One Step Closer

No sooner than I walked into Jack’s office did I erupt into tears; great sobs of hope and longing and compassion for the harassed and helpless.  A week prior I had shared in this blog (see post for August 6, “Fight or Flight...or Surrender”) what God had done on my heart regarding my call to respond to the “harassed and helpless” spoken of in Matthew 9.  I shared my love for teenagers and my desire to minister to their hearts more deeply.  Figuring out how to do that was weighing on me heavily.

At the time, I was very unhappy with my job.  How did I find myself working in food service when I had a college degree and six years in a fulfilling career doing youth ministry?   I knew that something needed to change.  Thankfully, my husband’s work situation was beginning to improve and, though frugally, we could live off of his salary and use mine to give or save as needed.  Therefore, working part-time was an option, leaving time for me to do the wifely things which I enjoy (cooking, cleaning, etc...) and focus more time volunteering in ministry at our church.  

“What kind of work do I even look for?” was the question that constantly lingered before me.  I looked into various opportunities at schools, not-for-profits focused on children and families, and writing positions.  My search seemed to always come up empty.  I wasn’t excited about any of the options and didn’t want to get a new job just for the sake of getting a new job.  I wanted to be able to focus my compassion and passion on something meaningful.

I explained my present situation and longings to Jack that day.  We had a good conversation about possible opportunities serving teens through the church; particularly meeting those who are especially feeling “harassed and helpless.”  I walked out feeling slightly encouraged, a little embarrassed about my uncontrolled vulnerability, but still heavily ladened with this desire for something more...

Later that evening, I casually surfed the internet; checking facebook and e-mail.  In my inbox was an e-mail forwarded to me from Jack about a position open for a not-for-profit organization whose mission is, “Bringing help and hope to the hidden and hurting.”  The position was entitled “Donor Communications Journalist.”  The brief description attracted me, so I immediately sent my resume and cover letter to the organizations contact e-mail address.  Long story short, 1 1/2 weeks later I was meeting with the president of the organization, my new boss.  

My new job seems to have truly a gift from God.  I work 16-24 hours each week.  I set my own hours, so I’m free to do all the things I had felt led to do; being a wife and a mentor to the kids at church.  In addition, the job itself fits right into my vision for my life.  Even though it’s a secular organization focusing on humanitarian aid, it fulfills my God-given desire to reach out to the “harassed and helpless”--or as the organization calls it “hidden and hurting”--in a tangible way through “hope” and “compassion.”  I never thought God would allow me to serve Him through a secular organization but it all just fits the desire that He laid on my heart.

In just a couple days I’m about to embark on a journey through my new position with Global Hope Network International.  The field leaders of the organization who live all over the world are gathering in Bali, Indonesia for a conference, and I’ve been invited to hear about the good things they are doing and even give a short presentation myself.  I’m looking forward to the opportunity to meet them face-to-face as they are the source of the stories which I edit and/or write.  I’m looking forward to getting a clearer picture of the organization and how these individuals help struggling villages become self-sustaining communities.  I will also have the opportunity to visit two Indonesian villages being helped by GHNI and provide further encouragement to the villagers and their GHNI leaders.

I find it amazing how God interrupts my life in the most unexpected ways, whether by the sounds of silence for the sake of reflection or a loud bang of opportunity knocking at my door.  I’m thankful that God has given me the eyes to see the direction which He’s pointing and the ears to hear His voice.  Otherwise, I might be missing out on a lot of amazing things as God has rarely called me to a place that I was expecting.  All I can say is that, though the road hasn’t been easy, the challenges have made me ever so much more grateful.  

My Selfish Heart

It had been a long day.  My husband and I had sold our car on Saturday so on Sunday, Andrew’s day to relax, he gave me a ride to work, planning to come get me at 3pm.  I rescued a broken cookie before being doomed to the garbage, poured myself a cup of refreshing iced coffee and leaned up against the pillar outside of Panera to wait for him.  Because he knows how glad I am to be done with my shift, I was sure he’d try to be right on time.

Five minutes had gone by and no sign of Andrew.  Ugh, I really wanted to get home so that we could go pick up my “new” (1998 Chevy Prism) car.  I called him.  “Yes, I’m on my way,” he said.  “I got tied up doing errands, though, so I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”

“Forty minutes?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes, forty minutes.  I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Okaaay,” I said tentatively, wondering if that meant he had gone to get my car.  I chose not to get angry or frustrated, knowing that my husband would need a very good reason to be that late doing something he’d said he would do.  That was probably the peak of my positive attitude that afternoon.

What do I do while I wait?  Life had been so busy of late that every minute of time seemed valuable.  I wished I had something productive to do while I waited.  I called my mom.  I’d tell her about the “new” car and a recent job opportunity that I was applying for.

As we talked, I saw a lady carrying some shopping bags walking with a woman who was obviously homeless.  There were a lot of homeless people that hung around this cafe, probably because it was close to downtown and all the medical buildings, so I pretty much dismissed it.  All the homeless people kind of annoyed me.  They were constantly walking into the cafe and looking for hand-outs.  I hate to admit that I often wonder what choices they made that put them out on the street.  

I overheard the lady asking the homeless woman if she would like something to eat, “no beer; food!” she kept insisting in her broken English to the frail wobbly woman.  The lady walked into the cafe and soon emerged with a sandwich.  By this time I had situated myself at a table on the patio as I chatted with my mom.  

