"Never Once" Again

Living in the overseas bubble that I do, I am rarely in the loop of new movies, tv shows, fashion, or music. Granted, I'm not the hippest or trendiest of people even when I'm in America: I don't listen to Top 40 pop radio, I don't read US Weekly, and I can't remember the last time I watched Entertainment Tonight or MTV. But when I live in the US of A, I manage to at least be aware of most things. 

But not here. I came to the realization watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade just how behind the times I have become. Something like 85% of the musical artists and celebrities that were shown, I hadn't even heard of before! Neon Trees?! What in the world is Neon Trees? Anyway, it was another sobering reminder that repatriation is coming up soon (T-minus 60 days) and I will be heading back and trying to fit in to an America where I never particularly felt like I fit before- but now I will be bringing along two years of Latin culture and M life. 

It's honestly something I've worried about in the back of my mind since leaving the states more than a year and a half ago. I remember being a freshman in Paris and being warned of the horrors of reverse culture-shock! Our program director made it sound like this horrible stressful psychological thing and I worried what it would look like for me, only to not have a problem with it at all. I was returning home after a semester abroad, at the same time as all of my friends coming home from college for the summer. We picked up where we would have if I had spent that semester in Gainesville, and I had an internship and a part-time job, and all of my activities, and it was a great summer. America seemed a bit odd and exciting for the first week or so, but aside from people getting sick of stories beginning with "In Paris..." there really were no ill-affects. 

So when I went abroad again for my senior year of college and then came home two days before graduation, I wasn't prepared for the terrible reverse culture-shock that nearly strangled me when I got back to the States. It was completely different. I was gone for longer that time, of course, and then came back to America and went from being a productive hard-working student at an elite school in Paris to an unemployed college graduate living in my childhood bedroom, all before I even overcame the jet-lag. All of my friends were moving on to internships, jobs or grad-school, and I was still trying to figure out what I even wanted to pursue. It was reverse culture-shock mixed with a large dose of what I call life-shock, and it was ugly. 

I remember walking into Panera one day (it was my office when I first moved home because my house still had dial-up internet) trying to stay positive about my hopes for finding a job in my field (this was 2008 and prospects were not great) and seeing a lovely pan au chocolat (which they had gauchely labelled "chocolate pastry") in the pastry window. Ah! I thought, at least I can have a little taste of the Paris I am missing so badly! I took my pastry and coffee and sat down to work. I took one bite...and cried. I literally sat in Panera blinking away tears because that thing was not a pan au chocolat. It might look similar, but it was not the same as my beloved Parisian treat. (Some of you may be familiar with my "I don't eat french pastries outside of France" rule. This -and several other terrible disappointments- is where it comes from!) 

Here's a tip for those of you who have never experienced this before and may be facing similar transitions: if at any point you find yourself crying over a bad pastry (or insert your country's signature food) you *may* be experiencing reverse culture-shock!  For me, that terrible pan au chocolat at Panera was a final sign that reminded me that, like it or not, I was living in America again, and I was not the same person I was when I left. I was a cultural mutant now. Someone who loved barbecue and Dr. Pepper as much as Nutella crepes and Orangina. And it was weird. And it was hard. And, for lack of a better term, it pretty much sucked. It was quite a while before I got to a new normal and was really okay.

Now don't get me wrong, I know God had a purpose in that season of life. I kicked and screamed, and cried over my 50,000th job application, and begged God to open a door to go somewhere other than Daytona. And instead, there I sat for more than 2 years, and for a long time it felt like the hits just kept on coming -until God started to reveal to me more about Himself than ever before. Like Jacob wrestling with the angel, I felt beaten up and exhausted, and I did the only thing that I could do: I held on until the blessing came. In retrospect I am so thankful that God didn't lift His hand when I fought the means by which He was instructing me. I came to appreciate that God needed to break me in certain places in order to shape me more into His image. He brought me to a point where I was seeking Him fervently and crying out to know Him better. And the growth that resulted from that season, I still see impacting my life today. It was not the path I would have chosen, but I would not take back the hard times if it meant also giving up the growth in my relationship with Christ. 

So with that background, probably more than you needed to know, you can kind of understand why the realization that I am going back to the US in 2 months isn't a completely happy one. Call it self-preservational instinct, but most humans don't like to put themselves back in the same situation in which they were previously hurt. If you've been hit in the stomach by a 4-year-old with a baseball bat before, next time you stand farther away from the piñata. Unfortunately, there's no avoiding this one. I have to go back to America, and I have to find a job, and I have to find a place to live, and I have to figure out what life is going to look like now. And I really hope that I don't get clobbered once again. 

