Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts

Friday, March 2, 2012

Waiting

Let me tell you something you probably already know: waiting stinks.

Waiting for your oil to be changed, waiting in line at the grocery store, waiting for the bus.

Waiting for a company to post an opening, waiting for a manager to want you on her team, waiting for the phone to ring.

Waiting for someone on the other side of the world to say, "I've never met you but I love you."

As of when I'm writing this, there are 407 Compassion children who have been waiting, waiting, waiting for more than 180 days for a sponsor. That's six months or longer.

Where were you 180 days ago? That would have been September 2, 2011.

A forgettable day, perhaps? Too long ago to remember?

Not for Walson. One-hundred-and-eighty-three days ago Walson was at a Compassion Child Development Center in Haiti signing up to be a sponsored child. Walson has spent the last 183 days waiting for a sponsor.

Sponsor Walson here
His child ID number: HA8150328
On the Compassion website, the children that have been waiting for more than 180 days are marked with a heart.

It seems only appropriate.

When you're waiting, you need someone to love you and love on your. With every day of waiting, hope seems to dwindle.

Two-hundred-and-ninety-five days ago I walked across a stage and received the most important piece of paper of my life so far. Having spent almost 300 days unemployed/underemployed, I understand waiting. It's miserable.

There are things I can do (am doing) to bring my wait to an end. I can pray, pray, cry, and pray. I can network, I can apply for jobs, I can make cold-calls.

When you're waiting for a sponsor, there's not much you can do but wait and pray.

I've been waiting in hope.

These children are waiting for hope.

For fresh water. For medical care. For education. For someone to say, "I believe in you."

These 407 children waiting for sponsors want to be wanted. They need to be wanted. They deserve to be wanted, to be cared for, to be loved.

During my days of waiting, I've had so many great friends pray for me, offer suggestions, and pull me into their arms as I cry again. They've loved, encouraged, and held me. I appreciate every single one of them! (Yes, even the job suggestions that don't fit my skill set).

This is my plea: do the same for a child.

In turn, you're doing it for me.

The words "Thank you!" don't seem sufficient. If you decide to sponsor a longest waiting child (which I hope you do!) Compassion will give you a scrapbook for you to use to keep your letters, photos, et al.

What are you waiting for?
<>< Katie

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Next Piece

She was ready to give up. The 1,000 piece puzzle with a nature scene was too daunting to even think about completing. I told her not to call it quits.

Two weeks later, I was hardly in the back door when Ms. Donna ushered me to the puzzle on the dining room table.

"Look at how much we've gotten done!"

Their progress had more than doubled. The remaining pieces were sorted by approximate color.

I went to work. We chatted loosely and ate chips while we fingered every single piece of the puzzle.

Some where instant fits. Others seemed to go to a different puzzle. Sometimes we'd get two or six in a row. Sometimes we'd have minutes where nothing worked.

Those were the worst. The times you begin to say, "Surely there's something better I could be doing with this Sunday afternoon. Why am I even here doing this? It's just going to go back in the box when we're done anyway."

And then you'd get a piece to fit correctly. Maybe even two. Or sometimes it would be more minutes before another piece worked.

Yet still hope had been renewed; we found the strength and determination to continue.

I began to pray:

God, I don't want to see the cover of the puzzle box. I don't know what the final scene will look like, and I'm ok with that. I just want the strength to be able to say, "I can do this for another day because I know You're with me."

Some puzzle pieces are instant, easy, obvious fits. Those are my favorites.

Some take a little more work. Some you're not even convinced belong to the right puzzle. Either way, I'm ready for the next piece.

I will complete this life puzzle, one lousy piece at a time.



The final product will be worth it.

<>< Katie

Friday, February 3, 2012

Manna

"May there always be manna and a promise for tomorrow," Chris prayed over me. He went on to ask the Lord to provide for me and for me to never know want.

There are so many things I want. A job that pays bills. Assurance that I won't go hungry. Fulfillment of God's promise for hope and a future. Manna.