I watched as the lady insisted the woman eat the sandwich.  The talking was distracting me from my phone conversation and I was a little annoyed.  One sandwich isn’t going to make a difference for all the meals this lady won’t get, all the alcohol she’ll drink anyway, and all the homeless people around here that aren’t getting a sandwich today, I thought to myself, a little ashamed at my attitude.  I moved back to the pillar, leaned, and continued on with my story to my mom.  Then my phone died.  Now I was really annoyed.  

I went back to the table to sit and sip my iced coffee.  It was a typical August day in Florida; hot and humid.  I didn’t want to go back into the cafe, though.  I didn’t want to think about work.  Sitting there, I couldn’t help listening to the Spanish-speaking woman talking to the lady and, now, the man who also sat there.  She was sharing her testimony in broken English, once having been on the street herself; money as her God.  Tears ran down her face.  I was drawn in.  I leaned toward her and nodded in agreement.  She kept saying, “You pray?  Receive Jesus?”  and kept trying to get the woman to eat her sandwich.  The woman had no teeth, so I didn’t know how she’d chew the sandwich. Besides, every time she looked at the sandwich, she clutched her mouth like she was going to vomit.  

“ When she drinks this much, she not hungry,” the man finally explained

I finally spoke, “do you want me to get her some water?”  It was the least I could do and definitely what she needed being that intoxicated.  The man nodded and I went into the cafe and got her a big cup of water.  The woman seemed very appreciative as she took the cup and started drinking right away.  I told her to drink it slow so that she could keep it down, she nodded and gestured vomiting with her hand in understanding.  

How interesting that she can’t keep down food and water is what she really needed to satisfy her drunken body. Here, this lady has been trying to explain the gospel to her.  I need to try, I thought.  So I talked to the man and woman about satisfaction of the body and satisfaction of the soul; the ever-quenching water and the bread of life, as Jesus had so often shared.  

“The body can be alive,” I said, “but weak for lack of food.  No matter how much food you have, your body is still going to die some day.  Your soul is sick but food cannot mend the soul.  Only Jesus can bring your soul back to life and it doesn’t matter whether the body is alive or dead because the soul lives forever in heaven with God if you trust in Jesus and receive the life that he offers.  You can try and try to resist temptation, but without Jesus, you will always fail.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said, “I know it but I don’t live it.  The drugs and alcohol keep gettin’ in the way.”

“I understand,” I responded, “our hearts are sick.  There is a hole there, a void, which we try to fill with all kinds of things--alcohol, drugs, sex, money--a lot of different things.  Those things are momentary.  They do not last.  Jesus fills that hole for ever and ever.  He took on your hurt, your pain, and your suffering because he knew we couldn’t do it ourselves.  Our sin has separated us from God, which is why that hole is there, but Jesus died to reconcile us to Him.  We need to believe it, receive it, and trust Jesus for our lives...” Or, at least, I think that’s what I said.  It’s hard to know in the moment but I trust God’s Spirit was with me and speaking through me.  

I also told them that when we’re sick, God may not choose to heal us because our bodies aren’t going to last forever anyway, it’s our souls that He cares about because that is what lives on after our bodies die.  Both the man and the woman nodded in agreement, seemingly excited about this truth.

Around this time, a young lady walked up in an oversized polo shirt and hospital bracelets on her arms.  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she said.  “I believe everything that they are saying.  I just lost my son a week and a half ago.  He was three weeks old.  I was just meeting with my pastor, planning the memorial service.”

“Are you sick?” the man asked pointing to the hospital wrist bands.

“No,” she said.  These are from visiting my son in the NICU.  I just can’t seem to take them off.  I not ready, yet.  “But I know that my son is with Jesus and that’s all I need.”  Then she started telling them about her church family and invited them to come to the church which was close-by on Thursday nights for a meal.  They were both excited to hear about it.

Just then, a man walked up, holding a small boy and handed them a Panera bag.  “Would you like this food?” he asked.

“You her pastor?” the man asked.

“No, I was just walking by and thought you might want some food.” 

The man was grateful and a bit speechless and the gentleman and his son walked away.

“You pray right now?  Receive Jesus?” the lady said again.

“I would like to pray, but I struggle to have a sincere heart,” the man responded.  I was grateful for his honesty.  

“The English lady will pray for you.  She pray English, I pray Spanish.  Would you like that?” the lady said.

“Yes, yes, alright.” he said, kind of excited.  So I prayed for the Lord to help him have a sincere heart and prayed a salvation prayer that the man might agree in his heart.  I prayed that God would help him to follow through.

“Oh man!  This, right here, is a prayer warrior!” the man exclaimed, “I wish I could pray that way, I just don’t know how.”

“Sir, you don’t need to know how to be good at praying.  You know how you and I are talking right now?” He nodded.  I continued, “that’s how Jesus wants us to pray to him.  It’s just a conversation between two people.  He just wants you to be honest about what is on your heart and he will respond.”  The man seemed to be encouraged.

“Now you,” said the lady, gesturing to the woman, “you pray?  Receive Jesus?  Right now?”

The woman, without her teeth and in a drunken slur said something to the effect that she knew God when she was small and she loves her Father but she can’t seem to stay on the right path.

“Would you like to pray to come back to the Father?  To ask Him to help you turn your life around?”

“Yes, ok.  Yes” she slurred.  So I prayed.  

Shortly after I looked up, I saw Andrew drive by in a car I had only seen pictures of.  My heart was conflicted.  The three were still talking about spiritual things but I knew Andrew had been doing what he’d rather not be doing on his day of rest and would want to get home.