Some days I am handling it better than others. I'm thankful for patient friends who have calmly listened to my freak-outs and put up with my stress-induced meltdowns. And I'm even more thankful for them not asking me if I know what I'm going to do when I get home. ;-) The truth is that I feel a bit confused and lost and completely unsure about what's next, and that in turn stresses me out because I'm supposed to figure it out at some point but I don't have any idea of how I'm going to figure it out. So I am daily needing a reminder that no matter how dark the road ahead may appear, no matter what the battle looks like or how incapable I feel... no matter what...I never walk alone. My God is faithful. It was true in 2005, and in 2008, and it'll be true in 2013. It isn't always easy to keep that in perspective, but the Lord, my God, is faithful. And nothing is too hard for Him. He is not constrained by a cruddy economy or my personal limitations. Like Beth Moore says, "The weaknesses of God's children do not strain the strength of God." I've loved this song since I first heard it, but I listened to it for the first time in a while this week and it hit home once again:

"Never Once"

Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we’ve come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground

Seeing just how much You’ve done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Carried by Your constant grace
Held within Your perfect peace
Never once, no, we never walk alone

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise
You are faithful, God, You are faithful
You are faithful, God, You are faithful

The chorus echos my heart's cry right now:  "Scars and struggles on the way, but with joy our hearts can say, yes, our hearts can say- Never once did we ever walk alone, never once did You leave us on our own. You are faithful, God, You are faithful!" He is faithful when I'm swamped with work in Lima, Peru, and He will be faithful when I am trying to figure out life in America again. I will never walk alone. 

Will You Go Out Without Knowing?

I've been thinking a lot about one of my favorite entries in "My Utmost for His Highest" this week, so I thought I'd share:

"He went out, not knowing whither he went." - Hebrews 11:8

"Have you been 'out' in this way? If so, there is no logical statement possible when anyone asks you what you are doing. One of the difficulties in Christian work is this question- 'What do you expect to do?' You do not know what you are going to do; the only thing you know is that God knows what He is doig. Continually revise your attitude towards God and see if it is a going out of everything, trusting in God entirely. It is this attitude that keeps you in perpetual wonder- you do not know what God is going to do next. Each morning you wake it is to be a 'going out,' building in confidence on God. 'Take no thought for your life, ...nor for your body'- take no thought for the things for which you did take thought before you 'went out.'

"Have you been asking God what He is going to do? He will never tell you. God does not tell you what He is going to do; He reveals to you Who He is. Do you believe in a miracle-working God, and will you go out in surrender to Him until you are not surprised at atom at anything He does?

"Suppose God is the God you know Him to be when you are nearest to Him- what an impertinence worry is! Let the attitude of the life be a continual 'going out' in dependence upon God, and your life will have an ineffable charm about it which is a satisfaction to Jesus. You have to learn to go out of convictions, out of creeds, out of experiences, until so far as your faith is concerned, there is nothing between yourself and God."

No matter how many times I've read through this book, I continue to be challenged by Oswald Chamber's writing. My favorite line in this entry (January 2nd) is, "God does not tell you what He is going to do; He reveals to you Who He is." I wrote that on a post-it and tapped it above my desk at home a couple years ago when I was in a difficult season and really struggling with waiting on God and trying to understand His will. I was desperate for God to open doors, reveal His will, show me the purpose of that season and where He was leading. He didn't, not then, anyway. Instead, He showed me Himself. He brought me into a better understanding of Who He is and into a closer fellowship with Him than I had ever known. <--When I reread that sentence, it sounds so simple, and I don't want to give the wrong impression, because it wasn't. Maybe it should have been, but for me it was a struggle. A real battle to get my heart and mind to be content in Christ, a real battle to trust. It was a lonely frustrating season, but I am so thankful for the byproducts of it. I came across a Beth Moore quote during that time that sums it up so perfectly:

"Solitude is not so much the place we find the answers as the place we decide if we're going on, -possibly alone- without them. Many of us will. Why? Because the privilege of wrestling with such a holy and majestic God still beats the numbness and pitiful mediocrity of life otherwise. Sometimes we don't realize how real He is until we've experienced the awesomeness of His answerless presence. He knows that what we crave far more than explanations is the unshakable conviction that He is utterly and supremely God."

I didn't know where God was leading in that difficult period, and as much as I fought it, I eventually learned to praise Him for teaching me to rest in His "answerless presence." I wish that was a lesson that could be learned simply once and for all, but from time to time I still find myself beginning to worry, beginning to question. Wanting to know what the rest of His plan looks like. Starting to panic because I don't have it figured out. So at those times I try to stop and reflect on His faithfulness and remember the peace that comes from simply abiding in Him. This was one of my grandpa's favorite hymns and one of mine too:

"I Know Who Holds Tomorrow"

I don't know about tomorrow;

I just live from day to day.

I don't borrow from its sunshine

For its skies may turn to grey.

I don't worry o'er the future,

For I know what Jesus said.

And today I'll walk beside Him,

For He knows what lies ahead.

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand

But I know Who holds tomorrow

And I know Who holds my hand.

Every step is getting brighter

As the golden stairs I climb;

Every burden's getting lighter,

Every cloud is silver-lined.

There the sun is always shining,

There no tear will dim the eye;

At the ending of the rainbow

Where the mountains touch the sky.

I don't know about tomorrow;

It may bring me poverty.

But the one who feeds the sparrow,

Is the one who stands by me.

