I'll be honest, I didn't have time to get together a Jesus Worldwide post for today. I'm in the process of making a major blog move, and I need two hands to count my writing commitments. Sorry!
If you've got a story to tell about how you've seen God work, I'd love to hear from you. Send me an email (KatieAxelson[at]gmail[dot]com) and we'll set up an interview or guest post. Remember, I don't mind revisiting countries. Who knows, yours could be the first story at my "new house."
In the meantime, head over to Operation World and select a country (or two) to read about and pray for. There are some countries I've never even heard of but God knows the citizens intimately. God understands the languages, the customs, and needs. That blows my mind.
I prayed for the Congo. What about you?
<>< Katie
"I am sure that some people are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves. For these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development." - C. S. Lewis
Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Wild Idea
I'm thinking about doing something crazy. Super crazy.
I'm thinking about retiring this blog.
Wait! Don't call the doctor; I promise, I'm not sick. I don't intent to retire. Just move.
I figured since I'm wearing big girl pants, paying big girl rent, and (some days) eating big girl meals, it's time for this blog to grow up and move across the country, too.
At this point I have more questions than answers. So, I need you to help me out please.
This is my number one question: If I move, will you move with me?
For real, I want your honest opinion.
As part of moving, I'll be sorting everything into three piles: Keep, Sell, Toss.
Keep: Posts I liked for various reasons. I intend to write more like them.
Sell: Posts that were ok. More similar to them might appear or might not.
Toss: Posts that never should have happened.
Can you do me a favor and find a post that fits each category and tell me why you've put it there?
Thanks!
<>< Katie
PS: If you're bored, you can start thinking of blog titles for the new blog. I'm hoping for a pun on my name (Katie Axelson, Ax for short).
I'm thinking about retiring this blog.
Wait! Don't call the doctor; I promise, I'm not sick. I don't intent to retire. Just move.
I figured since I'm wearing big girl pants, paying big girl rent, and (some days) eating big girl meals, it's time for this blog to grow up and move across the country, too.
At this point I have more questions than answers. So, I need you to help me out please.
This is my number one question: If I move, will you move with me?
For real, I want your honest opinion.
As part of moving, I'll be sorting everything into three piles: Keep, Sell, Toss.
Keep: Posts I liked for various reasons. I intend to write more like them.
Sell: Posts that were ok. More similar to them might appear or might not.
Toss: Posts that never should have happened.
Can you do me a favor and find a post that fits each category and tell me why you've put it there?
Thanks!
<>< Katie
PS: If you're bored, you can start thinking of blog titles for the new blog. I'm hoping for a pun on my name (Katie Axelson, Ax for short).
Friday, April 27, 2012
Chewable Bites
Technically I had two hours. By the time I ordered a drink, got my computer hooked up to the wifi, and chatted with the barista and other coffee shop patrons, I was down to one hour.
First things first: my own blog. Then other blogs. My time was quickly dwindling. I had 30 minutes left before the student worship service started. I didn't have to be there. I wanted to be there. I also wanted to write.
So I closed the internet (more accurately: gave up the fight. Katie: 0, wifi: 1) and wrote for 30 minutes. It was only a hundred words before the clock read go time. I contemplated staying longer but couldn't bring myself to do it.
Neither could I bring myself to leave the characters at the coffee shop.
This is my life right now. I have five jobs. I've made five writing-related commitments to other people. Even though some are paid and some are volunteer, they are all very important to me. I am grateful for every single one of them. I want to do all of them well.
Likewise, I have made a commitment to you, my faithful blog readers.
There are a lot of words being produces from these fingers and tendinitis-elbow.
There are a lot of great thoughts running through this mush-like brain. There is not a lot of time (or a lot of words) to put them here.
How could I capture a blog post, a novel idea, and two freelance assignments in two hours?
I couldn't. So was the time even worth it? Maybe I should have just stayed home.
But I didn't. I made progress. I didn't construct this post but I did accomplish something. Small increments of time mean small, chewable bites of life. Like of like planning your life no further ahead than three months.
It's not easy. It's not fun. It's not voluntary.
If I can find 30 minutes to write this blog post, you can find 30 minutes to... play with your child, sing to the Lord, call your long-lost roommate, walk your dog.
It's not nearly enough but worth every second.