“I have to go,” I tried to say.  It didn’t work.  I was still connected to what God was doing.  I had wanted to be ready to greet my husband and jump into the car.  He had obviously walked into the cafe and not seen me, then walked out the back door.  I stood, introduced Andrew to the three and said, “we’ve been talking about Jesus.”

I quickly recapped the events to Andrew as we walked to the car.  Suddenly the “new” car didn’t seem as significant anymore.  

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” Andrew said.

“I think I had something else I was supposed to do,” I said, “I think I was supposed to share the gospel with those homeless people and pray with them.  I just hope their hearts were sincere and that they follow through on their understanding.”

“Me too,” he agreed.

It’s amazing how selfish my mind and heart can be.  I had all this extra time and was frustrated that I couldn’t use it for myself.  Even in the midst of the conversation with the lady, the homeless woman, and the homeless man, I was worried about so many things which needed to get done and yet it was almost as if God forced me to the feet of Jesus’ feet to use me in the lives of these people.  Here this Spanish lady took the initiative to buy food and care for this woman, even sharing the gospel in a language she’s not fluent in.  God brought me into the situation to be His mouth where the Spanish lady lacked.  Looking back a few days later, I’m humbled before the cross.  Do I have a heart to share Christ’s love only when it’s convenient to me or do I keep my eyes and heart open for opportunities even when I am busy?  Maybe God arranged for me to have nothing to do for nearly an hour so that He could show me what I’m missing out on when I’m busy doing things for myself.

Fight or Flight...or Surrender?

The Dessert Song by Hillsong 

Verse 1:This is my prayer in the desertAnd all that's within me feels dryThis is my prayer in the hunger in meMy God is a God who provides 

Verse 2:And this is my prayer in the fireIn weakness or trial or painThere is a faith provedOf more worth than goldSo refine me Lord through the flames 

Chorus:And I will bring praiseI will bring praiseNo weapon forged against me shall remain
I will rejoiceI will declareGod is my victory and He is here 

Verse 3:And this is my prayer in the battleAnd triumph is still on it's wayI am a conqueror and co-heir with ChristSo firm on His promise I'll stand 

Bridge:All of my lifeIn every seasonYou are still GodI have a reason to singI have a reason to worship 

Verse 4:This is my prayer in the harvestWhen favor and providence flowI know I'm filled to be empited againThe seed I've recieved I will sow 

As we sang this in church yesterday I got that little sob in my throat that prevented me from singing half the song as it completely describes my life over the past couple months.  "Desert" was how I had been describing my spiritual journey.  There may have been small glasses of water scattered throughout but a little glass only goes so far when one is parched dry.  Then something happened; I started to see in the far distance shades of green.  As I got closer, I saw that there was a waterfall and a large pool of cool, crystal-clear water.  The air cleared of dust and became cool as the sun warmed my face.  The lyrics in the above song reference some of the scripture that led me to that lush place of nourishment.

It all began much like how Eve's life began in our home.  Eve, or Evy, is a cat whom my husband and I rescued from the street.  When she came to us, she was very sick.  She had a really bad respiratory infection, was infested with fleas that sucked her blood into an anemic state, and was half her ideal weight.

We had to give Evy two different kinds of medicine: one for the infection and the other a vitamin complex for her anemia, which would help her to gain weight.  Frightened, giving Evy medicine was a challenge.  She would get so worked up as we tried to hold her down and squirt the liquid into her mouth that her breathing became shallow and labored.  She would flail her paws and scratch up our arms and try to flee.  Evy didn't understand that we were on her side; trying to help her heal from her afflictions.  In her effort to get away from us, she was causing herself harm.

Eve when we took her in--very affectionate but scraggly fur

Eve after about a week--fur already shinier and softer

One day as I was trying to give Eve her medicine on my own, I identified with her struggle.  She didn't like the medicine.  She didn't like being held down in order to receive it.  Trying to escape from what seemed like something bad but was actually something very good put her in a worse state than she already was in.  How ridiculous that God used a starving sickly cat to show me myself.

Eve about 3 weeks into living with us
VS

Eve the day after we took her in

At that time, I was trying really hard to do my Christian duty by spending time in the word, serving God's children, and going to church.  It all seemed like a chore.  I didn't want to do those things anymore.  I thought back to other times of struggle in my life where I clung to those things because they were so rich in life; they were my sustenance, my glasses of water in the desert.  This time, I seemed to be coming up empty.  My journal reads over and over, "Speak to me, Lord!  Give me direction!"  I'm glad I didn't give up because one day He did.

I made myself go to church even though Andrew had gone to an earlier service while I was working at a job I hate.  The day was already long and I don't like going to church on my own.  I had been wrestling with God about what to do with my time regarding service to Him through church.  I love serving the middle school kids on Tuesday nights at Surge.  I was just concluding a time of service for another ministry at our church called reGROUP (a ministry which helps adults find spiritual and emotional healing from their hurts, habits, and hang-ups), sensing that God was asking me to step down and refocus my time.  The question was whether I just focused on my 8th grade girls at Surge or trade my time at reGROUP to help launch a new ministry for the students similar to reGROUP.

As soon as I sat down, a saw a couple sliding past people in my row and sat next to me.  It was Jack, the director of reGROUP.  I thought it was ironic.  The service proceeded and I sensed God's presence strongly upon me.  The sermon was on Galatians 6:7-10.  The passage that stuck out to me was verse 9:

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."

My notes from the sermon read:

"We won't see the results of our efforts when we want to...

