The Camp

Our group drove in a single vehicle, carefully maneuvering the narrow streets. The slush-like snow coated the landscape, giving a dreary appearance and making driving a challenge. I'd volunteered to accompany a humanitarian group to a refugee camp in Eastern Europe to learn what was happening in this part of the world and how I could help, and honestly I had no idea what to expect. I wondered what I was getting into and thought about the apparent futility of human effort. Millions of Syrians were fleeing their homes with no set destination or definite means of survival. The term "refugee" had almost exclusively come to mean Syrian refugees, and it seemed that everyone was talking about it and few were taking action. I had no idea what to do myself, but I felt I had to do something.

The Russian essayist Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote, "To live without hope is to cease to live", and I wondered when exactly we humans lose hope. Is it when we see the debris and flames out the window, knowing it's just a matter of time before we pack our belongings and leave? Does it happen as we hug a loved one goodbye, knowing we must leave town while they must stay? Does it happen when we try to escape across the border for the third time and are turned away? How does hope find its way to the brokenhearted and misplaced?

 I was roused from my musing as our van pulled into the cement parking lot in front of the camp. A handful of youth kicked a ragged soccer ball, backing away as we walked up to the building I was acutely aware of how out of place we seemed and wished I had dressed more plainly. Evan*, the leader of our group, asked for the camp director, and a few minutes later the robust, eager man walked up to us and shook hands with us. He talked with Evan for a few minutes in a language I couldn't understand, and then Evan turned to me, saying, “He's asking if you could play your violin now.” I looked down at my hands, cold and stiff, and stuck them in my pockets to warm them. 

The director led us into the building, a weathered gray-brown cement complex. I tried to ignore the peeling paint, moldy corners, and merciless cold. As we passed the staircase, water dripped down the cement and pooled at our feet. “They're scrubbing the bathrooms upstairs,” the director said. I shuddered at the endless possibilities for sickness given the lack of health care, immunizations, proper nutrition, and immunity, especially during the cold winter months. We turned several corners into a large gathering room, bare except for several stacks of plastic chairs. While the rest of the volunteers arranged the chairs in rows, I tuned my violin and warmed my hands. I glanced out the window and watched the clouds break and sunlight gently hit the cold cement floor, dust particles dancing in the rays of light.

Turning around to face my audience, I caught my breath at the number of refugees in the room. The older men stood in clusters closer to the doors and the women and children sat quietly in plastic chairs. I caught the eyes of several little ones sitting with their mothers. Their faces were so beautiful, I thought. Full of promise and innocence despite the hardships they faced so early in their lives. I took deep breath and lifted the instrument to my shoulder, closing my eyes. I played melodies of yearning, of desire, of forgotten times. I played lilting jigs and dances. I played Middle Eastern tunes I'd heard from a movie. And then I heard clapping. Looking up as I played, some of the listeners were standing and clapping to the music. More joined in, stomping their feet to the rhythm. I smiled and picked up the beat, thrilled to have engaged the audience. Children shyly left their seats and danced. Did I catch a smile in their eyes?

 I cannot say for how long I played, but it must have been an hour at least. I didn't want to stop and lose the moment, the suspension of time. The union of cultures, the togetherness. With full hearts, my group left the refugee camp later that evening after distributing relief items. The clouds had broken and a handful of stars glimmered in the night sky. It seemed that I had touched infinity in the moments while I played for the refugees.

This isn't about heroism in humanitarian work or how great the West is. Perhaps I would never feed enough hungry people, or help them find their loved ones, or fix their documentation issues that prevent them from crossing the borders into new countries, new lives. While all these are vital parts to alleviating the crisis, there is a beauty in simplicity and sometimes even the smallest contributions have great impact. What the music did for their spirits is beyond my knowledge, but I dare not forget their glimmering eyes.

Mindful

{As I proofread this post, I realized the irony of starting with a photograph that appears to have been taken through the window of a moving car. I just want to mention that the car was stopped, for those of you are wondering!}

Something I’ve given thought to recently is being mindful, not just the awareness and consciousness of the present but also the people around me and the circumstances God places in my life. 