<>< Katie
First things first: my own blog. Then other blogs. My time was quickly dwindling. I had 30 minutes left before the student worship service started. I didn't have to be there. I wanted to be there. I also wanted to write.
So I closed the internet (more accurately: gave up the fight. Katie: 0, wifi: 1) and wrote for 30 minutes. It was only a hundred words before the clock read go time. I contemplated staying longer but couldn't bring myself to do it.
Neither could I bring myself to leave the characters at the coffee shop.
This is my life right now. I have five jobs. I've made five writing-related commitments to other people. Even though some are paid and some are volunteer, they are all very important to me. I am grateful for every single one of them. I want to do all of them well.
Likewise, I have made a commitment to you, my faithful blog readers.
There are a lot of words being produces from these fingers and tendinitis-elbow.
There are a lot of great thoughts running through this mush-like brain. There is not a lot of time (or a lot of words) to put them here.
How could I capture a blog post, a novel idea, and two freelance assignments in two hours?
I couldn't. So was the time even worth it? Maybe I should have just stayed home.
But I didn't. I made progress. I didn't construct this post but I did accomplish something. Small increments of time mean small, chewable bites of life. Like of like planning your life no further ahead than three months.
It's not easy. It's not fun. It's not voluntary.
If I can find 30 minutes to write this blog post, you can find 30 minutes to... play with your child, sing to the Lord, call your long-lost roommate, walk your dog.
It's not nearly enough but worth every second.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
World Malaria Day
If you've never slept under mosquito netting, it's a weird sensation. It's kind of entrapping but also kind of nice because it means the mosquitoes are out there and you're in here. I used to do it when we went camping.
Mumu sleeps under mosquito netting every night.
If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.
During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.
Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).
Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")
Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.
Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.
I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).
I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).
I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.
Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.
I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.
I care about malaria.
If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.
To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.
Organizations like Lutheran Malaria Initiative and Compassion are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.
You can help by sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area.
You can help by purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa.
You can help by spreading the word about malaria.
You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.
Thank you!
<>< Katie
(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).
Mumu sleeps under mosquito netting every night.
If you've never taken anti-malaria medicine, it's a weird sensation. First, the look on people's faces when you tell them you're taking medicine for malaria is priceless. Second, the nausea that accompanies it is very much unpleasant.
During college, I spent a month studying abroad in what the CDC declared a malaria risk area of Costa Rica. Which meant every Tuesday for nine weeks, I choked down a nasty pink pill that stole my appetite and left me feeling miserable.
Every Tuesday I regretted being cautious and going to the travel doctor before my trip. (Yes, I now do a happy dance when I'm traveling somewhere and don't have to take chloroquine).
Every Tuesday, I regretted arguing with the pharmacist to get five pills when my insurance only wanted me to have four for the first filling. ("I can't come get a refill while I'm in Costa Rica.")
Every Tuesday, I remembered that I could not give blood for a year.
Every Tuesday I remembered how truly blessed I am.
I had access to a doctor whose primary job is to educate travelers like me on tips for living abroad and things to carry in their own personal pharmacy (most of which I actually used).
I had access to medicine to prevent a disease that kills one child every thirty to forty-five seconds. (How long has it taken you to read this? I bet more than thirty seconds).
I had more Off! than I'd ever need just to keep those pesky mosquitoes away from my medicated blood.
Any mosquito bites I did get, were just annoying and itchy not life-threatening.
I didn't have to worry about suffering from a completely preventable, treatable disease.
I care about malaria.
If the medication to prevent it made me feel so nasty, I can't imagine what the disease itself must be like.
To many people around the world, the horrors of malaria are not just imagined but rather a very real, cruel reality they face every day.
Organizations like Lutheran Malaria Initiative and Compassion are bringing hope and help to people in malaria risk-areas.
You can help by sponsoring a child in a malaria risk area.
You can help by purchasing mosquito netting for people living in Africa.
You can help by spreading the word about malaria.
You can help by praying for the people living (and traveling) in malaria risk areas.
Thank you!
<>< Katie
(Yes, I'm a Compassion Blogger which means sometimes they send me post suggestions. This was not one of them).