**Are my trials--the things which are testing my patience--preparing me for a future challenge?**"

This was the catalyst for a changed perspective that allowed me to see the green on the horizon at the edge of my desert.  From there on, I broke away from a Bible study I was working through which felt like a mundane chore and began just allowing the word to speak to me.  In other words, I stopped making God hold me down so that He could inject His word into my mouth like a necessary treatment for life and began allowing His word to just wash into me like a flowing stream of nourishment.

I had just begun a new gym membership and decided that instead of plugging my earphones into the TV audio box on the elliptical trainer, I would listen to the New Testament on my i-pod.  The first day, God illuminated Matthew 10, where he tells how Jesus sent out his disciples without anything but the clothes on their backs and their walking sticks and tells them to trust the Father to provide; that if they are in a place where the message of Christ is received, then He will provide for all of their needs.  That seemed significant to my journey.  If I'm constantly fighting against how I'm spending my time, then maybe I'm not where I'm supposed to be.  Maybe I just need to surrender my time to the Lord and watch Him provide?

A couple days later I'm sitting in a lobby during an errand I was running.  There's people all around and I'm waiting for a guy to come out and tell me how much he thinks my car is worth so that I can sell it.  I'm thumbing through the gospels with the truth from Matthew 10 weighing on my heart and thinking how passionate I am about discipleship to teenagers.  My eye caught the tail-end of Matthew 9:

"And Jesus went throughout all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few;  therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.'" (emphasis mine)

I did everything I could not to break down and cry.  When I see the words "he had compassion for them" and "harassed and helpless" I think of teenagers, particularly middle school kids.  For over a week, any time I shared with someone what God placed on my heart regarding my desire to see teenagers come to know and grow in Christ, I would just sob with the compassion that overwhelmed me.  I know that there are many "groups" of people that could be described as "harassed and helpless"--the elderly, the homeless, people living in impoverished countries around the world, prostitutes, orphans, etc...--but the people I see when I read this passage are teenagers.  I wrote in my journal that day,

"This is a passage which has had meaning in my life before but I have never felt so emotional about it.  I think that more recently I have seen more deeply into people's hearts; from the very young to the very old.  I have seen how 'harassed and helpless' people can be.  None of these is more so that teenagers.  I feel so strongly drawn back into the kind of work I left in my own time of helplessness when I first moved to Florida...I feel drawn to an outreach and discipleship minded ministry...Lord, my desires, dreams, and visions just keep increasing until I think I might burst!  I'm at a point of surrender, only I know not which direction to fall.  I guess I must simply fall and trust that You will catch me."

Since then, I've been deeply investigating these passages in Matthew 9 and 10 with fervor.  I'm seeking counsel and prayer from those around me whom I trust and who trust Christ with their lives.  I'm looking back at Galatians 6:9 and seeing how God has already used my past trials to prepare me for a this current challenge which allows me to trust more deeply that I simply need to "not grow weary in doing good." I must trust that the seeds I am sowing through my current obedience to Christ will produce everlasting fruit in the future.   From the desert to the harvest, God is Lord of all and I am His daughter, "so firm on his promise I'll stand."

Gratitude

Lately I've been walking through a spiritual dessert.  My life has been so haphazard for many reasons and it's thrown me a bit off kilter.  I'm yet again looking for the horizon.  However, amidst my frustrations, God has shown me very clearly that He's with me and that He knows all about my needs.  If I could only use one word to describe the last few weeks, it would be, "Grateful."

Andrew and I recently moved.  It was a bit of a crazy time.  The week before, we were planning for a weekend retreat with the middle school guys and girls we minister to through our church.  It's an awesome ministry and we are very invested.  However, we were going into the weekend knowing that we had 10 days to move out of our place as new tenants were moving in, and we had no idea where we'd be moving.  Well, of course, God provided.

Me (far left) with my co-leader, Jenny, and our 7th grade girls at camp

We looked at a place the Monday following the church retreat and it was so awful that I thought, "I will cry daily if I have to live here!"  Now, I knew that if God led us to move there, I would be obedient but I knew I would hate every minute of it.  It was the size of a shoe box, stepping into the house we were in the middle of the living room, three steps to the right and we were in the kitchen the size of a tissue box, two steps back and we were in the bathroom the size of a tin can, and three steps to the left and we were in the bedroom which might have fit our double bed which we'd have to jump onto from the doorway.  There were two small windows in the whole house about face-level which had bars on them.  I think that God showed us that place so that I would be more open and excited for the place we looked at on Tuesday.

I'd always been leery of living in a mobile home.  Where I'm from, it was not so kindly called, "trailer trash."  Basically, a person either lived in a trailer or on the street.  Andrew, however, had lived in one and said it was not that bad...and he would never bring me to a place that was "that bad."  So, we looked at the home on Tuesday where we filled out the application.  It wasn't "that bad."  Actually, it seemed spacious with lots of windows We received a call on Wednesday saying we were approved to live there, and we signed the lease on Thursday.  Grateful.

With the stress of finding a place to live, we hadn't packed a single box.  We figured we would do what we could over the weekend and finish up moving and cleaning the old place early the next week.  So, we got to work right away.  By Friday, we had a small dent in the packing when my Mother-in-Law and siblings came over to help.  Then my Father-in-Law showed up with his truck and we amazingly got a whole load moved over to the house before Andrew got out of work!  Grateful.