And the path that is my portion

May be through the flame or flood;

But His presence goes before me

And I'm covered with His blood.

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand

But I know Who holds tomorrow

And I know Who holds my hand.

Not There Yet

Last weekend we took a mini-vacay to Playa Hermosa on the Pacific Coast. We figured after 6 weeks down here we should probably make it to a beach. I was excited, because, well… I love the beach! I really don’t like being in landlocked places for too long because I start missing the ocean. (And yes, when you grow up 5 minutes from a beach, anything over about an hour drive from the ocean qualifies as “landlocked.”) Also, I thought it would be a nice comforting thing to be back at a beach since it’s one of the things I associate so much with my home in Florida. I was expecting it to make me feel better about being so far away from the places and people that I love, because, hey…maybe I can’t hug my friends but at least I have a beach!

Now, I’m going to admit something here that you may never hear me say again because, when you are as brilliant as I am it doesn’t happen often:

I WAS WRONG.

*Gasp!* I know, I know. Astonishing! I can’t believe it either! The trip to the beach was fun and a nice change of pace, but instead of being a pleasant substitute for Daytona and making one less thing that I had to miss… instead, it just made me incredibly homesick. :-/ I know you’re probably thinking, “So what’s new? You talk about hard days of missing home all the time!” Everyone may not distinguish between the two like I do, but to me there is a big difference between missing something, and being homesick. For the most part, on a daily basis I miss people. It’s the hardest, and the most constant. Occasionally, I miss things. A favorite something will cross my mind and I’ll think “Aw, I miss Publix subs!” or “Man, I really wish I could go to Target right now.” But those are fleeting thoughts that seldom linger. And rarely I miss home, the actual physical location of my house, my church, and my beach. I usually just think of it in fond memories. 

But as I lay on the dark sand of Playa Hermosa, so different from home and yet so familiar, all I could think was “I wish I were in Daytona right now.” Honestly, who goes to a beautiful Costa Rican beach with a backdrop of lush tropical jungle and thinks, “I’d rather be in Daytona”?  In Daytona with the irksome tourists and hotels and often-murky water and red sand that gets glued to your skin and the heat…the sizzling scorching heat? Who would take that trade? You guessed it. ME. It didn’t help that I knew that at that very moment most of my friends were spending a nice day on MY beach at home. It also didn’t help that Playa Hermosa is basically an outpost of American surf culture. Maybe a half mile long and one block wide, the “town” feels like all the Americans came to surf and never left. Signs are in English, hotels and restaurants are run by Americans, everyone takes dollars, and American surfers crowd the waves. Even the hostel we stayed at had a link on its website to my favorite surf shop in my hometown.

Although I know how to surf I don’t consider myself a surfer by any means, but that surf culture is part of my hometown and so very familiar. It was nice to talk to other Americans and work on my tan, but everything there just reminded me of home. I thought about it, wondering if I was really just missing people and projecting it onto a place. I considered: if I could push a button and be in Daytona right now, but none of my friends and family were there, would I do it? Yes, I thought without hesitation. Obviously I’d rather have the people than the place any day of the week, but at that moment, if that was my option, I would have gladly taken it. I missed my pink beach chair, the flat white sand, the red lifeguard stands, the intense sun, and the swimmable water. I missed driving down A1A in my beloved Gerald, sandy and sticky with saltwater, with my sunroof down and my radio blasting. I missed my house, my cluttered bedroom, my bathroom with a BATHTUB. My church, my stores, my familiar streets and favorite places. The sights, the sounds, the smells. I was just simply homesick.

Sunday morning I woke up, grabbed my Bible and went down for some quiet time on the beach. My heart had been feeling restless for some time now, and I was looking forward to some alone time with Jesus by the water, just like I normally do at home when I need some refreshment for my soul. I flipped open the Bible aimlessly and opened to read Luke 9:

The Cost of Following Jesus

 57 As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”

 58 Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” 59 He said to another man, “Follow me.”

   But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”

 60 Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.” 62 Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

Ouch. Talk about getting smacked in the face by the Word of God. Those are some challenging statements there. Most of us have heard them numerous times, but how often do we stop to think what that looks like in our lives? It was a huge conviction to me as I sat there on that beach, missing my loved ones and missing my home. When you leave most everyone and everything precious to you behind, it’s so hard to not spend a great deal of time looking back. But what did that say? “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” I don’t know that there’s anyway to soften the seriousness of that verse, and we shouldn’t try. But I really wish I could. I wish that was one of those “ambiguous” verses with lots of room for interpretation. I want to say, well that’s a conditional command just for that one person. Because, like so many other verses in the Bible, if I hold my life up next to it for comparison, I fall so very short.

I was reminded of David Platt’s discussion of this passage in his book, Radical. (Great book. Read it.)

“[Jesus] was simply and boldly making it clear from the start that if you follow Him, you abandon everything- your needs, your desires, even your family.”

