Guilty Getting Gas

Sometimes I have a problem with the "You are now entering the mission field" signs on the edge of church parking lots.  Can the church property not also be a mission field?  Yet sometimes we need that reminder.  Sometimes we forget worship does not conclude when we leave the parking lot.

I forgot that on Sunday.

After church and lunch, we said goodbye to the youth who had touched our lives for the last two days and prepared for our three-hour journey back to school. 

First stop: gas station.

The university keeps a gas card in the twelve-passenger van was I driving.  I plugged in the card and it said, "See attendant."

Trip into the gas station number one.  She told me to try it again and if it didn't work I could pay inside after I filled up.

Back at the pump, it didn't work a second time.  I filled up the van and went inside to pay.

Trip into the gas station number two.  We ran the card and it was denied.  We ran it again, still denied.  We ran it as debit, but I didn't have a PIN.

Back at the van, I called Heather.  No answer.  We called Kevin.  He said he didn't know the PIN and told us to call Neal.  Neal was apologetic that we hadn't been given the PIN before we left campus.

Trip into the gas station number three.  On the phone with Neal, I punched in the PIN he gave me.  Still no luck.

That's when I started to get short with him.  It was out of frustration but that didn't make it right.  Had I learned nothing on our weekend of living to worship?  I could have been worshipping at the gas station... thanking God that we had gas to fill up the van, that our only snafu was a misbehaving gas card, and the ability to reach someone who was willing to help us on a Sunday afternoon while he was spending time with his family.  I could have been courteous to the attendant and the man on the phone.

Getting mad at Neal wasn't worship.  In fact, it was the opposite.  It was getting cranky with someone who was trying to help.

The chorus of the Casting Crowns's song "The Altar and the Door" saying, "I will not lose my follow through between the altar and the door."  Not forgetting everything we learned in church between when we leave the sanctuary and when we, as the sign in the parking lot says, enter the mission field.  Instead, we should take what we've learned home with us and implement it into our lives.

Well, fail, Katie.

I lost a fight with a gas card and I lost my worship mindset.  A mile from the church and I had two apologies to make: one to Neal and one to God.

Thankful for forgiveness,
<>< Katie

PS: On the fourth trip into the gas station, I paid out of pocket and was reimbursed when we made it safely back to campus.

Being Used

"I'm tired," I said, resting my head on Neal's shoulder.  It was lunchtime on our third day in Nicaragua and we'd already done three church services, visited three schools, and been performed for twice. 

He put his arm around me in a side hug.  There we stood in silence for a few minutes.  I never said this but I was more than tired; I was discouraged.

The previous night we had done a worship service at a youth-filled home church in the city.  It was in the upper room of this little house where our team of 26 took up most of the incredibly uncomfortable seats.  The youth from this church sat scattered among us, crouched on the floor in the back, or stood squished in the corner.

They started out the worship service with some songs, prayer, a dance, and a short message.  Then we did some of the same things: three songs, a skit (the only service we didn't do The Heart Skit), a prayer, a sign performance, a testimony, and a sermon.  By the end of the service, most of our team was in tears, in awe of how alive the Spirit of the Lord was in that church.

This is an excerpt from my journal that night:

God, I'm a little jealous that everyone else had such wonderful experiences tonight. I know You are alive and here in Nicaragua but I didn't feel it the way everyone else did. I know that You speak to everyone in different ways but it seemed like You spoke to everyone in the same way tonight... except me.

My eyes were dry.  I felt nothing.  I was annoyed with God for not allowing me to feel the same thing as everyone else.  I was jealous, and I hadn't told anyone but God.

My head still resting on his chest, Neal rubbed my arm with his hand.

"God's using you, you know," he said.

As silly as this sounds, I was surprised to hear that.  I knew that God would use me but I did not know He is using me.  Present tense.  Not some abstract future occurrence but right now.

Neal continued, "A lot of people said when you signed 'My Savior, My God' last night was when the Holy Spirit started to work on them."

What?

I had no idea.  I figured God had started speaking when they danced, when we sang in two languages, when the father and son did a duet, when we prayed... sometime long before I took the stage.

Apparently not.  The Holy Spirit used me and I had no idea.  While I still would have liked to enjoy the overwhelming experience like the rest of my teammates, I was stunned and amazed to learn that I had been used and I had no idea.

I think I thanked Neal for telling me exactly what I needed to hear.

The version of "My Savior, My God" I signed was written to be a trio.  I signed it by myself.  A Trio, a Holy Trio, perfromed it.

Sometimes the Holy Spirit uses you and you know it.  You feel it.  But sometimes the Holy Spirit uses you and you have no idea.  You don't feel it.

Are you ok with both?

I am.