The next day, we continued packing.  Andrew's family once again came over, along with our good friend, Wes.  With two trucks, a minivan, and my PT Cruiser, we were able to get everything to the new house in about two trips.  We realized early in the day that this process was going a lot faster than we had planned.  Without electricity and water, we realized we needed to get to the utility office before they closed at 1pm.

The Wretched Wrench

So, immediately following the first load, we planned on heading over the the utility office while the rest of the crew unloaded.  However, on the way to the house we heard a little noise and the check tire light came on...then pulling into the neighborhood, we heard the ever familiar, "thump, thump, thump."  Pulling up to the house, we saw the look on Andrew's dad's face we knew it was worse than we thought.  The left rear tire was completely imbedded with a small wrench.  Great.

We took the minivan to the utility office.  Electricity, check.  Water...not for three days!  We got home to the spare tire being put onto the car.  Grateful.

Somewhere amidst getting the second load packed up, Andrew's dad had our tire replaced.  Grateful.

The condo we were living in was privately owned by a man and his wife who were believers and fantastic landlords.  It was partially furnished and included a lot of amenities.  In communicating to them our plans to move, they offered for us to keep the couch (which our cat had adopted as her scratching post) and the coffee table.  Our roommate had also given us one of her two T.V.'s and a TV stand that she wasn't going to be able to use in her new place.  Grateful.

Another thing we didn't have for the new place was a dining room table.  I told Andrew's mom that I thought we would go to goodwill and see if we could find a small card table.  After all, it's just the two of us.  A few hours after we were left to our own devices, we had run out to get some subway for dinner.  Moments after we returned the in-laws showed up with a gorgeous wooden table with two chairs!  Grateful.

Table for Two

Now, here we are in our new house and I'm working really hard to get unpacked.  I'm of that mindset where if my surroundings are in disarray, I have a hard time relaxing.  I need a place of tranquility in order to be at peace in my mind.  In speaking with a lot of other women, I'm not alone.  Andrew, on the other hand, can decide he needs a day of rest where he can just lie on the couch, read, watch movies, and relax and he'll do it even if there's a load of clean laundry on the couch that has yet to be folded and dishes in the sink.  We are complete opposites in that area.  The chaos of our house drives me nuts and I'll work my heart out until it gets put away.  Andrew isn't going to worry about it, figuring it will get done eventually.

My friend, Jenny, is a professional organizer ("like" her facebook page, Creative Organizing Solutions!).  Understanding my disdain for the mess, offered to come over to help.  Just to be friendly.  We unpacked out entire house in less than 8 hours!  Grateful.

In all the bustle of trying to get settled in, I realize that we don't have a vacuum and the carpet badly needed it.  So, I asked Andrew's mom if we could borrow hers for a day, thinking I'd find a used one on craigslist soon.  So, when we met up so that I could get the vacuum, out came a box instead.  With a brand new vacuum in it.  I don't think I was ever more excited to vacuum in my life.  Grateful.

Just when we didn't think we could be even more blessed, Andrew went researching lawnmowers, another thing we never had because we've never had a yard until now.  He asked a friend of his if he knew of anything.  His friend informed him that he was sending a guy to cut our lawn.  For a month.  Grateful.

So, now I sit here in our "new" home.  My dessert seems a little less deserted, my heart feels a lot more calm, and I'm back to the normal every day maintenance of my home, my marriage, and my life.  Am I swimming in a sea of fullness and satisfaction?  Let's just say that I can see the sun rising over the sandy horizon.

And I'm grateful.

The Art of Being Lazy

A couple of weeks ago I was in bed with some sort of unknown illness.  All I could do was lay there and feel helpless.  Though some may revel in the opportunity to just lay around and rest (my husband being of that kind), this is not the ideal situation for a doer as myself.  Andrew resorted to removing any distractions from the bedroom (anything that might tempt me out of bed to clean, sort, or organize) and strongly advising that I stay in bed except to get something to eat or drink.  The more effort I put forth, the  more I was set back from recovery, so I finally relented.  This did not fair well for my attitude, however.

The more I lay in bed and did nothing, feeling horrible, the more frustrated I became and the worse my attitude.  I became rather grouchy and, to be honest, kind of mean.  I found myself apologizing a lot.

Finally, as I began to feel better, I realized that though I spent a lot of time on Facebook, joining Pinterest and filling up bulletin boards, and sleeping, the one thing I didn't do was seek out my Creator, my Savior, my Healer, The Great Physician.  I wanted so badly to get well and yet Christ was not on my mind.  Once or twice I may have thought to go to Him but was easily distracted and the thought quickly vanished.

I went to the doctor and after a battery of questions, tests, and lab-work, the cause of my illness went undetected and I was given vague instructions.  The next day, feeling well enough to go to Church, I sat in the lobby afterward waiting for Andrew, who was serving for an event following the service, and came down on my knees in repentance.  I realized that my lack of Christ as my hope in my illness had some ugly repercussions--my attitude, my relationship with my husband, and my ability to get well.  Two days later, still improving, I wrote this in my journal:

"Lord, not two days ago did I fall at your feet and repent for not seeking You when I was ill and yet I am just now coming back to You!  I am so very tired as I'm still healing and yet have been keeping myself so busy.  I look back at my time in bed and am thinking of how many chores I need to do to make up for the lost time rather than reveling in the chance to just rest.

As a result of all of this, I sit here feeling spent and am reminded, yet again, of Mary and Martha.  Mary is forever on her knees before the feet of Christ (Luke 10:39; John 11:32, 12:3) whether she was strong in faith or not.  I feel more like that which describes Martha in Luke 10:41, "Anxious and troubled about many things (NLT)" even when forced to rest; forced to let go of my many anxieties and troubles; I fail to look at Jesus' feet and remember that there's a better way--a road that will carry me rather than one which is a burden for me to carry.