I’d like to say that I read that passage, everything snapped into place in my heart and mind, and I skipped gleefully on without another thought of what I’ve left behind. But although it was a precious and powerful time with Jesus, He is still working this out in me. Later in the week, while I was looking up a quote I once heard, I came across a website with a bunch of excellent Christian quotes. The first one challenged me. The next one slapped me in the face. The third one punched me in the gut. On and on they went. I love a good quote, but I wished I hadn’t read these. Here’s a few of my favorites:

Most people do not want to know the will of God in order to do it. They want to know it in order to consider it.

-Anonymous

Partial obedience is not obedience at all; to single out easy things that do not oppose our lusts, which are not against our reputation, therein some will do more than they need; but our obedience must be universal to all God's commandments, and that because He commands it. Empty relationships are nothing; if we profess ourselves God's servants and do not honor Him by our obedience, we take but an empty title.

-Richard Sibbes

Most of us labor under the delusion that we have every right to our lives; that we have the right to go where we wish, do as we please, live as we choose, and decide our own destiny. We do not. We belong to God. He made us for himself. He chose us in Christ out of love, from before the foundation of the earth to be his own. He has bought us twice over, both through his generous death and also by his amazing resurrection life.

-Phillip Keller

God is God. Because He is God, He is worthy of my trust and obedience. I will find rest nowhere but in His holy will, a will that is unspeakably beyond my largest notions of what He is up to.

-Elisabeth Elliot

It is true that He does sometimes require of us things that to others seem hard. But when the will is once surrendered, the revolutionized life plans become just the plans that are most pleasant, and the things that to others seem hard, are just the things that are easiest and most delightful. Do not let Satan deceive you into being afraid of God's plans for your life.

-(Reuben Archer) R. A. Torrey

The true follower of Christ will not ask, "If I embrace this truth, what will it cost me?" Rather he will say, "This is truth. God help me to walk in it, let come what may!"

-A. W. Tozer

Yep. I got totally owned by some of those. Looking at yourself and realizing how far you are from where you are supposed to be as a follower of Christ…well that’s never fun. Thank Jesus, He’s not finished with me yet! 

P.S. I like mail. A lot. Getting mail pretty much makes my day. So, if you're bored and thinking, "Hmm, what should I do with all this free time?" Well... it's only 98 cents to send a happy note to Costa Rica. Just sayin'. And yes, this was a shameless plug.

(Email me for my mailing address here: lyndseysnewgroove@gmail.com)

Adios and vaya con Dios!

I don’t want to go.

The thought exploded in my mind during an unguarded moment laughing with a friend a couple of weeks before my travel date. I didn’t know where those words came from, but like a blindside corner blitz, suddenly they were there, catching me off-guard and knocking the wind out of me. I had guarded my thoughts for a long time, not letting myself linger on the painful parts of what was coming. But eventually the truth burst out: I didn’t want to go. I surprised even myself, and before the pain from that realization could subside, in swept the guilt.

I’m not supposed to feel like this! I’m a missionary for crying out loud! I’m supposed to be thrilled about having this rarefied privilege to go to far-off lands and tell people about Jesus. It’s not like someone is forcing me, I volunteered for this. I worked hard for this! I danced around in my office like an idiot when I found out I got the job. I’m supposed to be so passionate about sharing the Good News that I count everything else as loss. I’m supposed to want to go!

But the truth was, I didn’t. I didn’t want to go through any of it. I didn’t want to try to shop for everything I might possibly need for two years. I didn’t want to pack my life into two (okay, okay…4) suitcases. I didn’t want to leave behind my wardrobe or…*gasp*…my shoes, my beautiful high-heeled shoes! I didn’t want to pick just a few precious photos and knick-knacks to remind me of home, and trade my stacks of books for a Kindle app. I didn’t want to give up driving and leave Gerald with my mom. I didn’t want to exchange my independence and personal space, my comfy bed and house to go live in a rented room with a Costa Rican family, living by their schedules and customs. I didn’t want the sweet cards and thoughtful gifts from the people who care so much about me. I didn’t want the last meals at my favorite restaurants, or one last plate of mom’s spaghetti. I didn’t want a final Friday Night Bible Study or a “Day o’ Lyndsey” to say goodbye to so many wonderful people. I didn’t want the beautiful prayers of blessing, the accolades and recognition, or people telling me how proud they are of me. I didn’t want to be held up as someone to be admired, after all, if they knew how I felt, they wouldn’t. I didn’t want to leave the beach or drive through the darkened streets of my hometown knowing it won’t be the same when I come back. I didn’t want to cling to the people I love and watch the minutes drain from the clock, knowing what was coming. I didn’t want to hug and kiss my friends and family one last time. I didn’t want to feel my heart breaking or cry with so much anguish I thought I’d never stop. I didn’t want to leave my comfortable home and pleasant life. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to go. Not one little bit.

But I did.

