step off the bus I knew the hike up the mountain would be challenging for my out-of-shape self. Manolo said it would take 45 minutes, but I didn't dare time it.
I followed in line behind some mountain runners... I don't run on flat ground much less up a mountain. It was not long before, I was incredibly out of breath and I could feel my heart pound in about 87 different places. It was so bad someone asked me if I have asthma.
Those in front of me kept going but I could not keep up no matter how hard I tried. I gave everything and it wasn't enough. Finally, I paused to rest.
Neal: Hey, Katie.
I didn't even have the breath to respond; I turned my head towards him.
Neal: That's where we're going.
He pointed above our heads to the rock.
Neal: Does that encourage you or discourage you?
Katie: I know it's supposed to encourage me, but, honestly, it's really discouraging.
I had no idea how far I'd come but it seemed shorter than I had left to go. That was discouraging!
As the runners disappeared from my view, I found the strength to continue. I'm not a quitter. I knew it would eventually be worth the pain. And I had been promised communion at the top of the mountain.
A Nicaraguan youth with our group offered to carry my bag. I let him (that bilingual Word of the Lord is heavy!), and he disappeared up the mountain.
Katie: There goes my water.
Neal: I have some.
Katey: We can share mine.
I felt so cared for and loved. I was getting up that mountain, my friends were going to make sure of it!
Neal would pop back down and again, but Katey and I walked together the rest of the way up the mountain. She accepted my pace, and we stopped frequently to enjoy the views (ok, and catch my breath). It was no longer a race to the top but about enjoying the journey. Slowly I began to enjoy my trek rather than only continuing for the communion at the end.
Tortoise-style Katey and I continued towards the top... Slow and steady. Eventually we heard laughter and shouts from nearby. Even though we'd lost the rest of our group, they had to be nearby. We rounded the corner and there they were.
From the top, we could see for miles, kilometers, actually. It was breath-taking! When everyone made it to the top (believe me or not, Katey and I weren't last) we took a group photo. Best team photo ever! Then we took a seat and listened to Manolo teach while we watched the Master Painter paint us a beautiful sunset!
Afterwards, we were given the assurance of the forgiveness of sins through the body and blood of Jesus Christ. We then sang "Revelation Song" a capella. Breath-taking!
The wind was blowing and the sun going down, taking the temperature with it. Even with the goose bumps on my arms, I didn't care much.
Now in the dark, we began our journey down the mountain, under the barbed wire, and around the rocks. Except we hadn't planned to be hiking in the dark, so we didn't have enough flashlights for everyone. New version of walk by faith and not by sight!
We walked slowly, getting split up as we went. We prayed for safety. Cold rain began to fall.
Hiking down a mountain in the dark, shivering, and it's raining. Sounds awful, right?
"Well, it'll be a story to tell when we get back," I said. Honestly, I thought it was wonderful. Maybe I'm biased because I was one of the lucky ones with a flashlight.
Sherry began a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus." That turned into "The Hokey Pokey" which became "I'm in the Lord's Army" and "Father Abraham." (Those are Baptist songs... I don't really know them either). We were having so much fun singing and slipping.
Eventually our group got separated, and I walked alone with my flashlight. Under my breath I continued to sing.
I love You, Lord,
and I lift my voice
to worship You.
Oh my soul, rejoice.
Take joy, my King,
in what You hear.
May it be a
sweet, sweet sound
in Your ear.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
Worthy is the
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy is He.
Sing a new song
to Him to sits on
heaven's mercy seat.
Holy, Holy, Holy
is the Lord God Almighty
who was and is and is to come.
With all creation I sing
praise to the King of Kings.
You are my everything,
and I will adore You.
Just me and Jesus time. Somehow amidst the literally rocky ground, the cold breeze of night, the gentle rainfall, and the tiredness of my body, I found the strength to praise Him.
The climb down was considerably better than the trek up because I had a goal. It wasn't the top of the mountain. It wasn't even the bus at the bottom. It was to spend time in the presence of the One who formed every mountain, placed every rock, and grew every leaf.
