I woke up this morning feeling excited for the first morning in a while. After some incoherent mumbling about how early it was I rolled over and greeted Matt with a hearty "He is risen!" Growing up in the Methodist church, one of my favorite things about Easter Sunday was the greeting. "Christ is risen" the pastor would say. The people then respond joyfully "He is risen indeed!" As I've gotten older and no longer have that liturgy to look forward to, I have made my own tradition of sharing the greeting with friends and family who know the call and response. As we drove to Tulane's campus to set up for our Easter gathering, I sent a few texts sharing the good news with some old friends and eagerly awaited the reply.
I was reminded of the account of the sharing of the Gospel, the Good News, the Resurrection from Matthew. (I've always liked that one in particular). "1 Now after the Sabbath, toward the dawn of the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. 2 And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4 And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men. 5 But the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.6 He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him. See, I have told you."8 So they departed quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples." (Matt 28:1-8).
I share all this because this past Lenten season has been one of the driest seasons of my life. Work has been more difficult and consuming of my time and energy than I even imagined. I attempted to give up complaining for Lent, in an attempt to reign in my bitter and ungrateful heart. All I will say is that was a big fail and Busy Season is not the time to attempt such a feat. So between feeling like a failure at work and in my spiritual life, I honestly had not spent more than 5 minutes thing about Easter. That's why it surprised me that I woke up with a joyful heart this morning excited to share the Good News. I have been praising Jesus all morning for a joy that truly only comes from Him. Because my heart and mind had no room for any such joy but He pushed His way in and I am so glad! Our God works miracles big and small and igniting my heart this morning would qualify as a big victory.
This afternoon as I pause from Easter festivities and take time to write a blog I don't have time to write, my prayer is that this joy and excitement to share the Good News would be more than an Easter Sunday feeling, that it would've a daily excitement to share the Truth of Jesus' resurrection and love and victory with those that I encounter. That this Truth and His victory would reign in your heart and mine on the good days and bad days. During Busy Season, during trials, during seasons of dryness, during seasons of Promise.
I close simply with this: Christ is risen, friends! And that is some good news!!
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Why New Orleans Matters (to me)
This post has been on my heart for months...here's hoping my words today can be clear.
Part of my reason for writing now is that twice in one week I have had conversations with people about the city and why I love it here. One of the conversations was with coworkers (most of whom were born and raised in the area and lived through Katrina). The other was with a group of girlfriends, as one was sharing about her struggles with adjusting to life in this city and how she just can't call this place home.So I think now is the time to write.
I should start by stating it simply. I love New Orleans.
When Matt and I first starting discussing my potential move and our potential future here, I was not thrilled, to say the least. However, my reservations had very little to do with the city itself and much more to do with its location 10 hours away from my family and hometown. But the fact of the matter is that I did not want to move. However, over a period of several months of praying and talking, I really felt like the Lord was asking me to step out of my comfort zone, and to move to this foreign land of heat, humidity, mosquitoes, old houses, raucous parties, and crazies. (Yes, sadly, this was my expectation for the place I would be calling home.) Anyway, I agreed.
As soon as I arrived, though, I was enchanted. There is something so inviting and mysterious about the city. It's as if you just want to keep walking or driving around the next corner, because you just don't know what you might see. There is always a new restaurant to try, a new festival to attend, new people to meet (and the people always have such interesting stories!). It didn't take me long to be smitten. Before I really fell in love, I appreciated the same things other "outsiders" enjoy: the food, the music, Mardi Gras, the atmosphere. However, since I've been here for more than three years now, my love has grown deeper. Now, I appreciate some better things: I truly love the people, the history, the culture that is the fabric of life here. One of my favorite activities porch sitting and chatting with my neighbors. My favorite date night is at Dick & Jenny's, a neighborhood restaurant within a five minute walk from our house. Nothing beats the feeling of running on St. Charles at daybreak.
All of these conversations and ponderings got me to thinking about a book I read last year. It is called Why New Orleans Matters by Tom Piazza and it is beautiful and true. I even bought I copy for my Mom, and I'm hoping it will help her see why a girl like me could love a place like this. (I'd buy each of you reading this one, too, if you'd like....the book is that good!)
