I'm Dying....

.... And so are you.

It's been that way since I was born. Because life is a terminal diagnosis. We're all dying, some just faster than others. I just wish we would live a little more that way. Like the dying people we are, savoring moments,  speaking kind words, and making decisions count.

Dying people tend to consider eternity in their decisions.  They make choices to maximize their time and money. They take risks because risks seem less risky when nothing is sure anyways.  Dying people do things now, because later might not come. Visits and conversations are ended with care just in case. Even to those who categorize themselves as 'living' rather than 'dying' there is nothing sure in this life... we must each realize that we're dying.

Do you know what else we should realize? That everyone else is dying too. You don't tend to focus on the faults of dying people, you want to stay positive and uplifting. That habit would benefit every relationship we have. Zoom in on the good things and let the ick around it all drift out of focus. The picture book of our lives would be so much more lovely. As would our speech.

If we really understood that there is no cure for death, how would we live differently? Would we invest more in people than things? Would we take time to tell the dying people around us about eternal living? About LIFE and that more abundantly? Would we focus more on appearance or on character? I think we would fit more living into life.

Maybe if we knew we were dying, church would become Christians loving Christians, and we would tell other people our life story in order to introduce them to the LIFE in our story. Because if we were dying, we'd realize that we have a finite number of minutes to share the Joy and the Truth, and that at any time our meter might be up. And we'd understand that if we ever plan to change the world or the way we interact with it, this is our chance.

Would we prioritize the important over the urgent? The needs of others above our own? Would we be slower to speak unkind things and more sincere and timely in apology when we did? Would we give sooner than taking? If we really comprehended the inevitability of dying, which issues in our lives would we shift to the 'No Big Deal' list?

We take care of dying people, and we usually cut them some slack.... if we realize they're dying. We cherish them and try to make their lives easier. We look after the well-being of their souls. We make sacrifices on their behalf and give up our comfort for theirs.
Essentially, we give them the best of everything we have. And we listen to them too. Because they're dying, after all. And somehow the status of dying makes you more important.

So guess what. You're dying. And so is everyone else. Maybe it is time we start living that way.

Who am I?

Who am I?

It's like the great question of all time. I think most people spend significant portions of their lives trying to figure this out. What people don't seem to 'get' is that in real, alive people, that is constantly changing. So is our image of who we want to become. Sometimes we don't realize how much it is shaped by our decisions as well as the influences in our lives. And how little we really do understand ourselves.

Lately, I have been going through an identity crisis. I'm just putting that out there, all honest and stuff. See, my time here is wrapping up, and while I still see my life calling as one of missions, does one really identify as a missionary while between assignments? And if not a missionary, what? I have no job, no distinct social group, no permanent location.... so many of the little identifying details of my life are in limbo right now.

So there will be people who tell me, "your identity is in Christ". Yes. That is true, but only so helpful. Because while Christ is the core of my being, He has also made me a goal oriented person. And honestly, most of the time people say things like "You don't have to be yourself, you just have to be like Jesus" or "Your identity is in Christ" , what they are really saying is, here is my perception of Christ-like behavior, and a church you should probably identify with. That isn't a criticism. It is simply a very human trait of projecting our expectations onto other people. We all do it.

Who am I and what has become of the Melissa I used to know? Sometimes I wonder. I love my life here, but it is surrounded by people. I am never alone. And the super friendly, always smiling, energetic, ready-to-meet-new-people version of me has necessarily adapted. I'm like a laptop on battery settings.... I am conserving energy. Is this who I've become, or is it just a phase? Eh.... we'll see. I still dance and sing and smile, it's all good. Life is a process of becoming.

I was reminded the other day, of when I graduated from college. I clearly remember saying, "I once again find myself in the very healthy but uncomfortable position of having absolutely no clue what is next." And I thought of the last three times I found myself at that place. As Psalms encourages us to do, I remembered the goodness of the Lord at all those times. I remember how God placed opportunities in my life that were beyond belief, and how my life just kept taking amazing turns. And it gave me hope. I should probably have this down by now, but if I'm straightforward, I still like to feel like I'm in control.

Controlled, risk-free surrender. I think that is what I want. It's a total oxymoron though, so that is another thing I'm going to have to let go of. I'm actually a little afraid of coming back to the US. I'm afraid that everything will have changed, and at the same time, that nothing will have changed. I'm afraid of getting too comfortable, I'm afraid of not finding a niche, and I'm afraid of leaving somewhere that has been so wonderful and transformative. Actually, maybe those fears apply to anywhere, ya know? Because humans are humans no matter where we are. We sin, we lose focus, and we sometimes get so caught up in 'Christianity' that it is an act of habit, not an act of love.