The same One who put me there was worthy of all of my praise.
When we made it to the bus, those who were already there cheered for the newcomers. I smiled. We did it. Not by our own strength or power. God's hand of protection guided us up and down.
Take a minute to praise Him today. Amidst the barbed wire, the rocky ground, and the wind. As you share the heavy load and water with friends, thank Him for the friendship. As you see flowers, sunsets, and raindrops realized He formed you, too. Enjoy the hike up; it's not a race. Enjoy the stumble down; it's ok to fall.
<>< Katie
PS: No one was hurt in the making of this blog. (Except maybe a spider).
Famous last words.
From my first step off the bus I knew the hike up the mountain would be challenging for my out-of-shape self. Manolo said it would take 45 minutes, but I didn't dare time it.
I followed in line behind some mountain runners... I don't run on flat ground much less up a mountain. It was not long before, I was incredibly out of breath and I could feel my heart pound in about 87 different places. It was so bad someone asked me if I have asthma.
Those in front of me kept going but I could not keep up no matter how hard I tried. I gave everything and it wasn't enough. Finally, I paused to rest.
Neal: Hey, Katie.
I didn't even have the breath to respond; I turned my head towards him.
Neal: That's where we're going.
He pointed above our heads to the rock.
Katie: I know it's supposed to encourage me, but, honestly, it's really discouraging.
I had no idea how far I'd come but it seemed shorter than I had left to go. That was discouraging!
As the runners disappeared from my view, I found the strength to continue. I'm not a quitter. I knew it would eventually be worth the pain. And I had been promised communion at the top of the mountain.
A Nicaraguan youth with our group offered to carry my bag. I let him (that bilingual Word of the Lord is heavy!), and he disappeared up the mountain.
Katie: There goes my water.
Neal: I have some.
Katey: We can share mine.
I felt so cared for and loved. I was getting up that mountain, my friends were going to make sure of it!
 |
We'd made it! We had reached our destination! The handiwork of our Creator was ours to enjoy!
The wind was blowing and the sun going down, taking the temperature with it. Even with the goose bumps on my arms, I didn't care much.
Now in the dark, we began our journey down the mountain, under the barbed wire, and around the rocks. Except we hadn't planned to be hiking in the dark, so we didn't have enough flashlights for everyone. New version of walk by faith and not by sight!
We walked slowly, getting split up as we went. We prayed for safety. Cold rain began to fall.
Hiking down a mountain in the dark, shivering, and it's raining. Sounds awful, right?
"Well, it'll be a story to tell when we get back," I said. Honestly, I thought it was wonderful. Maybe I'm biased because I was one of the lucky ones with a flashlight.
Sherry began a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus." That turned into "The Hokey Pokey" which became "I'm in the Lord's Army" and "Father Abraham." (Those are Baptist songs... I don't really know them either). We were having so much fun singing and slipping.
Eventually our group got separated, and I walked alone with my flashlight. Under my breath I continued to sing.
I love You, Lord,
and I lift my voice
to worship You.
Oh my soul, rejoice.
Take joy, my King,
in what You hear.
May it be a
sweet, sweet sound
in Your ear.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
Worthy is the
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy is He.
Sing a new song
to Him to sits on
heaven's mercy seat.
Holy, Holy, Holy
is the Lord God Almighty
who was and is and is to come.
With all creation I sing
praise to the King of Kings.
You are my everything,
and I will adore You.
Just me and Jesus time. Somehow amidst the literally rocky ground, the cold breeze of night, the gentle rainfall, and the tiredness of my body, I found the strength to praise Him.
The climb down was considerably better than the trek up because I had a goal. It wasn't the top of the mountain. It wasn't even the bus at the bottom. It was to spend time in the presence of the One who formed every mountain, placed every rock, and grew every leaf.
The same One who put me there was worthy of all of my praise.
When we made it to the bus, those who were already there cheered for the newcomers. I smiled. We did it. Not by our own strength or power. God's hand of protection guided us up and down.