Manna. It's what God provided for the Israelites during their forty years prior to entering the Promised Land, the land flowing of milk and honey. (See Exodus 16)

Each morning the dew became bread, manna, and each family collected what they needed. Those who collected a lot, did not have surplus and those who collected little did not run out.

It was always enough, exactly enough. If they tried to collect more than they needed, it spoiled overnight. Each and every day, God provided bread.

I began to pray for manna myself.

On Friday there was a campus-wide communion service. Even though I'm not a student, I looked forward to communing with my family. Afterwards, Anna approached me.

"I want you to have this," she said putting the left over bread in my hands.

Manna. Bread.

What she didn't know was that I'd been praying for manna but also that I had forgotten to buy bread when I went grocery shopping. God provided.

That night, Hank (my roommate's cat) got into our pantry. In the nick of time I stopped him from tearing open the bag and into my precious manna. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing what God had provided was once again safe.

God: Katie, what if he had eaten your bread? Would I not have provided again tomorrow? Did I ever fail to provide for the Israelites? They spent forty years in the desert; you've not been in the desert that long and already you've forgotten that I can and will provide for you, My child.

Ouch.

For forty-years the Israelites wandered as a result of their own disobedience and lack of trust. Yet each day the Lord led them with a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night.

They couldn't see very far. But they could see far enough.

Thus is my life right now. I can't see very far ahead. But I can see far enough.

I can see that God is providing manna, enough for today.

"So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today." - Jesus, (Matthew 6:34 NLT)
The Israelites kept one allotment of manna to show future generations as a reminder of God's faithfulness even in the desert. I guess that's why I keep a blog: as a reminder of God's faithfulness in the valleys and on the mountain tops, His journey along with me day by day and night by night.

Lord, give us manna, enough for today. May we learn to realize that even though we cannot see very far ahead, tomorrow is not promised. Today is the most important day of our lives and You are with us today, right now. You are providing for us even when we cannot see Your hand, even when it doesn't look like we expect. Teach us to be content in the promise that You are here, wherever here is. May the only want we ever know be the want, the desire, the yearning to know You more.

Manna. It's the little reminders that God is enough for today.

<>< Katie

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

For His Glory No Matter What

I saw the ambulance. I was sitting in the front window of the coffee shop when it whizzed by. I zoned out watching it, noticing it was EMS rather than the local rescue team. Didn't mean much.

From the front window of the coffee shop you can see everything that's happening in town. I could see the ambulance was not headed towards the nursing home. It could have been headed towards campus, but I couldn't tell. Didn't mean much.

It did prompt me to think about how we have not lost a student since I started. Sure, students have had seizures, passed out, dislocated shoulders in class but they've all been fine in a few hours or days. We've lost professors, staff members, and family members. But never a student.

I went back to my work.

Not long after that, I saw the same ambulance return in the direction from which it came, sirens still on. I thought about Tweeting about how it's not a good sign when an ambulance returns from a call with its lights and siren.

Despite the town only having one stoplight, despite my roommate working in campus ministries, despite seeing the ambulance, I learned from Twitter that one of my sisters in Christ had passed away.

The world stopped.

I didn't recognize her name, but I knew her face. I definitely knew her face. I've heard her testimony.

It was her birthday.

The night before she'd Tweeted that she was excited for the next day. I'm sure she had no idea how exciting it would be for her. She got to celebrate her earthly birthday with the Lord.

That morning, she'd Tweeted and thanked the Lord for another year of her life. That night, He took her home.

Sniffles and tears were overwhelming at our weekly worship service last night. My roommate had hugged her the morning she went Home. Others had been in her class. We were all grieving.

And it's ok to cry. It's ok to be sad. Jesus was. When His friend Lazarus died, the Bible says Jesus wept.

Yet still there was an element of joy in the air. We knew (and know) that she is with the Lord.