So basically I've concluded that moving back to the States is outside of my comfort zone. Ah, a perfect place to be. I expect that God will shake me up a bit, and root out a few things that have settled in too deeply. I don't really know what else to expect. To date, I've had no supernatural revelations of how I should direct my steps. But oh! The mercy of the Lord as we daily rely on Him for every decision. So yeah, on a lot of levels I am trying to answer the question, "Who am I?" just like everybody else is.

I revel in the fact that God is the same, no matter which country I serve Him from. It seems incredible to me that He is big enough to boggle our minds, and yet He is unchanging. And I find myself astounded at the great wisdom of a God who understood how important it would be for us to know, "I am the Lord, I change not". Maybe who I am isn't all that important as long as I'm sure of who He is.

Some Super Things....

My last post was rather depressing. It was where I was at the moment, feeling very discouraged and a bit alone. The thing is, although I was facing quite a conglomerate of impossible-seeming situations, God never failed in His faithfulness toward me. He gave me a lot of super things in life this last two weeks.

Time with a super baby

Time with a super food (can anyone say Wasabiiiiiiiii!)

 This baby is probably the cutest baby I ever saw in my life. Please don't take offense if you also have a cute baby, but she was just a sweetheart, and snuggles from her came at just the right times. She made all sorts of hilarious faces, and brought a bright bit of joy to my difficult days.

Time with a super woman

 
It may seem insignificant, but even in a land filled with delicious foods, familiar flavors are such a comfort. I found the supplies for making California rolls, and some Wasabi powder at the grocery store. This was a first for me, constructing my own rolls. As one of my roommates put it, "The wonderful thing about eating Wasabi, is you're never quite certain you'll survive."




I also have some pretty great friends. Friends who really helped me out when I wasn't feeling the greatest, and who brightened my days and pointed me to Jesus. Friends who helped me achieve my New Year's Resolution of earning 2 free Gelattos with my customer punch card. Who let me cry in front of them, and process things a million times, and prayed for me, and checked on how I was doing. Friends who walked with me through some difficult choices and difficult days.

Time with a super man

I'm so thankful for a Super God. He has provided the finances I needed for my NARM exam, the final step in my program journey here. He provided encouragement through my church here. Also, He has begun to put some vision in my heart. The transition ahead of me feels daunting, but I have hope resting in the fact that God has really ordained this time in my life, and will direct my steps. He has also continued to restore my body and my strength so that today I am walking in health that was not mine just 2 weeks ago.

Actually, make that two super women

God has provided for my friends as well, lining up jobs and opportunities for them as they also plan to return to countries of origin. He has blessed a few friends in the States with beautiful babies of their own. He has given Joy instead of Mourning, Gladness instead of Heaviness, and Hope in the place of Despair. He has blessed my studies, my relationships, my work, and my health. Blessed be the Name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. Blessed be His Glorious Name. It's pretty Super to have a God of the Universe looking out for a soul like me.

On Feelings....

I feel distant.
Maybe that's because I live on the opposite side of the world from people and places I've considered home. But mostly it's not the physical things that make me feel distant. Its emotional things. Things like the fact that my sister is engaged to marry a man I barely know. That my nephew is almost 1, and I've only met him once. Maybe its things like engagement announcements, weddings, funerals, and big moments that I sometimes don't even know about for days or weeks after the fact.

I feel loved.
Some of you have really made an effort to stay in touch. I do understand the effort that requires. Thank you. Letters and cards are precious here, and packages an even more rare treat! I feel loved when God has chosen to provide my needs through you. I feel loved by random emails, and an occasional chat on Facebook. And I am told by family members that people ask about me and pray for me, and my heart is warmed.


I feel overwhelmed.
As I study and read, as I learn everything I can about babies and mothers and midwifery, I feel overwhelmed by the miracle that is birth. I feel amazed that it ever goes well, and that so many perfect babies are born when so much can go wrong. I feel overwhelmed by assignments and work and lack of sleep.I feel overwhelmed by the possibilities that open to me, and the decisions I have to make. And I feel overwhelmed in trying to figure out the practical and financial aspects of it all.

The roasted wedding pig

 I feel hopeful.
As I entertain the idea of various possibilities for my future, I feel hopeful and excited. Yes, there is some mixture in those feelings, but my overwhelming sentiment is hopefulness. I am hopeful that these next few months will be filled with adventure, excitement, and meaningful connections with people I love here. My hope is that I can wrap up my time here well.

I feel privileged.
I've become the Godmother of this little sweetie, and the midwife to about 70 others, and I feel the immense joy of that. I feel honored that God has given me this amazing opportunity to serve in this amazing culture and ministry. The people I've met here are quality individuals, many of whom really love the Lord. This is a huge joy to my heart. And I frequently participate in miracles and watch God's creative power at work.