God, as I face needing to go back to wok and dive into all the tasks which need to be done, I cry out to You to form in my heart and mind the vision of rest.  Andrew has been telling me that there is a difference between what needs to be done right now, what should be done but can wait, and what I need to just completely look away from and forget about--to not worry myself over at all. Help me to distinguish these, Father!  Help me to learn the beauty of Jesus' feet."

My hope in sharing this with you is that you would also be encouraged to reflect on Jesus' feet as Mary did; that you would let go of the many things which cause anxiety and trouble in your heart, mind, and spirit and seek the feet of Him who has already taken on those burdens for you on the path to righteousness.  Being free of anxiety and trouble over many things allows me to take my eyes off being free of my own burdens that I might help lighten those of others around me.

Waiting, and Waiting, and Waiting...

Part One

Typical Andrew and Bethany expressions...

I have been a married woman for officially six days.  I write this as we drive back from our honeymoon.  So far, married life has been one I’ve easily settled into.  I’m not sure I’ve come to fully absorb it’s reality, however, and won’t be too naive to suggest that I’ve got this whole marriage thing figured out.  In all honesty, I know that I don’t and trust it will be something both Andrew, my husband, and I will be figuring out for the rest of our lives.  One thing I am sure of is that this is something we’ve both been waiting for through most of our lives.  The weeks which dwindled quickly into the days leading up to our wedding day, I was enlightened to a number of things which I had been waiting for that seemed to suddenly come to fruition.  Most of them have to do practically with our wedding and marriage, and though others seem relatively unrelated, I think God worked it all into one big plan for me to see how big of a God I serve.

Soon after our engagement, Andrew and I were faced with the reality that we didn’t really have much money, if any, to spare for wedding expenses.  We’ve both been working really hard for minimal pay.  We’d both been, and still are, in the midst of career transitions and money was tight; even in our day to day living.  Extenuating circumstances with my parents meant that, unless we waiting an additional 4-6 months to be married, we would be on our own for our December 30th wedding.  We prayed individually, together, and with those we trusted and we discussed logistics for setting a date throughout the first month of our four month engagement.  December 30th was the day to which we were fairly certain God was leading.  We set that date with great faith, not knowing how we were going to pay for our wedding.  Knowing we had enough money for a marriage license, we talked many times about running to the courthouse--which I learned from many married couples is a common discussion amongst engaged couples.

We stepped out in faith and our Father met us there...wherever “there” was for any given situation or need.  God’s provision for our wedding reminded me of the wedding at Cana as told in John 2:1-12; ironically and unknowingly chosen by my parents for the theme verse for the wedding cake which they designed for us.  It seemed there were times that we pleaded for His provision, waited, then pleaded again.  He met us in every possible way for our needs (not necessarily all of our wants, but many of our wants and all of our needs). Many times this happened at the last minute and in a way which we least expected, just as the master of the wedding feast at Cana wasn’t expecting the lack of wine to be remedied by a miracle performed by the Son of God and Savior of the World.

While we didn’t have wine at our wedding, there were many things we had that we can only attribute to God working through other’s for us and for His glory.  For an abbreviated list, consider this:

• The church gave us a discount, moreover having the reception there, the cost of our wedding location was very minimal.  Still, it was several hundred dollars which we didn’t have.  Through some very generous gifts, however, the cost was covered, still having money left over for our marriage license and for Andrew (an auto-mechanic who enjoys roughhousing with his middle school boys small group; enough said) to get very badly needed glasses.  
• Guests, and especially the bridal party, were generous in their contributions for our potluck reception.  
• The ceremony music was arranged and performed live at no cost by members of our wedding party.  
• The photography, lights, sound, set up, tear-down, and even on site coordination of the entire day was done voluntarily by dear friends from the church and middle school students from the church’s youth ministry.  
• The minister, the pastor of the middle school ministry where Andrew and I met as volunteer leaders, officiated free of charge (he became licensed through the church to officiate weddings because we asked him to officiate ours).  

Most importantly, the name of Jesus and the Truth of the Gospel were clearly proclaimed by word and deed.  It was really a picture of people coming together as in the first church did as depicted in Acts 2:42-47.  There were so many small things which came together that would make this blog entry far too lengthy, if it isn’t already.

A few days before the wedding day itself, the inevitable question, “Where will you take your honeymoon?” began to arise consistently.  The answer to this question was difficult.  We knew what we had hoped to do but we had faced the reality that we may be spending our wedding night in the small condo which we were sharing with our friend, Sarah--furthest thing from ideal!  While we would have made it work and made it wonderful, it was definitely not our ideal picture.

Just a few of those that helped make
our dream wedding become a reality

The day before our wedding, we received a highly unexpected gift.  A very good friend of Andrew’s (one of the groomsmen) and his wife set us up with a beautiful hotel room in downtown Orlando on the night of our wedding, along with four nights on the beach on Jekyll Island, Georgia.  A final night was a gift from Andrew’s parents, using travel points, at a Hampton on the island.  Our dream of honeymooning on the ocean became a glorious reality.  I couldn’t have imagined of a better way to bring in 2012; with a husband on an island on the ocean.  Besides that, the gifts from our wedding guests totaled to several hundred dollars in cash, which allowed us to enjoy our time together without worrying about spending too much on meals.