The books shares some funny anecdotes, and some sad truths. But this particular line stuck out to me:
"New Orleans is a city of elegance, beauty refinement, and grace. It is also a city of violence, poor education and extreme poverty" (76).
It is one of the deepest truths about New Orleans that it is a place of great juxtaposition. It is old and new. It is rich and poor. It is beautiful and broken. Aren't we all? I think that's part of what I love so much about this place. It is kind of like all of us. Sometimes I find myself focusing so much on one aspect that I forget the other exists. For example, during Mardi Gras time, when the city has put on her best dress, when beads are thrown and music is played, and people are just happy to stand on the sidewalk and just BE, on those days, I see beauty. On an evening stroll through the Quarter on our way to Irene's for dinner, with jazz notes hanging in the thick night air, I see beauty. I don't notice the trash or the debauchery or the darkness that undoubtedly resides around the corner. Other times, though, like when I am driving up Washington towards Claiborne, all I can see is poverty. When I am stopped at a red light by the interstate and see a man with a sign asking for money, all I can see is despair. When I watch the news in the morning and hear of the latest murders, my heart breaks and I'm not sure when or how it will ever stop. But no matter how distracted I can be by beauty at times and brokenness at others, I must remember that I live in a city that is both, simultaneously. I think we all live in places like that, no matter what city or country we're in. We live in a beautiful and broken world.
Matt recently shared with our church family about how as Christians we're called to live in the city with a purpose, taking the ministry and message of reconciliation that we've been given to those who need it the most - those who are poor (whether physically, emotionally, relationally or spiritually). And that is just what we Bricks are trying to do. Last fall, we spent a Saturday morning serving the city as part of Mayor Landrieu's NOLA for Life campaign. We helped clean up a park in Central City. We got to meet some of the kids who play in that park and help them make their community safer. We are looking forward to getting behind this or other similar causes in the months and years to come.
But this mission that Matt and I are involved with is more than community service - for us, its a way of life. It means engaging and loving our neighbors and sharing life with them; and I mean really sharing life, not just waving hello as we run from our cars into our front doors but instead actually getting to know them and what they do and where they're from and who they are. It is much easier to do this in a city, especially in a shotgun-style house like we live in where we share a front porch with our neighbors. It means living in a smaller house than we might if we lived elsewhere. It means street parking and long waits for the streetcar or bus at times because nothing in NOLA is ever on time. It means having to plan weekend plans during Mardi Gras around whether you'll be able to make it back home before they close streets down. But it also means having true community with aforementioned neighbors; getting to walk to dinner or the grocery or the bus stop. It means the dry cleaner knows our name as soon as Matt walks in the door and Cesar his barber gives him a special deal because he's been a client for five years now. I could go on and on. The point is, living with a purpose in this city (or any city) is tough at times, but when you love a place it is so worth it.
So, NOLA friends, I'd be interested to hear from you. Why does New Orleans matter to you?
And everyone else, come on down and see what all the fuss is about. But be careful, you might just have to stay!
Part of my reason for writing now is that twice in one week I have had conversations with people about the city and why I love it here. One of the conversations was with coworkers (most of whom were born and raised in the area and lived through Katrina). The other was with a group of girlfriends, as one was sharing about her struggles with adjusting to life in this city and how she just can't call this place home.So I think now is the time to write.
I should start by stating it simply. I love New Orleans.
When Matt and I first starting discussing my potential move and our potential future here, I was not thrilled, to say the least. However, my reservations had very little to do with the city itself and much more to do with its location 10 hours away from my family and hometown. But the fact of the matter is that I did not want to move. However, over a period of several months of praying and talking, I really felt like the Lord was asking me to step out of my comfort zone, and to move to this foreign land of heat, humidity, mosquitoes, old houses, raucous parties, and crazies. (Yes, sadly, this was my expectation for the place I would be calling home.) Anyway, I agreed.
As soon as I arrived, though, I was enchanted. There is something so inviting and mysterious about the city. It's as if you just want to keep walking or driving around the next corner, because you just don't know what you might see. There is always a new restaurant to try, a new festival to attend, new people to meet (and the people always have such interesting stories!). It didn't take me long to be smitten. Before I really fell in love, I appreciated the same things other "outsiders" enjoy: the food, the music, Mardi Gras, the atmosphere. However, since I've been here for more than three years now, my love has grown deeper. Now, I appreciate some better things: I truly love the people, the history, the culture that is the fabric of life here. One of my favorite activities porch sitting and chatting with my neighbors. My favorite date night is at Dick & Jenny's, a neighborhood restaurant within a five minute walk from our house. Nothing beats the feeling of running on St. Charles at daybreak.
