(Not) Getting Murdered

No matter how many times David said, "We're not going to get murdered," I was still scared.

He was my navigator telling me to drive two miles down a dirt road in the dark.

It was kind of like driving on ice in that I didn't exactly have complete control of the car. And it was kind of like terrifying in that we were smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Did I mention it was nighttime and we were alone? Well, except for the truck following us, driven by the murderer.

For two miles, the conversation essentially went:
Katie: We're gonna die.
David: No, we're not.
Katie: We're gonna get murdered.
David: We're not gonna get murdered.

Yet still I kept driving.

I trust David, and I trusted he wasn't really leading me down a dangerous path.

If I trusted David, how could I be so fearful?

Well, I was in a very scary situation: I was driving down a dirt road with my brights on but not in complete control of the car, in the middle of nowhere to a house where I've never been, at night, with a guy who is older, bigger, and wiser than I am, and we were being followed. Maybe not the smartest decision of my life.

In ASL, the words for FEAR and TRUST are opposites. You can't sign them both at the same time (I tried). Fear and trust cannot co-exist.

Yet still they did in my car.

Still they do in my life.

I'm in a scary situation. After four long years I graduated with a degree that lacks a defined job at the end. I'm working as a freelance writer and not making enough to pay for food.

But if I say I trust the Lord, how can I be so fearful?

I am not the driver and not the navigator in this life. I'm just a passenger letting the Lord take this car wherever He desires.

But that doesn't mean I'm doing it quietly. I'm crying, I'm protesting, I'm convinced I'm gonna die. I have dug my heels into the ground, literally shouted naughty words at the Lord, and nearly punched someone in frustration.

That isn't trust. That's protesting. That's complaining.

God and I have this conversation regularly:
Katie: This is scary.
God: Just trust Me.
Katie: I want to but I can't. I'm scared.
God: I love you perfectly. Please, just trust Me.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot merge fear and trust. Something's got to give.

On Saturday, I surrendered to trust David, let go of the fear, and kept driving.

The dirt road did eventually end. Surprise: we didn't get murdered! The truck following us was driven by Cody who, turns out, is not a murderer. (Well, if he is, he's a very bad one since he didn't seize a perfect opportunity).

The road forked and BOOM there was a house with lights on, the door open, and the host and hostess inviting us in.

Daily surrender to trust the Lord doesn't mean this bumpy path of unemployment is going to end. God doesn't promise a smooth journey. He does promise that He'll journey with us.

So far, He has.

Life ain't great. But still every morning the sun rises (proof enough of God's faithfulness), I'm still breathing and, eventually, I can pull myself from the five layers of blankets. Some days come with more self-confidence than others but each day a new chance to proclaim His faithfulness even in the desert.

I protested with David but kept going. I'm protesting the Lord but still stepping forwards in obedience.

What's scary about obedience is the lack of control and the lack of knowing where you're going.

The house David, Cody, and I arrived at was home to a family who welcomed us with open arms, fed us a delicious dinner, and let us raid their game room.

This is less than half of their game collection.

Worth it.

If we continue in obedience, God promises that some day we will arrive Home to His open arms.

Luckily, we don't have to wait until then. In every step we can cling to His perfect love. In obedience and even in failure, He's RIGHT THERE.

That is hope enough to keep on truckin'.

Putting one foot in front of the other and taking each day one step at a time,
<>< Katie

Dear 2012

Dear 2012,

This year we welcome your arrival with New York. No waiting in the past to see how your first hour turns out before we take the leap.

But it's ok. I'm ready to welcome you, 2012. I think.

Your sister 2011's report card reads, "Not living up to potential."

She brought the change she promised but not the good kind.

Throughout 2011, the word I kept returning to was: faithful. Would I be faithful to the Lord even when life was less kind? Would God be true to the promise of His faithfulness?

Faithful.

Crossing into your realms, 2012, is an action of fear. An action of trust. A myriad of feelings. A juxtaposition of emotion. I am concerned about what you will bring.