Mindfulness is a buzzword in psychology, and though it tends toward relativistic thinking, I believe that being engaged in the present is something that our culture, myself included, isn’t spending enough time doing. With the many distractions and tuggings in a million shattered directions, we forget. 

Not just to-do lists and quizzes in class the next day. 

We forget to think. 

We redirect our thoughts. 

If there’s something we don’t want to think about, we don’t – there are countless other distractions. We try to ignore the unanswered questions and pain and hollowness inside, hoping that if we don’t notice it then maybe we can pretend it isn’t there. I’m not just talking about non-believers. Christ-followers experience the sweeping consequences of sin that leave the heart aching. 

But why? If you’ve given your life to Christ and are living in obedience to Him, why in the world is everything so broken? Bodies, families, relationships, trust, belief? Why in this world?

Why are the screaming crying prayers late at night, asking God for hope, seemingly answered with silence?

Didn’t a broken body hanging from a tree suffer enough for all of us?

Suffering for Christ’s sake, being burned at the stake for refusing to deny His name, this serves such a powerful purpose. A life sacrificed to the Lord is beautiful though laced with sorrow and pain. But the quiet suffering from day to day? A dying friend, a chronic illness, a broken marriage? 

What if a sacrificed life isn’t only martyrdom or dying for the sake of another? Could it be that living for the sake of others, enduring difficulties, and living for the sake of Another makes a sacrificed life? 

I came upon these berries a few weeks ago, nearly hurrying past on my way to class. If you don't stop now you never will, I told myself.  They are beautiful, the scarlet berries contrasting the green leaves. They make me think of bright red blood, and I suddenly remember Isaiah 53:5, "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."I need to stay mindful of the Cross. Of the reason why my life has a purpose and is redeemed. Without the Cross, there is no remedy to the pain and suffering in the world. Without the Cross I am not reconciled to God. Without the Cross no hope exists. At the Cross there is forgiveness, overwhelming grace, unrelenting love. Jesus' redemptive sacrifice has canceled the sin-debt and brought us into fellowship with God. For this there is wonder and thankfulness and worship. I don't fully comprehend, and my life does not always reflect, but I rest in the truth that Jesus is more than enough. There is hope, not just at the time of the redemption but throughout all time including the present, and every drop of pain in this life does not compare to the glory to come.

Not only is there grace for every difficult circumstance, but there is also an opportunity to bring glory to God and grow closer to Him while growing in endurance and character. "But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."  - 2 Corinthians 12:9

Be Still

After finals week ended, I spent a few days catching up with friends, catching my breath. I felt an urgency to find quiet and rest after a productive, busy, exciting, yet scattered and fragmented semester. It's amazing how the human soul is wired to need order and peace, to resolve disorder and discordance.

 "Be still, and know that I am God." Be still, even though your heart is fearful and the tension in your chest feels like it will explode. Find the stillness and you will find Me. Though you are pressed on every side and everyone around you sings the anthem of racing time and deadlines, be still. 

And in quiet, I feel peace. I know that it is all a vapor, this life. A vapor that lasts a minute, and then is gone. 

And yet. The brevity of time gives it meaning. I'm home with my family for just a few weeks, but we can carve out our own little eternity. We are given all the time that we need. And for this I am thankful. 

Passionate Existence

A question I've been asking myself a lot lately is if I'm passionate enough, and passionate about the right things. Really, passion is caring a lot about something. Being willing to go to great lengths for whatever it is you're passionate about. Make sacrifices and work hard and - this is key - get other people on board. While it's good to be a lighted candle, igniting a flame in others can be even more powerful. 

Recently, I've been doing a study in the Bible about zeal, passion, and calling. It's clear what the greatest commandment that Jesus gave us is: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." Jesus wants His people to love Him and serve Him and obey Him. Love Him wholeheartedly, relentlessly, and with abandon; serve Him joyfully with everything we have; and obey Him unquestioningly and devotedly. But what does this look like every day?

King David wrote in Psalm 73:25-26, "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." 

Paul the Apostle proclaimed, "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God" (1 Cor. 10:31). And in Romans 12:11, he says, "Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord."

In Deuteronomy 4:29 is the promise, "But from there you will seek the Lord your God and you will find him, if you search after him with all your heart and with all your soul."