Monday, April 23, 2012
Jesus Worldwide: Nepal
From Katie: Over spring break my friends Beth and Jennifer went where no American has ever gone before. Literally. This week they're taking us to the hill country of Nepal. These are their stories and photos as told to me.
We went to Nepal to support missionaries Brandon and Tammy already living there and to encourage Anmol, another missionary contact. We stayed in Ti-se where Brandon and Tammy rent the top floor. It's kind of like a mini hotel.
Our first full day was spent preparing for the week-long trip to the hill country. We set out everything we intended to take and narrowed it down further and further until it could fit in a backpack. The last things we removed from our packs were shampoo and soap. We took our flutes, one change of clothes, pajamas, and basic toiletries.
We left at 6am with two people in the front of our left-side-driven jeep, three people in the middle, and three in the back. The road was rough with steep hills. We had to drive slowly to plot our route around the rocks and bumps. Sometimes it was barely wide enough for one vehicle with mountain and drop-off on either side. If another car wanted to pass, we'd look for a wide point in the road even if that involved backing up or waiting until the road cleared. We saw a lot of school children who would run up and chase the land rover or grab on to the back and ride along. The land rover had no air conditioning so we had to keep the windows rolled down until we passed another vehicle and we'd roll them up quickly because it was so dusty. The vegetation all looks dead because it's covered in dust. The ride was long but it was a great opportunity to chat with our team (all adult men) and see the beautiful countryside of Nepal.
Palden is a missionary originally from India and he goes to remove villages to share the gospel. He helped us with translating, directions, and such. (Directions: drive 16 hours until the road ends in Potale then hike for five more hours). Sometimes he gets sick when he's hiking and no one knows or can do anything about it. Pray that Palden can travel with ease and no problems.
The third day of our trip we ate eggs, potatoes, and beans for breakfast before driving for five more hours. The Himalayan Mountains were beautiful and gigantic! They call this the hill country but they’re bigger than any hills I’ve ever seen. After a lunch break at the hotel where we had been planning to stay, we hiked all afternoon, up and down four mountains. It was weird places to hike because of the terraced landscapes, and it was mostly steep down. It hurt! Our hands were swollen, our legs were shaking. One of our team members was 67, and he was an inspiration!
We left on Sunday, and it was super sad but our leaving didn’t mean God was leaving. We hiked five and a half hours back up the mountain for a total climb of 3,400 feet (7 miles). We literally hiked in the clouds. We walked slowly so we didn’t have to stop as often but we still had to take frequent breaks. The flat land was monumental. That night Jennifer was feeling sick, and Beth was feeling worried and uneasy. We weren’t ourselves. We hadn’t showered in days and were just cranky; the gnats attacking our ears and eyes as we tried to journal weren’t helping either. So we said the fruits of the spirit out loud, said we’d pray for each other, and we went to sleep. In the morning we woke up in a good mood, feeling refreshed, and laughing. On Monday we drove twelve hours the rest of the way back, washing our face in a lake along the way. We finally got showers too! It was glorious! We met up with another member of our team who had been doing something different. We all ate dinner together and it included meat.
Anmol shared his testimony. His parents got divorced and he
got on the wrong track and began using drugs, and he got Hep B and his kidneys
were failing. He was dying. He had a humongous faith that God could heal him,
and He did. It was a miracle! God also cured him of Hep B. Now Anmol’s ministry
is to reach out to the street boys who are addicted to drugs and have that way
of life. They have a daycare that meets in a garage (the size of my [Beth’s]
dorm room), and there are 35-40 boys ranging in age from 7 to 17 who go there
every day from 11 to 2 except Friday and Saturday. They share Bible stories,
teach them other educational things, and provide them with a simple meal. A lot
of the boys have blisters on their face from huffing.
We took articles of
clothing, a juice box, and tooth brush and tooth paste and gave them to the
boys. One of our team members has a similar testimony involving drugs, so he
shared his while we were there, and we sang “Jesus Loves Me.”
Anmol and Neta also
have a home where if the boys want to change their way of life, they can live
in the home and Anmol will disciple them. There are four boys living there
right now, one of whom has been clean for 1.5 years which is really exciting. Anmol and Neta are
renting the house, but they can’t guarantee that they’re going to have it for
any amount of time, so they’re trying to raise money to get a lot. It’s going
to be $50,000 just for the small area of land, and $45,000 for a three-story
building that will include area for the church, a house for the boys, and
living space for Anmol and his family. Anmol tries to teach them a trade and
practical things, too. The boys make and sell candles, so they can make money.