I feel curious.
I know it may seem early to think about next steps, but the truth is, in just 3 short months, I'll be needing to take those steps. I feel curious as to what God is preparing next for me. I wonder what connections He has for me, and what country will be my next stop. I wonder why He has graciously chosen me, and what the next few years may look like. Reverse culture shock intrigues (and frightens) me a bit. I'm curious how God may choose to work in and through me as I continue to submit myself to His all-knowing plan.
Enough feelings for you? Let me know what you guys are feeling..... It'll make me feel less distant.

How Do I.....

Hi, I'm 27, and I'm not fully grown. Nope, I don't have lots of physical growing to do, I have a list of things I'd like to learn. Wisdom doesn't grow on trees, but it does grow in the hearts of those who submit to and fear God. So I'll just make this an open discussion.

How do I go about becoming fully consecrated to God?

Yeah, pray more, read more, spend time with God.... but at what point does full consecration occur? I mean, we still really live in this world, and some of our thoughts and actions will necessarily facilitate basic survival. We are also called to reach the lost, which obviously necessitates a lot of time spent pursuing them. Also, God created many things for us to 'richly enjoy'. He created smiles and laughter and recreation. He designed our bodies to need rest. My mind doesn't have a good grasp on an accurate balance for this conundrum.

How do I change the world?

Some of you will automatically say that changing the world is a human-centered goal. But I'm pretty sure Jesus did it, and I'm supposed to be like Him. Where to start? What to do? I see plenty of needs, plenty of opportunities, and I have some ability to respond. But what is right? Is there really one specific set of actions that is designated exactly for me, or should I look for need and go work where I see God working? I'm a bit afraid to take hasty action, but I may be more afraid of doing nothing at all for fear of doing the wrong thing. Again and again Jesus 'was moved with compassion' and then acted. That is the main thing we're told of His prompting. Compassion alone offers a pretty broad spectrum of ministry opportunities. How does vision become focused?

How do I go about making and keeping good priorities?

To put others first seems to be a good priority until the moment you realize that in so doing, you've reduced your devotion time to a chore. On some level, serving is LIVING the heart of Jesus and I have found it to be a very real way of worshiping God and understanding His grace toward me. Yet at some indistinguishable junction I seem to cross this invisible line between sacred worship/sacrifice and distracting busyness. Inevitably, the less of Him you have, the less you have to share.

How do I feel the weight of compassion without being crushed to pieces by the sorrow all around me?

I long to empathize with people and to help bear their pain. The ugly side of pain is that each of us has about as much as we can handle. To take on that of another can be crushing. Also, there is no use in a person who is completely immobilized by the crushing weight of sorrow. How old will I be before I finally learn the balance between feeling enough and feeling too much? How much grace is required to lift someone up and take part of their burden simultaneously? At what point have you done all you can, and when is it necessary to become refreshed in your own heart? Can anyone actually give me practical advice on what it means to 'Cast my care upon the Lord"? 

How do I release others from expectations?

I would love to believe that I am strong and wise and not one bit petty. The ugly truth, however, is that I still have some very immature emotions and expectations of those in my life. Somehow, even from the other side of the world, I still manage to feel entitled to a certain level of friendship. I feel hurt over things that are unintentional, and I have unrealistic expectations of friends and family. How do I stay close to people, offer them all of who I am, and still release them from expectations? How do I adjust to a long distance relationship with every person who has been any significant part of my life?

How do I balance faith and action?

Why are some types of action considered compatible with faith, and others are viewed as its antithesis? Why is it alright to work as a means of providing for yourself, but not to make needs known when paying work is not an option? Why is the admission of unfulfilled desires akin to a statement of faithlessness? Where is the balance between relying on God for the future and proper stewardship of all He's given us? Is it possible that this balance is delicate, situational, and personal? Could God really be pleased by different combinations from different people at different times?

As you can see, I have a lot of growing up to do. I lack answers to most of my questions, and I question the answers I do have. At times I feel closer to God now that I don't know completely what I believe than I ever did when I thought I had it figured out. Possibly this is just where He wants me.... depending.

Of a Sudden....

It came to me of a sudden....

I am not who I want to be. I am not good. I am not noble. I am not
a self-sacrificing, humble, diligent, wonderful person. I am not fearless. I am not sinless.

In me there is no good thing....

After a busy week of work, learning, late nights, and coffee, I was living on the spiritual energy of weeks past. My times of devotion were motivated from habit and discipline rather than from passion and love. Again my depravity slapped me in the face. My priorities took a nosedive and my choices became sickeningly self-centered.

I cannot do what seems right...

I find myself making choices that do not live up to my standards. I discern in my voice and actions attitudes that I despise. Entertainment becomes a substitute for godly joy. Somehow, just as physical hunger pains vanish after three days without food, godly appetites tend to disintegrate on about the same schedule.

Shifting perspectives creep up on me....