Throughout our wedding planning, though I fell into times of great stress and anxiety over our finances and the costs of just about everything, I tried to rest my faith in Matthew 6.  The chapter became very real to me over this time.  The couple who gave us the honeymoon did so with tact and grace, portraying Jesus’ command in verses 1-4; “...when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret...”  

I’m not sure I’ve experienced such a blatant answer to prayer as I have through this experience of getting married on pennies.  I’ve seen Matthew 6:19-24 with so much more clarity in what God has done through mine and Andrew’s marriage.  So many times I felt as if money and jobs were dictating our identity and our lives.  How many times had I cried out to God to free me from that place and I’ve experienced significant freedom in the generosity of my fellow believers.  Just a couple weeks ago Andrew and I looked at our bank accounts and wondered how we’d get through the next week, wedding aside.  Now, as we look at joining our accounts, we can breath again.

Part Two

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it hasn’t just been the wedding that has shown me God’s enduring presence in my life.  Cherishing my self-image; that is my inner and outer beauty; has been a plea of mine to God for as long as I can remember.  This is another place in my life where God has done significant work over the past few months.

Without realizing it, my desire to leave my life of singleness has had a significant influence on my self-image.  For twenty-eight years I prayed that God would bring me my “Prince Charming,” my rescuer, my “soul-mate.”  The question, “Am I worthy?”  has constantly been a doubt in my mind.  For many years I was okay discovering my independence, pouring over Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 7:25-40.  “Can I do it on my own?  Can I find fulfillment in God alone?”  In theory, I can do it on my own and have found fulfillment in God alone as much as a broken individual can hope for but I long felt the calling for marriage.  Getting into my late twenties, one might say that fear of being single forever began to tap me on the shoulder.

Well, “prince,” would be a great way to describe Andrew, and he’s definitely been a model of a “rescuer” in my life.  However, he’s not “The Prince,” or “The Rescuer.”  I’ve come to understand that only Jesus Christ can fulfill those roles.  I’ve come to rescind the western societal view of “soul-mate,” either.  However, in a right Biblical role of a man and woman in love (see Ephesians 5:22-33), Andrew is my Prince and my Rescuer; he’s an example for me of how Christ love’s the Church.  Being married to him has brought this image into a whole new light and understanding for me.  That will be a topic for discussion in another post--maybe after I’ve been married longer than a few days!  What I’d like to emphasize, here, now, is that being with Andrew, and now being married to Andrew, has been a big part in my journey toward recognizing my self-worth; the worth with which God created me and furthermore, the worth of my whole life’s meaning.  This is not just to be a wife and a help-mate but an heiress in the Kingdom of God (Romans 8:12-17), a princess (without the lace and gold); not just the bride of a man but the bride of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

As for the outward side of my self-image, it’s still a bit of a struggle and a mystery to me.  Andrew calls me “pretty” daily and often adds in “beautiful,” and “gorgeous.”  Since I was very young (I’m not certain, but possibly as young as seven years old) I have had an aversion to my skin.  It began with my arms.  I noticed little bumps on my elbows and  knees but what really bothered me was that they were also on the backs of my upper arms.  I hated them and began to pick at them.  Then, when I became older and began puberty, I began to pick at the acne on my face, my neck, and my back.  I’ll save you the psychological map I’ve partially unearthed concerning this issue.  The important aspect of this problem is that these bumps; these imperfections; made me feel ugly.  I mean really ugly.  The problem is that I pick them away and they just come back.  And they come back worse.  Furthermore, the more I pick, the more I want to pick and the greater chance I develop long-term repercussions called scars.  

My struggle with my outward beauty is more than skin deep and has become a vicious cycle.  Once Andrew proposed marriage to me, I became more comfortable disclosing such information with him.  I had decided several times over the past couple years that I wanted to stop picking my skin but proved a failure.  I would come back with more vengeance than before.  With my permission, Andrew offered to hold me accountable--asking me daily, at first, how I was doing with not picking.  He began to be more intentional about telling me how pretty I am and began researching adult acne for me (maybe it’s having been home-schooled but Andrew proves to be a whiz at internet research).  I was very adamant about natural skin care and Andrew found a treatment using fresh lemons that, after a few trials and refinements, works beautifully.  I also began to research and have refined a facial mask using just honey and baking soda.  These combinations draw out the impurities, open up my pores, heal blemishes and diminish the left over red spots.   

Having someone who loves me ask me consistently how I’m doing with my resolution and showing true concern when I don’t follow through, has been a significant blessing from God.  In addition to being held accountable to not pick, I’ve had a companion to help me find a natural way that really works to get rid of acne I’ve had for fourteen years.  It could have been someone else that helped me through this but I’m glad it was my husband.  It drew us together with an intimacy appropriate for that stage in our relationship which now affects us as we draw even closer as man and wife.  For, if a wife is insecure about her self-image; physically or inwardly; then she cannot be fully secure in her relationship with her husband.

I have waited for so long and for much of that waiting, so impatiently.  Patience, or long-suffering, is not something I’ve been very gifted in.  My mother often jokes about the fact that since it only took one hour of labor for me to be born, she hasn’t been surprised that I’m not more patient about other things in life.  In all of this waiting--for a husband, for clear skin, for a breakthrough in my skin picking addiction, and for financial provision for my life and marriage--I’ve been blown away by how God has come through on every little detail.  The desert seemed so vast and so dry and so unbearable while I was in the waiting period for all of these things and now I’m swimming in a sea of God’s grace and mercy.  He’s given me groves of nourishment, fields of blessings, and showers of love.

