Let me introduce you to my 18-year-old self. I was intelligent, witty and a quick thinker. I had been raised to do the right thing in every situation and I would have told you I accomplished that most of the time. When many of my peers were struggling to decide what was right or wrong, I'd already had my mind made up and a formulated debate in my mind waiting for the moment to convince anyone who asked my opinion.
This mindset translated into my faith as well. I thought loving Jesus was all about obeying his commands - doing the right thing - at any cost. In my early twenties, I asked God to show me more of his heart and desires which led me to receiving a lot of words challenging me to do some pretty outlandish things. After a year of following God's commands, I was burned out. Every time I obeyed I felt like I was beaten down further than I could have imagined before, but the bruises just kept coming.
In the years that followed, I started asking God "why" like so many others who've hit rock bottom. How could he tell me to do all these things and then not reward me for my obedience? Had he really told me to them? Did I hear him right? The healing process has been a long one, but I'm recuperating. Recently, I had the strength to ask God those questions again about what is in his heart.
His response came in the form of another command, so to speak. Last week I followed God's prompting, confident that he was going to do something. But nothing tangible came from my obedience. The amazing thing? This time I wasn't discouraged. I was still confident that God was doing something, it simply may not have been what I thought it was at first glance. As I was praying over this situation today, God showed me this beautiful image of a Connect the Dots.
As you're following the numbers, you start to get an idea of what the picture will be. I for one have been guilty of missing a dot because all of a sudden one of the numbers jetted out to the corner of the page from the center cluster; it simply took me off guard because it didn't match what I thought the picture was going to be. All in a split second, I realized that obeying God is like connecting the dots.
When God tells us what is in line with his heart, we need to do only that thing. We should not assume even two more logical steps down that path because the number 29 may not be near 28 and 30. God is asking us to connect one dot at a time, trusting that if we follow the numbers, the picture will look as it should in the end. I want to connect the dots. And I want God to keep giving me the extravagant puzzles that have unexpected dots. But even more, I want to trust him as I connect the dots, free to let go of the path I envisioned I was taking.
Connecting the Dots of His Love.
Always in Love.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Friday, March 3, 2017
My Jesus Misses Your Jesus
Have you ever been in a situation where you felt a tension between you and a friend? A co-worker? A spouse? I know it's a rare thing, but I hear it has happened. Reconciliation has been on my mind a lot recently and tonight I had this insightful image that I believe reveals an incredible truth about unity in the Body of Jesus Christ.
I believe every man and woman in love with Jesus carries His presence within him/her. Jesus is accustomed to experiencing perfect and beautiful unity with the Holy Spirit who lives inside of us. In a sense, he has divided himself among his people and he desires nothing more than to enjoy that unity he created in the beginning. He likes us, so he wants to take us on the adventure of such an incredible experience.
But life is messy. She told me she didn't have room for me in the car, so I refuse to invite her on my next excursion. He said he'd have my back but he didn't even show the night I needed him most. She betrayed my trust and I will never speak to her openly again. It breaks my heart, but this is life, even among those of us who are supposed to intimately know the deepest love to ever exist.
If you truly know that love, I believe this aches your heart, too. Have you ever paused to consider why? Inside of you is Jesus, who desires to be united to himself. The moment you turn away your brother, the Jesus in you aches at the loss of himself in your brother. The adventure has been brought to a sudden halt and it breaks his heart for himself and for both of you. He wanted you to enjoy what was before you!
Jesus loved us so much he gave up the right to his own life on our behalf.
My heart is passionate for unity among the Bride of Christ. I have had this in my heart for many years but it has continued to shape in new light of my own experiences and the pain I see within the Bride.
Recently, I was pondering different facets of conflict and how to pursue unity in various situations. Of course we all know that when we hurt someone we need to apologize. But what about the moment when you recognize you've wronged someone against whom you filed a restraining order? What of the once-friend who told you to stay out of his life? What about the ex-boyfriend you hurt years ago, who is now married with children? How do we navigate pursuing unity in these situations?
Because of my own passion for the issue, I often feel that my heart aches stronger than most when there is disunity. In my pondering of a disunity between me and a brother, I asked Jesus how my heart could be wrenched from hurting my brother so much more than his even stings from the hurt I caused him?
In that moment, Jesus answered my question: "Because I, in you, long so deeply for myself in your brother. You asked to know my heart, and this is it."
I am a near expert at asking those dangerous questions. You know, like the time you ask God for patience and then he gives you one thousand opportunities to practice in a 24-hour period. My dangerous question is often asking God to give me his heart in different situations.
Think about this. If Jesus has made his dwelling in you and in me, but we refuse to talk to one another on account of some offense, Jesus is no longer in unity with himself. The Jesus in me misses - aches for - the Jesus in you. I know life isn't so simple as to live in joyful harmony with anyone you've ever hurt or who has hurt you. But I definitely live with high hopes and I want to do all I can to unite my Jesus with your Jesus.
My prayer is that you want that, too, so we can enjoy the adventure of living in the love Jesus has for himself.
Seeking Love.
Pondering Love.
Always in Love.
I believe every man and woman in love with Jesus carries His presence within him/her. Jesus is accustomed to experiencing perfect and beautiful unity with the Holy Spirit who lives inside of us. In a sense, he has divided himself among his people and he desires nothing more than to enjoy that unity he created in the beginning. He likes us, so he wants to take us on the adventure of such an incredible experience.
But life is messy. She told me she didn't have room for me in the car, so I refuse to invite her on my next excursion. He said he'd have my back but he didn't even show the night I needed him most. She betrayed my trust and I will never speak to her openly again. It breaks my heart, but this is life, even among those of us who are supposed to intimately know the deepest love to ever exist.
