Off the Couch

Let's be honest: I'm awkwardly skinny.

You know those things in the gas station bathrooms with a height and weight chart based on body type? The "small build" for my height starts ten pounds above how much I weigh.

I promise, I'm not trying to lose weight. Really I would like to gain some. So, to combat this, I eat like a pig (minimum of three plates) and avoid the gym (no one likes a skinny kid on a treadmill).

But what if that was how I lived spiritually?

What if I sat around reading devotional books, blogs, and my Bible? What if I attended as many Bible studies and small groups as I could possibly fit into a single week? What if I went to every church service offered, listened to every online sermon I could find, and attended every Christian concert within two hours of here?

What if I ate, ate, ate spiritually?

Don't hear me saying those things are bad. Eating isn't just good, it's vital.

But what if I did no more than eat? What if I avoided the spiritual gym? Herein lies the problem.

What if I didn't reach out to those around me? What if I didn't seize missions opportunities to see what the Lord is doing in Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria? What if I ignored the hurting, homeless, and hungry right here in my own city? What if I failed to show compassion, encouragement, and love to those I interact with?

Eating like a pig and avoiding the gym are physically unhealthy. Just as they are spiritually unhealthy.

Eating and exercising need to co-exist.

It's like breathing. You can't breathe in without also breathing out. You can't eat without also exercising.

There's a balance. It can be hard to find, but it is good.

Excuse me now why I get off my spiritual couch and head to a spiritual gym to work off that spiritual brownie I just inhaled.

<>< Katie

Thankful

It's hard.

It's hard to be thankful when you don't know when your next paycheck is coming (or from where). It's hard to be thankful when your best friends are 900 miles away. It's hard to be thankful when your office is the most central location of your parents' home, when your internal clock has no idea what time of the year it is, or when you don't have any idea what your calendar will look like even a month from now. It's hard to be thankful; it's easy to host a pity party.

Every once in awhile, I let the tears roll. They're good. They're healthy. But once they come, they're hard to stop.

Like Job, I speak bluntly and harshly to the Lord. While it's nice to get those feelings out on paper, it doesn't usually solve much. (Did I just say that out loud?) I still don't know what's next. I'm still playing pin the tail on the donkey.

And still even here, I have a lot to be thankful for. Did I not wake up this morning breathing and refreshed? When I rolled over and put my feet on the floor, did they not stay there and hold my weight? (No peanut gallery comments, please). Was there not toothpaste in the tube, toilet paper on the roll, and soap in the dispenser? Is there food in the pantry and hot water in the shower? Do I have a jacket, shoes, and gasoline?

Have I not people who love and care about me? People who encourage me and pour into me? Scripture tucked away in my heart? Is the Lord not in this limbo, this barren desert, this hideous time in between?

Life is hard. Yet still there is so much to be thankful for even if they're the small, simple things we tend to take for granted. Even if it's the tears and the angry words. Even if it's the promise, "I will be with you always to the very end of the age" (See Matthew 28).

Even if nothing else goes correctly, that one reason alone is enough to bring thanksgiving to my lips again and again.

<>< Katie

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.

We'd made it!  We had reached our destination!  The handiwork of our Creator was ours to enjoy!

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).

Can or Can't?

It has been a week of "can" and "can't."

I can finish all of these papers on time.
I can't finish all of these papers on time.

I can find time to go to the store.
I can't find time to go to the store.

I can breathe.
I can't breathe.

I can go to bed.
I can't go to bed.

You get the point.

On Tuesday, Neal asked us to think about the messages we are receiving. What messages are coming from God and what messages are coming from Satan?

Katie: You're the one telling me I can.  He's telling me I can't.
God: That was backwards.
Katie: No, it wasn't.  Satan's tearing me down; You're building me up.
God: Katie, you can't.  But I can.

Just in case you forgot: you can't, but God can.  Take a deep breath as you remember that this week.

<>< Katie

To Poetry, An Ode

It's no big secret that I don't like poetry. This semester I have to take a class that will involve some poetry. A lot of poetry. Much more poetry than I would like in my entire life is shoved into this one class. Little known fact: I changed my concentration because I didn't want to take a poetry writing class. Yes, any poetry is too much for me. I've been assured that someday poetry will just "click" in your brain and you'll want to read every poem you can find. That's the same thing I was told in high school about chemistry, and I'm still waiting. My goal this semester is to gain an appreciation for poetry. I have no need to call myself a poet; however, I should appreciate poetry.

One of the reasons I dislike poetry is because it doesn't follow traditional grammar rules. In fact, it strives to break them! The nerve! In high school, I was in our poetry club (gasp!), and we had to read poems aloud. That's why I always got after Nick for never punctuating his poems because reading those poems required big breaths. Now, I can talk for a long time without pausing to breathe but reading is a different story. Please put periods and commas in your poems!

Now, a poem.
Written earlier this semester to give myself a starting point for how bad my poetry skills are. Please don't laugh. :-)

"To Poetry, an Ode"

Oh, how I loathe thee.
Why must your torment me incessantly?
Are your frustrations never ending?
Why, oh, why?
For I am a writer,
not a poet.

Give me full-lines,
give me verbose,
give me dialogue.

Hold your couplets,
no need for rhyme scheme,
vanish your pentameter.
It pleases me not.

Free me from your confines,
for I am suffocating, yearning
to breathe again.

Oh, poetry, how I loathe the,
please let me be free!

<>< Katie