<>< Katie

Orange

"Are you ok with the orange?"

Instead of selling it for profit, Ruth was giving me a three by three book I'm going to fill with Bible verses.  The book has an orange theme, and I'm a purple girl.  I assured her the orange was fine and thanked her for the gift.

While orange does not make it in my top three favorite colors, it holds a special significance.

Orange is the color of the World Vision pen on my desk because it is bright enough to not get lost in the heap of dead trees.

Orange makes me think of Nikki and her now, rightfully, retired phone...
Orange makes me think of Carrie.

Orange is construction cones and Taco Bell hot sauce.

Orange makes me think of Guatemala.
Orange helped me realize that just like white crevices in stucco take forever to fill so does sin take forever to be removed from our lives. Every time we think we’re getting close, we find yet another missing spot… and then some more.
Orange is a reminder to stop and listen. Sometimes we have to be quiet to hear what God is trying to say.

Orange mean authority.
Orange means funs, friendly, and flexible.
Orange proclaims, "We believe!"

More than anything, Orange reminds me of my trip to New Orleans where I got to be part of Orange Nation. A week of long days and short nights. A week sacrificing ourselves and serving one another. A week of almost being trampled every night as I tried to play crowd control for 25,000 excited youth. A week I learned where "challenging" and "cherished" can intertwine.

I won this game, by the way.

Happy Reformation Day.
Happy Halloween.
Let orange be more than the color of the "publish post" button.

<>< Katie

Blessed Be Your Name

I spent all weekend helping lead a youth retreat weekend.  On Saturday afternoon we did a service project and gardened for a few elderly church members.  Upon returning to the church, we each took some quiet time to reflect and pray.  As that kind of wrapped up, people seemed to be gathering in the grass on the hill and it became a spontaneous worship song session.  One of the songs we sang was "Blessed Be Your Name."  As we went through the familiar verses and chorus, I pondered how many times I'd sung that song.  On campus, in church, in my car, in Spanish in Guatemala, in ASL, with 35,000 teens, by myself, with a small group around a campfire... the list goes on and on.  Every summer for almost the last ten years my family has gone to an outdoor Christian music festival.  In the last few years, it seems every artist sings "Blessed Be Your Name."  I've sung with the hot July sun beating down on me.  I've sung it as refreshing night rain pelts my face.  I've sung it a lot.  You'd think I'd know the verses in the right order...

On May 21, 2008, singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter died tragically at age 5 after being accidently hit by a car in the family's driveway.  On July 11 of the same year SCC returned to the stage for the first time since the accident and earned a standing ovation prior to playing a note.  He softly explained after such a tragedy there was one song that kept running through his head and he began to sing "Blessed Be Your Name."  I highly doubt there was a dry eye in the entire audience.  With heavy hearts and sore feet we extended our arms to the heavens and worshipped our precious Holy Father while He painted us a beautiful sunset in the Midwestern sky.  The lyrics took on a whole new meaning as we proclaimed, "Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me.  When the world's all as it should be, blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, blessed be Your name."  If a hurting father could say it, so can we.  If the responsible brother could say it, so can we.  If the sunburned, mud-laden audience can say it, so can we.  Right?

It doesn't mean your pain is gone.  It doesn't mean you need to be happy-go-lucky.  It means God is still God.  It means you'll praise Him in the hard times in addition to the easy times.  In the United States, in foreign countries.  In the sun and in the rain.  From the top of the mountain and the bottom of the valley.  As yourself honestly, no matter what you're going through today, are you willing to say, "Blessed be Your name"?

Blessed be,

<>< Katie

Jesus Shoes

"It's so funny because guitar is one of the biggest things I'm going to use in India, and I haven't touched mine in almost a week," Jesus Shoes told us this afternoon.

On Thursday he's headed to India for six months to be a witness for Christ and live up to his name: Jesus Shoes. That isn't his real name.

Last spring, my ministry team and I led a weekend youth retreat where we had a plethora of very similar names. For some reason, the youth could not get our worship leaders' names right. Instead of refering to them by instrument, the high school girls nicknamed both of them: Broken Arm Guy and Jesus Shoes. Jesus Shoes wore Chacos, and Broken Arm Guy proving it is possible to play piano while sporting a beautiful lime green cast.

At first neither one of our worship leaders liked their nicknames but didn't have the hearts to correct the youth; it was only for a weekend, after all. Personally, I think the nicknames were pretty appropriate, but I let Broken Arm Guy drop his nickname after the weekend. Jesus Shoes, however, has stuck in my mind.

As Jesus Shoes prepares for his journey to India, his name seems even more appropriate. After all, he's headed across the world to be Jesus' hands and feet. Jesus' shoes?