5:00am at DAB with Daddy and Timmy and a farewell Dr. Pepper

And you know what…it hurt! Really, really bad. I wasn’t expecting it to be so painful. I really thought that I could handle it. I’ve left home and moved to foreign cultures for extended periods of time before. Sure it was sad, but I was okay. But I was suddenly very aware that this really is an entirely different bag of cats. Moving to Europe for a school year when all of your friends are still off in college is a different challenge from leaving the USA for 2 years when everyone is in the midst of making critical career and life decisions. And I’m a different person than I was back when I moved to Paris. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age? ;-) Whatever it is, I’ve cried more in the last 4 weeks than I have in the last 4 years, and I think my sudden sensitivity was even more alarming to myself than to the close friends who had to deal with my atypical meltdowns. For someone who usually has their emotions in check, the amount of tears that I have shed in recent days is disconcerting.

I’d like to tell you that nearly two weeks after the big goodbye I have some amazing story to tell you about how being obedient to Christ has completely erased the pain and filled my heart with gladness and enthusiasm and I’ve already seen fruit. But the truth is, it still hurts and it’s still hard. It took me a week before I made it a single day without tears, and that was less because I didn’t feel like crying, and mostly because I was simply too tired. Life in a foreign culture is exhausting.

Before you start really worrying about me and my emotional stability and go calling Member Care to get me some counseling, let me assure you I am fine. The first morning I woke up here, my immediate thought was, “Hey. I live in Costa Rica.” And that thought strikes me again at random times and makes me smile. I love learning about the culture. The mountains and plant life are beautiful, the people pretty friendly, and the food not half bad. I like the Tico (Costa Rican) family that I live with and have settled into a comfortable routine.  School has started and my Spanish is improving rapidly. Perhaps nicest of all is that we’ve been welcomed into the community of other staff from our organization that either live here permanently or who are in longer-term language study. They have gone out of their way to get us settled and show us around and are quickly becoming our family away from home. We’ve gone to church, had some gringo gatherings, and experienced a Tico birthday party complete with piñata and a cake fight, and we have laughed a LOT. I really can’t complain.

Piñata at a welcome fiesta at school. Who doesn't love a good piñata?! (Except maybe Donkey from Shrek...)

At the good times I’m amused that I live here, I enjoy the challenge of learning a new language, and I appreciate the unique culture of this place. Anytime I want, I can walk out my front door of my upscale home and buy a coconut with a straw from the guy in the truck on the street. No joke, there’s a coconut guy. But there are still times when I am lonely and the pain of missing people is raw, when I don’t want to learn a language I managed to avoid for 9 years in school, when I want to point out that I never signed up for Costa Rica. I hate to say it, but there are times when I simply don’t want to be here. In my younger years I would never had admitted any of this in a blog that everyone and their grandmother can read. I like to be seen as the one who “has it all together,” who’s competent and strong, not phased by anything. Admit my weaknesses? What weaknesses? Let’s just talk about how interesting everything is and tell clever anecdotes about not being able to flush toilet paper (for real, you don’t do that here). But I am slowly learning to let my guard down. So instead, I’d rather be transparent and show you as real a picture of me right now as I dare. It’s what I like to call “ugly honest.” So I hope I haven’t horrified any of you with what I’ve shared so far, and I hope you aren’t too disappointed with me if I admit that this hasn’t been a walk in the park and that sometimes I don’t feel like being where I am or doing what I’m doing.

As I said at the beginning of these ramblings, I didn’t really want to leave or do any of the hard things that got me here. But I did them and I’m here because that’s obedience. We don’t wait to obey until we feel like obeying. “Living by faith mean obeying God’s Word in spite of feelings, circumstances or consequences. It means holding on to God’s truth no matter how heavy the burden or how dark the day, knowing that He is working out His perfect plan.” People love to tell you to “follow your heart,” but I think that’s some of the most dangerous advice out there. If I were following my heart right now I’d be on a plane headed back to the US, because at this moment my heart is still in sunny Daytona Beach.

Can you blame me?

In Jeremiah 17:9 the Bible tells us that “the heart is deceitful above all things.” Sometimes we have to obey even when we don’t want to, but when we do, right feelings eventually follow right actions. So I think it’s okay if we don’t always feel like doing that to which we’re called, so long as we go ahead and do it anyway. And we don’t do it because we’ve been promised blessings on the other side, but because we were simply asked to obey. Like I’ve said, being obedient doesn’t protect us from hurt, sometimes it leads us right to it, but how sweet to know that while we walk that road we never walk alone.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” –Psalm 34:18

And so, on the good days I will praise Him for bringing me here, for walking beside me, and for His abundant blessings… and on the bad days I will thank Him for bringing me here, for walking beside me, and for His abundant blessings. And when I am weak and crushed in spirit I can rest in His arms and in the promise of 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I hope that I can learn to say, as Paul did, “When I am weak, then I am strong.”

Leaving church on our first Sunday in Costa Rica.

*Thank you so much for all the outpourings of support and continued prayer during my last days at home and this transition to Costa Rica. It’s a tremendous comfort and blessing to know so many are interceding on my behalf. I mean it when I say, I couldn’t do it without you! Right now would you specifically pray that we will learn the language rapidly, that we will be good stewards of our brief time here in CR, for divine appointments and opportunities to serve, and for the continued health of team relationships. And please let me know how I can pray for you!*

Bring the Rain

Training ended more than a week ago, and my last days in Virginia were a whirlwind of packing, goodbyes, and last minute details. We still managed to carve out some sweet time with friends in the midst of that. All the young short-termers got together for a farewell celebration one evening, a fun time of snacks, silliness, and mustaches.