You see, this sister I never had the pleasure to hug, loved the Lord. A lot.

We know that her death is not in vain. We know that she's in the arms of our Father. We know that she would be overjoyed if everyone (if anyone) came to know the Lord through her death.

We celebrated. We praised the Lord. We know that He is good even when life is bad. His timing is perfect even when ours is a little off.

Yes, it's hard. Yes, we thought He was going to do a lot more with her on this earth. Yes, we know that her testimony will continue to inspire, to encourage, and to draw people to Him. It's all she wanted to do with her life and now in her death.

That's what I want my life and death to be about: the glory of the Lord. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I'm called home. And even then.

If you don't mind, can you take a few seconds right now and pray for us? Pray for her family. Pray for her friends, roommates, and colleagues. Pray for this campus, this town. Thank God that He took one of His children home rather than a student who didn't know Him. Thank Him for His goodness and journeying with us.

But don't pray for her. It's not necessary. She's ok because she's in the arms of the Father. And if she's not in heaven, then we're all in trouble. But I know she is.

And next time you see an ambulance, do me a favor and pray for the patient, the team, and the team meeting him/her. Pray for the family, the friends. Pray that God be glorified as He as been here.

This verse was very important to her. It is now very important to me.

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek." Romans 1:16

Today's a gift, friends. It's the most important day of your life. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn't promised.

You never know when you're going to be called home. It could be in the middle of class on your 21st birthday.

And I'm ok with that.

<>< Katie

Friday, January 13, 2012

May Day

May 28.

According to my daily devotional, that's today's date.  Grace for the Moment: A 365-Day Journaling Devotional by Max Lucado was a graduation gift from my suitemate Amy's parents. So the day after graduation I began reading it. I continued once a day until I went on vacation and the book was too bulky for my carry-on bag.

Instead I decided I would read it daily when I was at home (at my parents' house). Thus, it did not go to China with me, it did not accompany me on my month-long networking trip in October, and it did not come on our Axelson Family Unplugged trip over New Years.

Knowing this, it was very sad to watch the bookmark move closer and closer to the center of the book. Every day was another devotion, another page turned and in that another day in limbo, another morning greeting unemployment, another reminder that my life was not what I expected.

Well, today is not May 28. I have packed as many of my personal belongings as I could fit in the backseat and trunk of my car. Dad and I are driving across the country, back to the town where I moved away from when the calendar really read May.

Hope.

It's been a lot of days between real May and fake May. No, I'm not going to count them (English major). It's been a lot of tears cried, a lot of harsh prayers, a lot of mopey blog posts.

But today, May 28 to some, January 13 to others, the world starts fresh.

I hit 1,000 on my list of blessings. I am moving out of my parents' house. I am returning to the land I love. This is a new beginning.

I don't know what that means. It may mean that in three months I return to limbo. It may mean that I work at Starbucks for the rest of my life. It may mean that I convince myself to be a student again. I don't know.

But God does.

And I'm willing to trust that. I'm willing to cling to the promise that He has not let abandoned me nor will He ever. I'm willing to hope, willing to dream, and willing to not know what the future holds.

Hope. It's good. Just like God.

Hope. It's necessary. Just like God.

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." Romans 12:12

<>< Katie

Friday, December 23, 2011

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.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

In the Arms of the Father

The plane was preparing to land and the man across the aisle from me frantically fastened his toddler back into the window seat. The little girl began to whimper.

"Shh, shhhh, shhhh," the man said.

The girl whimpered more. The shushing wasn't working. Eventually the man unbuckled the child and pulled her into his lap.

The whimpering stopped. The child was no longer afraid. She was in her daddy's arms.

That's who I want to be: the little girl perfectly content my Heavenly Daddy's arms.

Even when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. Even when I don't know when I'll get to see my friends (read: family) again.

Are you willing to curl up in the lap of your Abba Father?

Even when finals are hard. Even when your kids are disobedient. Even when you're not sure if you'll be able to pay for the avocados to make the guacamole you promised. Even when life is hard.