All of these conversations and ponderings got me to thinking about a book I read last year. It is called Why New Orleans Matters by Tom Piazza and it is beautiful and true. I even bought I copy for my Mom, and I'm hoping it will help her see why a girl like me could love a place like this. (I'd buy each of you reading this one, too, if you'd like....the book is that good!)
The books shares some funny anecdotes, and some sad truths. But this particular line stuck out to me:
"New Orleans is a city of elegance, beauty refinement, and grace. It is also a city of violence, poor education and extreme poverty" (76).
It is one of the deepest truths about New Orleans that it is a place of great juxtaposition. It is old and new. It is rich and poor. It is beautiful and broken. Aren't we all? I think that's part of what I love so much about this place. It is kind of like all of us. Sometimes I find myself focusing so much on one aspect that I forget the other exists. For example, during Mardi Gras time, when the city has put on her best dress, when beads are thrown and music is played, and people are just happy to stand on the sidewalk and just BE, on those days, I see beauty. On an evening stroll through the Quarter on our way to Irene's for dinner, with jazz notes hanging in the thick night air, I see beauty. I don't notice the trash or the debauchery or the darkness that undoubtedly resides around the corner. Other times, though, like when I am driving up Washington towards Claiborne, all I can see is poverty. When I am stopped at a red light by the interstate and see a man with a sign asking for money, all I can see is despair. When I watch the news in the morning and hear of the latest murders, my heart breaks and I'm not sure when or how it will ever stop. But no matter how distracted I can be by beauty at times and brokenness at others, I must remember that I live in a city that is both, simultaneously. I think we all live in places like that, no matter what city or country we're in. We live in a beautiful and broken world.
Matt recently shared with our church family about how as Christians we're called to live in the city with a purpose, taking the ministry and message of reconciliation that we've been given to those who need it the most - those who are poor (whether physically, emotionally, relationally or spiritually). And that is just what we Bricks are trying to do. Last fall, we spent a Saturday morning serving the city as part of Mayor Landrieu's NOLA for Life campaign. We helped clean up a park in Central City. We got to meet some of the kids who play in that park and help them make their community safer. We are looking forward to getting behind this or other similar causes in the months and years to come.
But this mission that Matt and I are involved with is more than community service - for us, its a way of life. It means engaging and loving our neighbors and sharing life with them; and I mean really sharing life, not just waving hello as we run from our cars into our front doors but instead actually getting to know them and what they do and where they're from and who they are. It is much easier to do this in a city, especially in a shotgun-style house like we live in where we share a front porch with our neighbors. It means living in a smaller house than we might if we lived elsewhere. It means street parking and long waits for the streetcar or bus at times because nothing in NOLA is ever on time. It means having to plan weekend plans during Mardi Gras around whether you'll be able to make it back home before they close streets down. But it also means having true community with aforementioned neighbors; getting to walk to dinner or the grocery or the bus stop. It means the dry cleaner knows our name as soon as Matt walks in the door and Cesar his barber gives him a special deal because he's been a client for five years now. I could go on and on. The point is, living with a purpose in this city (or any city) is tough at times, but when you love a place it is so worth it.
So, NOLA friends, I'd be interested to hear from you. Why does New Orleans matter to you?
And everyone else, come on down and see what all the fuss is about. But be careful, you might just have to stay!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Words of Wisdom
Lately I've been thinking a lot about my words, how I use them, and the impact my words have on my heart.
I was at a Christmas service recently where we sang O Come All Ye Faithful. Tears filled my eyes as we repeated the lines "O come let us adore him" and "For He alone is worthy". In the stillness of the moment, contemplating those phrases overwhelmed me. My mind rested on the word "adore" and thoughts drifted to its more commonly utilized cousin "love". I was convicted thinking about how carelessly I throw that word around. I say that I love my husband, I love my new shoes, I love pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks, I love Jesus. See how vastly different those things are? Do I really feel the same about my favorite pair of shoes as my husband? A coffee drink and the Creator of the Universe? Obviously I don't!