Take a minute to praise Him today. Amidst the barbed wire, the rocky ground, and the wind. As you share the heavy load and water with friends, thank Him for the friendship. As you see flowers, sunsets, and raindrops realized He formed you, too. Enjoy the hike up; it's not a race. Enjoy the stumble down; it's ok to fall.
<>< Katie
PS: No one was hurt in the making of this blog. (Except maybe a spider).
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
Monday, January 31, 2011
Moving Mountains & What If Questions
During church, we were doing an illustration about moving mountains.
"God will move the mountain if we're willing to put in our shovel," Pastor Rob explained.
To demonstrate this, the entire congregation got up in an unorganized communion-style line and proceeded to the front where we used a playground shovel to move some sand from a litter-box like mountain to a new box. It was actually really powerful.
While we were in line, out of my peripheral vision I saw this kid flailing. I didn't think much of it because I grew up in a church with a lot of (sometimes unruly) kids. You learn to ignore them.
"Katie."
I turned. Those flailing legs belonged to my favorite six year old. When I turned and opened my arms, my buddy took a leap of faith and jumped into my arms. I talked to him a bit as we walked to the front of the church, but he wasn't interested in conversation. He just wanted to be held.
I think it's illegal to walk like a normal person when you are carrying a child. We danced down the aisle. Yes, I danced in a Baptist church. And I didn't care what everyone else thought. I was focused on my buddy.
We got to the front of the church and I shifted him to my right hip. He shoveled his sand, and I did the same awkwardly with my left (nondominant) hand.
I went back to my seat, (temporarily) kidnapping Buddy. He worshipped with us for the rest of the service. I don't know that I've ever worshipped with a young child without his/her parents in the same pew. It was weird. Cool weird!
After church, our "Self Imposed Minster of Coffee" caught me.
SIMC: I saw you got yourself a child today.
Katie: I did!
SIMC: Where'd he come from?
Katie: He kind fell from the sky and into my arms.
SIMC: No, really, whose kid was he?
What if we were willing to take a leap of faith and jump into the arms of God?
What if we just allowed our Abba Father to hold us, to carry us?
What if we danced like no one was watching?
What if no opinions mattered except for the Lord's?
What if we were willing to be used to move mountains, even when it's awkward and uncomfortable?
What if we shared our pew with others, even if it's a bit strange?
What if our posture and attitude change with God's presence in our lives?
When I was carrying my buddy, I no longer mattered. Everyone wanted to know where the random kid came from. As a Christian, I no longer matter. I want everyone to know about God.
Going from "Katie the college student" to "Katie the college student carrying a random child" was an obvious change. Is the change from "Katie that girl" to "God's daughter Katie" as obvious? What if people saw that kind of change in me? What if they asked where it came from?
It fell from the sky. It was all God.
<>< Katie
"God will move the mountain if we're willing to put in our shovel," Pastor Rob explained.
To demonstrate this, the entire congregation got up in an unorganized communion-style line and proceeded to the front where we used a playground shovel to move some sand from a litter-box like mountain to a new box. It was actually really powerful.
While we were in line, out of my peripheral vision I saw this kid flailing. I didn't think much of it because I grew up in a church with a lot of (sometimes unruly) kids. You learn to ignore them.
"Katie."
I turned. Those flailing legs belonged to my favorite six year old. When I turned and opened my arms, my buddy took a leap of faith and jumped into my arms. I talked to him a bit as we walked to the front of the church, but he wasn't interested in conversation. He just wanted to be held.
I think it's illegal to walk like a normal person when you are carrying a child. We danced down the aisle. Yes, I danced in a Baptist church. And I didn't care what everyone else thought. I was focused on my buddy.
We got to the front of the church and I shifted him to my right hip. He shoveled his sand, and I did the same awkwardly with my left (nondominant) hand.
I went back to my seat, (temporarily) kidnapping Buddy. He worshipped with us for the rest of the service. I don't know that I've ever worshipped with a young child without his/her parents in the same pew. It was weird. Cool weird!