We also got to encourage Anmol and Neta. Anmol’s a musician, and he’d written
some songs. He’d envisioned a melody for them, so I [Beth] got my flute out. He sang
and played it and I figured out the melody. Then I [Jennifer] got my
flute out and he had a harmony part too. It was a special music bonding time.
Pashupati is the Hindu cremation site. There’s a river that
flows through the middle of it and on either side they build up a table where
they burn the bodies and when they’re done they just push the ashes into the
river. The river’s really holy to them. If someone’s near death and really
sick, they lay them on a tablet and set their toes into the water so their
spirits will go out into the river and it helps them in their passing. We saw
one man who was loitering, and we think he was sick and waiting to go lay on
the board. They lay there until they die so all of the spirits will come out of
them. It was really smoky. It’s supposedly such a holy place but then there are
men there dressed up and painted who are smoking pot, and they take advantage
of tourists. This was an emotional hard time because those people being burned
didn’t know Jesus as their Savior.
Our very last day we did some touristy shopping and flew over Everest on our way home. Really it's just a little taller than the rest of the mountains.
We went to Nepal to support missionaries Brandon and Tammy already living there and to encourage Anmol, another missionary contact. We stayed in Ti-se where Brandon and Tammy rent the top floor. It's kind of like a mini hotel.
Our first full day was spent preparing for the week-long trip to the hill country. We set out everything we intended to take and narrowed it down further and further until it could fit in a backpack. The last things we removed from our packs were shampoo and soap. We took our flutes, one change of clothes, pajamas, and basic toiletries.
We left at 6am with two people in the front of our left-side-driven jeep, three people in the middle, and three in the back. The road was rough with steep hills. We had to drive slowly to plot our route around the rocks and bumps. Sometimes it was barely wide enough for one vehicle with mountain and drop-off on either side. If another car wanted to pass, we'd look for a wide point in the road even if that involved backing up or waiting until the road cleared. We saw a lot of school children who would run up and chase the land rover or grab on to the back and ride along. The land rover had no air conditioning so we had to keep the windows rolled down until we passed another vehicle and we'd roll them up quickly because it was so dusty. The vegetation all looks dead because it's covered in dust. The ride was long but it was a great opportunity to chat with our team (all adult men) and see the beautiful countryside of Nepal.
![]() |
| We spent 16 hours on this road. |
![]() |
| We took the one on the right. |
![]() |
| Look at all of those switchbacks! |
![]() |
| Yes, this is the road. Plot your course. |
It took two days there and two days back to get to the village but it was worth it because it's an unreached people group. The motivation to go was increased by the difficulty of traveling. Who would go if we didn't?
Palden is a missionary originally from India and he goes to remove villages to share the gospel. He helped us with translating, directions, and such. (Directions: drive 16 hours until the road ends in Potale then hike for five more hours). Sometimes he gets sick when he's hiking and no one knows or can do anything about it. Pray that Palden can travel with ease and no problems.
![]() |
| This is the hotel we stayed at the first night on the road. |
![]() |
| Our hotel room. |
The drive took longer than we were expecting because we had to go slowly. Thankfully no one got carsick. That's the hotel we stopped at the first night. We brushed out teeth out the window. There was a plywood table for our bed. The photo above was taken from the men's room. There was no door, so we took turns holding up blankets to change.
![]() |
| A town we drove by. |
![]() |
| Isn't Nepal such a gorgeous country? |
![]() |
| Potale (where the road ends) |
The third day of our trip we ate eggs, potatoes, and beans for breakfast before driving for five more hours. The Himalayan Mountains were beautiful and gigantic! They call this the hill country but they’re bigger than any hills I’ve ever seen. After a lunch break at the hotel where we had been planning to stay, we hiked all afternoon, up and down four mountains. It was weird places to hike because of the terraced landscapes, and it was mostly steep down. It hurt! Our hands were swollen, our legs were shaking. One of our team members was 67, and he was an inspiration!