If you truly know that love, I believe this aches your heart, too. Have you ever paused to consider why? Inside of you is Jesus, who desires to be united to himself. The moment you turn away your brother, the Jesus in you aches at the loss of himself in your brother. The adventure has been brought to a sudden halt and it breaks his heart for himself and for both of you. He wanted you to enjoy what was before you!
Jesus loved us so much he gave up the right to his own life on our behalf.
My heart is passionate for unity among the Bride of Christ. I have had this in my heart for many years but it has continued to shape in new light of my own experiences and the pain I see within the Bride.
Recently, I was pondering different facets of conflict and how to pursue unity in various situations. Of course we all know that when we hurt someone we need to apologize. But what about the moment when you recognize you've wronged someone against whom you filed a restraining order? What of the once-friend who told you to stay out of his life? What about the ex-boyfriend you hurt years ago, who is now married with children? How do we navigate pursuing unity in these situations?
Because of my own passion for the issue, I often feel that my heart aches stronger than most when there is disunity. In my pondering of a disunity between me and a brother, I asked Jesus how my heart could be wrenched from hurting my brother so much more than his even stings from the hurt I caused him?
In that moment, Jesus answered my question: "Because I, in you, long so deeply for myself in your brother. You asked to know my heart, and this is it."
I am a near expert at asking those dangerous questions. You know, like the time you ask God for patience and then he gives you one thousand opportunities to practice in a 24-hour period. My dangerous question is often asking God to give me his heart in different situations.
Think about this. If Jesus has made his dwelling in you and in me, but we refuse to talk to one another on account of some offense, Jesus is no longer in unity with himself. The Jesus in me misses - aches for - the Jesus in you. I know life isn't so simple as to live in joyful harmony with anyone you've ever hurt or who has hurt you. But I definitely live with high hopes and I want to do all I can to unite my Jesus with your Jesus.
My prayer is that you want that, too, so we can enjoy the adventure of living in the love Jesus has for himself.
Seeking Love.
Pondering Love.
Always in Love.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Heavy
There's this incredible lyricist named Derek Webb. I appreciate him deeply but he isn't for everyone. He challenges traditional thoughts and he writes in raw truth that may be considered offensive to sensitive ears. Truthfully, had I read his lyrics a year before my ears first heard the beautiful sounds and provoking words coming through my Pandora station, I would have shut my computer off faster than you can say "sinner." It was 2011 when I first heard his song "Wedding Dress" - still my favorite of his, lyrically speaking - and I've only continued to grow in appreciation of his lyrical genius.
If you are open to being challenged and provoked in the way of a whip coming through a temple, look him up and soak in the words that the Lord has placed on this man's heart.
Tonight, I found myself looking up his albums online with the intention of buying some, but not all, of his music (I have a history of spending far more money on music than I can currently justify as reasonable). My desire is to buy every one of his albums, but I'm trying to be financially responsible! I am grateful for this era of Spotify and Pandora, but I still like a good ole' fashioned CD.
As I researched, I found far more than I expected to read this evening. I found articles demeaning this man's work, labeling him, as religious people are so fond of doing. I found blogs written in speculation of what some of his lyrics mean. And then I found an interview in which Webb was asked about his series of songs "Lover" in particular. Something he said struck me:
"At the time, I was leaning very heavily into abstract language and I didn't know exactly what it was about." (Interview with Hannah Goodwyn of CBN Entertainment)
You see, for as long as I can remember, I have struggled with the seeming lack of "artsy" within me. My dad and both of his sisters studied graphic design - his sisters are both active designers. My mom is an English teacher by trade - she wrote poetry and even had some published! I, on the other hand, have always excelled at math and science. I studied biomedical engineering most of my undergrad education. So often you hear of artistic kids that struggle to fit within their parent's expectation of life pursuits. This brain child experienced just the opposite; I was considered to have wasted my time studying while my little sister was praised for drawing a turkey on the carpet. With markers (you think I'm kidding, my there is photographic evidence).
I think that's a part of why I've always longed for a touch of artistic creativity. Don't get me wrong. I do consider myself creative, but not with a canvas and paintbrush. I'm creative like MacGyver; give me a problem that needs solved functionally and you will be surprised at the inventive contraption I devise. But when I go to an art show, I lack connection with understanding what's before me. I so wish I could look at a piece and express what it makes me feel. Instead, I begin analyzing - using my mind - to determine what I see and what logical thoughts might be associated with the present elements. My thoughts are often fact-based. I want to know what the artist felt when she was drawing, what she wanted me to see, not spend time trying to figure out how I feel.
When I listen to a song, I want to understand the lyrics.
Tonight, I recognized a beauty in that Derek Webb, as the artist, didn't even know what the words meant that he had put to song over the last many years. Not until they had all been penned and produced did he discover the meaning behind his own lyrics. How I admire those who have learned to embrace such thinking! Feeling? I want to know every allegory present in his song "Heavy." I want to understand what it means to him. But that has never been the purpose. Instead, I should seek to gather the emotion he expresses while preforming the song. And that, I can grasp. This man has wrestled through much and how many things could he say have been "placed so high on the shelf"?
For the first time, I am starting to grasp the beauty of the unknown in art.
Seeking Love.
Pondering Love.
Always in Love.
If you are open to being challenged and provoked in the way of a whip coming through a temple, look him up and soak in the words that the Lord has placed on this man's heart.
Tonight, I found myself looking up his albums online with the intention of buying some, but not all, of his music (I have a history of spending far more money on music than I can currently justify as reasonable). My desire is to buy every one of his albums, but I'm trying to be financially responsible! I am grateful for this era of Spotify and Pandora, but I still like a good ole' fashioned CD.
