The Least of These

"Again this Christmas babies will be born in ramshackle homes. Herod will not try to kill them, but their drinking water will. Again Jesus will turn our hearts to children. We who still hear angels will journey to see Christ in the least of these. Our camels traded for drill rigs, we will bear the gift of life: clean drinking water, offered in Jesus’ name. Mothers will treasure these things in their hearts. This is full worship."

- Living Water International's Advent Conspiracy

Beautiful paragraph. Since I'm not building a well, I'm trying to figure out what full worship looks like for me this season and always. Who are my "least of these"? I can always give money, but how can I give of myself? This is what I am pondering. Right towards the end of my time in Austin, I began talking with homeless people more and seeking them out. Not necessarily by giving money, but by giving my time. Listening to them. Seeking to understand them.

Now I find myself in a place in which I cannot communicate with the homeless people. I am surrounded by "the least of these," at least compared to American standards - people who live in garages, people without water heaters or space heaters, people who wear the same clothes almost everyday, homeless people, mentally ill people who have not received proper care. But they can't even speak the national language correctly, much less English. So I wonder, how on earth can I show love to them?

I saw this man on a street downtown the other day. I was actually a little scared. Here's the thing: we romanticize giving to the least of these. We like to think everyone who is poor is sweet and grateful and just such a wonderful person if only we knew them. But some of them aren't. A lot of them are mentally ill, or they don't trust anyone and will steal from you because that's all they know how to do, or they are not good-looking, or they smell bad.

I think this man downtown was mentally ill. As I stood there struggling inwardly as this man sang loudly off-key with a bucket full of money in front of him while a crowd gathered round, I thought, I wish I were Paul. I wish I were Peter. If I were, I could go up to him, lay hands on him and say "Be healed" or "Come out of him" in Jesus' name and immediately he would get up, the hair would stop growing in funny places, and he would be sane. Of course, I know the same power that lived in them lives in me, but I often don't really believe that in my heart.

This is just one example of the many times I have struggled with how to love the least of these. I don't really have any solution or resolution to this, but it's something I continue to pray and seek Father about. Not that these two acts are unimportant, but are praying and giving money really all I can do? Is that what people in Acts did? Is that what Father has called me to do?

It's humbling to realize that, to many people here, I could be considered one of "the least of these." I am an alien. I don't speak the language well yet. As much as I've learned about the culture, I'm still pretty ignorant. I need help from a friend with something as simple as exchanging something at a store or taking a trip to the police station.

And this is when I realize that, as sinful people, as sheep without a shepherd (or sheep who know the Shepherd but often struggle to follow him), we are all the least of these. We in our pride like to think that "the least of these" are always other people - the starving children, or the mentally ill homeless men - but I don't think we can even begin to relate to them or understand them this season unless we recognize our own poverty before Father. I am no one's savior; I am the one in need of rescuing, the one in need of help, the one in need of mercy, time and time again.

Hulu Mian

So a couple weekends ago, I went fruit-and-vegetable picking. See my awesome hat:

I had lots of fun. Got tons of little oranges, some starfruit, cilantro, peanuts, a pumpkin...

and a calabash. Also known as a hulu, or a bottle gourd.

Wait, what?

I know.

Here's what they look like. Totally awesome, right? One of the farmers cuts one off the vine before I can say anything. I'm like the proverbial LOLCat: "I has a gourd...what I do wif it?"

My first thought was, I wish I had a vine of miniatures to string around my Christmas tree.

Then I considered turning Rastafarian when I discovered they often make bottles or instruments out of the calabash...until I realized it takes more than 6 months to dry one out. Not worth it.

So finally I decided to cook it. I found a very imprecise recipe for hulu mian, or calabash noodle soup. I thought, well, this sounds good. So I gathered all the ingredients and began to carve:

As you can see, it was a bit...stubborn. My poor little knife was not up to the task. Think how difficult it would be to carve and scoop out a pumpkin if it was not nice and round and open. That's how this was.

BRAAAAAAAAAINS

The smell, taste and texture were a lot like a potato. Tons of seeds in the middle like a pumpkin though! I didn't taste it raw because these are sometimes toxic when uncooked.

So basically I scooped out the gourd (which took FOREVER) and cut it into small strips, mixed some pork, soy sauce, corn starch, and chicken broth together and made some noodles, and this was the result:

Not bad! Nice on a cold day. But WAY too much trouble. It's much easier to just use a good old potato. Fun adventure though!

*Note: This is not about to become a cooking blog, but I thought this would be an interesting experience to share. Haha!

Unblushing Promises

I've been having more bad dreams than usual lately. Last night I had one that woke me up early, tense and short of breath. I've lived a whole day since then, so all I can really remember was that in the dream I was completely alone in a gloomy house, and when I flipped lights on, they were dim and eerie and would never get any brighter. Then at some point in the dream, I realized I was cut off from everyone else in the world, like a ghost, and they didn't even know I existed. And I was doomed to live that way.

That was frightening.

But you know what's wonderful? No sooner did I wake up and get a grip of where I was, and I felt the Father's presence. I was able to smile and worship for a bit and laugh with joy at the fact that I am never alone.

And I just sat in awe for a bit of how much I am really promised.

My life will only get better because I have an eternal one to look forward to. One without bad dreams, without body aches, without shortness of breath. With not even one tear. With no pain or suffering, because these things will have passed away.

WOW...forever? Really? FOREVER? And all we have to do to get that is to run the (if we're "lucky") 100-year race with Jesus that we've been assigned on earth? All we have to do is have one grand adventure of a life, one spent on things of eternal significance? And we get to be one with Jesus, and we get to rest in the Spirit, even here? What an incredible deal!

That I know for sure, without a doubt, that I do not have to fear eternal darkness. That even now, as soon as I call on my Savior, darkness runs away as fast as it can. I know, when I have dreams like that, that they are only dreams that will never become reality. I know that fear, evil, and sin have no power over me. And I know this without a doubt. There are no "maybe if I'm good enough"s or "maybe my next life will be better" or "maybe if I frantically try to do good every moment of everyday, it will outweigh the bad I have done." Father has thrown away the scales! The hands that some say hold judgment scales are actually empty, palms open, ready and longing to welcome His sons and daughters into His kingdom. There are no judgment scales for those who know Him; there is only a mercy seat, with the One who sits on it beckoning, "Anyone who is thirsty, come!"

Confidence in salvation. I am ashamed at how little I rejoice in this. I don't have those dark moments in a corner of my room in which I wonder if I'm really redeemed, if I'm really in the Bride, if I will really be presented white as snow, spotless and sparkling. I don't have those lingering doubts, those little fears...and it has nothing to do with how great I am. I don't even have those fears when I mess up royally. And it's not because I don't recognize the gravity of my sin, it's because His promises are true. He doesn't promise anything on which He does not deliver. Since the rainbow has been in the sky, He has never again flooded the entire earth. He made both Israel and Ishmael into great nations. He sent the promised Savior into the world, that the people in darkness may see a great light. Therefore, I know that if He has promised I will live with Him forever, I have a glorious chamber which He is preparing for me.