![]() |
| Salyan |
Salyan, the village we finally made it to, was tiny with
approximately 80 houses up and down the side of the mountain. We were the first
Americans to ever enter this village. There is one house of believers in this
area. The next house of believers is two or three hours down the mountain. The
two-story house is completely made of clay and wood. The bottom floor was the
church room (where the men from our team stayed) and the top floor is where the
family lives. Right behind the house is the Buddhist monastery, so it’s like
they’re in the shadow of the monastery. The family faces heavy verbal
persecution and there are areas of the mountain where they are not allowed to
travel. The people hold to very strict Tibetan Buddhist traditions because it’s
the only thing they’ve ever know. When we were sharing the Gospel, we were
often were met with the resistance of, “I’m Sherpa, so I’m Buddhist.” Pray for the believers there to be a light and for the unbelievers to have a yearning for Christ.
![]() |
| The house where we stayed. |
“Namaste” is the traditional greeting between people but between
believers it is “Jamasi!” When we got to Salyan, everyone was joyfully shouting
“Jamasi!” It was so exciting. The family of several generations (total of 10ish
people) invited us in for black tea (like hot sweet tea). It’s custom to take off
your shoes when you go in, so we took ours off but it was so cold that we
eventually put our socks back on. We had been expecting to sleep on the ground,
but the sister offered us her room. We were hesitant to take it but it was an
honor for her. It meant we got to sleep in a bed with a tiny cushion, and we
were warmer since we were off of the floor, and we got privacy from the rest of
the team (all adult men). The walls were made of dirt, but the sister had
covered the walls with newspaper. All of the doors were short. Our first night
there we asked for a small meal, so they brought us a huge bowl of boiled
potatoes. We peeled them and ate them (kind of like an orange). It thunder
snowed that night with lightning and everything but it was mostly gone the next
day.
![]() |
| Bedroom. |
![]() |
| View from the house. |
![]() |
| Bathroom. |
Our first full day in the village we did a devotion about
what to expect in visiting house to house (based on the model of Luke 10). We
split up into two groups. One went down the mountain and the other stayed near
the believers’ house. We prayerfully walked through the village looking for a
house of peace. We made small talk before sharing our story about why we were
there and sharing the gospel. It was difficult because we were working through
translators (who are Christian). Sometimes the translator and the people would
talk and talk and talk but sum it up in one English sentence. It was also neat
because we traded off who was going to share our story. It was hard and awkward
because we didn’t know what to say or how to say it. They have a completely
different worldview and don’t understand the way we do, so it’s kind of like
talking to a 5th grader using short sentences to be translated. At
the last house I [Jennifer] was praying because I wanted a connection and to know
how to build to conversation. I started talking to a boy and asked him how old
he was. He was 20, so we had an instant connection and talked about school. He
appreciated our coming to share God’s love. We invited him to church but he had
an exam.
It’s strange to go into a complete stranger’s house and sit
down with the intention of sharing the gospel with them. But it was so much
fun! One older lady whose husband was out working said she wanted to follow
Jesus but her husband wouldn’t allow it. This was a common response. Family is
so important to them but it also hinders them from believing the gospel. If
someone does believe, it would probably lead to others believing. Pray for this woman and others in her situation. Sometimes
they would walk away and give us a verbal closed door. It’s hard to love them
and want them to know the Savior even though they’re closed to the idea. What
was encouraging was that it’s less about us bringing God to them but rather us
joining God where He already is. Even though these people are in spiritual
darkness, God’s still there, still working. There are believers there. Just
because we’re gone doesn’t mean God’s gone. That’s the only way to have peace
in leaving a house that was not receptive to the Gospel.
![]() |
| Pastor Norbu |
Pastor
Norbu had fallen off of the second story the day before we arrived and messed up his face
and leg and couldn’t talk well or move but he wanted to see us before he went
to the doctor for pain medication. To get him to the doctor, four people at a
time had to carry the stretcher over the same path we’d just walked. We prayed
for him a lot because it was already a difficult situation. We prayed that his
healing would be quick and miraculous and it would show God’s power and be used
as a testimony. He need stitches but thankfully his hip was not broken. He did
lose a lot of blood but by the time we left Nepal he was able to talk though
still weak. Please continue to pray for Pastor Norbu and his recovery and that he will continue to be a light in the darkness. His brother is a Buddhist witch doctor, and people would come to
him and want to be healed, but he couldn’t heal them. Pastor Norbu would pray
for them, and they’d be healed. His brother loves him but doesn’t agree with
his faith.