So then, part of the problem is that I am not careful with my words. I allow popular semantics and cultural norms to effect my speech. I ignore advice from the book of James. I have not tamed my tongue. One of the strongest analogies in James 3 is "Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs." (James 3:4) It speaks right to the fact that our tongue, though small and seemingly powerless, has an unmistakeable impact on our very hearts and lives.
I am also considering how the words that come out of my mouth direct the attitudes of my heart. Or maybe it is the other way around and the attitudes of my heart impact the words that roll off my tongue. Either way, my heart and my words are inextricably connected and I know I need to be more careful with both. How often do I hear (and yes, even distribute on occasion) gossip - hurtful and ugly words about others? And how do those words shape my view on the person of whom I am speaking? How often do I allow lies spoken into my head "I am a failure"; "This outfit makes me look too fat/thin/young/old"; "I could never do that"; "I'm not worthy" come out of my mouth? Only I know the depth of the damage those words do to my self worth - and I can say it is pretty extensive.
With all these thoughts rolling around in my head, in the New Year, I am praying that I might be a woman of fewer words - more meaningful words, truer words, wiser words. That I'd use my words to encourage and not to tear down. That I would be precise, acknowledging that I enjoy my pumpkin spice latte, that I appreciate the beauty in my shoes, that I admire my husband and that I adore my God. I am praying, as the psalmist wrote, that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart would be acceptable to The Lord, who is my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).
I was at a Christmas service recently where we sang O Come All Ye Faithful. Tears filled my eyes as we repeated the lines "O come let us adore him" and "For He alone is worthy". In the stillness of the moment, contemplating those phrases overwhelmed me. My mind rested on the word "adore" and thoughts drifted to its more commonly utilized cousin "love". I was convicted thinking about how carelessly I throw that word around. I say that I love my husband, I love my new shoes, I love pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks, I love Jesus. See how vastly different those things are? Do I really feel the same about my favorite pair of shoes as my husband? A coffee drink and the Creator of the Universe? Obviously I don't!
So then, part of the problem is that I am not careful with my words. I allow popular semantics and cultural norms to effect my speech. I ignore advice from the book of James. I have not tamed my tongue. One of the strongest analogies in James 3 is "Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs." (James 3:4) It speaks right to the fact that our tongue, though small and seemingly powerless, has an unmistakeable impact on our very hearts and lives.
I am also considering how the words that come out of my mouth direct the attitudes of my heart. Or maybe it is the other way around and the attitudes of my heart impact the words that roll off my tongue. Either way, my heart and my words are inextricably connected and I know I need to be more careful with both. How often do I hear (and yes, even distribute on occasion) gossip - hurtful and ugly words about others? And how do those words shape my view on the person of whom I am speaking? How often do I allow lies spoken into my head "I am a failure"; "This outfit makes me look too fat/thin/young/old"; "I could never do that"; "I'm not worthy" come out of my mouth? Only I know the depth of the damage those words do to my self worth - and I can say it is pretty extensive.
With all these thoughts rolling around in my head, in the New Year, I am praying that I might be a woman of fewer words - more meaningful words, truer words, wiser words. That I'd use my words to encourage and not to tear down. That I would be precise, acknowledging that I enjoy my pumpkin spice latte, that I appreciate the beauty in my shoes, that I admire my husband and that I adore my God. I am praying, as the psalmist wrote, that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart would be acceptable to The Lord, who is my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The Way I See It
I've heard it before, "Well, the way I see it..." That phrase often precedes the speaker sharing her opinion on a topic based on her perspective. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about perspective. And I've learned that the way I look at things really does matter.
I have been reading the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (If you haven't read it - run, don't walk, run to the bookstore or click on the link and get it now!) and the book offered me great challenge and encouragement. I found myself saying "Me, too!" on page after page, thought after thought.
Ann (I'll use her first name like we're friends) writes of a life she lived for years, an unfulfilled life. Yes, she knew and loved the Lord, but often she found herself lacking something in a life filled with busyness - farm chores, six children to raise and homeschool, and countless writing and speaking engagements. Ann ultimately came to the conclusion that what she was missing, that which would satisfy her weary soul, was living a life full of JOY in the Lord.