Suddenly, without my knowledge, I'm looking through life's binoculars the wrong way. Everyone and everything that should be important seem distant, and at once, I find that I am the biggest thing in my life. My own self is so grossly out of proportion that I find it frightening.

The realization overcomes me....

I'm humbled. Astounded. Once again caught off guard by this sinful, human heart that cannot, of itself, seek God. Shattered. Realizing again the critical role that sustaining grace plays in every moment of my life. Incredulous. Trying to comprehend the sort of love that sustains a relationship which, if viewed honestly, consists of one Great God giving, and one lowly human taking. There is no balance in this relationship. No give and take. All giving and initiating from one side, all responding and receiving from the other.

And yet He persists.

Confessions of a Missionary

Today I slept until 2pm. After that, a friend and I went to an air-conditioned coffee shop for a few hours. Later, I got together with friends and ate pizza, salad, and chocolate brownies, followed by coffee and good chats. I came home, watched two movies with another friend, and now I'm headed to bed.

I call myself a missionary.

So I could justify.... after all, I did stay up all night catching a baby and caring for a few other laboring women, so 2 pm isn't so outrageous. I did study at the coffee shop, so it wasn't wasted time or money. My host provided the American-style food, so that little pleasure wasn't my splurge. And the movies were a fulfilled promise to a friend.

But I call myself a missionary.

One day I ate an entire chocolate bar just because. Two days ago I got a pedicure. I have wifi in my house. Earlier this week I went out for ice cream. I own a computer and a camera. I have nice clothing. I own a bike.

And I call myself a missionary.

I haven't seen my family in 3 months. I recently spent 24 hours at the clinic with my patient who was in labor. My niece and nephews are growing up, and some of them won't remember me when I see them again. I have missed the weddings and funerals of several close friends. I get stared at everywhere I go because I'm white. It's been ages since I drove a car.

Yes, I call myself a missionary.

Sometimes I just want to speak English. Sometimes I stay home because going out requires so much effort. Sometimes I want to hug my sister, or exchange witticisms with my dad. Sometimes I miss snow and fall leaves. I get sick of sweating. I don't want to wait for absolutely everything anymore. I am tired of things scurrying away every time I turn a light switch on.

And I call myself a missionary?

More than all of these things I want to see souls saved. I want to accurately state, "And they praised God because of me." I want to see prisoners set free, broken healed, and light and life in the eyes of the hopeless. I want Heaven to have more occupants. I want the name of Jesus to be lifted. Lives saved. God's love spread abroad.

So I call myself a missionary.

I don't always know how to justify things. I don't find justice in the duplicity of life here. I don't know how to feel about days that are filled with things like laundry, coffee shops, movies, and wifi. I don't understand how to balance the mundane with the eternal. I don't understand why to half of my people I live a life of sacrifice, and to the other half, a life of luxury. After all these months, it's still a bit of a conundrum to me.

Still, I call myself a missionary.

Not Every Day....

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain tears.
For others
For myself.
Not all tears are bad.
But sometimes.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain disappointment.
With others.
With myself.
And disappointment can crush.
Even resilient hearts.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain goodbyes.
To others.
To myself.
Goodbyes are necessary.
Hellos are better.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain mistakes.
Of others.
Of myself.
Mistakes can change lives forever.
Even innocent ones.

Not every day is a good day.
Some days are.
For others.
For myself.
Good days should be cherished.
Especially on bad days.

On Losing My Faith...

I think I might be losing my faith.

Not my faith in God, nor many of my convictions. But I think 'faith' as I used to understand it, may be due for an obituary in my life. I don't think I'll purchase a headstone, I've no wish to honor the ugly bit of pride I used to exalt in my life under the surname "Faith".

I don't know what I believe.

Yes, some things feel very sure to me. Yet, as I grow older, see more of the world, and watch God work in diverse ways, I realize more and more how very little I know. I increasingly believe that there are many ways to live a life that pleases God. And there are many things that are NOT outlined clearly in scripture.

I grew up knowing it all.

I had millions of hypothetical answers to hypothetical situations. I had scriptures to back it all up. Yet most of it was not actually true belief. It was idealistic hogwash. And I judged those who disagreed with me. I had tunnel vision, and a narrow stream of logic to back it up. Somewhere, at the source of that stream, was an obscure scripture or two that I thought proved me right.

I put God in a box.

Because I 'knew' what faith was, and how to have it, I actually limited the ways in which God could work in my life. I gave him only the options that fit into my tidy little view. It was important to me. Growing up in a Christian sub-culture that self-identified as 'the faith camp', I'd have to say that this is an issue I've heard a lot about.

And rightly so.