Yet still I dare to hope. You bring with you new opportunities, renewed passions, and uncontainable excitement. While you may not look exactly like I would hope or anticipate, I step into you with confidence.

Hope.

That's what I feel when I look to you, 2012. I hope for many of the same things as last year: a job, a boy, a future. But, above all, I hope for the Lord. I hope to seek and to see Him in the good, the bad, and the ugly. Through tears of joy and tears of pain, I want to gaze into the eyes of my Abba Father.

I hope to dwell in the shelter of the Most High, to rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I hope to be calmed with His love and be delighted with His songs.

I hope. In Him.

And that is enough.

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT

With hope,
<>< Katie

Believe and Trust

Especially in my last days at school, I spent my share of time crying in Neal's office (our campus minister).  I'd usually go in for chit chat and a hug, the conversation would change, and all of the sudden I was crying... again.  Shortly after that, we'd get to a point in when I no longer had a response, an argument.

I would sit and listen while he encouraged me truths about God.  We both acknowledged they were things I already knew but needed reminding.  I had no choice but to nod and agree as he spoke.  If my voice was strong enough or if I felt like I'd been quiet too long, I'd find the strength to whisper,

"I believe that."

It might have been more to convince myself than to convince him.

A few months later, I learned the New Testament word for believe: pisteuo.  It's a verb that can also be translated, "To put one's faith in" or "to trust."

Looking back, part of me feels like I was lying every time I told Neal, "I believe that."  Sure, I knew the truths he was speaking were indeed true.  I acknowledged them, I accepted them, but I was having a hard time trusting them.

After all, if I weren't struggling with trust, I would not have been in his office in tears.

It's hard to trust God when He's forcing you to give up a place you love long before you feel it's time to leave.  It's hard to trust God has a plan when all you're getting is rejection letters.

Honestly, not knowing what happens immediately after graduation, not having a plan makes me feel like a failure.

Maybe in an earthly sense I am.

But, I am leaning a lot about pisteuo.  A lot about belief and trust.  A lot about hope and peace.  A lot about clinging to God.

And that can never be called "failure."

I believe that!

<>< Katie

PS: I learned the word pisteuo from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Tomorrows.  If you haven't read it, then I suggest you check it out.

Broken Hearted

I had never before seen The Heart Skit when our campus minister Neal gave us the thirty second plotline.  Three or four of us volunteered to be the protagonist, but Jessica chose me.  I kept quiet while they discussed who would be the man to break my heart.  They unanimously decided on Neal.  After making sure no one else wanted the part, Neal agreed.  Due to time constraints, the final cast was not able to practice together.

That night, the magnitude of the skit hit me.
1. I was going to have my heart broken on stage in a silent skit.  Can you say: FACIAL EXPRESSIONS?
2. I was going to have to flirt with my married campus minister.

I prayed for emotional strength and thought about boundaries.

During church the following morning, Neal and I took opposite sides of the stage.  In my hands I held a paper heart.  Neal's object was to romance me until I gave him my heart.  We made eye contact and showed embarrassment.  He waved; I giggled.  He took a deep breath and stepped closer to me.  I looked away and made the same move.  He put his arm around me; I leaned into him.  He reached out for my heart, and I pulled away.  He hugged me, I hesitated before surrendering the heart.  We both smiled from ear to ear.  He took my hand and paraded me around.  He pointed into the distance, I looked, and he planted a kiss on my cheek.  I blushed.

Was NOT expecting that.

From the side of the stage came another girl.  His attention shifted.  I tried to pull him back but he pulled away.  From behind, I wrapped both of my arms around his waist; he dragged me across the stage.  Using his foot, he pushed me off.  I stumbled backwards, regained my balance, and ran at him, jumping for my heart.  He pointed to the heart, pointed to me, pointed back to the heart, and got a devious look.

He took his hand off the other girl long enough to rip my heart to pieces and throw them on the ground.

I fell to the ground with my broken heart.

A friend walked by, picked up a piece of my heart, looked at it, dropped it, stomped on it, and walked away.