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1a NIV

I pray in marker.

Putting prayers on paper prevents me from getting distracted (raise your hand if you have the attention span of a butterfly when praying). It's childish and messy to use a thin-line Crayola on college-ruled paper. It is good.

Prayer is messy. Life is messy.

Like a child whose hands are more colorful than the paper, I stretch them up to my Daddy and let Him shush me with His perfect love.

"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

Just as the daddy on the airplane cared for his little girl, all the more will my Heavenly Daddy care for me (and you).

Even through our childish fits about things not going our way. Even through our crying and panicking when there is nothing to fear.

Take a seat in His lap, stretch your marker-hands to the sky, let Him hold you, His child. Take peace and comfort in His love.

I do.

Love,
<>< Katie

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Pray for China

I'm so discouraged as I look back on my time in China and remember the HUGE need for the Lord that still exists in that country.

Sure, we saw some amazing things: hundreds of believers gathered freely to worship, a local church being gifted land and money to replace that which was usurped from them 30 years ago, the opportunity to give away Chinese-English New Testaments.

Yet there is so much work left to be done. So many people who have never even heard the name of Jesus.

When we went to China, they told us we would (in all likelihood) not see the fruits of our labor. We were not even planting seeds. Rather, we were plowing ground, removing rocks, and preparing for future seed planters.

We did not see many fruits of our labor. Yet He will. He will use our efforts, our energies, and our work. That's what we've prayed. We've seen it in small ways but the Lord is not done in China.

Can you do me a favor right now and pray for China? Pray that the Lord used and continues to use what we gave (all that we had). That He, not we, made a difference. Pray for our friends. Pray for the students. Pray for the Chinese believers and foreign believers. Pray for the unbelievers. Pray for the government. Pray for the Lord to be honored and praised in new ways.

He's God of that city, too.

Thank you!
<>< Katie

PS: If you want to be part of the ground plowing, send me an email and I'll hook you up with the organization we went through as volunteer English teachers.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

More than a Day

Almost a month ago a switch flipped inside of me. In 0.4 seconds I went from enjoying and appreciating fall to ready to deck the halls. I threatened to make Trick or Treaters pretend they were Christmas carolers before I gave them candy.  (No wonder no one came to my house).

Of course, my passion and excitement for Christmastime has been met with resistance. Everyone wants Thanksgiving to have its day.

Hogwash, I say! Hogwash.

Thanksgiving is not a day, friends; it's a lifestyle!

Let thanksgiving have its day... today and every day!

Yes, I'm eating turkey, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Yes, I'm participating in the round-table discussion of what we're thankful for.

But it goes beyond today. Since the beginning of September I've been keeping a list of 1,000 things I am thankful for, inspired by Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts.  I just passed thing number 500.

Should I not be further?  Should I not be able to list 1,000 things each day for which I am thankful?  Every breath, every minute...
one thousand gifts app

Here are some highlights from my 1,000 gifts and counting.