As I researched, I found far more than I expected to read this evening. I found articles demeaning this man's work, labeling him, as religious people are so fond of doing. I found blogs written in speculation of what some of his lyrics mean. And then I found an interview in which Webb was asked about his series of songs "Lover" in particular. Something he said struck me:
"At the time, I was leaning very heavily into abstract language and I didn't know exactly what it was about." (Interview with Hannah Goodwyn of CBN Entertainment)
You see, for as long as I can remember, I have struggled with the seeming lack of "artsy" within me. My dad and both of his sisters studied graphic design - his sisters are both active designers. My mom is an English teacher by trade - she wrote poetry and even had some published! I, on the other hand, have always excelled at math and science. I studied biomedical engineering most of my undergrad education. So often you hear of artistic kids that struggle to fit within their parent's expectation of life pursuits. This brain child experienced just the opposite; I was considered to have wasted my time studying while my little sister was praised for drawing a turkey on the carpet. With markers (you think I'm kidding, my there is photographic evidence).
I think that's a part of why I've always longed for a touch of artistic creativity. Don't get me wrong. I do consider myself creative, but not with a canvas and paintbrush. I'm creative like MacGyver; give me a problem that needs solved functionally and you will be surprised at the inventive contraption I devise. But when I go to an art show, I lack connection with understanding what's before me. I so wish I could look at a piece and express what it makes me feel. Instead, I begin analyzing - using my mind - to determine what I see and what logical thoughts might be associated with the present elements. My thoughts are often fact-based. I want to know what the artist felt when she was drawing, what she wanted me to see, not spend time trying to figure out how I feel.
When I listen to a song, I want to understand the lyrics.
Tonight, I recognized a beauty in that Derek Webb, as the artist, didn't even know what the words meant that he had put to song over the last many years. Not until they had all been penned and produced did he discover the meaning behind his own lyrics. How I admire those who have learned to embrace such thinking! Feeling? I want to know every allegory present in his song "Heavy." I want to understand what it means to him. But that has never been the purpose. Instead, I should seek to gather the emotion he expresses while preforming the song. And that, I can grasp. This man has wrestled through much and how many things could he say have been "placed so high on the shelf"?
For the first time, I am starting to grasp the beauty of the unknown in art.
Seeking Love.
Pondering Love.
Always in Love.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
La misión
I mentioned before that I went on a "mission" trip, not a mission trip to Nicaragua. To explain every detail of my reasoning would take far too long. After all, it has included 7 years of intentional consideration and the ground work was laid when I was born into my family. My parents were considered missionaries to at-risk urban kids and fundraising a salary was the norm for the first 10 years of my life. Like I said, that is another story for another time.
What is a mission trip? What is a missionary? This word, "mission" is used to described someone who moves to another country in an effort to share the Gospel with a people who have never heard the message of Jesus Christ. It is used to describe a high school youth group traveling to a big city to complete some work projects. It is used to describe a team that journeys to serve at an orphanage for a week. It is used to describe a team that provides medical and dental care that would be otherwise unavailable or impossible to afford. What is a mission trip?
Although my mind is swarming with thoughts about the subject, I haven't arrived at a definition quite yet. The only thing of which I am certain is that I don't like applying this one ambiguous word to so many different situations and experiences. Rather than tell you I went on a mission trip, which may have set just as well in many of your minds, let me tell you what I did and why I went to Nicaragua.
I didn't go to Nicaragua because the Lord pressed it on my heart. I didn't go because I felt overwhelmed with the need for the people of the country to know the Gospel. I didn't go because I had a heart for these people to receive medical and dental care that is beyond their means. I went for me.
Similar to the joy I find in Spanish, I have been interested in medicine and the human body since I was very young. Why? I couldn't tell you - I only know that such is the case. This trip would be combining two of my greatest interests! Even more, my heart breaks when I consider the gap between the wealth in America and the poverty of most other countries in the world but I have never seen it with my own eyes. I wanted to experience first hand what that kind of poverty looks like. Not the kind of poverty where the government can provide my staple needs if I don't make enough money, but the poverty that leaves me with absolutely nothing. Whether I will be living as an American for only a few more years or the rest of my life, I never want to take my privilege for granted.
Finally, I went because I couldn't go in good conscience. I learned many years ago that there are very rare situations in which I have any place to judge what is good, right and wrong without living the experience myself. I have struggled for years with understanding the best way to steward our resources as Americans. I often wonder, could we be doing something better? Is it really worth bringing in American doctors when we could send the money and hire natives for less money (If you're interested in a perspective on the roles of natives and foreigners in "missions", consider reading Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan)? I spent about $1,000 on airfare alone. To hire a native doctor to work with our clinic for 4 days cost $350. Do the math on that. So I decided to live the experience before developing such a formative opinion.
All of my motivation for going on this trip was selfish. Sure, we can stretch the term to say that I was on a mission, but to equate my trip with the men and women who have laid down their lives for the sake of sharing the love of Jesus Christ is preposterous to me. I went to Nicaragua for a cultural experience.
Please do not hear me say that this was the heart and motivation of all my team members. I am sharing about me and myself alone.
Let me step aside for just a moment to clarify one thing: We absolutely CANNOT create a blanket statement to say that "mission" trips must be accomplished with the greatest investment in stewardship. As an individual, it is your responsibility to be obedient to Jesus Christ. If He calls you to do something that does not appear to be a good stewardship of money and resources, obey. If you have concerns about the stewardship someone else is or is not displaying, open the conversation if you can do so in love and care for his/her heart. But remember that the Holy Spirit does not press the same convictions on us all. For if He did, we could never reach all the different people of many different lifestyles in our world. You alone are responsible to Jesus Christ for your conscience and acts of obedience. It was Jesus who defended His daughter's use of an expensive perfume for no other purpose than to pour it out on His feet (Matthew 26:6-13).