This afternoon I roamed a quiet forest with some friends. It was so still that it felt like intrusion to explore. In this strange forest were several woebegone structures that must have been homes or sheds years ago. Now they're empty, dilapidated, and unused. All we found was creaking doors and shattered glass. 

I don't want live life my own way and end up empty and unused. I want my heart to be moved by what moves God. I want to be passionate about what He is passionate about. I want to think eternally, and fix my eyes on Him. I want to be a tool in the hands of the Master. In the words of a friend, if we're honest, what other way is there to live?

Smallness

 Lately I've been thinking about the brevity of time and suspension of countless stories of individuals throughout history. I love that we have stories, we are stories. I love that there are people all around us whose lives and legacies I will never know, both past and present. 

It gives a healthy feeling of smallness.

 I catch eyes with strangers in the store or stand with them in line or pass them in the halls, but don't know what lives they lead. Past faces and laughter that inhabited the same places were once very vibrant and real. I get this sense of interconnectedness with the people around me and the stories of the past. We're all humans with more things in common than not. 

I know that some of these stories would break my heart. 

People who are hurting and broken and needy, desperate for a way out but not believing it exists. 

So much heart pain and soul pain. 

Whatever I do with the rest of my life, I want it to involve serving people and helping them find a way. There is always a way, The Way. There is an answer to everything, even though we may never find the answer in this life. 

My desire is to inspire gifted and innovative thinkers to use their talents to improve the lives of the millions of suffering and underprivileged around the world. I believe that it would be a powerful thing if artists, designers, architects, musicians, engineers, etc. used their skills to contribute to finding solutions for global needs - serving the poor, combating poverty and hunger, bringing innovative and simple medical insights to the unreached villages. 

We have been blessed to bless others.

 I've been having lots of good conversations about the kingdom, calling, and channeling vision over coffee lately. I just love connecting with people and being authentic and raw with each other, sharing our hearts and seeing what God is doing in each other's lives. In the midst of life at its messiest and busiest, it is so important to stay focused on what matters for eternity.

"He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" - Micah 6:8

Little Somethings

"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."
That quote hangs on a wall in my bedroom, a reminder to keep my eyes open always and to expect to be surprised every day. I've experienced many incredible little things throughout my life, but not yet "the incredible something."

I know it's out there. Waiting to be known. By me.
Maybe it will be so beautiful and awe-inspiring that I'll want to share it with everyone. Or maybe it will be something significant only to me, a little something happening at just the right time to be a big something. But until I find that something, here are some little somethings I've enjoyed.

This summer I re-read "The Great Gatsby", this time for understanding of what could be found behind those haunting eyes and golden lights on the book cover. You know, I get Gatsby. He has this dream of who he wants to be and how he wants others to perceive him. He strives to be this person that has no cracks through which to see his weaknesses. He must have it all and be it all. He wants to be a realization of everything he holds onto. And Daisy...she is an embodiment of all his ideals - wealth, beauty, and importance, but more than that - these form a haunting, desperate, lingering thing behind a curtain he wants so badly to uncover. Gatsby builds a god out of gold-sand and it holds up until he gets close to it and touches it. Then it crumbles. And he knew it would. 

And this fine fellow bellow caught my attention at an art museum. His turquoise blue and the mirrored shadows on either side of him are striking.  He stared me down and then after I finished looking at the other displays in the gallery, I came back for a photo. 

The Thankful List

 

A few weeks ago, I started reading "A Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. And I couldn't put it down. In her simple, beautiful, heart-cracked-open style, Ann writes about thankfulness to combat ingratitude and how she started a list of things she is thankful for, intending to list one thousand gifts. I began to realize how often I live in the valley of not enough and condemn God for all the things I seem to be missing, instead of thanking Him for all He has given me and is doing around me. As a intentional act to change the way I think and see, I started a list of my own. Not only has it been soul-refreshing, but it is a lot of fun. I carry my journal around and often will take it out and write down something that came to my mind that I am thankful for. Like right now: quiet moments by myself after everyone goes to bed. White steeples against blue skies. Acrylic paint. Windy days. 