Yes, you read that right. Mustaches. 

But when the goofy pictures and joking subsided, we came together for a time of praise. We sang songs and lifted up prayers for the places and peoples around the world where we are going. It would have been a precious time under any circumstances, but it was all the more wonderful to me because it was storming. That may not sound especially remarkable given the bipolar nature of Virginia’s weather, and it’s not, so let me preface it with some background.

I love rain. Simple as that. Always have, always will. It’s a really convenient trait when you live in Florida, because lest you be deceived by our tourist-luring moniker, “The Sunshine State” gets a lot lot lot of rain. I really couldn’t tell you why I like the rain so much, but I love to play in it, listen to it, nap through it. I even have an entire playlist on my iPod of songs about rain. But perhaps the reason I like it so much is because it always reminds me of my heavenly Father, His power, His grace, and His faithfulness. One of my favorite hymns is “My Lord is Near Me All the Time”:

In the lightning flash across the sky, His mighty power I see,

And I know if He can reign on high, His light can shine on me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder, and felt it in the rain;

My Lord is near me all the time, my Lord is near me all the time.

When the thunder shakes the mighty hills, and trembles every tree,

Then I know a God so great and strong, can surely harbor me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder, and felt it in the rain;

My Lord is near me all the time, my Lord is near me all the time.

When refreshing showers cool the earth, and sweep across the sea,

Then His rainbow shines within my heart, His nearness comforts me.

I’ve seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder, and felt it in the rain;

My Lord is near me all the time, my Lord is near me all the time.

I could tell countless stories about how storms fill my heart with worship, but that night in Virginia reminded me of one in particular. As we sat there on the floor of the multipurpose room, the rain lashing the windows and providing the percussion to our songs, I closed my eyes and I was back in Haiti sitting on the floor of a house with a group of Americans just outside of Port-au-Prince.  The power and generator were both out and a Haitian storm was blowing down from the mountains with near hurricane ferocity.  We lifted up our voices in the dimness, competing to be heard over the wind and rain, singing song after song as darkness settled and the storm began to abate. We cried out “How Great is our God,” and He answered back with blinding lightning.

“I know that the Lord is great, that our Lord is greater than all gods. The Lord does whatever pleases him, in the heavens and on the earth, in the seas and all their depths. He makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth; he sends lightning with the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses.” –Psalm 135:5-7

With each thunder roll I felt His perfect peace and contentment; in the midst of the storm I was right where I was supposed to be. I was overwhelmed by His faithfulness that night, and I hadn’t even seen the way God would use that time in Haiti to direct me to this new adventure with Him.

Rain fight in Haiti!

“Remember your covenant with us and do not break it. Do any of the worthless idols of the nations bring rain? Do the skies themselves send down showers? No, it is you, O Lord our God. Therefore our hope is in you, for you are the one who does all this.” – Jeremiah 14:21-22

A year later, sitting in Virginia with the rain pouring down, I was once again overcome by His faithfulness. To go into all the little ways God wove things together to bring me to this specific place would take too long, so perhaps I’ll do another post on that some day. But suffice it to say that when I look back over the last year plus I can’t help but see His fingerprints on so many things. My heart was overflowing with thankfulness.

“For the Lord is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.” –Psalm 100:5

It was hard to leave and it is hard to be home. Coming back I am reminded about how much I love my life here. I am surrounded by people who love me and care about me. I have wonderful family and friends. An awesome church. Lazy sundrenched beach days. Barbeque. Chickfila. Friday night Bible study. Life is good. Life is comfortable. Life is easy. And in three weeks that’ll change. The two years that seemed like no big deal are beginning to feel like an eternity. The confidence and resolve that came so easily months ago are beginning to wear thin. Normally unemotional, I now find myself on the verge of tears at least once a day whenever I am reminded that I’m really only here visiting. I want to ask if I’m making the right decision, but I can’t even get the question out. I know I am. And in some ways, knowing that is even harder. I’ve always loved the quote by C.S. Lewis, “We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.” And there’s the rub. Following God doesn’t keep us from pain, sometimes it leads us straight to it. His faithfulness doesn’t always protect us from hurt, but in our hurt He is always faithful. His unfailing love is our comfort (Psalm 119:76). We have His promise that He will not leave us or forsake us. He will carry us through, and comfort us when we hurt. “I, even I, am he who comforts you.” – Isaiah 51:12

When I am weak, He is faithful.

When I hurt, He is faithful.

When I doubt, He is faithful.

When I cry out, He is faithful.

When I am brokenhearted, He is faithful.

He is faithful. Praise Jesus, He is faithful! 