I told God I wanted to go. He knows my heart. I wasn't deceitful about it, I laid it all in front of Him. I was going for selfish reasons and I asked Him to tell me "no" if it would not be good for me to go. I prayed for a week seeking the Lord. He did not tell me "yes," but neither did He say "no." It's as though this time, God was showing His love for me. Not focused on the people I would be serving, but tenderly saying "Jessica, I know how you long for Latin America. It was I who let that grow in you years ago and because I love you, it brings me such joy to see you delight in this aspect of who you are - who I have made you to be. Enjoy this beautiful blessing from me and be reminded that I love you and want joy for you."
What is a mission trip? What is a missionary? This word, "mission" is used to described someone who moves to another country in an effort to share the Gospel with a people who have never heard the message of Jesus Christ. It is used to describe a high school youth group traveling to a big city to complete some work projects. It is used to describe a team that journeys to serve at an orphanage for a week. It is used to describe a team that provides medical and dental care that would be otherwise unavailable or impossible to afford. What is a mission trip?
Although my mind is swarming with thoughts about the subject, I haven't arrived at a definition quite yet. The only thing of which I am certain is that I don't like applying this one ambiguous word to so many different situations and experiences. Rather than tell you I went on a mission trip, which may have set just as well in many of your minds, let me tell you what I did and why I went to Nicaragua.
I didn't go to Nicaragua because the Lord pressed it on my heart. I didn't go because I felt overwhelmed with the need for the people of the country to know the Gospel. I didn't go because I had a heart for these people to receive medical and dental care that is beyond their means. I went for me.
Similar to the joy I find in Spanish, I have been interested in medicine and the human body since I was very young. Why? I couldn't tell you - I only know that such is the case. This trip would be combining two of my greatest interests! Even more, my heart breaks when I consider the gap between the wealth in America and the poverty of most other countries in the world but I have never seen it with my own eyes. I wanted to experience first hand what that kind of poverty looks like. Not the kind of poverty where the government can provide my staple needs if I don't make enough money, but the poverty that leaves me with absolutely nothing. Whether I will be living as an American for only a few more years or the rest of my life, I never want to take my privilege for granted.
Finally, I went because I couldn't go in good conscience. I learned many years ago that there are very rare situations in which I have any place to judge what is good, right and wrong without living the experience myself. I have struggled for years with understanding the best way to steward our resources as Americans. I often wonder, could we be doing something better? Is it really worth bringing in American doctors when we could send the money and hire natives for less money (If you're interested in a perspective on the roles of natives and foreigners in "missions", consider reading Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan)? I spent about $1,000 on airfare alone. To hire a native doctor to work with our clinic for 4 days cost $350. Do the math on that. So I decided to live the experience before developing such a formative opinion.
All of my motivation for going on this trip was selfish. Sure, we can stretch the term to say that I was on a mission, but to equate my trip with the men and women who have laid down their lives for the sake of sharing the love of Jesus Christ is preposterous to me. I went to Nicaragua for a cultural experience.
Please do not hear me say that this was the heart and motivation of all my team members. I am sharing about me and myself alone.
Let me step aside for just a moment to clarify one thing: We absolutely CANNOT create a blanket statement to say that "mission" trips must be accomplished with the greatest investment in stewardship. As an individual, it is your responsibility to be obedient to Jesus Christ. If He calls you to do something that does not appear to be a good stewardship of money and resources, obey. If you have concerns about the stewardship someone else is or is not displaying, open the conversation if you can do so in love and care for his/her heart. But remember that the Holy Spirit does not press the same convictions on us all. For if He did, we could never reach all the different people of many different lifestyles in our world. You alone are responsible to Jesus Christ for your conscience and acts of obedience. It was Jesus who defended His daughter's use of an expensive perfume for no other purpose than to pour it out on His feet (Matthew 26:6-13).
I told God I wanted to go. He knows my heart. I wasn't deceitful about it, I laid it all in front of Him. I was going for selfish reasons and I asked Him to tell me "no" if it would not be good for me to go. I prayed for a week seeking the Lord. He did not tell me "yes," but neither did He say "no." It's as though this time, God was showing His love for me. Not focused on the people I would be serving, but tenderly saying "Jessica, I know how you long for Latin America. It was I who let that grow in you years ago and because I love you, it brings me such joy to see you delight in this aspect of who you are - who I have made you to be. Enjoy this beautiful blessing from me and be reminded that I love you and want joy for you."
Manna del Cielo
The week leading up to the Nicaragua trip had
been crazy. I’d not yet gone to bed before sunrise the day I began my travels!
As I mentioned before, the stress never hit. And although I wasn't overly
excited about the adventure ahead, I had a simple peace on Friday as I made my
way to meet Fern before driving to Omaha. Her lovely sister blessed us with a
bed to sleep on, delicious snacks and a fun international gathering the night
before our flight! My heart was full and I was soaking it in as much as I could
before what I anticipated to be a very heart wrenching trip.
Saturday morning, we headed for the airport and
the one thing I remember from that short jaunt was Fern's comment: "I feel
like I'm on my way to a family reunion!" It wasn't too long before we
entered the airport lobby and noticed a sea of green t-shirts. Immediately,
Fern's face lit as she embraced one foreign face after another. It was
wonderful to see her joy, but I was still skeptical.