Two friends came and tried to help me piece it together.  When they let go, my heart fell apart again.

I sat on my knees trying to put my heart back together like a puzzle.  It didn't work.

Brett knelt at my side.  He put one hand on my back and a Bible in my lap.  His eyes dripping compassion, he pointed up, crossed his arms over his chest, and pointed to me.  I turned away.  He tapped me and pointed to the Bible.  I pushed him away.

Alone I sat, cupping the pieces of my heart to my chest.  It wasn't working.  I sat them down and turned my interest to the Bible Brett gave me.  I hesitated, closed the broken heart into the Bible, sat back, and prayed.  I waited until the camera flashes stopped.  I opened the Bible and tucked in the Psalms was a brand new heart!

Praise the LORD! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting...He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:1, 3

I love the image of being healed in Christ represented in this skit.  But I think it's oversimplified. 

Heart breaks are very real; being healed is a long, slow, painful process.  I've been there.  Five times last week and my share of times in weeks and months previous.

Our hearts are not the only ones that get broken.  We are often cast in Neal's role doing the heart breaking every time something we find more attractive or interesting comes along.  God's heart breaks every time we turn away from Him.

Every time, ladies, we're infatuated with a guy rather than with Him.
Every time we put our focus in something else.
Every time we doubt, fail to trust, are too hard on ourselves.
Every time we cry, God's tears outnumber ours.

Take a moment right now and tell Him how much you love Him.  Let Him love you back.  Let Him heal your heart.

With love,
<>< Katie

Lost In His Will

I enjoy getting lost.

Sometimes in my car, but more often when I'm on foot (and it's not cold outside).

Over Christmas break, I spent four days getting lost in Rochester, Minnesota.  My only goal for my four days there was to get lost (and un-lost) in the Mayo Clinic without getting locked in or needing my jacket (aka going outside).  If you've never been to Mayo, you may not understand the vastness of the clinic.  It pretty much covers the whole town and is connected by underground pedestrian subways.  It's huge!

In my getting lost, I walked towards beautiful architecture and away from anatomically-correct statues.  I didn't stop for directions, didn't stop to wonder if I was allowed to be where I was, and didn't carry a map.  I wasn't bothered by dead-ends, told myself elevators were cheating, and read every sign (a dangerous thing to do in a clinic).  It was so much fun!

I want to get lost in life.  Lost in God's will.  I want to be content without a map.  I want to enjoy the journey rather than take the elevator and race to the top.  I want to be comforted with His directions and read every sign along the way.

"Do you need directions?" The man asked as I glanced down my three hallway choices.  Each a white tunnel in your perfect, stereotypical intersection.

"No, I'm just wandering," I said.

"Well, then you're in a good place because you can go just about anywhere from here."

That is where I am in the pedestrian subway that is life.  I'm at an intersection where I can go any way from here.  I know that in any path, God will use me where I am.  Yet, still, the decision of which path to choose is incredible difficult.

When lost in Rochester, I trusted that there was a way back to my hotel that did not require a jacket/ going outside.  I would not have to leave Mayo property to get back home.  Likewise, I trust that there is a way heaven-home that does not require stepping out of the will of God.  As long as I keep walking, He'll continue to show me the way.  And maybe I'll run into beautiful things along the way.

I want to get lost in His Will,
<>< Katie

PS: Here are some photos from my exploring Mayo.

(Isn't that the most beautiful Barnes & Noble ever?)

Dear 2011

Dear 2011,

The ball has dropped.  My school friends have all welcomed you with open arms.  They say your first five minutes are great!

But I'm stuck in the past.  It's still 2010 here.  My pomegranate martini has yet to be concocted.  We're having our pizza dinner in my grandparents' kitchen as we wade out the last hour.  We smell like bowling alley.  It's tradition.

Yet I can't help but wonder, where will I be next year?  What will you bring me, 2011?  An apartment or must I hang that new Christmas wreath on my bedroom door?  A job?  More school?  A pair of lips to find mine at midnight?