Thus, Ann began a journey to discover eucharisteo, or thanksgiving, in her daily life. She decided to make a list, to count one thousand blessings in her every day. She named things like morning shadows across old floors (#1); mail in the mailbox (#22); kisses in the dark (#56); clean sheets smelling like the wind (#243); suds...all color in the sun (#362); forgiveness of a sister (#783); toothless smiles (#882). Every item named, recognized, acknowledged as a gift and thanks given for it.
And so, in response to Ann's journey, I've decided to take one of my own. I have started my own list of one thousand gifts, the reminders of His grace and goodness in the ordinary that I could easily miss out on if I didn't take the time to recognize them, to count them, to name them as blessings. But more than a list (because I'm a list maker and I'm task oriented and this could easily become more of an intellectual challenge than an act of worship) I am feeling a heart change, a shift in my point of view. I am made more aware of how my perspective of a situation determines whether I name it as a blessing, whether I can find the beauty and see something worthy of praise in a song or a scent or a moment. And if I find beauty and give thanks in all the moments, isn't this life, these few short years, much sweeter? And if I am so busy being thankful that I forget to worry or fret or complain, isn't this life much more beautiful and worthwhile and pleasing to Him? To do this, to truly be able to give thanks and find joy, I am going to have to learn to be present in each moment, letting go of the past, not worrying about the future, and living, breathing, soaking up the now.
It is also worth noting that this sense of gratitude and joy I am seeking are not an attempt to permanently implant rose-covered lenses over my eyes or to ignore the reality I live in. Because the truth is, there are some things in life for which giving thanks is difficult. There are hard days, bad weeks, difficult years. We are hurt at times, cut deep by betrayal or pain or loss. There are times when giving thanks seems ridiculous because the situation seems utterly devoid of God. But if we believe that God is sovereign and that He is good no matter our circumstances, then we can't help but give thanks at all times in all things. I pray that in those moments I will be able to live the hard eucharisteo, to give the difficult thanksgiving. Because He is always worthy.
This morning I added to my list:
7. Truth in the Word speaking into the reality of my situation
8. Writers who inspire me
9. Warm hazelnut coffee
So maybe you won't make a list to one thousand blessings. But maybe it is enough to start seeing things differently. You could just start by answering the question: What are you thankful for today?
I have been reading the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (If you haven't read it - run, don't walk, run to the bookstore or click on the link and get it now!) and the book offered me great challenge and encouragement. I found myself saying "Me, too!" on page after page, thought after thought.
Ann (I'll use her first name like we're friends) writes of a life she lived for years, an unfulfilled life. Yes, she knew and loved the Lord, but often she found herself lacking something in a life filled with busyness - farm chores, six children to raise and homeschool, and countless writing and speaking engagements. Ann ultimately came to the conclusion that what she was missing, that which would satisfy her weary soul, was living a life full of JOY in the Lord.
Thus, Ann began a journey to discover eucharisteo, or thanksgiving, in her daily life. She decided to make a list, to count one thousand blessings in her every day. She named things like morning shadows across old floors (#1); mail in the mailbox (#22); kisses in the dark (#56); clean sheets smelling like the wind (#243); suds...all color in the sun (#362); forgiveness of a sister (#783); toothless smiles (#882). Every item named, recognized, acknowledged as a gift and thanks given for it.
And so, in response to Ann's journey, I've decided to take one of my own. I have started my own list of one thousand gifts, the reminders of His grace and goodness in the ordinary that I could easily miss out on if I didn't take the time to recognize them, to count them, to name them as blessings. But more than a list (because I'm a list maker and I'm task oriented and this could easily become more of an intellectual challenge than an act of worship) I am feeling a heart change, a shift in my point of view. I am made more aware of how my perspective of a situation determines whether I name it as a blessing, whether I can find the beauty and see something worthy of praise in a song or a scent or a moment. And if I find beauty and give thanks in all the moments, isn't this life, these few short years, much sweeter? And if I am so busy being thankful that I forget to worry or fret or complain, isn't this life much more beautiful and worthwhile and pleasing to Him? To do this, to truly be able to give thanks and find joy, I am going to have to learn to be present in each moment, letting go of the past, not worrying about the future, and living, breathing, soaking up the now.