Really funny, God. Are you serious?

It appears that God is always serious when it comes to calling His children to serve Him within their giftedness, however, I've been staring in disbelief as I've discovered what God has called me to this time around.  Actually, it isn't so different from the vision He's given me from the beginning.

God and I had a conversation a while back that sounded a lot like this:

God:  Bethany, you are going to serve me in full-time youth ministry.

Me: Uhhh...no, I'm not. (Goes about her business)

God:  Bethany, you are going to serve me in full-time youth ministry.

Me:  Um, yeah, no.  You are kidding!  I'm not going into full-time ministry.

God:  No, really, Bethany.  I'm serious.  I need you to serve me in full-time youth ministry.

Me: I am?

God: Yes.  You are.

Me: Oh.

God: (patiently waiting)

Me:  God, I think I need to serve you in full-time youth ministry.

God:  Yes.  You are.

Me:  I'm going to serve God in full-time youth ministry!!!

That conversation, had in January of 2005, launched me on a crazy journey.  I began talking to people and getting involved in youth events--mainly Student Venture conferences (Campus Crusade for Christ's high school outreach) where I fell in love with what God was doing in the lives of teenagers and later that year, began a 1 1/2 year internship.  In July of 2007 I joined staff full-time where I really connected deeply with high school girls.  I saw kids come to know Jesus in a very personal way and walked through some really difficult issues with them.  I saw a lot of hurt in America's sweet sixteens.

Then my own hurt attacked me from a sidewind.  In the beginning of 2009, my "best friend" from college, in an abusive co-dependent relationship, began to really get into deep depression and reliance on me and her boyfriend.  Me, having my own dependency issues, tried to be her savior.  I was, of course, in ministry, wasn't I?  I had all the answers, didn't I?  I could rescue her, couldn't I, just like I could rescue all of the girls I was working with, right?

Well, it just so happens that the situation didn't turn out that way.  I lost my friendship with this great friend while on vacation with her at Disney World.  It was messy, dirty, and distorted beyond repair.  I was devastated.  Was I rescuing her as a way to rescue myself?  Working with the high school girls became exhausting as I walked through this tragedy in my life and my health went into a downward spiral.

That summer I found myself in Fort Collins, Colorado, taking Bible classes with fellow Student Venture staff.  It had turned into a refuge of being surrounded by like-minded believers--a time for healing and discovering myself.  The pain was worse than any physical pain I had experienced and it only seemed to get worse as I dug deep to find out what weapon had penetrated me so deeply.  By the end of the summer I found myself on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication.  I would cry for hours thinking about going back to my high school girls as I could barely even take care of myself.

My emotional state was taken very seriously by the leaders of the ministry.  After much discussion, and much resistance from me, we decided that it would be best if I moved to Orlando, Florida, to work behind a computer at the national headquarters rather than face to face with the teenagers.  I reluctantly moved...

And then I joyfully stayed.  God opened up, not only the root of my pain that I might heal, but also a view into gifts He had given me which I had been ignoring.  I realized that, yes, I still have a passion for teenagers and women but also a passion and talent for writing, among many other things.

As I prayed about how I could combine my two passions, my financial support for my ministry began to struggle.  I worked fervently off and on for a year to build a team of financial support that would sustain the ministry God had given me.  When instead of growing, my team kept shrinking, I began to look into other options.  What God led me to do was not something I ever expected but seemed only right--leave the ministry.

As of August first, for the first time since January of 2006, I was not getting a paycheck from Student Venture.  I was living ministry partner free.  It's been an odd feeling...until now.

Enter the love of my life, Andrew Marinelli.  We are getting married on December 30th.  Both of us have been praying about God's leading for our life and work since we first became serious 5 1/2 months ago.  About 2 1/2 months ago, Andrew mentioned that there was a job he was interested in with a ministry called New Tribes Mission working as a mechanic.  He mentioned that he'd have to raise financial support.  I laughed inside.  "Uh-uh.  No way." I thought to myself.  Out loud it sounded more like, "well, it's something to look into but I don't know how I feel about the support raising thing. I'm so weary of that life right now."

As it time went on and job searches kept going forth, NTM kept coming up.  As it turned out, Andrew heard of a writing job for me in the same ministry.  "No way," I thought.  "I'm not raising support again."  I looked into it just to honor Andrew, figuring that I could say I looked and that I wasn't interested.  The only problem was that I really was interested!  I started to laugh at God and having the same conversation as before.  "No way.  You're kidding, God, I'm not rebuilding a financial ministry team again," to which God's reply was the same as before, "Yes, Bethany, you are."

Unlike any other time when I've seen something I liked (like the moment I first saw Andrew for who he is), I couldn't accept it right way.  It took a lot of prayer and research and questions asked before I could really commit.  God brought me through this journey, brought me out of ministry so that I could write, and then brought me right back into ministry...so that I can write.

My life over the last few years has been a lot of tears and pain, a lot of healing and rejoicing, and a lot of very uncomfortable changes.  All of this so that I could be right where God wanted me so that I could follow the dreams that I always thought I could never live out.

God may have a sense of humor but He also knows the plans for our lives.

Proverbs 3:5-8 

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,   and do not lean on your own understanding.In all your ways acknowledge him,   and he will make straight your paths.Be not wise in your own eyes;   fear the LORD, and turn away from evil.It will be healing to your flesh   and refreshment to your bones.

Jeremiah 29:11-14 

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.  You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, declares the LORD, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.