"All glorious is the princess within her chamber...In embroidered garments she is led to the King..." Psalm 45
"I go to prepare a place for you." John 14:2

That He has a perfect, unshakable plan for my life. He doesn't have to care about these <100 measly years on this earth, but He cares about even those. He sees every long red wavy hair that gets lost in my hairbrush or that falls to the ground. And some years from now, He will number my white hairs with just as much love and care. So every trial, every victory, every moment of tears, every moment of laughter, is perfect if only because it is orchestrated by my perfect King who will welcome me after all the trials are over with. Who will look at me as a groom looks at his bride. "Well done, my good and faithful servant." "Come...take the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world."

What are the "pleasures" of this earth compared with the promises of my Lord? What does this world have to offer?

"If we consider the unblushing promises of reward promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire not too strong, but too weak." C.S. Lewis

May we have a passion and desire for Him that is worthy of the unblushing promises He has given us.

The Beloved Jester

Almost 2 months ago tonight, I wrote this in my journal:

Lord, I felt so beautiful before You tonight. So fearless. Not because of anything I've done, but because of Your abounding love. I stand in reverence of You. When I went in from playing sports, I was sweaty, my hair was flying everywhere, and my feet were filthy, but all I could think of was "How beautiful are the feet." How beautiful are my feet to You.

And as all of us expressed our love to You together, not because it was some formal service we'd prepared for, not because we were supposed to, but because we wanted to, because we came just as we are...I felt that we were truly the Body. It wasn't about how we were playing or singing, it wasn't about how we looked or even acted, it was about You. Your joy, Your peace, Your fatherhood, Your promises, Your Spirit.

Now, tonight, I am a world away from that place, and yet I'm not.

I'm still with Him.

And I felt His goodness all day today. As I rode my bike to the market, I rejoiced that the sun was out, yet the air was cool. I watched the fruit sellers ride slowly down the road, grinning at me and towing what must be 1,000 fresh oranges, or 50 stalks of sugarcane, behind them in a wooden cart. I loved seeing the stalls softened with knitted hats, scarves and shoes that were probably made by the women who sell them, and seeing a woman seated there and knitting something else, needles in hand and baby on lap. I bought a welcome mat with apples on it, and I bought a couple of jars from that lady I always buy jars from. I smiled at the random "hello!"s that followed me as I passed, and I felt like I was home.

A friend from the university walked me home tonight after English Corner to make sure I was safe, but I don't think I would have felt alone anyway.

And it's not because I'm over culture shock, or because I'm getting used to things, or anything having to do with me, really.

It's because of One who walks with me. Sometimes I don't feel Him there because I don't allow myself to be completely broken and open at his feet. But when I admit that I am nothing, that I can do nothing, that I don't have anything He hasn't given me, and that I will give up everything that I might gain Him...it's then that my cup overflows. My love for people does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for life does not come from me; it comes from Him. My love for Him doesn't even come from me, but from Him.

Last night, I sang to Him by myself with just as full a heart as I did two months ago with brothers and sisters. I humbled myself before Him and before the people around me. I realized that it's not about me looking competent; in fact, it's about me looking completely foolish. If He is the King, then I am the court jester, living only to please him even if I look foolish to everyone else, unworthy to even lay at His feet.

But then He tenderly washes mine and calls them beautiful.

Other Moments

I enjoy sharing funny and inspiring stories about living in a foreign country. They're fun to tell, and more importantly, fun to live.

But then there are other moments.

I've been struggling a little bit lately with all the new things here. Things I'm not used to. I usually have an adventurous spirit and I'm always up for trying new things and being uncomfortable, but I will admit I actually struggle to leave the apartment at times.

First of all, I'm living by myself. Walking to class by myself. Sometimes eating by myself off in a dark corner of campus, just to get a moment of not being stared at, pointed at, or laughed at. Even babies in strollers have pointed at me, mouths gaping, because they recognize that I'm "different."

I feel so helpless. I have to go to multiple stores around town just to get basic sandwich fixings. Currently my refrigerator contains 1 kiwi, 1 half avocado, some ham, cheese, and a couple of uncooked eggs. And then when I do cook those eggs, I must do it on a gas stove...and I still haven't figured out how to hard-boil them just right. Also, I'd never had to peel two completely black layers off a grilled cheese sandwich until recently.

You know, the last time I came here, it was with 6 other crazy Americans. We stood out together, made cultural and language mistakes together, and tried new things together.

It's much different doing it by yourself.

How humbling is it when you can't even say what kind of meat you want in your dumplings? How frustrating it is when you know you've already learned the word, but of course you can't think of it in just the moment you need it. And then when I manage to stammer out a few awkward phrases in the language and I'm hoping to be told "good job," instead I am immediately corrected at such a fast pace that I can't understand a word they are saying.

I know I should just sit with random people at lunch, make goofy mistakes, and laugh at myself. But sometimes, that's much easier said than done.

Sometimes, I just want to speak English.
Sometimes, I just want for no one to stare at me like I just stepped out of a UFO.
Sometimes, I just wish I was back in Austin with that Starbucks right down the street.
Sometimes, I just want to not be humbled constantly.

And then I walk the 35 minutes back to the apartment, by myself, fighting back tears and secretly hating the loud honking cars and pedestrian-homing-missile bicycles that I have to dodge just to get across the road, with a bag of dumplings in one hand and a bilingual dictionary in the other, and fling my stuff down and cry and pray and sing out to the One who fully understands English, who would even understand nonsense words were I to utter them.

In some moments, that's the best you can do.

A Different Answer

Saturday night, I was swarmed by countless eager little faces, all being pushed forward by proud mothers to speak to the foreigner and show off their newly-acquired English skills.

That's right, I visited an English Corner downtown. It's rare that they have a "real foreigner" in the mix; they usually just practice English with each other. So I received tons of questions:

"Do you have an iPhone? an iPad?"
"Have you seen Transformers?" "...Why not?"
"Do you like to play sport? What is your favorite?"
"Do you like the food here?"
"Can I have your phone number?"
"What do you think of the protests on Wall Street?" (okay, I was a little taken aback by that one)

and finally...

"What is your favorite festival? Christmas, right, because you are a Christian?"
"What do you do on Christmas?"

Well, we open presents, eat, maybe drink hot chocolate, spend time with family....

"How do Christians celebrate Christmas?

Uhhh...the same, except we might go to church and pray before we eat our meal.