It is also worth noting that this sense of gratitude and joy I am seeking are not an attempt to permanently implant rose-covered lenses over my eyes or to ignore the reality I live in. Because the truth is, there are some things in life for which giving thanks is difficult. There are hard days, bad weeks, difficult years. We are hurt at times, cut deep by betrayal or pain or loss. There are times when giving thanks seems ridiculous because the situation seems utterly devoid of God. But if we believe that God is sovereign and that He is good no matter our circumstances, then we can't help but give thanks at all times in all things. I pray that in those moments I will be able to live the hard eucharisteo, to give the difficult thanksgiving. Because He is always worthy.
This morning I added to my list:
7. Truth in the Word speaking into the reality of my situation
8. Writers who inspire me
9. Warm hazelnut coffee
So maybe you won't make a list to one thousand blessings. But maybe it is enough to start seeing things differently. You could just start by answering the question: What are you thankful for today?
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
What India Taught Me
1. Community is Key
During our time in India, we were fortunate enough to not only visit with and encourage our friends, but also to meet some others who they serve alongside. One Saturday I got the chance to have some one on one time with about ten ladies who are living and serving in India. The occasion was a housewarming party for one of the newest additions to the team who had arrived in the country only weeks earlier. As a gift, each guest brought a favorite recipe along with all the ingredients necessary to make the meal. They shared tips with the newcomers (and with me) and also shared current praises, struggles and prayer requests with each other.
2. Work Hard, Rest Hard
In India, simple tasks such as taking transportation or going shopping or even crossing the street were draining and difficult tasks. Walking through the slums in the midday sun was physically draining and emotionally traumatic. Culture shock, which our friend Scott defined as something you see or hear or experience from another culture that you wish you could change. Based on that definition, we experienced culture shock for a large portion of every day. I thought it might go away, that I might get used to the noise, the smells, the people...but even after two weeks I didn't. What I learned from this experience was that each day, in the heat of the day, after lunch, it was very important for us to go inside somewhere to eat and to cool down, to rest and rejuvenate before the evening's activities which often stretched past my bedtime. Being completely out of my comfort zone forced me to recognize my physical, emotional and spiritual limits - and to stop and rest.
Since we got back from India (and sometime before that, taking my Busy Season into consideration), Matt and I have been running pretty much non-stop. Last week, both of us began feeling really aware of our own weakness and recognized the need to stop and rest in Him. I read this blog and Matt and I discussed and he suggested we take some time off. So, for several days this week, we are unplugging and recharging our batteries. I was getting to an unhealthy place, and I am so grateful for wisdom from bloggers, friends and my husband to see the truth and guide me to it. I'll try to post soon about the results of the Bricks' resting adventure.
3. The Joy of the Lord really is our Strength
One of the hardest things about India, at least in my experience, was seeing the sense of utter hopelessness on the faces of so many people we encountered. As I have mentioned, life in India is difficult. The population has far surpassed the infrastructure that has been built. There are far more people than there are jobs or even houses. It was not uncommon there to encounter people doing even the most menial tasks for a few rupees. In many elevators it was someone's job to press the button for you. Men stood guard in most malls to open the door or hold your other shopping bag as you entered each store. It is also typical there for even those in the middle class to have house helpers, or people who come and wash your dishes, sweep your floors, etc. These people work so hard for so little. And they are the "lucky ones" who can find jobs. There were also many beggars and others who had probably given up asking altogether.
To close, I'll just share a few pics to recap the trip.
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| Sharing a meal with new friends |
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| Taking in our first cricket match. I'll be honest. I fell asleep. |
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| At the wedding of one of Scott & Wendy's neighbors.Awesome opportunity to celebrate the beauty of another culture. |
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| At the downtown train station |
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| Waiting on a ricksaw |
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| Enjoying some street food. It was delish! |
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| Enjoying the Taj Mahal. More beautiful in person than the picture can portray. |
I am so thankful to have gotten to go to India, to see and experience and learn. To encourage and love Scott and Wendy, and to discover more about myself, ministry, and all the ways the Lord is growing me.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Waiting Game
“Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (ESV)
So while I’m waiting, I pray that I can learn to really invest where I’m at, wherever that may be. That I could be a light in this moment instead of being so caught up with what the next moment might look like. That my current situation would be better because Jesus is in it.
Also, I pray that I can trust in the Lord in my waiting. That I would truly believe that no matter what circumstance or situation I find myself in, that He is in control and that He knows what is best for me, often even more than I do.