One this is certain: you bring change.  "The other home" will no longer be a three-bedroom apartment with five of my favorite girls.  Will "the real home" still be the purple bedroom I outgrew years ago?

I saw a poster on clearance at Hobby Lobby that read:

Change: It's not only inevitable; it's vital to survival.

I should have bought it. 

We're ringing in a year of change.  We're trust falling into the arms of God.

May you, 2011, draw us all closer to Him.  Always.

Be nice to us 2011. 

We come with fear; you bring the unknown.
We come with trust; you bring His grace.
We bring ourselves; you let Him do marvelous things with all that we are.

Sincerely,
(I would say, "Love," but I don't know you yet, but I could love you if I knew you)

Katie
and the rest of the Ax Family

Never Alone

She sat on the futon with both of her legs curled underneath her.  The purple polar fleece blanket draped over her held the textbook she wasn't reading.  Just out of reach was her chocolate milk in a glass made of glass.  On the table in front of her sat the computer with broken internet, Nalgene with one last shluck of iodized lake water, and her Writer's Notebook. 

The music was playing louder than necessary but she wasn't listening until the familiar chords sounded once again.  She'd already heard that song once that day well as several times in the last week.  It seemed to be appearing everywhere as if it were haunting her.  Perhaps there was something in it she desperately needed to hear.

"Never Alone" by BarlowGirl

I waited for You, today
But You didn't show.
No, no, no.
I needed You, today,
so where did You go?

You told me to call.
Said You'd be here.
And though I haven't seen You,
are You still there?

I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side,
so I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.

And though I cannot see You,
and I can't explain why.
Such a deep, deep reassurance
You've placed in my life.
Oh, oh.
We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.

I cry out with no reply,
and I can't feel You by my side, so
I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here,
and I'm never alone.

We cannot separate.
You're part of me.
And though You're invisible
I'll trust the unseen.

As she listens, she remembers learning to sign the song.  The corresponding facial expressions of desperation and confusion seemed to come so easily.  Now they seem easier.  What was once a loud proclamation of, "I'll hold tight to what I know: You're here, and I'm never alone" is now whispered gently.  Yet it still holds true.  Even when it is difficult to say, it holds true!

Her right hand flies through the air in a reverse candy cane.  The left meets in an imaginary bouquet of flowers and pulsates for emphasis.
GOD TRUST +

"God I trust You," she says.

"If you fall, it's not my fault, but I'll catch you." - Rastor Puss

Since today's Rastor Puss' birthday and it's been awhile since I updated, I felt it was only appropriate to share a God-moment involving him.

Last summer, I took a field trip with my youth ministry to a rock climbing park in our area. It was quite the adventure! We had been having a blast watching each other climb the rocks. One girl made it all the way to the top for the first time! Another got further than she ever had! It was a blast! I really think Rastor Puss has one of the best jobs because that week he got to hang out with youth until well past 9pm on Sunday then go rock climbing on Monday, heck why does he have an office? (Something about preaching five sermons that weekend, oh yeah...) Anyway, Rastor Puss, the expert rock climber in our group, had been flying around like Spiderman (hence his new name) and we were all quite impressed. I wanted to try a harder climb than I had done that day and it was not set up with an auto belay like everything else I had worked with that day. Rastor Puss tied me into the harness and I was teasing him that if I came crashing to the ground and fell it was his fault because he had tied me in. His interpreted what I said to mean if I slipped on the rocks and began to fall.

"If you fall, it's not my fault, but I'll catch you," he responded.

I wasn't really scared but his words really encouraged me to keep climbing knowledgeable to the fact that even if I slipped, I would not be crashing to the ground.

How often do we fear falling and God has to remind us to trust Him? With Him on the other end of the belay, we won't come crashing to the ground. Ever. If we fall, it's not His fault, but He'll catch us.

<>< Katie

"Trust in the Lord forever for the Lord, the Lord is the Rock eternal."
Isaiah 26:4