The first face I met had the name Micah. He told
me he liked my backpack, and that brought a smile to my face. I'd had to borrow
one from my dad because Fern put the fear of lost luggage into me - I packed
all my necessities on my carry-on backpack! Turns out Micah had the same one,
it just looked a little less...plump ;)
On my way to check my suitcase, I met the next couple
of memorable faces. They were lovely-looking young ladies with an extra hop in
their step. High schoolers, I decided. Their elation would have been contagious
were it not for my sober expectation that this would be a hard week ahead of
me. "Aren't you just so excited?" one of them asked exuberantly after
learning that it was my first time on the trip. These young girls didn't need
to hear all of my sobering thoughts. Instead I shared the one thing which I
looked forward to in the week to come. "I am really looking forward to
using my Spanish with native speakers."
Sarah and Mallory, the names I'd decided to
remember, all but leaped into the air upon learning that I speak Spanish! They
said they couldn't wait to learn a lot from me that week, and I immediately
felt nervous of being unable to meet their expectations. "I
am proficient " I explained to them, "but certainly not
fluent." The conversation faded into the mix of the stories and exchanges
between the many who were reuniting since their last trip of the same.
We flew from Omaha to Houston where we had a
6 hour layover. Fern and I, being raised by rather resourceful parents, packed
our own meals for the day to avoid the overpriced food of the airport. I had
brought some bananas which we enjoyed with our lunch and not too long
after, a dark woman holding a young girl that couldn't have been one year old
motioned to us asking for a banana for her small child. I was surprised by the
direct gesture, but was glad to share my overabundance of ripe bananas
that needed used before leaving the country!
Fern and I continued to admire the small child as
the hours passed, smiling at mom, but maintaining a respectful distance.
It wasn't until about 4 in the afternoon that the poor sweetheart
became unappeasable, drawing the attention of many in the airport. I had
another banana and decided it was time to make the offer. The mother welcomed
the food for her daughter and proceeded to explain that the poor duo had been
at the airport since 5:00 that morning and their next flight didn't leave until
8:00 PM. I continued conversing with the mother and learned one of the most
beautiful stories of choosing a child's name.
Manna. Pronounced just like the bread which was
provided to the Israelites for 40 years while they were in the dessert (Exodus
16). This beautiful woman had desired to be a mother but been unable to
conceive for 5 years before this precious little girl was born. She was to her
mother like the Manna for the Israelites – an awaited blessing from the Lord. I
enjoyed my time spent with this precious child and her mother, but it soon came
time to board the plane for Managua.
On the flight, I was privileged to sit across the
aisle from one of our team physicians, Tim. We chatted for a while getting to
know one another and it was in that conversation that I shared about this most
irritating problem I have of becoming faint at the sight of blood. The one
place I would need to steer clear of during the week was the dental clinic –
all they do is pull teeth all day. Although the conversation was relatively
short, it was rather powerful. Tim had shared with me that he had worked with a
nurse who had the same problem when she started – but she got over it.
For years, I’ve thought of what a satisfaction it
might be to study medicine. And for years, I never seriously considered medical
school because I simply can’t handle blood. But Tim had a way of eliminating
that argument and in such a brief moment, I was confronted with an underlying
truth I’d managed to ignore for years: my greatest fear in attending medical
school is graduating. Graduation, which then leads to becoming a doctor and
translates to the responsibility of holding lives in my hands.
I fear failure.
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love
casts our fear…” – 1 John 4:18
Day one, and I was already reconsidering my life
plan. There are several other factors here and I’m not applying to med school
ASAP, but I sure had a lot on my mind for the next 2.5 hours on that flight.
Stewardship is very important to me and I need to consider whether I am
stewarding my strengths, gifts and talents as well as I try to steward my
monetary possessions.
My emotions could not have been more grateful for
our landing in Managua – finally something to stop all of this introspective
thinking! As I got off the plane, I could smell Latin America – it reminded me
of Chile 3 years before – and I felt like I was home in this land which I’d
never visited. I had a few chuckles before actually leaving the airport:
*Fern almost accidentally smuggled an American
apple into Nicaragua.
*The lady scanning bags spoke only one word of
English, “check.” Of course that meant I needed to have my suitcase
hand-inspected! What else could she have meant? It’s the white face – it
practically screams “No Hahbloh es-pan-ole.”
*The aduana hand-checked my suitcase! Do you
remember me saying that I only put a few things in there? I had blankets,
sheets, eye glasses and a sweatshirt. And they needed to inspect my bag. Never
mind the young gentleman behind me who packed 3 scissors!
After verifying that my sheets were no threat to
Nicaragua, I proceeded outside where we waited for our bus. What a joy it was
to hear Spanish around me! My first true sense of feeling at home came upon
listening to a couple of the young’uns asking a Nicaraguan with us if he was
with our organization. “I speak little English,” he responded. These dear ones
proceeded to do what any considerate person would have done in the States: ask slower.
Unfortunately, the poor lad still only knew as many words of English as he did
the first time they asked the question. In order to bridge the communication
gap, I posed the questions again, but this time in Spanish. And as those words
left my mouth, I could feel my heart come to life. There is something different
about speaking Spanish on native soil rather than with my feet planted on
American ground. It was a 45-minute bus ride before we reached the mission
house where we were staying for the night. We arrived near 11:00 PM to a warm
meal cooked by dear Nicaraguan women before showering and heading to bed for
the night.
I loved looking out the windows and seeing
Managua in all of its raw and glorious splendor as we drove to the mission
house that night. Many people – many Americans – would look upon the city and
be distracted by how dirty it is and seemingly unkempt. And while I can share
in the sentiment to a degree, it simply feels like Latin America to me. It is
that atmosphere that causes my heart to feel content and grateful for the
cultures the Lord has spread across this earth.
I didn’t recognize it right in that moment, but
I, too, was waiting for manna. To this point in my life, God has given me only
small doses of immersion in the Spanish language and Latin American culture.