Right then, I wished I could give a different answer and still be honest.


[AC] Promo 2011 from Advent Conspiracy on Vimeo.

Elephants and Termites

Two lifelong friends sit at their favorite restaurant, discussing their day, their work, and their kids. These women have so much in common – the same worldview, the same church, the same hobbies (they always go play tennis while their husbands golf together on the weekends). They have the kind of friendship in which one can confide anything to the other and know that her secret will be safe. They’ve helped each other through family losses, emotional battles, countless tears and joys…nothing can tear them apart.

And then it happens.

One woman says, “I just can’t wait for Halloween! I’m having so much fun helping Jenny look for her Hermione Granger costume.”

The other woman bristles a little on the inside. How can her beloved friend not realize the origins of Harry Potter and Halloween? Why is she exposing her child to such things?

“Oh…well, our family doesn’t believe in celebrating Halloween. And we don’t allow our kids to read Harry Potter.”

Silence. Tension. Judgment on both sides. (How can she take the fun of Halloween away from her kids? And Harry Potter has so many Christian themes!) All of a sudden a wall comes between them.

Between women who have helped each other through near-divorces, through crises of faith, through the loss of one parent to suicide, another to a car accident.

I heard the phrase “It’s not the elephants that will get you, but the termites” a while back. In context, it’s saying that it’s the day-to-day troubles that will wear on you, rather than the catastrophes. But I think we can also apply this to our relationships, and it’s no different among believers. We split over the small stuff.

Two people may agree that trusting Jesus bridges the gap between us and God. They may agree that we have an obligation and privilege to always help out our fellow man, even if it means trouble and sacrifice for us. They may agree that human life is always sacred, even if the person doesn’t “deserve” to live, or even if the life hasn’t appeared yet. They may agree that family is a precious treasure that should be preserved at all costs. They may agree that educating people and then giving them a choice is better than just telling them what to do.

But then one drinks a glass of wine, or the other doesn't allow her kids to watch a certain movie, and the friendship is permanently strained.

It’s amazing how angry we get, how emotional we get, over the things that don’t matter in the long run. And everyone has a valid point. Many conclusions can be arrived at logically, and everyone can poke holes in everyone’s arguments and find Scriptural evidence for both stances.

Paul had a similar situation going on in his baby church in Corinth. Some people had come from backgrounds of worshipping other gods and taking part in their rituals and feasts. Now that they were Christians, they had a huge problem with continuing to eat that food because it reminded them of their past (a valid point). Therefore, they condemned other Christians who ate food that had been sacrificed to these gods, saying that they were sinning. These other Christians responded that all food is God's food, so why does it matter? (also a valid point) Here is how Paul responds in 1 Corinthians 8:1-9:

“Now concerning things sacrificed to idols, we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge makes arrogant, but love edifies. If anyone supposes that he knows anything, he has not yet known as he ought to know; but if anyone loves God, he is known by Him.

"Therefore concerning the eating of things sacrificed to idols, we know that there is no such thing as an idol in the world, and that there is no God but one. For even if there are so-called gods whether in heaven or on earth, as indeed there are many gods and many lords, yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom are all things and we exist for Him; and one Lord, Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we exist through Him.

"However not all men have this knowledge; but some, being accustomed to the idol until now, eat food as if it were sacrificed to an idol; and their conscience being weak is defiled. But food will not commend us to God; we are neither the worse if we do not eat, nor the better if we do eat. But take care that this liberty of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block….”

These people in Corinth are squabbling over termites. Paul brings them back to the elephants, the things that really matter. The important thing is that we know and love the Father, and that He knows and loves us. Whether we do this thing or we do not, we agree that there is one true God, we agree that He alone created everything, and that we exist and live our lives for Him alone. As for this lesser thing, no one’s choices make him better than his friend. However, make sure to love each other in everything, and don’t do or say something in front of your friend if you know it’s going to hurt him.

So next time your friend disagrees with you about a termite issue, your first reaction may be to bristle, and that’s normal…it’s human nature. But remember what Paul says in 1 Corinthians, remember the elephants you do agree on, and respect your friend’s motivation that led to his or her decision. To love and honor God. To love and honor others. And love edifies.

up, up, and away.

Hey everyone. So that Asia place I said I would be heading to? That time is finally here. I even have an early Chinese birthday cake to prove it (my real birthday is October 21st). My first plane leaves in about 5 hours. From there it's a 25-hour adventure through 4 total airports, on 3 total planes. By myself. Woohoo!

But you know, as I remain wide awake when I should be asleep (well, on American time at least...it's just after lunchtime where I'm headed!), even in the middle of the excitement I feel a total peace and calm. It's not because I'm a superhuman, and it's not because I'm sure everything will work out just fine when I'm traveling tomorrow or when I'm actually over there. I might arrive before my luggage, I might miss a plane, I might be practically violated when they're searching me at customs. And I might experience some intense culture shock. But I know Who I'm following. Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Wherever I am, He is my home, and I take all my peace and comfort from that.

It's not that this transition doesn't feel a little weird, it's not that it isn't super hard to leave family and friends, it's not that I don't have questions about how my life will look or how I will change the next couple of years, and it's not that I don't have questions about what on EARTH to do when these two years are over. But none of that really matters. Many of us say we believe God has a plan for us, but I'm determined to not just say it but actually believe it. As I spend time in sweet, sweet prayer with Him, I'm just reassured all the time that my gentle, loving Heavenly Father has planned my steps, and He walks before me and behind me. What do I have to fear?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

He's not up in the air, directing me to turn this way and then that. He's down here in the dirt, working beside me, behind me, and before me in the trenches, fashioning the paths himself...and all his handiwork is marvelous. That my soul knows well.

So, Blogger is having some issues right now and apparently some people aren't able to comment on my posts. I'm tempted to go ahead and migrate to WordPress, but I'll hang around for a bit and see if they get it fixed first. If you would like to contact me, please email me at becky@tundrius.com. I would love to hear from you.

A 12-Year-Old Girl

A 12-year-old girl can.
She can still imagine whole new worlds out of something as mundane as neighborhood construction, or she can build a catapult in science class.

She can be silly and carefree, but she can also be troubled by injustices in the world.
She can exude the charms of a little girl one minute and the wisdom of a woman the next.

But she must be encouraged. She must be loved.

A 12-year-old girl has to be told she can.
A 12-year-old girl has to be told she is worth something.
A 12-year-old girl needs to be reassured of her unique beauty and value as a person.
A 12-year-old girl needs her family to stand behind her and encourage her to reach her goals.

But a 12-year-old girl, from America to Algeria, is told too many messages, and they all conflict.