 And so when my strength is gone and my confidence is weak, I can walk on trusting in the faithfulness of my Lord that pours out like rain. You could blame a low pressure system for the week of rain that followed me down from Virginia and kept me from the beach during my first days home, but I prefer to think of it as God reminding me that He is near, and He is faithful. And maybe, He’s helping me get my fill of percipitation before I move to Lima, a coastal desert where it rarely rains. I’m not excited about living in a place without storms, but although I won’t have my physical reminder of God’s faithfulness, I know His fidelity remains the same.

“Where can I go from your Sprit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” –Psalm 139:7-10

*Prayer requests*: Thank you for your prayers and encouragement as I wrap up things in the states. Less than three weeks until Costa Rica! Please lift up Steven, Kattie and baby Evelyn who arrived in Lima today. Too many months until I see them again, but can’t wait to hear about their first days in our new home town.

*Check out the song “You Were There” by Avalon, on the music player at the bottom of the page.* 

Is the Glass Half Full?

Today is *roughly* the halfway point of my time here in Virginia. February 24^th marks one month since I left Florida, and about a month until I return.  It’s hard to believe we only have a few weeks of training left, but at the same time, it has been a loooong month.  Many here have compared it to drinking out of a fire hose, which is a good analogy, if a bit prosaic.  I prefer to think of it as trying to sip out of Niagra falls with a crazy straw: you’re a lot closer to drowning than you are to getting a refreshing drink.

crazy straws = crazy awesome

We have sessions on all sorts of interesting topics taught by experts in their fields, but each one could probably be a semester-long class. We, however, get the information in somewhere between 2 hours and 2 days, depending on the topic.  I really wish I could retain more of what I’m learning because so much of it is valuable. But instead, I usually end up just feeling overwhelmed and mentally fatigued. 

The days seem to pass in one long continuous blur. Right now we begin at 8am with a morning study and worship time with the people in our small groups.  9am our sessions begin and run until noon. We eat lunch in the cafeteria and are back in sessions at 1pm. Depending on the day and topic and what else is on the schedule we finish between 3 and 5pm.  We have quite a bit of “free” time in the evenings, but you can imagine that is often a misnomer. There are a million details of travel arrangements, paperwork, reading assignments, and the like to occupy any time that isn’t pre-scheduled.

Now before you think that we’re enduring some horrible form of mental waterboarding, let me assure you that we do have fun, too.  Some people started a volleyball league, when it’s nice out we can get a game of Ultimate Frisbee going, and there are always people around if you are bored and want to get a game or conversation going.  Getting to know the others and hear their stories and learn about their areas of service is one of my favorite things. I especially love the people in my small group who will all be serving in South America.  I’m not a morning person but getting to start my day out spending time with them makes me not dread getting up so early. (They also have some pretty awesome kids who provide us with a lot of entertainment.)

I make occasional field trips into the local town for necessary errands, but also to grab a Starbucks or something other than cafeteria food for a treat.  They feed us well here, but the buffet style lends itself to overeating and the cooking staff is very um… creative? yes, creative is a good word… at reusing whatever doesn’t get finished off. Plus, they serve dinner at 5pm and my body is not accustomed to the early bird special, so sometimes you just need to escape!

The half way point means that most of the novelty and initial excitement has worn off for many people.  Reality is beginning to hit home, and doubts and questions that were easily brushed off before are now creeping back in, especially with our recent focus on security and persecution.  There are certainly days when I’ve sat there wondering why the organization picked me.  When you stand in the shadow of giants of the faith, hearing of their sacrifices and the great things God accomplished through them, it is easy to feel out of place. Surely I don’t belong here. I’ve done so many things that didn’t honor God. I still have so far to go and so much to learn. There must be someone else who is bolder, holier, more compassionate?

Yet, here I am.

And I know it isn’t a mistake. When I am tempted to question this decision, I remember the faithfulness of the One who brought me here. I look back and see His fingerprints on the circumstances and opportunities that led to this place.  He has led me faithfully and He asks that I follow Him in the same way.

We are tired, stressed, and overwhelmed at the magnitude of the undertaking before us, so it would be easy to get discouraged at this stage.  But when I read Psalm 46:10 the other day I read it from a new perspective. “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” I had always focused on the first part. We hear it quoted all the time and it’s wonderful. The second portion is often overlooked, but I love what it says! “I WILL be exalted among the nations. I WILL be exalted in the earth.” There is no question there. It’s a fact. God said it, so you can consider that signed, sealed, and delivered. He’s not waiting on us to get there. He allows us the privilege of being part of His work, but His glory isn’t dependent on my working and striving. One way or another God will be glorified and exalted among the nations. Isn’t that an awesome promise? We can be still and rest in that assurance, in that peace that comes from confidence in God. 

We may be halfway, but the glass is clearly more than half full. 

My metaphorical glass is filled with real sugar Dr. Pepper.

*And in case you’ve had a long week too and need a pick-me-up, check out this awesome story about a high school football game in Texas. You can't watch it and not smile!