Without faith, we cannot even please God. So.... yeah. It should be a big deal. But I don't think the measure of our faith is defined by the results our prayers get. And some of what has been prescribed as 'walking by faith', or not seeking the 'arm of the flesh' may not be found in scripture at all. And other times we find that our lives do not line up with our understanding of scripture, even when our actions do.

Faith is vital.

But in some ways, it was made an idol. Faith was the end goal, not God. Faith made you good.... better.... more enlightened than others. Faith, defined by a specific group of people, by a specific set of actions, and a distinct way of speech. Not only by things revealed in scripture, but by rules made up by a man. My heart was lifted up with pride, and my soul was not tender toward His voice because I knew the textbook answer.

It settled my religious need.

I began to think of Christians in terms of the 'haves' and the 'have nots'. And honestly, I usually put myself in the 'haves' category. It felt good, and I had a group of people who agreed with me. I could defend my ideas down to the last jot and tittle. My sheltered little life fit my framework, and I never humbled myself to ask God if I was on the right track.

But it wasn't faith.

Really, it was religion. Pride. A superiority complex. Naivety. And God had to shake me. He had to break me. He had to turn different parts of my world upside-down and inside-out, and twist them a few times. Until I didn't know what I believed. Until nothing fit. Until it was just God, and clinging to him, giving Him everything, and trusting that what He did was right and good.

And guess what?

I'm losing my 'faith'. I am questioning everything. I find that a lot of my previous beliefs and standards for life are actually not anywhere to be found in scripture. It is completely revolutionizing the way that I think. Some of these thought patterns are so comfortable to me.... It is hard to let go. I'm finding myself concerned about whether my new ideas will be approved of by people I respect.

My motives are out of wack.

Instead of asking, "Is this scriptural?", or "Is this godly?" I have been comparing myself to man's ideals, and seeking their approval. It's so wrong. God is gently teaching me to look only to Him. Not to compose a four-step plan to multiple hypothetical situations, but to know Him and His word so well, that I behave in a way that pleases Him when these situations arise. To be humble enough to not know the answer.

So yeah, I think I'm loosing my faith. But you know?.... Maybe I'm just now beginning to find it.

Homecoming Dance....

I leave this country in 8 days. That creates mixed feelings in my heart. I actually have to be completely honest and mention that I'm not really doing a homecoming dance. I feel really torn.... Because as much as I love all my friends and family in the states, this place here is SO RIGHT for me. My heart is settled here, and I love every moment. I really have waves of joy and excitement multiple times per day when I think about how God has placed me here. I grin like a fool often.

This is my life!

 

It's so hard to believe. After 8.5 years of waiting, I have my first 'field assignment'. I feel that every one of my dreams has been handed me on a platter. The words of a song I sang in gospel choir run through my mind. "God Favors Me". My life is unmistakeably directed by a loving author. I feel that God HAS given me the desires of my heart. He has both shaped my desires, and then fulfilled them.

It is incredible.


It is just so impossibly perfect. I was created for this place, and it was created for me. The colors, music, the emotion, the friendliness.... I love every minute of it. It is like living in a musical. It's ok to sing and dance at any emotion, in any location. So clearly, I fit in perfectly. It is ok to wear bright clothing and bright lipstick. It is ok to laugh often and uproariously. It is ok to be openly affectionate with friends and co-workers.

 I love this place.

  I feel that I daily glimpse parts of my future, I regularly see ways in which God has prepared me for this place... All my life. The excitement of being here, and the anticipation of where God will take me next are overwhelming at times. I cannot even comprehend the wonderful things which He has prepared for me. I pinch myself all the time, just trying to realize this whole wonderful thing is true.

But I'm torn.

I have such wonderful people in my old life in the States too. This godly family who all love me so much. A church full of people who love God and inspire me to godliness. A group of friends who stand beside me, pray for me, and send me uplifting messages here on the other side of the world.

I am so blessed.

I look forward to returning to my childhood home, but I have two homes now. I really have a home here as well, and I look forward to returning to this home as well.  To a new place that my heart has found refuge and comfort. A new place my heart has found people to love. A new place where I belong.

I belong.

So yeah, I'm excited to visit the States, but that's exactly what I feel that this is.... a visit. I don't quite feel like I'm coming home. It is a bit confusing to my heart. The reverse culture shock, all the hello's and goodbye's, and the extreme month of transition... it feels a bit daunting. Yet I'm happy. I'm so excited to see all of you. To hug you, to laugh with you, and hear what God is doing with you and in you. It will be a new and different experience for me.

A whole new adventure.

What I Don't Want.....

I don't want to feel alone.
Torn between worlds that cannot understand each other.
Different here, different back..... Home?
And what is that, exactly?
And where?
 
I don't want to live in transition.
Here, but only for a while.
Temporary... I cannot hold on too tightly.
Yet wonderful... I want to embrace it all.
What is normal?