At 12, a girl is tempted to turn outdoor exploring into indoor mirror-staring.
At 12, a girl begins to see her body as an object of eyes, rather than a God-created vessel with hands and feet.
At 12, a girl's dreams begin to shatter as she is told what society expects of her and realizes she does not measure up.
At 12, a girl is discouraged from pursuing a better world so that she can pursue the favor of peers, of eyes.
At 12, a girl doesn't know who to listen to because everyone seems to have different ideas of who she should be.

And at 12 in some places, she doesn't even have a choice of which voice to listen to.

She may be forced out of school.
She may be forced to marry.
She may be abused by someone she never chose.

But if we,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girl we once were,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girls we know,
for the sake of the 12-year-old girls around the world who we would love as sisters if only we knew them,

if we invest in them, nurture them, applaud them, encourage them, become their voices,

they will reinvest 90% into their homes, pulling entire families and even villages out of illiteracy, malnutrition, and poverty.
they will live longer for every 1 year of primary school they are able to attend
they will be able to have children when they are physically and emotionally ready, and childbirth will no longer be the #1 cause of death for teenage girls in the developing world.

But we have to choose to start the Girl Effect.
The clock is ticking.






If you also believe in the impact a 12-year-old girl can have on her family, community, and country, please spread the message about the Girl Effect on your blog, Twitter, or any other means. To see posts from other people who believe in the Girl Effect, go to this page: http://www.taramohr.com/girleffectposts/

Why go, and not just give?

David Platt answers a question in his book Radical that I've been confronted with as well in the past. I thought I would share his response with you all.

I remember when I was first preparing to go to Sudan, a nation impoverished by civil war. The trip was going to cost me around three thousand dollars. It wasn't easy to travel into Sudan since they were still at war, and we would have to charter a plane and spend a few extra days to make that happen. I remember one dear lady in the church coming up to me and asking, "Why don't you just send the three thousand dollars to the people in Sudan? Wouldn't that be a better use of money than your spending a week and a half with them? Think of how far that money could go."


I wrestled with that question. Was I wasting these funds in order to go when I could simply give the money instead? Should I even be going? I continued wrestling with that question until I got to Sudan. There I had a conversation with Andrew that shed some light on the question.


Andrew was sharing with me about his life in Sudan over the last twenty years. He had known war since he was born, and he described facets of the suffering and persecution his people had been through. He told me about the various groups, most of them secular or government organizations, who had brought supplies to them during that time, and he expressed thanks for the generosity of so many people.


But then he looked at me and asked, "Even in light of all these things that people have given us, do you want to know how you can tell who a true brother is?"


I leaned forward and asked, "How?"


He responded, "A true brother comes to be with you in your time of need." Then he looked me in the eye and said, "David, you are a true brother. Thank you for coming to be with us."


Tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of the gospel hit home with me in an entirely new way. I was immediately reminded that when God chose to bring salvation to you and me, he did not send gold or silver, cash or check. He sent himself - the Son. I was convicted for even considering that I should give money instead of actually coming to Sudan..... Was I really so shallow as to think that my money is the answer to the needs in the world?"




Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that giving money isn't a wonderful thing. It's beautiful when we sacrifice so that others may have food or shelter or medical care. But going somewhere puts a face on the people to whom you're giving. They are no longer an object of your charity; they are your brothers and sisters. Your dear friends. The same things that hurt them hurt you, and you cry with them instead of just for them.

I remember well when my friend Kevin came back from Rwanda. He worked with a humanitarian organization and grew a deep, deep love for the Rwandan people. It wasn't just that he went, it was what he did when he came back. He talked to all of his friends constantly about how wonderful the Rwandan people are, how kind, how hospitable, how hopeful in the face of heartbreak and past suffering. Because he went, many people, including me, now feel a connection with Rwanda, though we have never been there. We can put faces to the country, and we feel like we have a genuine connection with its people. So not only does going to another country make you a brother or sister to the people there, it stirs a deep love in others when you come back.

Money alone is not the solution. Giving money is just one part of giving our love...and our love - that force that says, "You are my brother, and I hurt and hope with you" - is what really has the power to heal broken nations and broken people.

A Challenge

"What, therefore, is our task today? Should I answer 'Faith, hope and love?' That sounds beautiful. But I would say - courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature... we lack a holy rage - the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth... a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God's earth and and the destruction of God's people. To rage when little children must die of hunger, while the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and the madness of militaries. To rage against the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction peace. To rage against COMPLACENCY. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the kingdom of God."

-Kaj Munk, 1944, killed by the Gestapo soon after

Cultural Training and Virginia Adventures

As many of you know, I have spent the past month doing cultural training in Virginia. There are many people here who are preparing to go to many different countries, so I have had diverse "cultural experiences," not just having to do with Asia (and I guess the earthquake today could count as one!).

First of all, this state is beautiful! Here is a view right outside where I'm staying:

Gorgeous, right? Virginia is so green! I'm hoping that some of the rain will make its way to Texas too. Also, I'm really enjoying the wild "Christmas trees" everywhere. I wish I could be here during Christmas time so I could decorate them.

In addition, there are TONS of cicadas here. Cicadas are sometimes called "locusts" in the south, but real locusts are in fact nasty giant grasshoppers. What we often call a locust (a big bug that sheds its shell) is actually a cicada. We've been finding shells all over the place, and when they emerge they're a really bright green! It's fascinating to watch them turn brown again within a matter of minutes once they emerge. Here's a nasty close-up picture for you:

This fella was trying to get into the door one night. He didn't succeed, but it was crazy watching him try. He was making so much noise banging against the windows, I seriously thought someone was knocking outside! I've also seen a giant moth the size of my fist. THAT was disgusting. Can you imagine squishing him? He had a big hairy body in between inches-long brown wings. *shudder*

In addition to some of nature's less desirable creatures, I have also seen some really cute ones! There are lots of chipmunks here, and it's fun to watch them scamper around. I also saw a groundhog, also known as a woodchuck, the other day, but alas, he dove into his hole before I could get a good look at him. Here is a picture of his abode though:

And did I mention that in addition to all this lovely scenery, I have actually been broadening my global perspective? Why yes indeed! So far, I have learned songs in Spanish, Arabic, Tagalog, Ilocano, Burmese, Bahasa, and Hindi, and I have a lot more learning ahead. This week I am learning about Africa. In addition, I have eaten borscht for the first time (which was delicious!! I could eat it a lot more often), and also some food with meatballs and this salsa-like stuff that you use bread to pick up (not sure which region of the world it was from), and yesterday I had some really authentic-tasting Indian food! I also had to eat it with naan as opposed to a fork, and when that was gone I had to use my right hand to eat the rest! I think my hand still smells a bit like Indian spices even after multiple washings, but it's okay because it was so good.