Bethany Dillon, one of my favorite Christian artists, recently came out with a new EP titled “To Those Who Wait”. The lyrics to the title track include:
“ Oh, my soul, wait on the Lord.
Keep your lamp filled with oil.
Oh, my soul, Be not deceived!
Wait for Him. Don’t be quick to leave.
Lord, today, You know what I need to do,
But you can do more in my waiting than in my doing I could do. So I won’t run anymore. I’m waiting on You.”
So as my ramblings for the day come to an end, I’m thankful – for wise friends, for Scripture, for God’s promises. I am trying to get better at waiting, of letting go of control and letting the Lord lead. Much easier said than done. But with His help and by His power I press (and wait) on.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Fear Not
What are your biggest fears? I have come up with my list.
My biggest fears include:
Last week I started reading through the book of Luke. And I was again reminded of the Lord’s urging to be brave. In Luke 1, we meet Zechariah and Elizabeth, the parents of John the Baptist. They are, shall we say, advanced in years. And Elizabeth is barren. Zechariah serves in the temple, and one day when he is at work and angel appears to him. As my translation puts it, when he saw the angel, Zechariah was “troubled” and “fear came upon him”. (Luke 1:12). Six months later, when the angel appears to Mary to foretell the birth of Jesus, he greets her but she is troubled and confused. He tells her, “Do not be afraid Mary, for you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1: 30).
In both situations, the recipients of the angel’s news were afraid and unsure. For Zechariah, this was probably a feeling of disbelief that a decades-long prayer for a child has been answered. For Mary her fear was likely a question of whether God’s plan for her future made sense – HER, a VIRGIN, to give birth to the Savior of the world? Seems unlikely..right?
We know how the story turns out – neither Zechariah or Mary let their fear stand in the way of the plan the Lord had for them. They trusted the Lord and knew that whatever He was orchestrating in their lives was ultimately for their best. I’m sure we’ve all had experiences where the Lord was showing us something, a plan He has for us, an obedience He is calling us to. As I shared some of my biggest fears, I’ve been wondering:
How often do I cower, retreat back when facing a fear? How often do I refrain from sharing truth with people because I’m afraid of their reaction? How often do I fail to try something new or different or study something because I might not be good at it? And more importantly, why do I do these things when the God of the Universe is telling me not to be afraid?
This week I’m praying that I’d be obedient to the Lord when he commands me to fear not; that I’d be strong and courageous. Would you pray that with me – for me and for yourself?
- The dark
- Being left alone
- Failure
- Disappointing people
- Cockroaches
- The Unknown
Last week I started reading through the book of Luke. And I was again reminded of the Lord’s urging to be brave. In Luke 1, we meet Zechariah and Elizabeth, the parents of John the Baptist. They are, shall we say, advanced in years. And Elizabeth is barren. Zechariah serves in the temple, and one day when he is at work and angel appears to him. As my translation puts it, when he saw the angel, Zechariah was “troubled” and “fear came upon him”. (Luke 1:12). Six months later, when the angel appears to Mary to foretell the birth of Jesus, he greets her but she is troubled and confused. He tells her, “Do not be afraid Mary, for you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1: 30).
In both situations, the recipients of the angel’s news were afraid and unsure. For Zechariah, this was probably a feeling of disbelief that a decades-long prayer for a child has been answered. For Mary her fear was likely a question of whether God’s plan for her future made sense – HER, a VIRGIN, to give birth to the Savior of the world? Seems unlikely..right?
We know how the story turns out – neither Zechariah or Mary let their fear stand in the way of the plan the Lord had for them. They trusted the Lord and knew that whatever He was orchestrating in their lives was ultimately for their best. I’m sure we’ve all had experiences where the Lord was showing us something, a plan He has for us, an obedience He is calling us to. As I shared some of my biggest fears, I’ve been wondering:
How often do I cower, retreat back when facing a fear? How often do I refrain from sharing truth with people because I’m afraid of their reaction? How often do I fail to try something new or different or study something because I might not be good at it? And more importantly, why do I do these things when the God of the Universe is telling me not to be afraid?
This week I’m praying that I’d be obedient to the Lord when he commands me to fear not; that I’d be strong and courageous. Would you pray that with me – for me and for yourself?
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