I am thankful...
95. For working heat in my car.
100. For friends who are going to make sure I come out of limbo as a prayer warrior.
102. For Sunday lunch.
106. For hunger.
115. For the courage to blog about my struggles.
118. For Your appearance at rock bottom and the willingness to touch hearts of even the most broken people.
126. For the beautiful wet leaf on my sunroof.
149. For self-imported Chinese tea.
160. For warm wash cloths and the reminder You sent me through it.
188. For friends all across the country willing to let me stay with them.
190. For the reminder of what You've done and how You've been faithful.
205. For music videos that leave me with a "bowl full of tears."
208. That it somehow worked to have a queen mattress, king sheets, a twin comforter, and a full quilt.
225. For laughter so hard I can barely breathe.
236. For fifty hugs in eight hours.
245. For a busy schedule.
254. For the reminder that just because our circumstances aren't great doesn't mean You don't love us and we're not in Your will.
274. For peanut butter and chocolate covered pretzels.
280. For encouraging, not awkward, networking meetings.
291. For the ability to contact people around the world with the click of a button.
321. For the beautiful moment we shared during communion and the reminder that I am not worthy yet You grant me grace.
338. For Job who spoke harsh words to You long before I ever did.
342. For fast email responses. (And really email responses in general).
360. That the question is, "How much will I pay for gas?" Not "Will I find gas?" or "Can I afford gas?"
362. For esperar--hope, waiting
372. For a lifestyle of Thanksgiving rather than a day or a month.
387. For nearly-coffee-spewing laughter.
388. For the reminder that You want to fill my cup until it overflows (without cracks)
399. For memories so sweet.
427. For the hair dryer.
437. For Starbucks gift cards.
453. For the heart You've given me for missions and Your children worldwide.
460. For evenings of reading by the fire curled up in a blanket.
465. For the ability to proclaim, "If it's You, I'm in!" and both mean and believe it. To trust it.
474. For online ASL dictionaries.
488. For forgiveness when I sing happy birthday to the wrong person.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Habit

I have this bizarre habit that resulted in incessant mocking from my suitemates.  Actually, I have many bizarre habits and sometimes even breathing results in mockery.

However, this one happened every time I entered the apartment.  It didn't matter if I came from class, the caf, or the coffee shop.

The first thing I would do was put my keys on the hook.  We each had hooks by the door with our names on them, hypothetically, so we'd never lose our keys.

Then I'd go in my room, put down my heavy backpack, take off my shoes (and coat), and hit the power button on my computer.

It's what happened next that got me mocked relentlessly.

If someone had started a conversation with me in those first twenty seconds home, I put it on pause until this next step was complete.

I would go into the bathroom and wash my hands.

I knew I did it regularly, but I didn't realize I did it every time I came home until they pointed it out.

The habit is rooted deeply back to elementary school.  My sisters and I would get off the bus and almost immediately were ushered into the bathroom to wash off our school germs.

I have no doubt that this healthy though bizarre habit was why chicken pox started going around my kindergarten class in October but I didn't get it until May.  I'm sure it helped my six year no-puking record, too.

Just from being taught to wash off my school germs as soon as I got home.  And it has become a subconscious habit.

I've got some of the habits Mom and Dad taught us growing up, but I've also got to build my own habits.

I need to be intentional about spending time in God's word.  I need to be conscious of my prayer life.  I really wish I could say they were habits, but they aren't.  They're hard.

The alarm clock says, "Get up! Go! Go! Go!"  The lunch break is short; the boss demanding.  The course load difficult; the homework plenty.  The after school activities are many; the free time is rare.  The days is long, the body exhausted.

I've confessed to you all before that some days I grudgingly read my Bible.  Yet still God works through it.

Soap doesn't only wash off my school germs when I tell it to.  It kills 99.9% of them every time I wash (or so the commercial says).

God doesn't just speak to my heart when I want Him to, when I'm willing to hear what He has to say, or when I have the right attitude.  Of course, those things are beneficial, but they're not necessary.  Sometimes God still speaks when I'm crabby, tired, distracted, or just don't want to be there.

And that makes it worth building the habit.

<>< Katie

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Goal: Prayer Warrior

Sorry to dwell on the whole "Katie doesn't have a job" theme but it's kind of my life right now.  I want to be transparent in this struggle.

A long time ago I realize that if when I make it to the other side of this awful desert, I will be one of two people:
1. A cynical God-hater
2. A prayer warrior

The first one's easy.  It's easy to be mad when you say, "Here I am; send me!" and you're not going anywhere.  It's easy to get frustrated, host pity parties, and play the blame game when doors slam repeatedly.

But lucky for me, I've got friends making sure I come out to be the latter.

Friends all across the country praying me through.  Friends checking up on me to see how I'm doing and encouraging me.  I am blessed.  Plus, I've got friends who serve as great role models for that prayer warrior thing.