The thing is, the more I list, the more I feel like I'm relieving myself of some obscure load and freeing up space in my heart. Who knew that blackberry jam and warm towels meant so much, could do so much to the mind and spirit? Sometimes it feels insulting. Could the key to thankfulness really be this simple? Is joy something that comes with a refusal to see the shadows? Or could it be that the shadows themselves hide beauty? That I should be thanking God not only for the blessings but the struggles? Maybe, just maybe, the rough edges and tears and difficult circumstances are a blessing if I see them as such. An opportunity to draw closer to God in dependence and faith. This has been the hardest gift of all for me to write down.  

Sustained

Tonight is a clinical night and I should be working on paperwork, but instead I write. My heart is so full of many things and I just need to slow down and breathe. On my iPhone I keep my notes app open so that I can jot down thoughts throughout the day. As I open it now, it looks something like this:
Thirsty heart // Off the beaten path // There's no such thing as ordinary //Seek His presence continually

And in capital letters, I AM SUSTAINED. The words that have been in my head for the last month. I am weak and fragile and seeing through a glass dimly, but I am sustained. My heart is alive because I am drawing from a source other than myself, relying on the Living Water, Christ the Solid Rock. And I am learning, following, often stumbling, but I am sustained. Life is happening so fast all around me and I'm fighting more than tiredness; I'm fighting for moments and simplicity amidst chaos and the glorification of busy. Every day, without realizing it, I make countless tiny decisions. Waking up thirty minutes early or sleeping in. Hurrying to class or stopping to smell the daffodils. Choosing thankfulness or choosing to pass these moments of grace by. I am learning to appreciate these days more fully.

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer man is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." - 2 Cor 4:16-18

The eternal weight of glory. Eternity. Weight. Glory. Unseen. Words to wonder at.

Kindle A Fire

Love the light and let it change you.
Don't be afraid to have your shadows exposed.
Let it ignite a flame in your heart.
Kindle a fire in your chest.

 Sometimes, the darkness seems stronger. The battle seems lost. But the flame cannot be extinguished.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:5

Hearing His Calling

   

Expectations for Christmas break with my family overseas involved exploring local coffee shops, photographing the beautiful architecture, hiking in the mountains, and enjoying catching up on sleep. I got that, and much more. I did not realize the extent to which God would open doors for me to get a glimpse of the devastating conditions that the poor in the world live in. I wasn't prepared to see children digging in the trash bins for plastic to sell to provide for their families. I didn't know about the tension between ethnic groups that caused the unfair treatment of the poor. I didn't know what to do about the beggar I passed every five minutes. I found myself speed walking past them when I didn't have cash. The reality of poverty came over me in waves, overwhelming and confusing. It's not that I haven't experienced this before, but you begin to see it in a new light when you consider Jesus' ministry. The Son of God went to the misfits, the beggars, the children, the sick, the prostitutes, the tax collectors. Everyone that Christian culture seems to keep at an arm's length and use hand sanitizer after encountering. We've somehow bought into the idea that a quick-pop missions trip or sending money with missionaries is all that we can do. Now, I'm not saying that either of these things aren't helping; they are a wonderful way of serving. But I think that Jesus calls us to something more - something tremendously uncomfortable and sacrificial and wonderful - if we can hear Him calling in the streets, see Him in the faces of the desperate.



       The early Christians wrote that when they did not have enough food to share with the hungry people at their door, the entire community would fast until everyone could share a meal together. I think there's something key about this: they saw each other as brothers and sisters, and did not want to experience blessing while neglecting their Christian family. Somehow along the way, we have forgotten that God blesses us so we can bless others. Like the master who entrusted his servant with money and expected him to put it to good use, our resources are not our own. In his book "Radical", David Platt writes that the Church is prone to "blind spots" - serious moral, ethical, or spiritual dilemmas that we do not recognize until much later, after we could have done something about it but didn't. Like slavery in the 19th century. Platt states that the Church today has been captured by wealth and prosperity, building up "a kingdom on earth" instead of practicing extravagant giving and caring for the poor. So here I am, trying to figure out if I should even put money in the hat of the beggar I am walking by. It might buy him lunch, but he needs much more than that. This isn't my problem, but suddenly it is.