![]() |
| Nepali church |
In Nepal, as soon as you become a believer, you’re a leader.
Brandon taught them how to make disciples, how to teach other believers, etc.,
and believers traveled from four hours away for this training. We took the kids
out to play and take photos. Their faces were all scabbed and blistered due to
the climate, and they had runny noses. I [Beth] just wanted to cover them in
lotion. Some of them didn’t have pants and just sat in the dirt naked. In Nepal church is on Saturday. Women sit on one side and
men on the other. They all prayed out loud at the same time, and the only
instruments they had were a drum and a tambourine. They did their part then we
introduced ourselves and played our flutes. One of our team members brought the
message. There were kids poking their heads in the doors and the room was full
of kids. They were curious about the white people, but we hope and pray they
heard something.
We left on Sunday, and it was super sad but our leaving didn’t mean God was leaving. We hiked five and a half hours back up the mountain for a total climb of 3,400 feet (7 miles). We literally hiked in the clouds. We walked slowly so we didn’t have to stop as often but we still had to take frequent breaks. The flat land was monumental. That night Jennifer was feeling sick, and Beth was feeling worried and uneasy. We weren’t ourselves. We hadn’t showered in days and were just cranky; the gnats attacking our ears and eyes as we tried to journal weren’t helping either. So we said the fruits of the spirit out loud, said we’d pray for each other, and we went to sleep. In the morning we woke up in a good mood, feeling refreshed, and laughing. On Monday we drove twelve hours the rest of the way back, washing our face in a lake along the way. We finally got showers too! It was glorious! We met up with another member of our team who had been doing something different. We all ate dinner together and it included meat.
"Standing on this mountain top looking just how far we've come
knowing that with every step You are with us."
- Matt Redman, "Never Once"
On Tuesday morning we walked around the Bhouda, an area of
Kathmandu with one of the world’s largest stupas and people come from all over
the world to see it. There were Nepali people, Chinese people, Europeans,
foreigners, storekeepers, school children in their navy uniforms, Buddhist monks
in their burgundy robes. It’s a circle with shops all around it. One of their
rituals is to walk around the stupa with it on their right side improves karma.
There are prayer wheels to spin and offerings and all sorts of things. Since
it’s a touristy area, the storekeepers spoke English, so we started
conversations with them and gave out tracts of the Gospel of Mark.
Tuesday afternoon was chill and recuperation time. That
night we worshiped together with Brandon and Tammy’s team of journeymen and
other supporters. We played our flutes and took hymn requests. They tended to
know the first verse and the chorus and would sing really strongly but once we
got to the second verse they’d fade out until we got to the chorus again. It
was all good, and they really appreciate it because they don’t get to have
corporate worship very often.
| These flags have Buddhist scripture on them. They're everywhere. Supposedly when you walk past the you breathe in the scripture. The more you have, the more scripture you're breathing in. |
On Wednesday we flew to Pokhara. Everyone says to sit on the
right side so you can see the Himalayas, but it was cloudy when we landed. Pokhara is a really
touristy area where there’s a heavy western influence even though there are
cows everywhere. We got to meet Anmol and his wife Neta. Anmol’s grandfather
was the first pastor in Nepal. They lived on the border in India and for 17
years they prayed for the doors to open for the Gospel in Nepal. In 1950 the
doors opened, and in 1952 they came and started the first church in Nepal. His grandmother is still alive and she’s 101.
We got to meet her. She’d recently fallen and broken her hip, so she’s dying.
[Update: She is home with the Lord as of 4-22-12]. She’s beautiful. She’s one of those people you wish you could communicate with
her and hear her stories because she’s got so much wisdom. She was the first
pastor’s wife in Nepal. She was so frail. Anmol would translate for us, and
he’d lean right down next to her ear and yell. She’d bedridden, so she gets
lonely. Anmol told us she would love it if we came and touched her, so we held
her hand and touched her shoulders. It was a very spiritually filling, precious
time.
| The first pastor's wife in Nepal, age 101. |
| Approximately 35-40 boys meet in there for three hours daily. |
| Street boys learning about Jesus. |
| Teaching some of the boys how to play flute. |
| God is good. All the time. (On the wall in the daycare) |
| Hindus build up a pyre to burn bodies then sweep the ashes into the river. |
| People lay on these planks until they die. |
| Mount Everest is that higher peak. |
Friday, April 20, 2012
Blindfold Worship
"What's this? Why do we have these?" TK asked flipping around a yellow piece of cloth. Everyone in the theater had one, including the band onstage.