Amy: I wish tomorrow was Saturday.
Nikki: No, no, no we're not wishing away days!
Amy: I'm not wishing it away.  I'm wanting two Saturdays in a row.  Let's pray about that.
From the other room, Stacy heard the word "Pray" and came running in.
Stacy: Pray about what?

That's who I want to be: the girl who seeks out and seizes every available opportunity to pray.  Not just at church or small group.  Not just before meals or when people share prayer requests.  Every minute of every day.  Alone, in groups, for needs voiced, and those unspokens.

I remember watching a brother and sister in Christ converse.  He was borderline upset, angry.  She was super upset, teary.  He set aside his own situation to slowly calm her down.  As their conversation drew to a close and her eyes dried, he reached over, grabbed her shoulder, and lifted her concerns to the Lord.

That's who I want to be.  The friend who doesn't just say, "I'll pray for you" but does--right then and there.

I've had the urge to do it yet I've swallowed it.  I want the courage to act on that prompting of the Holy Spirit.

I don't want to be cynical and crabby for the rest of my life.  It'd be too easy.

So instead, I'm going to work on this prayer warrior thing.  It's not a destination but rather a journey.  There will always be room for improvement.  It's hard and uncomfortable.  But it's necessary.

Will you help me practice?  Leave me a prayer request in the comments section (or email it to me or Tweet it or text or your contact method of choice) and you bet it'll be prayed.  Maybe even more than once. ;-)

<>< Katie

Saturday, September 17, 2011

God of THIS City

A few years ago, my university sent a mission team to San Diego, California.  In their post-trip sharing they said they sang and prayed the song, "God of This City" over San Diego.  Ever since then, that song has been reserved in my head for that city.

Then it was everywhere.

I heard it in the car, at home, and in concerts.  I couldn't escape it, and it always made me think of the San Diego mission team.

Then the pastor at my Baptist church announced that we would be beginning a sermon series focusing on reaching those in our immediate community.  For the next six weeks, we would sing and pray "God of This City" over our city every week in worship.

Beautiful in theory, but the song was becoming overplayed and meaningless.  To me.

Fast forward a few months.  I'm on my way home from a wonderful coffee talk during which we mulled over and discussed some quite serious problems in my Lutheran church.

As I pull into the garage, I tune in to the song on the radio.

"God of This City" by Chris Tomlin

You're the God of this City.
You're the King of these people.
You're the Lord of this nation.
You are.

You're the Light in this darkness.
You're the Hope to the hopeless.
You're the Peace to the restless.
You are.

There is no one like our God.
There is no one like our God.

For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.
Greater thing have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.

Greater things have yet to come,
and greater things are still to be done in this city
Greater things have yet to come,
And greater things are still to be done here

There is no one like our God.
There is no one like You, God.

Will you take a minute right now and pray this over my church? My city? Your church? Your city?

Thanks!

Greater things have yet to come and greater things are still to be done here. I believe that.

<>< Katie

Thursday, September 15, 2011

As the Cat

Sitting down with my lunch at a kitchen table filled with newspapers, I noticed that I was not alone.

Exploring my backyard were three deer.  Two fawns and a doe were enjoying their lunch of plants and apples.

Watching them was peaceful.  They have been added to my list of 1,000 Blessings.  Their brown fur with hints of white spots was a beautiful contrast to the lush green vegetation that hasn't yet admitted that it's fall.

Into our lunch date walked Oscar, the lion-like cat.

Yesterday, Oscar tried to hunt these same deer.  Don't worry, it was through the window.  Not like my ferocious cat had anything on my three deer friends.  As long as no one got hurt, that would be a fun battle to watch.

Instead, I watched Oscar approach the window, waiting for him to see that his prey had returned.  He sat right up against the pane looking off to the left.  I don't what he was looking at, but it wasn't the deer.