It’s as though He never gives me an abundance, but neither does He let me go
too long without tasting the sweet language on my tongue. My heart was ready
for another serving of Latin America and I was about to wake up to another
morning of manna on the ground.
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Todavía en Amor
Siempre en Amor. Always in Love.
Always living in love. Always seeking love. Always choosing love. Always motivated by love. And always - absolutely always - still in love with Latin America.
The Spanish language captured my heart at a young age. I can't explain it; I wasn't following in the steps of anyone I knew, I didn't even know Latin America existed - I simply fell in love. It's funny how we have no control over the longings of our heart - we can only control how we respond to the longings. I still remember the day almost 6 years ago when the Lord pressed on my heart the need to give up my study of Spanish - it ached deeply. At the time, I had no idea whether I was giving up Spanish forever or only for a season, but the longer I was separated the more I felt like it would be forever.
Three years ago, I went to study in Chile for a summer. I had a beautiful but also very difficult experience. The hardest part was living without any form of community invested in knowing Jesus Christ while I was there. As much as my heart yearns for Latin America, I made a decision in 2013 that I would not leave again without someone to go with me. It was terribly unhealthy for me to be without people seeking after knowing Jesus and my heart is still mending from that season. I am relearning that God loves me and truly desires to bless me. Last week, God lavished me with the joy I've been fighting to remember. I went to Nicaragua for a one week "mission" trip (more on that later) and it was the greatest experience I have had outside of the country by far.
For those who've inquired, I am picking up my blog once again to share about my time in Nicaragua. It would seem that if you want me to start writing more regularly, you should be praying that God sends me to Latin America more often ;) I will be writing in installments over the next days or weeks. It depends not only on my schedule but also on how much my heart can take each day, for I cannot express how intertwined my heart is with Latin America.
To start, let me share with you how I came to be in Nicaragua.
I have a lovely friend, Fern, whom I met while attending the University of Iowa. She is one of the closest friends I made during my college years and I am fortunate enough to have her in my life, still. Back in October, Fern mentioned that I should go with her on a trip to Nicaragua she was connected to through her hometown. I immediately lit up at the thought of being in Latin America! I checked the dates with my boss to find that we had a required work conference that same week in the Spring. Now, because it was a "mission" trip, he was willing to excuse my absence, but I was left with some decisions to make.
Currently, my job is one that is not my passion. I took the job as a way to serve for a season but my time is coming to a close at the end of this July. With that in mind, I was weighing the Nicaragua trip against my responsibilities and also trying to be invested where I'm at. After several weeks of soul searching, I decided not to go. I would only be a Program Director for about 8 more months, so I would give my time to this position and responsibility. Maybe there would be another opportunity in the future.
I was a bit disappointed, but to be honest, I was also somewhat relieved. The thought of leaving the country again terrified me. Not because of any cultural or language barriers, not because I might be uncomfortably dirty, have to eat food I didn't like or be exposed to all kinds of diseases we Americans don't experience. Instead, the single fear I had was related to people. I didn't want to go on another trip with Americans more interested in a paid vacation than in knowing and caring for the people around them. Even more, I didn't want to create a possibility for even the appearance that God might abandon me without community in another country once again. Sure, Fern was planning to go, but we all know life happens - that wasn't a guarantee.
We are now in the middle of January and my life is crazy busy with all of the winter retreats happening at camp. On a Thursday at a staff meeting, my co-workers recognize that our required work conference this year lands on the same week as their kids' Spring Break. In about a 15-minute turn around, not only does my boss decide that the conference will not be required this year, but it hardly seems that anyone will even think of going! You better believe I whipped out my phone and texted Fern as soon as that meeting was over.
There were fortunately still spots available but I had to move fast because the team leader was intending to buy plane tickets within a week. I didn't know a lot of information before I signed up and I still didn't know a lot when I got on the plane. But even the journey was a blessing. It was good for my heart to choose the responsible decision to attend my work conference. Yet in His Goodness, the Lord blessed me with the opportunity to go. I was excited and terrified, not knowing what to expect of this next adventure out of the country.
Flying and preparing to fly is one of my least favorite components of travel. I tend to get stressed trying to obey all of the regulations and remember if I have everything I need, but this time around, the stress never really hit. That in itself was a blessing that seemed to pave a way for the beautiful week ahead.
It's this undesirable talent I have to control my emotions and protect my heart. Although I was grateful that I would be leaving the country with a friend for the first time - one where they speak Spanish - I started the week with the mentality that I probably wouldn't want to join the team the following year. I was prepared for the trip to be difficult. I wouldn't know much, probably wouldn't agree with a whole lot, and most likely would be doing everything I could to keep distance between myself and the other team members. At least I had Fern. And a love for Latin America that can never be quenched.
Siempre en Amor...
Always living in love. Always seeking love. Always choosing love. Always motivated by love. And always - absolutely always - still in love with Latin America.
The Spanish language captured my heart at a young age. I can't explain it; I wasn't following in the steps of anyone I knew, I didn't even know Latin America existed - I simply fell in love. It's funny how we have no control over the longings of our heart - we can only control how we respond to the longings. I still remember the day almost 6 years ago when the Lord pressed on my heart the need to give up my study of Spanish - it ached deeply. At the time, I had no idea whether I was giving up Spanish forever or only for a season, but the longer I was separated the more I felt like it would be forever.
Three years ago, I went to study in Chile for a summer. I had a beautiful but also very difficult experience. The hardest part was living without any form of community invested in knowing Jesus Christ while I was there. As much as my heart yearns for Latin America, I made a decision in 2013 that I would not leave again without someone to go with me. It was terribly unhealthy for me to be without people seeking after knowing Jesus and my heart is still mending from that season. I am relearning that God loves me and truly desires to bless me. Last week, God lavished me with the joy I've been fighting to remember. I went to Nicaragua for a one week "mission" trip (more on that later) and it was the greatest experience I have had outside of the country by far.