After church, our "Self Imposed Minster of Coffee" caught me.
SIMC: I saw you got yourself a child today.
Katie: I did!
SIMC: Where'd he come from?
Katie: He kind fell from the sky and into my arms.
SIMC: No, really, whose kid was he?
What if we were willing to take a leap of faith and jump into the arms of God?
What if we just allowed our Abba Father to hold us, to carry us?
What if we danced like no one was watching?
What if no opinions mattered except for the Lord's?
What if we were willing to be used to move mountains, even when it's awkward and uncomfortable?
What if we shared our pew with others, even if it's a bit strange?
What if our posture and attitude change with God's presence in our lives?
When I was carrying my buddy, I no longer mattered. Everyone wanted to know where the random kid came from. As a Christian, I no longer matter. I want everyone to know about God.
Going from "Katie the college student" to "Katie the college student carrying a random child" was an obvious change. Is the change from "Katie that girl" to "God's daughter Katie" as obvious? What if people saw that kind of change in me? What if they asked where it came from?
It fell from the sky. It was all God.
<>< Katie
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Bus Ride Prayer
On the long bus ride back from the ski trip, we took a Prayer Break where all distractions were put away. Or at least that was the intent. My distractions are often in my head (aka mentally writing), so eliminating those are hard but I really tried. No iPod, no cell phones, no movie, no talking; only talking to God.
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
I folded my hands but opted against closing my eyes. If I closed my eyes, I probably would have fallen asleep. Besides, who wants to close their eyes while riding through the beautiful mountains?
Katie: Hey, God, I absolutely love these mountains You've created. I'm willing to risk motion-sickness and take my eyes off the road to enjoy this beautiful creation You've made. Every tree perfectly formed and every mountain hump meticulously placed. The effort and precision amazes me!
God: You know, Katie, I put the same amount of effort and precision into creating you.
My prayer time could have been over right then and there. I was content; I was filled. But it wasn't. There was still eighteen minutes to go, and God had more things He wanted to teach me. He often teaches me through the things I see (another reason I didn't want to close my eyes).
We passed a sign that said, "Rest Area. No facilities."
I began to think to myself about how dumb that is: a rest area with no facilities. As we drew closer there was another sign stating it's a look-out point without facilities. Ok, beautiful but not practical.
We all, women especially, want to be considered beautiful. Most of us enjoy feeling pretty. In fact, sometimes when we're getting gussied up we don't pay attention to the practical. We're too concerned with "Does this look good" than "Will I be able to walk in these shoes?" We much rather have lovely long eye lashes than realize we can't see because mascara is making lines down our glasses every time we blink. I prayed that God make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Maybe He doesn't have fame and glory in my future. Maybe my blog will never have more than eleven readers. Maybe the words He's given me have a deep impact on those eleven readers and draw them closer to Him. Maybe that type of intimacy isn't available in a community with a larger reading audience. Maybe one day I'll be ok with that. I prayed that day would be soon. Make my life practical rather than beautiful.
Not five minutes later, the Garmin fell. Sitting in the front seat of the bus, I crawled forward, rescued it off the dash board, stuck it back together, and re-suctioned it to the windshield.
"Good in theory; poor in design," the bus driver said to me with a smile.
I am a firm believer that things should be designed by the people who are going to use them. College students should design dorm rooms. Teachers and students should design classrooms. Doctors and nurses should design hospitals. Bus drivers should design Garmins.
However, there is one exception to this rule. One time when the "thing" being used should not be designed by the user. Life. My life should not be designed by me, the liver (aka the person living it). Instead, I believe life should be designed by God. After all, the life we create is good in theory but poor in design. The life we make is beautiful but not practical.
Travel with me through the mountains of life and into this dangerous prayer:
Abba Father, make my life practical rather than beautiful. Wipe away my good theories and replace them with Your great designs. Let me be ok with it.
Let me know how I can pray for you and have a wonderful week!
<>< Katie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)