He sat right there and didn't see them directly in front of him!  From my seat, I could see both Oscar and the deer in the same line of vision, but Oscar was clueless.  And he's the smarter of our two cats...

I began to wonder why Oscar was missing the deer that he loved yesterday but I could see them clearly.  I drew two possible conclusions.

1. Maybe there's something blocking his view at that perspective (ex: patio furniture).
2. Maybe cats can't see that far.

God spoke.

Not in an audible voice he said, "you're the cat."

"What you see," He explained to my heart, "is not always what I see.  My view goes further and my perspective is clear of obstacles."

"How long, LORD, must I call for help,
but You do not listen?
...
the LORD’s Answer
'Look at the nations and watch—
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days
that you would not believe,
even if you were told.'"
Habakkuk 1:2, 5

God, I don't want to be Oscar missing the deer right in front of my eyes. I want to gaze straight ahead and see Your mighty power, Your mighty plan, and Your mighty love. I am watching and know I will be utterly amazed with what You are doing in my days. When it becomes time for You to tell me, may I believe. Do something astounding.

<>< Katie

Monday, August 29, 2011

Child-Like Prayer

"What if we woke up today with only the things we thanked God for yesterday?"

I like quotes.  I read a lot of them throughout the day, especially on Twitter (@KatieAx3).  But this one struck me in a way few have.

Instantly, I began thanking God for everything within my gaze.

Thanks for the glass of water, the coaster, and the table.
Thanks for that still-life picture on the wall.
Thanks for the dog pooping on the hairy floor and the paper towels to clean it up.  Thanks for the floor.  And the hair, too.

It seemed a little ridiculous.  But it was good.  I felt like a kid again.

Have you ever had the opportunity to hear small children pray?

When asked to bless the food, they sometimes remember it among their thanking God for freckles, gum, and the sand box. While sometimes I get impatient (I remember the now-cold food on the table), I think God appreciates it.

No, more than appreciates it. 

I think God loves it.

He loves hearing His children (even His big children) talk to Him throughout the day.  He loves being appreciated for His work, being called on in times of need, and being praised through the storms of life.  He loves hearing what's on our hearts and minds.  No matter how life-changing.  No matter how mundane.

He doesn't think prayers about freckles are silly.  After all, He put the freckles there.

He put the bird on the satellite dish that's blurring my show.  He put those skin cells on my body just to fall off and become the dust on that piano.  He put the water in the sky to rain to the earth to be filtered and come out my faucet to fill my cup to quench my thirst (and drench my shirt). 

Just because we take things for granted doesn't mean He didn't put them there.

"What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?"

Today, try talking to your Abba Father like a child.  After all, "The kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Luke 18:16)

<>< Katie

Monday, August 15, 2011

Glory in Tragedy

I don't think we could have fit anything else into this weekend had we tried.  A pasta dinner for 30 high school tennis girls, a baby shower (with two-week old baby), a graduation/ birthday party, a tennis quad, a family reunion, church, dinner out, and... the wake for a fourteen year old.

Her death was instant. There was no warning. There was nothing that could have been done.  It could not have been prevented.  Her life could not have been saved.  No one is at fault.

Yet a fourteen year old is dead.

In all honesty, I don't know how non-Christians cope with tragedies like this.  Even with hope and a loving God, it's hard to bury a fourteen year old who seemed healthy one minute and gone the next.

Is our God not a loving God who cares for His children? I don't just mean Emily. What about her family? Her parents? Her older sister? Her friends whose home she was walking home from? Fifty minutes worth of drivers who drove down that busy street without noticing her unconscious and not breathing on the sidewalk? Her classmates about to enter high school without her?

Tough questions.

But I believe Emily was not alone on that sidewalk. God was with her every step of her walk home; she just arrived at a different Home than would have been expected. Even though her body was kept breathing for two days, Emily was immediately delivered into the loving arms of her Creator.