I smiled. I've been hanging around this block long enough to know what was in store for us: blindfold worship.
The yellow pieces of cloth were blindfolds to be wrapped around our heads for the next hour as we worshipped the Lord corporately yet individually.
The idea with blindfold worship is that you are free to worship the Lord however you desire. Dancing, standing, kneeling, lying on your face, sitting, spinning in circles... No one would judge you because no one would see you.
I came in late and through the side door, so I didn't get a blindfold. I didn't fret about it because I usually worship with my eyes closed anyway. I did notice with everyone else's eyes closed too, I worshipped more freely.
I signed larger, I danced openly (and awkwardly), I sang in Spanish (ok, blindfolds didn't hide that). By the end of the night, I was on my knees with both hands stretched into the air as I offered myself to the Lord.
It made me wonder what other aspects of worship would look like if we did them while wearing blindfolds.
I don't mean how much soup would we spill if we tried to serve in a soup kitchen while wearing a blindfold.
Rather, what if we served and no one saw? What if we invested in someone without expecting anything in return? What if we encouraged people privately? What if we gave food to a homeless person without telling anyone?
What would the world look like if we worshipped with blindfolds?
What if we worshipped God in an uncontainable, uncontrollable, unseen way?
How would you sing praises to God if no one was listening?
How would you worship if no one was watching?
It doesn't matter if they are or not because worship is for the Lord not the people around you.
I realized the more I danced before the Lord, the more I wanted to dance. It started out as gentle swaying and ended up with me jumping, swinging my arms through the air, and goodness I'm glad no one but the Lord saw me embarrass myself like that.
But it wasn't embarrassing. It was worship. It was private God-Katie time.
And even if they had seen, their opinion shouldn't matter. When you've been accepted, been called a daughter (or son) by the Creator of the universe, why do you need the acceptance of man?
Spend some time with your Father today. Worship Him as if every around you was blindfolded, like no one is watching. Sing loudly and off key. Do not be ashamed of your joyful noise because it's beautiful to the Lord. Let your passion for Him radiate.
If you can do it when everyone else is blindfolded, you'll learn to genuinely, shamelessly worship when people are watching.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
I smiled. I've been hanging around this block long enough to know what was in store for us: blindfold worship.
The yellow pieces of cloth were blindfolds to be wrapped around our heads for the next hour as we worshipped the Lord corporately yet individually.
The idea with blindfold worship is that you are free to worship the Lord however you desire. Dancing, standing, kneeling, lying on your face, sitting, spinning in circles... No one would judge you because no one would see you.
I came in late and through the side door, so I didn't get a blindfold. I didn't fret about it because I usually worship with my eyes closed anyway. I did notice with everyone else's eyes closed too, I worshipped more freely.
I signed larger, I danced openly (and awkwardly), I sang in Spanish (ok, blindfolds didn't hide that). By the end of the night, I was on my knees with both hands stretched into the air as I offered myself to the Lord.
It made me wonder what other aspects of worship would look like if we did them while wearing blindfolds.
I don't mean how much soup would we spill if we tried to serve in a soup kitchen while wearing a blindfold.
Rather, what if we served and no one saw? What if we invested in someone without expecting anything in return? What if we encouraged people privately? What if we gave food to a homeless person without telling anyone?
What would the world look like if we worshipped with blindfolds?
What if we worshipped God in an uncontainable, uncontrollable, unseen way?
How would you sing praises to God if no one was listening?
How would you worship if no one was watching?
It doesn't matter if they are or not because worship is for the Lord not the people around you.
I realized the more I danced before the Lord, the more I wanted to dance. It started out as gentle swaying and ended up with me jumping, swinging my arms through the air, and goodness I'm glad no one but the Lord saw me embarrass myself like that.
But it wasn't embarrassing. It was worship. It was private God-Katie time.