And now, for the final cultural experience. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there is a squatty potty here:

The water pressure is a little too high, so I have to run away immediately after I flush it so the water doesn't shoot out at me! But you know, I have to get used to all different kinds of toilet experiences. I remember when I was in Tokyo, they had western-style toilets that if you hit a wrong button would shoot a jet of water...um..."upwards."

I think it really says something about the types of people who are here that every time I'm in the bathroom, the squatty is the first one to be occupied! People really want to broaden their horizons and are very open to new (maybe even uncomfortable to a western mind) experiences. 

I've also gone rock climbing! It was only my second time, so I'm not very good at it yet, but it was really fun! I will leave you with a couple of epic pictures that my friend Sara took, to give you the illusion that I am actually an awesome rock climber:

Up on a Mountainside

I've been memorizing the Beatitudes lately, which has been beautiful. As Oswald Chambers said, we must take the Beatitudes seriously. We can't walk away from them thinking, "Oh, what a bunch of nice thoughts." The pure in heart really will see God. In Jesus, all those who mourn will be comforted. Those who hunger for righteousness will be fulfilled (a thought that is echoed in Matthew 6:33). But as we marvel over and contemplate the things Jesus said, it is easy to forget the importance of what he did before he taught a single thing.

He went up on a mountainside.

He got alone with the Father.

Matthew 5 doesn't actually start with "Blessed are...." It starts with Jesus fleeing the crowds so he can be with the Father: "Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down." By this point in his ministry, Jesus had swarms of people chasing after him, longing to see more miracles and hear more words of wisdom. Many popular preachers today hunger for these crowds and bask in their approval, but Jesus did not do anything for the approval of man. Not only this, but he realized that he could not keep spending himself and spending himself without taking that quiet time up on a mountainside.

If even Jesus felt that desperate longing to be alone and spend such sweet time with the Father before he taught his disciples, who are we to think we can get by without it?

More importantly, and cutting at the heart issue, why do we want  to get by without it?

Far too often I measure my success and worth by the response of other people to me, not the response of God to me. I, though nothing but dust, spend most of my time seeking the approval of other dust...but all of us will be swept away. The fellowship of God is eternal, and it is more intimate than I could ever know with a person.

I have been learning lately just how precious this intimacy is. I love people, but sometimes I get this feeling that "many words are meaningless" and instead I just want to "stand in awe of God" (Ecclesiastes 5:7). I've found lately that I absolutely cannot love people well and live the day well if I don't allow myself to have this time away with him. It doesn't even have to have a particular purpose; I don't need to be seeking anything; I just want to be with the lover of my soul. Like the disciples, I want to climb the mountainside and find Jesus so we can just spend time with each other, alone, away from the crowds. Away from the calculating eyes of people, and alone with him where my soul can breathe and where he can teach me.

Find your mountainside.

He calls us by name.

"But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob, And he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine." Isaiah 43:1-2

I was reminded the other day just how powerful it is to insert our own names in Bible passages. He knows your name, He knows every detail of your body and how it works, and even crazier, He knows every little corner of your mind - what makes you happy or sad, what brings you peace or unrest. But I think sometimes it's easy to forget that He has reached down and specifically called us, or that He specifically speaks to us, not only to his general creation. Sometimes by putting our own names in Bible verses, it can increase the intimacy of comforting words of the Lord, and it can also increase the conviction of corrective words of the Lord.

A couple of passages that have struck me:

"For God knew Becky in advance, and he chose her to become like his Son, so that his Son would have her as a sister. Having chosen Becky, he called her to come to him. He gave Becky right standing with himself and promised her his glory... If God is for Becky, who can ever be against her? Since God did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for Becky, won't God...also give her everything else?" Romans 8:29-32

Sometimes I forget that God chose me. He invited, yes, but He also came after me. He rescued me. And I forget that God is literally a shield standing between me and anything that might try to hurt me without His permission. And Jesus gave his life for me, so that I might in turn lose mine and trade it in for something far better.

"If Becky speaks in the tongues of men or of angels, but has not love, she is only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If Becky has the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if she has a faith that can move mountains, but does not have love, she is nothing. If she gives all she possesses to the poor and gives her body over to hardship that she may boast, but does not have love, she gains nothing." 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

If you wanted to get even more convicting with that second passage, you could challenge yourself this way. In the part that reads "Love is patient, love is kind...," instead insert your name: "____is patient, ____ is kind..." etc., and then honestly read it and ask yourself which of those statements makes you cringe the most because it is just that untrue. I've done it a couple of times, and each time God shows me some aspect of love that I need to work on. For instance, this is passage, along with the book of James, is how God first showed me I needed to work on "easily angered!"

Why don't you give this a try today in your time with God? Let God show you a passage and allow him to personalize it for you. Let him speak to you by name.

"An Unlikely Route to Joy"

from Jackie Kendall's blog

July Hope Alert

Whenever I have read about deportation (person or persons expelled from their homes or country), I would never consider it to be a good thing. This morning I was reading about the deportation of two particular Jews, Aquila and Priscilla. Claudius Caesar had first ruled that the Jews were not allowed to have "meetings" and then he decided to expel them from Rome. So being deported from their home and country, Aquila and Priscilla end up in Corinth. Little did these two tentmakers know that their expulsion was "an unlikely route to joy." They not only had Paul the Apostle as a part time tentmaker with them; they were also invited to be part of the Traveling Gospel Team.

"Then Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. There he became acquainted with a Jew named Aquila, born in Pontus, who had recently arrived from Italy with his wife, Priscilla. They had left Italy when Claudius Caesar deported all Jews from Rome. Paul lived and worked with them, for they were tentmakers just as he was."(Acts 18:1-3)

Oh that we as God's kids would have the attitude that our "deportations" from what we love: hometown, job, church, or friends, are chances for us to see God's brilliant maneuvering of our lives into a place where He will receive even more glory. Rather than resisting change or resenting the upheaval of your life, why not look forward to seeing who or what God may bring into your life walk during your expulsion from your comfort zone. When Aquila and Priscilla were packing up there life because of a "cruel expulsion," they had no idea, apart from God's faithfulness, what lay ahead during their forced relocation.

Trusting God with "deportation" from comfort and security is a chance for making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God."

I have been reading the Bible for 44 years and I have always admired the "tag team" of Aquila and Priscilla. Not until this morning did I realize that through an "evil deportation" God brought such good into their lives. Aquila and Priscilla deportation reminds us again to keep whatever comes into our lives in the "context" of God's ever present capacity to take what is intended for evil and bring about good (Gen.50:20).

The Vision

So this guy comes up to me and says "what's the vision? What's the big idea?" I open my mouth and words come out like this… The vision?

The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.

The vision is an army of young people.

You see bones? I see an army. And they are FREE from materialism.

They laugh at 9-5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn't even notice. They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport.. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying. What is the vision ? The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. It makes children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.

Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. A million times a day its soldiers choose to lose that they might one day win the great 'Well done' of faithful sons and daughters.

Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don't need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: "COME ON!"
And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history in the making
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing… This is the sound of the underground

And the army is discipl(in)ed.

Young people who beat their bodies into submission.

Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. The tattoo on their back boasts "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain".

Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them? Can hormones hold them back? Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them?


And the generation prays


like a dying man with groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrel loads of laughter! Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.

Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive


inside.


On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide. Would they surrender their image or their popularity? They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.

With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.) Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus. Their words make demons scream in shopping centres. Don't you hear them coming? Herald the weirdo's! Summon the losers and the freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes. They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this vision will be. It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon. How do I know? Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God. My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great 'Amen!' from countless angels, from hero's of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.

Guaranteed.

 
-- 24-7prayer.com

My "Spiritual Birthday"

I was going through old journals in my closet just now, sifting through things to throw out and keep. I began reading an old journal that I was required to keep for English class in eighth grade. The run-on sentences are embarrassing, I gotta be honest, and it was clear that I wasn't even trying.

That journal took me back to a different time and a different person, one who had little passion for school and yet a desire to prove her intelligence. One who was angry, sad, or confused all the time and yet didn't want to be. One who was angry at the state of the world and dreamed of changing it, yet only had the strength to spend hours playing computer games to escape it. These things had especially defined my life in sixth grade (oh early female adolescence, I do not miss you). I wasn't doing very well emotionally, spiritually, or academically, so I was supposed to live in Gail for only one year so I could get "straightened out." However, when that year was up and I went back to Jacksonville to continue my life, it just didn't feel right. I made a pro's and con's list of Jacksonville vs. Gail, talked to friends and family constantly, prayed...and finally asked Mom and Dad if I could return. They let me (which I realize now could have only been motivated by the truest kind of love in existence - when parents love their kids enough to let them go if that's what's best for them).

But when I got back to Gail, some things had changed. At the age of 13, I had just made a decision that would define the next 5 years (and, as it turned out, 9 years because I went to a Texas university) of my life, and I was afraid I'd gotten everything wrong. Those were some of the most painful months I have ever experienced to this day, that fall semester of 8th grade. And today I read a journal that honestly embarrassed me, and not just because of grammatical issues, until I got to this entry in which we were asked to share the best part of our life right now:

9/26/2002

The best part of my life right now is my newfound trust in Jesus, that he will help me through some rough things that are going on in my life right now. It just makes me feel so happy to wake up everyday and know that he will take care of me and that no matter how bad things are, there's a reason that they're happening, a reason so great I could never even imagine what it is. That helps me stay happy through the good and the bad.


Even though just a month earlier I'd made a decision that I thought was life-changing, this moment was the one that was truly life-changing. I didn't understand much at that point (even though I'd known all the Bible stories from a young age), I still had very little fruit of the Spirit in my life, and a lot of what I thought the Bible taught was misguided...but I understood the most important things, that Jesus loved me enough to have a perfect plan for my life if I would only trust him. That he was my savior, king, confidante, and guide...that he was the only way to Truth. This day wasn't the only turning point; each day is a turning point. Each day I am being saved from my sins and my flesh that wages war on my soul; each day I am being protected from a very real enemy and a very cruel world by nothing less than the one true God. But I'm glad to be reminded of when it really began, this beautiful passionate journey of living for Jesus and receiving the abundant life.

Wake Up.

"Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." Ephesians 5:14

I have been meditating on this verse for a long time. Thankfully, it is not just a command to us; it is also a promise for others:

"Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!" Isaiah 26:19

Jesus has awakened me, and I am thankful. But I want the other dead to live as well, to wake up and embrace the lives they have been given rather than live in fear. Why do we have so many dead people walking around?

How many people I know who have resigned themselves to occupations they don't like, to hating work and then drinking alcohol to forget work and then drinking coffee in the morning to stay alive for work. Students hate school and yet let it master them, being anxious and jealous, never feeling smart enough or good enough, and putting down fellow students to make themselves feel better. Americans eat well, drink well, and work hard, and yet are starving.

What is wrong with us? Have we no hope? We only have 80-something years to live if we're lucky, and we're spending it like this? And all too often, if we do quit school and go off to "find ourselves" or "truly live," we only end up in poverty, drinking all the time to forget our actual lives. Why are we so dead, and how do we resurrect ourselves?

I thought about how to best sum this up. Of course, Jesus is the one who conquered death, who raises us from the dead, and who will grant us eternal and abundant life. But what is it about Jesus that makes his promises so eternal and steadfast? Faith, Hope, and Love. It's no coincidence that "faith, hope, and love abide (1 Corinthians 13:13)." What does "abide" mean? It can also be translated as "remain" or "will last forever." Haha! I think we have found our definition of LIFE! We need to put ourselves in situations where faith is necessary, hope is possible, and love is a choice. Life must be so uncertain that we have to live by faith. We must be working so much for change that we allow ourselves to hope again. And we must surround ourselves with people we choose to love, not people we are genetically predisposed to love or people who are exactly like us. This is how to come alive.

We'll just take a hypothetical person. She graduated in the top 10% and now studies at UT, where she feels mediocre because she is no longer "the smart girl" in class. She's only average here. So she joins a sorority trying to find belonging and meaning, but instead only feels more insecure as she tries to fit the mold of a beautiful, successful, intelligent, "all-around" kind of girl. She is enslaved to comparing herself to others. Then she graduates to work in a PR firm, where she still fails to find meaning because she spends her day helping a corrupt client gloss over its human rights violations. At the end of the day she goes out for drinks with her girlfriends, laughing unnaturally, telling herself she is living the good life but wishing she could meet just one decent guy at these bars she frequents who won't just abandon her. She's too scared to leave the country or to even talk to people who are different from her (not to mention her friends would think she is weird). And she wonders...is this the American Dream?

Let's take that same girl and instill her with faith, hope, and love. Going to UT is still really hard, and she fights the urge to feel that she's worth nothing compared to the many successful friends she's made. But rather than giving into the temptation of self-hatred, she decides to have faith that she has a purpose here and hope that she will fulfill it. She realizes that she can study her hardest and there will still always be people who seem more intelligent than her...but then, when she looks at Jesus and at what He values instead of what the world values, she begins to look at her hands rather than her body or even brain. She puts these hands to use loving people, using her communications skills to teach English to refugee families and hanging out with unloved people on the streets. She finds peace with who she is, and therefore continues to have peace when she graduates and looks toward her uncertain future in a struggling job market. Although she ends up waiting a while to find a job and endures many moments of feeling she has failed her parents, God, and herself, she eventually begins doing PR work for a local nonprofit that helps the homeless. She still hasn't found the love of her life or, for that matter, her dream job, but is resting in God's promises and learning that his love is more than enough. She is now studying a foreign language and dreams of ending poverty in that area of the world.