For those who've inquired, I am picking up my blog once again to share about my time in Nicaragua. It would seem that if you want me to start writing more regularly, you should be praying that God sends me to Latin America more often ;) I will be writing in installments over the next days or weeks. It depends not only on my schedule but also on how much my heart can take each day, for I cannot express how intertwined my heart is with Latin America.
To start, let me share with you how I came to be in Nicaragua.
I have a lovely friend, Fern, whom I met while attending the University of Iowa. She is one of the closest friends I made during my college years and I am fortunate enough to have her in my life, still. Back in October, Fern mentioned that I should go with her on a trip to Nicaragua she was connected to through her hometown. I immediately lit up at the thought of being in Latin America! I checked the dates with my boss to find that we had a required work conference that same week in the Spring. Now, because it was a "mission" trip, he was willing to excuse my absence, but I was left with some decisions to make.
Currently, my job is one that is not my passion. I took the job as a way to serve for a season but my time is coming to a close at the end of this July. With that in mind, I was weighing the Nicaragua trip against my responsibilities and also trying to be invested where I'm at. After several weeks of soul searching, I decided not to go. I would only be a Program Director for about 8 more months, so I would give my time to this position and responsibility. Maybe there would be another opportunity in the future.
I was a bit disappointed, but to be honest, I was also somewhat relieved. The thought of leaving the country again terrified me. Not because of any cultural or language barriers, not because I might be uncomfortably dirty, have to eat food I didn't like or be exposed to all kinds of diseases we Americans don't experience. Instead, the single fear I had was related to people. I didn't want to go on another trip with Americans more interested in a paid vacation than in knowing and caring for the people around them. Even more, I didn't want to create a possibility for even the appearance that God might abandon me without community in another country once again. Sure, Fern was planning to go, but we all know life happens - that wasn't a guarantee.
We are now in the middle of January and my life is crazy busy with all of the winter retreats happening at camp. On a Thursday at a staff meeting, my co-workers recognize that our required work conference this year lands on the same week as their kids' Spring Break. In about a 15-minute turn around, not only does my boss decide that the conference will not be required this year, but it hardly seems that anyone will even think of going! You better believe I whipped out my phone and texted Fern as soon as that meeting was over.
There were fortunately still spots available but I had to move fast because the team leader was intending to buy plane tickets within a week. I didn't know a lot of information before I signed up and I still didn't know a lot when I got on the plane. But even the journey was a blessing. It was good for my heart to choose the responsible decision to attend my work conference. Yet in His Goodness, the Lord blessed me with the opportunity to go. I was excited and terrified, not knowing what to expect of this next adventure out of the country.
Flying and preparing to fly is one of my least favorite components of travel. I tend to get stressed trying to obey all of the regulations and remember if I have everything I need, but this time around, the stress never really hit. That in itself was a blessing that seemed to pave a way for the beautiful week ahead.
It's this undesirable talent I have to control my emotions and protect my heart. Although I was grateful that I would be leaving the country with a friend for the first time - one where they speak Spanish - I started the week with the mentality that I probably wouldn't want to join the team the following year. I was prepared for the trip to be difficult. I wouldn't know much, probably wouldn't agree with a whole lot, and most likely would be doing everything I could to keep distance between myself and the other team members. At least I had Fern. And a love for Latin America that can never be quenched.
Siempre en Amor...
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Apocolypsis (Apocalypse)
I've been starting to wonder if the true apocalypse has hit Chile. This last week I didn't have classes in la UTA because most of the group traveled to Machu Picchu. I had planned on working in some elementary English classes in the area but all elementary through high school courses were shut down a week early for winter break as a result of an influenza outbreak in the North of Chile. Okay, so I just had to change my plans around a bit and volunteer at la UTA instead since the universities were still having classes!
Then I noticed people starting to get a little nervous around here because we had three temblors within five days, each increasing in intensity. Apparently this part of Chile hasn't suffered a real earthquake in about 10 years, so many people are convinced it's coming soon. For me, these are kinda exciting because they're something new! I don't want to see destruction by any means, but I've enjoyed the sensation of the earth moving beneath my feet!
And then things really started to get interesting when la UTA decided to close down halfway through this week until the beginning of August as a preventative measure! For most of the Chilean students, this is exciting news because they have avoided a slew of finals and such unpleasantry. Not quite so for us Americans! We need to finish our classes in order to earn the credits we came to achieve, so the professors are working hard to figure out what we're going to do since we can't meet in la UTA. Should be interesting to see their creativity! And I will be glad to have quite the stories when I come back to the States =)
Speaking of the States... we had somewhat of a birthday celebration about a week back! It was a pretty fun time; several Chileans sang different songs in English and then the American ladies got up on stage to teach some typical dances! Ya know... Cotton Eyed Joe, The Wobble, Cupid Shuffle... that kind of fun stuff! It was truly a great celebration though it was clear we were not in the U.S. For example: we had hot dogs for sale, but they were consumed with Mayonnaise (a typical Chilean dressing for nearly everything) rather than ketchup and mustard. They also had cups of yogurt treat dealios - which were necessary for me to try, of course - but I have never seen such a mix in the US! These concoctions had yogurt as a base with frosted flakes, bananas, apples, whipped cream and sprinkles on top! Seriously, if you've had this before, and not just because you were running out of food in the cabinets, you should tell me because I am stinkin' curious!