And even if they had seen, their opinion shouldn't matter. When you've been accepted, been called a daughter (or son) by the Creator of the universe, why do you need the acceptance of man?
Spend some time with your Father today. Worship Him as if every around you was blindfolded, like no one is watching. Sing loudly and off key. Do not be ashamed of your joyful noise because it's beautiful to the Lord. Let your passion for Him radiate.
If you can do it when everyone else is blindfolded, you'll learn to genuinely, shamelessly worship when people are watching.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Secret (Ghostwriting Part Four)
Note: This is the fourth and final (planned) post in our ghostwriting series. Sorry they've been so spread out. Be sure to check out the first three posts: Moral, Famous, and Voice. If you've got questions, enjoyed the series, or just want to say hi, feel free to leave it in the comments.
As soon as I hang up the phone accepting a new ghostwriting offer, I'm giddy. I run around the house like a crazy woman; I giggle uncontrollably. You'd have to try really hard to remove the smile from my face.
Like good family and friends, people who see me ask why I'm so excited.
Here's the thing about ghostwriting: I can't tell them. The job of a ghostwriter is to be invisible. That includes not telling people she wrote that book, article, letter, piece.
When my family/friends ask, sometimes I tell them I have a new ghostwriting opportunity. Sometimes I just smile and smile and smile. Sometimes I'm a bad secret-keeper and blurt out my new opportunity. I am so excited I just can't keep it inside of me. Like a small child who purchased a parent a Christmas present, that present will not remain a secret until Christmas no matter how hard the child tries.
In the original ending of the Gospel of Mark, the women leave the empty tomb and don't tell anyone what they saw.
What if the story ended there?
What if they kept the resurrection of Christ a secret?
Imagine how different life would be. For you. For me. Imagine how different history would be.
Yet don't we do that all of the time? If you call yourself a Christian, then inside of you is the secret of the ressurected Christ. That good news should evoke the same emotion in you that ghostwriting does for me (only moreso). Unceasing smiles, uncontrollable laughter, looking so silly that people ask you what's up.
Um, hello, your debt has been paid in blood and you get to call the Creator of the universe "Daddy."
And I get excited over writing in someone else's name.
Through Christ, we get to live in someone else's name. Forever.
If you're ghostwriting for the Lord, you've got to blurt your "secret."
Are you a child-like ghostwriter bursting to tell or are you leaving the tomb in fear?
<>< Katie
As soon as I hang up the phone accepting a new ghostwriting offer, I'm giddy. I run around the house like a crazy woman; I giggle uncontrollably. You'd have to try really hard to remove the smile from my face.
Like good family and friends, people who see me ask why I'm so excited.
Here's the thing about ghostwriting: I can't tell them. The job of a ghostwriter is to be invisible. That includes not telling people she wrote that book, article, letter, piece.
When my family/friends ask, sometimes I tell them I have a new ghostwriting opportunity. Sometimes I just smile and smile and smile. Sometimes I'm a bad secret-keeper and blurt out my new opportunity. I am so excited I just can't keep it inside of me. Like a small child who purchased a parent a Christmas present, that present will not remain a secret until Christmas no matter how hard the child tries.
In the original ending of the Gospel of Mark, the women leave the empty tomb and don't tell anyone what they saw.
What if the story ended there?
What if they kept the resurrection of Christ a secret?
Imagine how different life would be. For you. For me. Imagine how different history would be.
Yet don't we do that all of the time? If you call yourself a Christian, then inside of you is the secret of the ressurected Christ. That good news should evoke the same emotion in you that ghostwriting does for me (only moreso). Unceasing smiles, uncontrollable laughter, looking so silly that people ask you what's up.
Um, hello, your debt has been paid in blood and you get to call the Creator of the universe "Daddy."
And I get excited over writing in someone else's name.
Through Christ, we get to live in someone else's name. Forever.
If you're ghostwriting for the Lord, you've got to blurt your "secret."
Are you a child-like ghostwriter bursting to tell or are you leaving the tomb in fear?
<>< Katie
Labels:
exciting,
FaithVillage,
ghostwriting,
giggle,
joy,
laughter,
Mark,
ressurection,
secret,
smile
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

