Is her life any easier? Not by a long shot. But is it more abundant? Does it have eternal significance? You bet. The first version of this girl was deadened and saddened, while the second version was awakened to her true calling and purpose.

What's sad is, some of you will read this and then go away thinking it doesn't apply to you. "Well, I AM one of the few who is called to be rich and comfortable" or "That sounds nice, but being idealistic gets you nowhere." When Jesus says he has come that we may have LIFE and have it to the full, what does he say before that? "The enemy comes to steal and kill and destroy" (John 10:10). The lives of Americans are being stolen and destroyed, and quite successfully. We're perpetuating the enemy's deceit and theft through the paths we encourage our children to take and the lies we continue to tell ourselves - namely, that comfort and security will bring us the abundant life. They never have and never will.

I have to add one more thing here, along the lines of comfort and security. If God has told you to do something and you haven't obeyed because you "love your family too much," you are flat-out sinning...not to mention missing the abundant life God has for you. Whether you are close to your mother and father and don't want to leave them, or whether you want to "protect" your children by raising them in the United States rather than, say, Uganda, it is still sin if God has tugged your heart elsewhere. We are commanded to love others above ourselves, and we are to honor our father and mother and care for our children - these things are true. But Jesus says very straightforwardly, "Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me" (Matthew 10:37). And he means it. Probably when you have said these excuses to fellow Christians in our culture, you have been met with understanding smiles and nods: of course you should feel that way and it is only natural and of course God can't expect you to put your kids in danger. But disobeying God is far worse than taking your kids to Africa.

That said, God certainly does not want you to abandon your family in their time of need. 1 Timothy 5:8 says, "But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." If you have a child, it is your top priority to provide for him or her, and if you have elderly parents whose health is failing, likewise. Although there are many who have been called to go and yet stay, there are also some who are itching to change the world but in the process neglect the responsibilities God has already given them. Remember what Jesus says in Luke 16:10: "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much." Be a faithful steward of what you have now, and trust that if God has given you dreams he will fulfill them in his timing and as your faith grows.

If you do not yet have a family and are waiting to obey God until he provides you with a husband or wife to comfort you, this too is a sin that betrays a lack of faith in the sufficiency and providence of Christ. Luke 16:10 also applies to you. And there is a second part to those two verse at the top that I want you to notice: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." "...You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!" When God wakes us up from our safe and comfortable lives and sends us on uneasy journeys that require faith, hope and love that can only come from him, He also shines on us and gives us joy. He provides everything. When I think of the phrase "shine on you," I think of the sun with its warmth, happiness, and comfort. If Christ shines on us, it is as if he turns his face to us in approval, and his blessings come down just like rays from the sun. And when we awake, we then sing for joy because Jesus fills us with such abundant life that we are about to burst with blessing.

So believe his promises, and ask him right now what waking from your sleep and rising from the dead mean for you. You may need to simply notice someone you ignore on the street each day, you may need to change jobs, or you may even need to move your entire family overseas. Are you living the abundant life?

Listen.

            Listening to people’s stories is so important. It has been one of our themes at the Baptist Student Ministry this year, and it’s also been a theme of my life. Some wonder how on earth we can connect with those who are radically different from us, and the answer is to simply listen. No one will ever object to someone who is genuinely interested in his or her life experiences, no matter how different that listener may be.

There is abundant joy in connecting with those who are different from us. A lot of us miss personal growth and adventure in our lives because we are too afraid to talk with someone who is from another country, or who is too rich, too poor, of a different faith, or of a different color. This is why I love hanging out with international students so much. I learn so much from them – about their culture, about myself, and about life. But one people group I have struggled with is the one that walks the streets each day, the one without homes. Yesterday there was a block party held for street youth outside the Co-op, and I was almost too afraid to go. I have been praying for the poor in west campus for a while. It pains me to walk past them and go about my own business while they are overlooked…I know just doling out money isn’t the answer, and yet I haven’t known how else to proceed. I always feel guilty around them because I have so much and they seem to have so little (and I don’t mean only possessions). I knew this block party, though, was a way God would grow me and a way he would answer my prayers.

Now, here’s the thing. I love going to Church Under the Bridge and hanging out with the homeless and working poor there. But when I’m walking by on the drag, they treat me differently, calling out for money and sometimes hurling insults when I don’t respond. I think they assume that I would never actually love them because they’ve been conditioned to believe they are unwanted by mostly everyone, often even their own families. I try not to be annoyed because I know any anger just comes from an unfulfilled need for love. And these may be some of the same people who will have deep conversations about life experiences and spirituality with me at Church Under the Bridge. What’s the difference? At Church Under the Bridge, they know I desire a connection with them, because otherwise I wouldn’t be there. In addition, we are caring for their physical needs by providing food and hygiene kits, so they find it easier to believe we are interested in their emotional and spiritual needs. But on the drag, I could be just another selfish college student walking by, concerned only with my dreams and getting what I “deserve” out of life.

However, when I am in a situation that allows me to bridge that barrier and show the love of Christ, or when I take action to create that kind of situation, I love talking with the homeless and poor. They are often incredibly interesting because they have the most extravagant, wonderful dreams. And there is such strength that comes from being homeless. As my new friend Shorty told me, “If I know I can make it when I have no job, when I have nothing, then I know I’ll be able to make it when I do have a job.” He was laid off from the military after participating in Operation Desert Storm and going to Afghanistan. Since then, he hasn’t been able to find work, but he maintains the joy that comes from living in Christ and helping others. That’s another amazing thing. Many of these homeless and working poor volunteer to help each other out. They volunteer with many of the ministries that have helped them out continually in the past, and they desire to help their fellow street-dwellers once they have the means to do so.

Samantha ran away from home and was taken in with love by a couple of churches here in Austin. She has befriended some UT students who give her rides where she needs to go, especially when the buses stop running. She been working to get back on her feet, and her dream is to be a veterinary technician and help animals on the streets. My other new friend Samantha has lived in San Antonio and San Marcos, has attended trade school, but couldn’t find a job after she left on medical leave and has therefore been on the streets for two months. However, God provides for us in our times of need, and he has blessed her with a fiancé who graduated from that same trade school. Together they are trying to get back on their feet. Samantha dreams of one day operating a taxi business that gives the homeless free rides when the buses stop running.

Rahn volunteers a lot with Church Under the Bridge, which I’ve already attended a few times, and he brews something called Rahn’s Health TreaT that he believes has cured many people of “incurable” diseases. When I mentioned that I’ve recently started drinking kombucha, he said his drink is like kombucha (fermented tea and fruit) taken to the next level. Soon, he says, his drink will be featured on The Ellen Show and Oprah. He has used his creativity and inventiveness to start his own business and to help others. One thing that really stuck out to me was that even when he had just barely gotten enough money to get his own home, he began inviting his homeless and poor friends in to share meals with him.