I don't want to seek comfort.
The false security of the familiar.
A slow death as the world passes me by.
Afraid to let go, afraid to change.
Will this hurt?

I don't want to miss opportunity.
Paralyzed by unknowns.
Avoiding commitments laced with uncertainty.
Hesitant to love fully.
What if....?

I don't want to hurt.
But understanding joy is knowing sorrow.
To be stilled in wonder requires humility.
And tangible hope is sometimes defered.
Can I choose?

I don't want to waste my life.
Fear speaking louder than faith.
To let feelings trump purpose.
Too reserved to feel deeply.
How do I surrender?

I don't want to live for me.
My focus diverted from God and His kingdom.
Futile pursuit of fulfillment.
Prioritizing my happiness.
What is that worth?

I don't want to stay the same.
Maybe that is the scarriest of all.
Change is not relaxing.
Real life is a risk.
What is holding me back?

 

My Only Desire...

My only desire is to bring Him praise.

This is what I sing. It is what I tell myself, and it is what I tell Him. I wish to believe this about myself. I wish it to be true.

But it isn't true.

When I'm perfectly honest with myself, I see that I have so many desires. Many of them fall in categories like "good", "noble", or  "harmless". And to be perfectly honest, many also fall into categories like "selfish", "prideful", or "fleshly". My lips sing that I want nothing more than to know Him, but my actions tell a different story.

I want pure motives.

Honestly, though, I have a hard time knowing where the boundary is. Sometimes I want things, but I'm really not sure why. Is it because it sounds exciting or fun? Is it because I know it is the heart of God? Is it because I will be well esteemed for making that choice? Is it so others will know God? Is it a desire due to the changes God has worked in my heart?

Oh God! Search my heart!

  How often am I telling myself God is my everything, but when I evaluate my desires, I realize that so many of them are only my own.I don't even know the difference. And I know, that even if I start something with good motives, my heart can be swayed. So again and again I ask God to purify my heart. To give me clean hands, and a right spirit.

Do I love the work of God?

Sometimes I catch myself being interested in someone because they are interesting. I find myself taking time to know someone because  they have a tragic story, or an interesting life. But do I care about their souls? Is that my motive? I realize again and again how human I am. How incapable I am of doing good, apart from God.

How much I NEED Him.

I realize that the more I make God my only desire, the more I will have to give to others. The sooner I crucify my flesh, the more the life of Christ will be evident and desirable in my life. The more God directs my passions, the sooner my motives will be corrected, and my heart set straight. And so I sing again....

Be my Only Desire.

The Battle of My Heartsong...

I forgot I was fighting a war.

I fought a few battles and won. Then I lived so long in the victory, that I didn't notice how my enemy had sneaked up on me. Before I even realized I was in danger, he had a well laid siege.
A full out battle would've been too obvious.
And now, in the words of the song, he's really been trying.

   Killing me softly, with his song...
....and with his distractions... and his busyness... and with all the little things that aren't bad or wrong, but they eat up all your time.... and strumming my easily distracted heart with his fingers, all the while singing a gentle lullaby designed to sooth me to sleep. He taught me to sing a bridge when I should've been singing the chorus.

Suddenly the tap tap tap... of the Conductor's wand on the music stand caught my attention.
Or was that knocking I heard at my heart's door? And I realized I was playing the wrong part, fighting the wrong battles. This wasn't the work of my Composer I was playing. My heart was screeching out  a harmony line to someone else's tune. It didn't fit so well with the Symphony I claimed to be playing for.

It had been a while since I allowed my heartstrings to be tuned to His pitches, and my bow poised, filled with His arrows.  Too long since the battle cry rang true and strong, and the sound of my life gave purpose and vision rather than humming a soothing lullaby. Too long since I listened to the voice of the conductor call out a battle plan, and I simply reported for duty.

Instead of charging the enemy that surrounded me, I set up my picnic and sang along with his song. I limited my sound track to the genre he pointed out, singing his covers when my Comander-In-Chief had written me originals. Because the live performance was hard, a nap didn't hurt like battle wounds.

And all the while I forgot I was fighting a war.

The new song I'm singing is one of victory, and the chorus sounds heavenly. I have interrupted the good-night kiss-of-death with the battle cry of worship. Neither I nor my fellow soldiers will be casualties of this war, but together our lives will blend into a new song. And at the end of our piece, when we take our bow, we will also cast our crowns before the throne of the great Composer.

On Blursings....

I think a lot about blursings. For some, they are called 'mixed blessings'. But I just like to mix the words blessing and curses. I can actually think of a lot of them, and I've really been pondering them lately.

In a culture where every skin-care product has bleach or some whitening agent, where everyone is a yummy, creamy-coffee color, and where the lighter your skin is, the more beautiful you are, you'd think I'd have it made with my pasty little self. Even when Filipinos buy bread, they think whiter is better. Yet it's my blursing for sure.