The same God that cradles their precious daughter, holds tight to Emily's parents giving them the strength to host mourners in their home, the ability to make jokes and even laugh a little as the receiving line weaved through the funeral home and out into the parking lot. He holds their tears, their hands, and their hearts.

He will be glorified, even though this situation our human eyes see as tragic and incomprehensible. That is my prayer.

It’s the only thing I can pray.  And I was just a student, nine years ahead of her at the same school.

<>< 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

Friday, July 1, 2011

Reply

I have a good friend who is very bad with email.  He admits it, and I'd say that to his face.  Usually if I get a response, it's a week later and brief.

That's a big if.  Normally, I don't get a reply.  Sometimes I wonder if I really sent the email or if I only dreamt I did.  I've considered attaching a "read receipt" so I know when he's gotten it and read it.

Except last week I was talking to him and he made a reference to something I'd said in an email.

"You do actually read my emails," I exclaimed in shock.

He assured me he does.  He reads all of them even if he doesn't respond.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's God.  He reads all of our knee-mail (sorry, that was bad).  God hears our prayers even if we don't hear His response.  In his book Too Busy Not to Pray, Bill Hybels points out that God only speaks when He has something to say.

Sometimes that quality drives me nuts.  But I take comfort in that fact that He has heard my cries.

As a writer who thrives on feedback, this silence is especially difficult.  But it's necessary.  If it weren't, God wouldn't put me through it.

So, even know I know responses will be few and far between, I will continue to email my friend.  Even know I know I may get an answer of silence, I will continue to pray to the Lord.

<>< Katie

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Listening in the Silence

I don't really know if this is blog-appropriate or not but I can't help but share God's sense of humor.

I am very bad at sitting and doing nothing.  Ask my roommates.  I'm always doing something, working on something, going somewhere, or refreshing some internet page.  I don't sit still.  I like to be busy.  The minute I'm done eating, I'm out of the caf.  As soon as there's a pause in the conversation, I excuse myself.  Even when going to bed at night, I focus on praying rather than my constant to-do list or the fictional characters running around in my head.  I like constant motion.

This whole unemployed thing brings constant motion to a screeching halt.

I am trying to use this opportunity to learn to sit in silence before the Lord.  Sit and be still (although, I still wiggle my toes).  Turn off the brain (harder than it sounds).  Don't write, don't read, don't do anything but listen.

The first afternoon I tried, I fell asleep.  I rarely nap during the day and I was sitting on the floor... Two hours later I woke up with a sore neck and no conversation with the Lord.

After dinner, I sat back down on my bedroom floor to try again.  I turned off the music.  Turned off the computer.  Silenced the phone.  Put away the notebook.  And sat in silence, listening for the quiet whispered.  This time I kept my eyes open.

Katie: Ok, God, I'm listening.

And what did I hear?

Someone farting in the bathroom on the other side of the wall.  Not just one.  My private, silent moment with the Lord was interrupted by someone elses' private, not-so-silent moment.

Katie: Wow, You're funny.

That's one of my favorite things to say to God.  A sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny."

Two lessons learned here:
1. God does have a sense of humor.
2. No sitting in silence in the bedroom.

But I'm going to keep trying to sit in silence, as soon as I find a fart-free location where I'm not at risk of falling asleep.

Learning to listen,
<>< Katie

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Falling Asleep While Praying

Last night, I fell asleep while praying.

The night before, I fell asleep while praying.

I don't remember the night before that, but I bet I fell asleep while praying.

Been there?  Done that?

I used to fell bad about it.  I mean, if I were in the middle of the conversation and the person I was talking to fell asleep, I'd be upset, right?

I don't feel bad about it anymore.  In fact, I make it my goal to fall asleep while praying.

I'd much rather fall asleep with my thoughts focused on God than to finish praying and fall asleep worrying about tomorrow.  I love for my day to end in conversation with the Lord.

Try it sometime.  The peace that comes from it is... well, God-given.

<>< Katie
PS: But I don't fall asleep every time I pray...

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

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