Risky Business

Groundhog Day was last week and apparently Phil has decided it’ll be an early spring.  I don’t think Virginia got the message because it snowed again last night. Not much, just a thin dusting and I bet it’ll be mostly gone by lunch. Normally I’m not all that concerned about when spring is supposed to begin because in Florida it’s really all the same.  But here, in the frozen north, spring can’t come soon enough!  How is Virginia, you ask? Cold. Virginia is cold.  And often wet.  And so far, I’m not impressed.  But Virginia still has 43 days to make it up to me.  We’ll see.

 This was from the last blizzard, and not Virginia, but it made me laugh.

A couple weeks ago was an important anniversary: the 25^th commemoration of the day the world was graced with Della Turner’s presence.  I think she and her awesomeness deserve a shout-out. 

She’s pretty stellar.

  It was also the 25^th anniversary of the Challenger disaster, so as I read the text of Reagan’s speech that day, this portion stood out:

“I know it is hard to understand, but sometimes painful things like this happen. It's all part of the process of exploration and discovery. It's all part of taking a chance and expanding man's horizons. The future doesn't belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave.” 

Most of us will never have the opportunity to go to space.  Most of us will never risk our lives mapping uncharted regions of the planet, or climbing an untouched mountain.  We won’t have a hand in expanding man’s physical horizons. But we will all have the option of expanding our own horizons, of taking a risk.  Yet, when those challenges arise, many of us will walk away. We let the fear of change, potential loss, failure, or even death dissuade us from the venture.  As Reagan explained, when you take risks, sometimes painful things happen.  That’s true.  If you strap yourself to 1.6 million pounds of propellant and try to launch yourself into orbit, there’s a chance you’ll lose your life in the process. But here’s the larger truth: painful things happen. Period. Painful things happen to people living quiet simple lives in suburban USA just the same as they happen to astronauts exploring space…or missionaries taking the Gospel to a closed and hostile country.  No one is immune.  Cancer, car accidents, natural disasters… even terrorist attacks: they can happen any time, anywhere.  Yes there are certain inherent risks to everything we do,  but usually what we allow to create fear and keep us from acting are the perceived risks.

That becomes a problem when it comes to Christianity.  In America we don’t sense a great deal of risk attached to following Christ because it does not necessarily cost us much. We have this idea that God wants to keep us safe and comfortable, but David Platt puts it this way in Radical (Great book. Read it. Now!): 

“We say things such as, ‘The safest place to be is in the center of God’s will.’ We think, if it’s dangerous, God must not be in it. If it’s risky, if it’s unsafe, if it’s costly, it must not be God’s will. But what if these factors are actually the criteria by which we determine something is God’s will? What if we began to look at the design of God as the most dangerous option before us? What if the center of God’s will is in reality the most unsafe place for us to be?”

Mark Batterson hits the nail on the head when he asks, “When did we start believing that God wants to send us to safe places to do easy things?” That’s not what we see modeled in the New Testament. As one of our instructors here in training keeps pointing out, the most normal place for Christians to be in the New Testament is in prison. And in many places around the world that is still the case. Following Christ is risky.  It always has been, it always will be.  And I’d go as far to say that it always should be, because Christianity that costs nothing produces the same. Nothing. And we KNOW that is not God’s will.  Refusing to take risks when God has called you to them means you are actually taking a much greater risk: being disobedient to Christ.  You are also risking missing out on what God is doing and missing out on His blessings. “We all want adventure, faith, miracles, and a deep knowledge of Christ, but you can’t have those things without letting go of safety, security, comfort, and control. You have to choose between safety and bravery. The bottom line is this: God’s will in a fallen world is dangerous. (Batterson)”

So yes, following Christ can be dangerous, but as we’ve already established, being alive is dangerous.  So doesn’t it make sense to go ahead and spend your life risking it all for the cause of the Gospel?

I’m sure I’ll ramble on more on this topic at a later date because it gets me fired up, so let's just call this "Part 1."  I leave you with an entry from one of my favorite books My Utmost for His Highest. (I love me some Oswald Chambers. And check it out, they have it in Spanish!) :

“Supposing God tells you to do something which is an enormous test to your common sense, what are you going to do? Hang back? If you get into the habit of doing a thing in the physical domain, you will do it every time until you break the habit determinedly; and the same is true spiritually. Again and again you will get up to what Jesus Christ wants, and every time you will turn back when it comes to the point, until you abandon resolutely. ‘Yes but- supposing I do obey God in this matter, what about…?’ ‘Yes I will obey God if He will let me use my common sense, but don’t ask me to take a step in the dark.’

            Jesus Christ demands of the man who trusts Him the same reckless sporting spirit that the natural man exhibits. If a man is going to do anything worthwhile, there are times when he has to risk everything on his leap, and in the spiritual domain Jesus Christ demands that you risk everything you hold by common sense and leap into what He says, and immediately you do, you find that what He says fits on as solidly as common sense.

 At the bar of common sense Jesus Christ’s statements may seem mad; but bring them to the bar of faith, and you begin to find with awestruck spirit that they are the words of God. Trust entirely in God, and when He brings you to the venture, see that you take it. We act like pagans in a crisis, only one out of a crowd is daring enough to bank his faith on the character of God.”