While what area of ministry exactly he's going to be working with in India is still being determined, he knows he'll be teaching guitar to some of the youth. This actually worries him because he doesn't have any idea how to teach guitar. Besides his putzing a little bit in my living room this afternoon, he hasn't played guitar in almost a week. When he gets to India, his guitar-playing hours will be almost unlimited, but due to time contraints he hasn't been able to play much lately.

Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to teach guitar but you haven't played this week. Hey, Jesus Shoes, you're going to India to preach the gospel, have you read it this week? I realize that's a dumb question. Or is it?

I think it's something we all need to ask ourselves on a regular basis. If we're here to be witnesses, have we showed God's love this week? No matter where we are, we're on a mission. Are we being Jesus' hands and feet?

Know you are loved and will be missed; riding the dolly through the storage unit in a tornado warning just isn't the same without you, brother. Represent our Father well. Be safe in India, but never forget that you are to be Jesus' Shoes.

With love,
<>< Katie

PS: My blogs are not pointless. Only some of them.

Last Pass

A few years ago, a group of us from school went on a mission trip. To burn off some energy after a loooooong car ride (and another long one coming the next day), we played frisbee in the parking lot the first night. Originally it was going to be a large group of us, but wound up being me and like four or five guys. How'd that happen? Ok, I'm not great at sports, and luckily these weren't the jocks, but I was still kind of intimidated. These men have better hand-eye coordination that I do, we'll just leave it at that. (Just nod approvingly, JPR).

We threw the frisbee around for quite awhile before the chaperone called the last throw. Where does the frisbee happen to go on its last throw of the night? Go figure it's flying at me. I was shocked and amazed when it actually landed in my hands instead of bouncing off my nose. I caught the last pass of the night!

Those memories flooded back to me today when our frisbee game was almost over. The game resumed after an injury time out, and my team was about two steps from the end zone (Like that sports lingo, Melissa?). There were three or four of my teammates in the end zone, but I was the closest to the person with the frisbee. Go figure I just far enough away where I could drop it. The frisbee left his hands, glided across the air, and landed gently in my arms. I caught the last toss! I scored the last field goal! It was pretty exciting for uniquely coordinated me.

My youth leader was on the other team, and he'd been teasing me most of the night about my amazing athletic abilities. He came up to me after I caught it. No "nice catch." No "Good game." (He may be uber competitive, but his team whooped the butts of my team). Nope. What do I get? A "Wouldn't it have been funny if you dropped it?" Thanks! I smacked him with the frisbee. :-)

No deep theological connection today. Just connecting frisbee memories with both of my readers. :-)

<>< Katie

"He said to me: 'It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life.'" Revelation 21:6

And They Say Southerners are Hospitable!

Since it's a holiday weekend there are no youth events at church this week. Mom and I went to the early service (for the first time in my life!), went to Starbucks, then came home and went to a local church. I must admit it was a bit strange to be double-dipping on church. It's as if saying the first sermon wasn't enough, I need a second one (but actually, the first sermon was more applicable). The weirdest part was taking communion twice in one day, especially considering how often I take communion throughout the rest of the year. When I though about it: I had sinned since the first time I took it today. I was aggravated with the driver who cut me off. I was snippy with the cashier who couldn't get my order right. I was frustrated with my sisters. My emotions were all out of whack. :-) But, this isn't a confessional.

Our church and this local church are merging in the near future, and we wanted to see what this church was like. The pastor started the service announcing there were more visitors than members among the 35 congregants present today. Wow! Later during the prayer, he prayed for Pastor Mike by name. Prayed for Pastor Mike's leadership, wisdom, and Godly obedience... Now that's not something we hear everyday. Our prayers for Pastor Mike are usually more jokes: prayers for safe travel and thanks that he's gone... It made me think of Bob's lesson last week at youth group about encouraging each other. Even though jokes and playful teasing can be good and funny, we need to show just as much love.

After church, we were talking to a woman we know from the area. She was so excited to see us because it's been awhile and asked us what brought us to church. We explained what church we were from and suddenly there were a plethora of people around us.

"You're from there?! We've seen your beautiful facilities! Are you a part of this ministry? When does this pastor preach next because we've never heard him? We love everything your church is doing! We're so excited for the merger!"

To put it lightly, they were ecstatic! They are anxiously awaiting this merger to come to fruition. It's so exciting to see God working from the other side. Any reservations I had about the merger before have now been eliminated. Even though I'm not always keen on some of the things my church does and some of their choices, this is a good choice.

Learning to see the other side of the story,
<>< Katie

PS. I know it was not ironic that the pastor preached on Isaiah and read the benediction from Ephesians. :-)

"See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me. " Isaiah 49:16