Certainly it is nice to show up at the bank without ID because your wallet was stolen, and the cashier will still cash your check because you are white. It is nice that the security guards at the mall don't search your bag as much, or that everyone on the Jeepney scoots just a little more for you. And it does make a girl feel special when everyone smiles at her and tells her she's beautiful. The implied sense of trust is useful for sure!


Conversely there are times when the stares drill through you and you wish not to feel like a zoo animal. There are times when you want to be anonymous, and when you'd rather NOT be a 'rich American'. Sometimes you just want to be treated like everyone else and you wish they wouldn't inconvenience themselves for you. There are the times you just want to BELONG, and you know that no matter how well you speak the language, or how much acculturation you experience, you will always be white.


There is the blursing of my height too. At times, I just wish I could climb into a jeepney and sit up straight instead of assuming the slight incline of head, which in a church setting would be associated with prayer. Sometimes I would like to NOT stand a head or more taller than every person in my church. And other times, I can reach things that would require a small ladder for a Filipino to retrieve. I can spot people in the crowd, and I can walk home at night without feeling intimidated.

Facebook blurses me. It seems that I am never too far behind on happenings in the lives of friends and loved ones. The chat feature allows  me to connect with tons of people I love. And the tantalizing hope that someone or something interesting will be on Facebook often lures me away from far more profitable ways of dispensing my time. Pictures sometimes make me miss people desperately, and sad news must be dealt with alone, not absorbed with the aid of a loving friend.


Food is another big one. It is wonderful to try new flavors, parts of various creatures you never before imagined ingesting, and rice Rice RICE!!! It is excellent to be able to order rice in a small, burger-sized patty from the local fast food place. And yet, sometimes I really miss cheese. Pizza just isn't the same without it! Every once in a while, I want something peppermint, or a familiar salad dressing. And sometimes a bowl of cereal, or custard, or good bacon would be a welcome treat.



Finally there is the blursing of singleness. Yes, I just went there. I have been so thankful that I do not have a husband or children during this phase of my life, because I see how difficult it would be to balance out a family and the rigorous schedule of my current life. I am glad that I can run off and pray for people in the local hospital, or stay out late studying and never think of tucking my kiddos into bed. I do not have to watch loved ones struggle to assimilate to strange language and customs. Yet other times, I feel lonely, and even un-supported. I crave  a  relationship with someone who is sharing my experiences and goals, and who is with me for the long-haul. I wish my current marital status was NOT considered a commodity, and that I didn't have to make all my decisions alone. And almost every time I hold a precious new life in my hands, I ask God if He will someday bless me with my own.

Over time, however, I've come to believe that blursings are extremely valuable. They open my eyes to the goodness of God in ways I had not previously experienced. At the same time, they really challenge me to trust His hand of love when things are not going in a way I understand. They allow me to choose thankfulness over a complaining heart, and to feel the sorrows and frustrations of others around me, because I have experience with my own. They challenge my heart to seek God and His kingdom more, and to let the things of this earth grow dim. So on that note...

May God richly blurse you all!

A Makeover....

Her eyeliner was overstated, and the lipstick was just too pink. The foundation she had so liberally applied made her look washed out, fake, and colorless. Pink circles of blush stood out in stark contrast to the even coloring of her foundation. Her lashes were clumpy and thick with the cheap mascara that had been so liberally applied. Bright blue powder arched over her eyes, nearly up to her eyebrows. The beautiful little girl looked strange and cheap instead of glamorous and gorgeous. Her natural beauty was inelegantly distorted by the makeup she had chosen. Instead of enhancing her comeliness, the makeup destroyed it.

I wonder if the Gospel needs a makeover

As I have been reading through The Mission of God’s People, I am struck by the challenge of how we represent the gospel. We as Christians are like makeup for the truth of the Good News. Like makeup, we can enhance the existing beauty of God’s truth and love. We can highlight the subtle features of incomprehensible grace. We can draw out the pieces of mercy that people do not notice. Or we can destroy and distort that beauty. We can use fake words to cover our own insufficiencies, and bright colors which only serve to draw attention to ourselves. We can make the gospel appear hideous and cheap, in contrast to the genuine and valuable treasure that it is.

I contemplate whether the color of my speech has well adorned the lips of the gospel. Have I fought so hard to conceal my own blemishes that I fail to step aside, and let the perfection of Christ’s finished work be seen?   Have I become those misapplied circles of pink on the cheeks when I’ve distorted the gentle blush of the truth with my own perspective? When others search my eyes, do they see genuine compassion and mercy, or do they see a flashy attempt to draw attention to myself?

And so I wonder…

Do I look good on the gospel?

Santa Claus is Coming...