Then there is Susan, who has a pet rat named Pie. Pie is white and likes to fall asleep on my arm when I hold her. You can often see Susan walking around west campus with Pie on her shoulder. She has published a book about her past and hopes to earn a living from that enterprise.

I don’t mean to make it sound like all these people are perfect; as with all of us, there is some beauty and some ugliness. There is a lot of stealing, and therefore a lot of hurt, within the community itself. Rahn left his jar of health tea unattended for just a minute and looked up just in time to see a girl trying to make off with it. Shorty rides his bicycle a few hours out into the country everyday and camps out there so that no one will be around to steal his things. There’s also, of course, a lot of distrust of those who are wealthier. Even after talking with someone for an hour, it’s still sometimes difficult for me to tell if this person would even really consider me a friend or thinks I am just too different from them. If they see me again walking down the drag, will they just call out for money and forget that we once shared a meal together? But you have to look in the middle of all the brokenness and see the good things. The reason many of these people steal is that they don’t know what it’s like to be a good steward of their possessions and to take pride in the things they own. They have never owned enough to develop that mentality, or they have seen such a negative mentality modeled by their families and have naturally followed them. We have to encourage and love people even in the middle of flaws.

By listening to them, I feel that I can overcome fears and bridge barriers. Something that is encouraging to me, that gives me a small glimpse of heaven, is that these people all have stories of how the church has been for them when no one else was, how vibrant limbs in the living body of Jesus (read: people like us) have picked them up. The church is truly the Church when it gets its feet in the mud and plunges its hands into the dirt just to lift one soul out of it, not caring how dirty its hands get but only that a person is saved. Being in the middle of an American church that’s gotten a bad reputation of being materialistic and simply bolstering the status quo, I have to say that it’s in the small, overlooked communities like the street youth that you will find the Kingdom of God. My friend Shorty looks forward to the new heaven and the new earth, when there will be no more wanting and no more disparity of wealth. One will not starve while another feasts, and no person’s story will be less valuable than another’s.

A Date with Jesus

From Jackie Kendall's Blog/Newsletter (so I did not write this but have definitely had moments like hers of complete revelation and intimacy with Jesus!):

Have you ever been on a date with Jesus? Several years ago, I realized that I had a totally free Friday night (all my family was out of town). I asked myself, "What are you going to do with your free Friday night?" And as soon as I asked myself that question, my heart's reply was, "I can go on a date with Jesus!" So I went to Singer Island and spend the evening sitting on a balcony (8 floors up); waiting for the full moon to rise and enjoying a date with Jesus. 

I brought along my Bible and journal and my prayer roll-a-deck. Just as I began to pray through some of the many prayer requests, I paused to look at the ocean and suddenly I see a RAINBOW. Now a rainbow is not unique when it has rained but it hadn't rained. As I was looking at the Rainbow, I started to cry because I had just begun my date with Jesus and He blessed me with a rainbow before the Full Moon had come up! I started to think about what a rainbow represents and I just cried thinking of the many promises that God has made and KEPT. I decided to look up all the references in the Bible in relation to the rainbow and I discovered three men (Noah, Ezekiel and John) who saw three different rainbows but they were all faced something in common-hard circumstances. 

As I thought about the rainbows that Ezekiel and John saw, I realized that their view was of heavenly status. The rainbow that we can so casually look at is a reflection of a heavenly proto-type not just a scientific wonder! I will never see a rainbow again without considering "heaven's rainbow of glory about the Holy One."  

I began to think about experiencing the beauty of a rainbow without having to go through a storm. Then I realized that we can be rainbows of hope in people's lives even when they aren't facing a storm. Then when their storm arrives; they will start looking for the rainbow of promise for their heart. 

As I raised my hands to just praise the Lord for the rainbow insight, suddenly I spotted the full moon. As I was staring at the full moon, I thought about how far men went to visit the moon and to place an American Flag on it. As I pondered the effort, focus, commitment, passion, finances, and sacrifices to land on the moon, my heart began to grieve that men could pay such a HUGE PRICE TO TOUCH THE MOON but they are rarely willing to expend such passion to touch the Heart of the ONE WHO MADE THE MOON.

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the Moon and the stars which you have set in place, WHAT IS MAN THAT YOU ARE MINDFUL OF HIM" (Ps. 8:3) 

As I drove back home from my date with Jesus, I opened my "full moon" roof (sun roof) and was worshipping full throttle! When I raised my right hand through the roof in praise, I started to grin thinking that at that moment "my raised hand touched the heart of the One Who gave me a rainbow while I was waiting for a full moon."

I like to pray.

I like to pray for that girl passing me on the street with earbuds shoved in and eyes cast down to the concrete, looking like she's carrying the world on her shoulders.

I like to pray in bars on Sixth Street, not that the people in them will "be safe" or stop drinking, but that they will know the full joy and, well, drunkenness, that comes from living in the Spirit.

I like to touch my computer screen and pray healing over my friends who post about their physical, emotional, and spiritual pain.

I like to pray for my future husband. I don't know if he's even out there, but I still pray blessing and guidance and fulfillment over him, trusting that Jesus will at least grant that to someone.

I like to pray as I kayak on Town Lake, thanking God for afro-ducks and honking geese and overly defensive swans, because they add a lot of joy and humor to my life.

I like to pray as I'm climbing rocks that Father will show me where to put my feet, because after all he knows every little groove in that rock and how it's been worn away by the wind and water (and maybe even by feet like mine).

I like to touch maps and pray for other nations, and for my friends who are in other nations serving "the least of these" and loving their neighbors as themselves. If Jesus told the Good Samaritan story today in response to "Who is my neighbor?", it might involve one of these countries we perceive as "not as important" as America. It's okay that they have to live like that, as long as we don't have to live like that, right?

I like to pray for the people I will meet in East Asia, that even now God will grow love in us for each other and that he will open my eyes to their needs.

I like to pray miraculous healing over people, though this is something I haven't done much yet. But I want to start doing it more because I believe in a God who raises the dead.

I like to throw my head back and laugh and lift my hands and jump around because I can't believe how amazing Jesus is and that I get to call him mine.

I like to meditate on heaven and the little moments of joy here that are only faint glimpses of my forever.

I like to pray for those who feel they can see only darkness in life, or that they are facing some insurmountable obstacle. I pray for the obstacle to be cleared and for the light to shine in the darkness.

I like to pray for the people in my classes who are enslaved to the idols of school and "success," that they will know the freedom of trusting the Father and not worrying about tomorrow.

I like to pray for you.