In the act of trying to share bits and pieces of America, I thought it would be a good idea to cook pancakes for my family! Now, I'm not such a fan of pancakes, but I was told that Chileans don't have pancakes so it's something exciting for them! Last week I attempted making these for my family and I wish I'd have thought to take a picture of the kitchen while I was in the process! I made the biggest mess and it was nearly a catastrophe! I had to get creative because the cooking supplies are limited and I was also cooking on a gas stove. After all of this, my mom said to me - in Spanish - "Next time I will have to show you how I prepare pancakes without making such a mess!"
Remember how I said they don't eat pancakes here? Welp, I'm still trying to figure out that misunderstanding! If I had only known! Haha I spose I can at least say that I had the experience =) I'm not sure how I feel about trying to cook the brownies...
Although I gave up cooking during my "free week," I kept incredibly busy with other activities! I organized several English conversation hours so that Chileans could have a chance to practice English, I gave a few presentations over Iowa in University English classes and I even helped my primo, Rubén, prepare for his own presentation in an English class! Later in the week, I also had a chance to meet with one of my professors who is a descendant of the native people. It was a beautiful experience to hear about her life and how she has become who she is today. Then to finish out, I volunteered with a group in Chile that provides service for people with disabilities. I was with a group of 4 Chileans and we spent the day building hand railings for staircases which will be installed in particular homes in the area. Strange as it may seem, I'm ready for classes to "start up" again so I can have a chance to relax! But I still enjoyed my week and learned more about Chileans =)
Just to name a couple:
1. Believe it or not, in this country with an abundance of olives, pure olive oil is incredibly more expensive than in the States! I haven't yet figured that one out.
2. It seems like a fairly routine thing for students in other countries to learn quite a bit about the United States in school. What floors me is the realization that I hardly know much at all about any other countries.
3. In classes here, when students are laughing, the professor always asks what's so funny and the students are expected to share with the class! If not, it's pretty well considered rude on the behalf of the students - much reversed from what I've experienced in the States!
Here's to waiting for the new adventures and learning lessons around the turn of the weekend!
Then I noticed people starting to get a little nervous around here because we had three temblors within five days, each increasing in intensity. Apparently this part of Chile hasn't suffered a real earthquake in about 10 years, so many people are convinced it's coming soon. For me, these are kinda exciting because they're something new! I don't want to see destruction by any means, but I've enjoyed the sensation of the earth moving beneath my feet!
And then things really started to get interesting when la UTA decided to close down halfway through this week until the beginning of August as a preventative measure! For most of the Chilean students, this is exciting news because they have avoided a slew of finals and such unpleasantry. Not quite so for us Americans! We need to finish our classes in order to earn the credits we came to achieve, so the professors are working hard to figure out what we're going to do since we can't meet in la UTA. Should be interesting to see their creativity! And I will be glad to have quite the stories when I come back to the States =)
Speaking of the States... we had somewhat of a birthday celebration about a week back! It was a pretty fun time; several Chileans sang different songs in English and then the American ladies got up on stage to teach some typical dances! Ya know... Cotton Eyed Joe, The Wobble, Cupid Shuffle... that kind of fun stuff! It was truly a great celebration though it was clear we were not in the U.S. For example: we had hot dogs for sale, but they were consumed with Mayonnaise (a typical Chilean dressing for nearly everything) rather than ketchup and mustard. They also had cups of yogurt treat dealios - which were necessary for me to try, of course - but I have never seen such a mix in the US! These concoctions had yogurt as a base with frosted flakes, bananas, apples, whipped cream and sprinkles on top! Seriously, if you've had this before, and not just because you were running out of food in the cabinets, you should tell me because I am stinkin' curious!
 |
| I found a CHILEAN named Jessica! That is a first! |
 |
| Mt. Molisonyssica |
 |
| Gettin' some groove on... |
In the act of trying to share bits and pieces of America, I thought it would be a good idea to cook pancakes for my family! Now, I'm not such a fan of pancakes, but I was told that Chileans don't have pancakes so it's something exciting for them! Last week I attempted making these for my family and I wish I'd have thought to take a picture of the kitchen while I was in the process! I made the biggest mess and it was nearly a catastrophe! I had to get creative because the cooking supplies are limited and I was also cooking on a gas stove. After all of this, my mom said to me - in Spanish - "Next time I will have to show you how I prepare pancakes without making such a mess!"
Remember how I said they don't eat pancakes here? Welp, I'm still trying to figure out that misunderstanding! If I had only known! Haha I spose I can at least say that I had the experience =) I'm not sure how I feel about trying to cook the brownies...
Although I gave up cooking during my "free week," I kept incredibly busy with other activities! I organized several English conversation hours so that Chileans could have a chance to practice English, I gave a few presentations over Iowa in University English classes and I even helped my primo, Rubén, prepare for his own presentation in an English class! Later in the week, I also had a chance to meet with one of my professors who is a descendant of the native people. It was a beautiful experience to hear about her life and how she has become who she is today. Then to finish out, I volunteered with a group in Chile that provides service for people with disabilities. I was with a group of 4 Chileans and we spent the day building hand railings for staircases which will be installed in particular homes in the area. Strange as it may seem, I'm ready for classes to "start up" again so I can have a chance to relax! But I still enjoyed my week and learned more about Chileans =)
Just to name a couple:
1. Believe it or not, in this country with an abundance of olives, pure olive oil is incredibly more expensive than in the States! I haven't yet figured that one out.
2. It seems like a fairly routine thing for students in other countries to learn quite a bit about the United States in school. What floors me is the realization that I hardly know much at all about any other countries.
3. In classes here, when students are laughing, the professor always asks what's so funny and the students are expected to share with the class! If not, it's pretty well considered rude on the behalf of the students - much reversed from what I've experienced in the States!
Here's to waiting for the new adventures and learning lessons around the turn of the weekend!
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