Better watch out…. Better not cry…

Ok, Santa rule number two, and I’ve already failed. Yes folks, for the first time ever, Christmas has made me cry.  It’s trivial, I know. For goodness’ sake, I don’t even celebrate the holiday (for those of you wondering, I am NOT Jehovah’s Witness). And actually, that’s part of the issue. In the hustle and bustle of gift giving, parties, and packages from home, I am feeling isolated.

These feelings confuse me. I mean, I made this decision back when I studied the whole thing out, right? I’ve taken this stand before. This is what I BELIEVE….. isn’t it? But I’ve never been alone in it before. Always there was family and church and many, many friends that stood with me.

And I’ve realized that it is much easier to stand together, than to stand alone.

Suddenly I’m faced with decisions I’ve never had to make. Am I ok with receiving gifts? Will I attend the Christmas party if only for the sake of my fellow students? Will I participate in the Secret Angel gift exchange that brings so much joy to everyone this season? How do I feel about a tree in the house?

Honestly, I kinda feel like a jerk. This decision is not just my isolated stand; it is affecting those around me. My gracious housemates find it necessary to ask permission to decorate, and to play Christmas music. Instead of enjoying the pieces of tradition they can carry out on this foreign soil and finding comfort in them, they too must feel the pressure of seeking not to offend. And how gracious they’ve been! Yet it feels so hard.

I feel that in some ways the stand I’ve taken is depriving others of some of the comfort and joy they wish for this season.

I realize too, that this is a foolish thing to expend emotional energy on. There are so many MUCH BIGGER issues in the world. Perhaps the tears are selfish, and the sad feelings are self-pity or lack of courage. When I think of this, I am once again awed by my very humanity. A simple act of obedience to what God has asked of me, and I find myself emotionally distraught. Whatever happened to the strong and bold missionary I’ve dreamed of becoming? How can I pretend to be sure that I’d stand with Christ to the death, when this simple issue is cause for distress of heart? So once again I find myself admitting:

I need Christ.

I am not strong enough, or bold enough, or even courageous. I am weak, and broken, and poor, and without Him, I am nothing. I am not wise enough to know how to walk in a gracious way through this holiday season…. apart from Christ. In HIM I have the wisdom, courage, grace, and understanding that I lack.

And serving God is all about being different.

So while I’m choosing to say no to the gift exchange, the parties, and the Christmas movies that surround me, I’m also choosing to enjoy the joyful hearts of my housemates and co-workers. I’m choosing to laugh with them over the life-sized, light-up, salmon-colored camels that are currently parading wise men across the parking lot of the local Shell station. I am choosing to rejoice with them over exciting packages from home. And I’m laughing about all the Filipinos who are ‘dreaming of a white Christmas’. Christmas here starts in September. I’ll let you know when it ends. But I pray that the thing God is doing in my heart sticks around for a while.  So there ya have it. Like it or not, there are some true life confessions of a missionary heart.  A heart that is choosing to sing:

 “Joyful! Joyful, We adore thee!”

On Confessions...

Here is where  I live. Down the street from the vacant lot where this little group of kids was picking fruit one day.

This little doll has some greenery that will probably grace the soup pot tonight. Kids that have only ever lived hand-to-mouth... In a much more literal sense than Americans do.

I walk past this beautiful flowering bush that is situated right across from... well... the gate. I guess its true confession time.
I live in a gated community.

You can see the guard house on the right here, and the really nice condos on the left. Where houses like this and cars like this also live.

And honestly, although my standard of living is much different from some of my neighbors', I feel so rich.

Because I even within our gates, I walk past other neighbors. These are houses, and people live in them.

Some of my neighbors are not even human. One day I took my camera around the neighborhood to see the sights.

This fellow lives just two blocks from me. I encountered him one morning on a run.

And even within the walls of my community, there is the banana grove, and that random dirt road that wanders off mysteriously. Of course, I followed it. There at the end stood a little tin shack. Home for somebody.












The planks that are a bridge stretch over the puddle, and the typical 'slippers' sit outside waiting to take their owner for a walk. Right down the road is this cute little goat. I may buy him in chunks one day at the market.

And then, on the other edge of the community, there is the wall. Topped with barbed wire, it keeps the rich in, and the poor out. Yet here is the inequality and injustice, displayed for all to see.

Life from the other side of the fence.

When I climb my water tank in the back yard, I can see it all. I can see over the walls into a different way of life. And what floors me every time is that I live in a good neighborhood. The people whose lives I can peek into, many aren't even poor by Filipino standards.

But I'm glad to have them all so close. It is good to see the poverty and pain. To daily be reminded of how blessed I am. To reevaluate priorities with a bigger picture in mind. These things that are so important to us... earthly possessions... they have no eternal value. It is such a good reminder that my treasure lies elsewhere. A good chance to reflect, and make sure it stays that way.