All I know is this: the stars that burn brightest are the ones that died thousands of years ago, and their light is still traveling through time and space. One day we're going to be six feet under, and most of the things we take so seriously now will not be remembered. That's the thing about life - nothing is long-lasting; wealth can be lost in an instant, and all temporary pleasures must end, being replaced with eternal joy of being in the presence of our Lord, if indeed we have experienced salvation in Jesus. He came to set us free, and commissions us to set others free. He entrusts us to spread His light around the world, to be His sacred messengers. Giving becomes more than our finances - we give ourselves. We joyfully hold nothing back from our Savior who gave His very self to us. In doing so, we become part of His incredible plan for the redemption of humanity, and, like the stars, can leave behind us a light that will burn long after we are gone.

Treasure

Incase you haven't noticed, I post this photo a lot. I took it several years ago on a walk with my mom in the countryside, and it is one of my all-time favorites. Two of the best things - my mom and a wildflower. What do you hold dear? What do you love, cherish, try to protect and keep? Is it a dream, a treasured item, a person? And what measures would you take to keep it from harm? On my part, I cherish my relationships with the people I love. They have been cultivated carefully and are full of trust, affection, and sincerity. They are more important to me than my material possessions. And like precious items, time increases their value. My relationships with people have brought me comfort in hard times, helped me to grow, and given me opportunities to give of myself as well. Without these people I would not be where I am now. 

What do you cherish?

This morning I helped as a volunteer coordinator at the Special Olympics locally. It was one of the most rewarding experiences ever. And I have to say, I fell in love with every single person I worked with. Their minds and hearts carry something we can learn from. I want to understand what it means to give without expecting a return. I want to be full of life and full of love. 

"Meaning is in people, not things." What a simple truth. These are the wise words of my nursing instructor that she said in class one day and I've been processing ever since. It reminds me of the Mumford & Sons lyrics, "Where you invest your love, you invest your life." 

Choose to invest in people. Choose to see others through the eyes of compassion and love. Sometimes it takes a simple, childlike person to remind us that a smile wears better than a designer bag. 

apple pickin'

Anddd it's my first post since returning to school. That says a lot about what the past month has been like! I'm sure every college student will emphatically assert that their lives are busy, but I can say that I've been like a hamster on a treadmill since day one. Of course, I like it that way. If I had idle time I would idle it. However, classes have ramped up and I've had to work harder to keep on top of things. Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself when you're stressed is to take a break and do something enjoyable. I went apple picking with these lovely ladies this morning. We took the 45 minute drive Sky Top Mountain, an extensive apple orchard best known for its fresh apple cider doughnuts. The orchard was beautiful - the view was fantastic, the atmosphere rustic and "pioneer-ish", and apparently everyone else thought so too. The line of vehicles up the mountain was jammed for miles.

Surrendered

       I was really moved at church this morning. I've seen countless baptisms before, but today was different. Ten or so people - ages ranging from five to fifty - were baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit. It brought to mind my baptism, in the neighborhood swimming pool at the  age of 12. Commitment. God changed my life and continues to change it. The people being baptized this morning had so much joy on their faces as they experienced new beginnings. There was an innocence about them as they crossed their arms over their chests and held their noses and were submerged in the water by the pastor. After the baptisms, several people shared their testimonies of God's work in their lives: restored marriages, inner healing, deliverance from sinful lifestyles. Our God is so great and nothing is impossible for Him. He takes wrecked lives and puts them back together. He heals human hearts. He sets captives free. He watches us from above with love and compassion and daily shows us mercy.

t's just incredible how God makes things happen. We think He doesn't hear our prayers, but He hears them and understands them more than we do. You know how you plan things out and hope they go a certain way and then they don't and you freak out? Yeah, me too. Especially as a planner, I like to stay organized and know exactly how things will work out. Change in plans usually equals stress. We're extremely human and don't really know what's good for us. And it's hard to accept that sometimes (lots of times) God's plans are different from ours. We see on such a small scale while He has the big picture, and knows how to make everything fit together perfectly. A few hours ago I was freaking out hardcore about something that "messed up" my plans. But I'm beginning to realize that God is answering my prayers in ways I couldn't even imagine. I'm watching His faithfulness and goodness unfold right before my eyes.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways", declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."- Isaiah 55: 8-9

Small Things

I'm in the process of reading "Come Be My Light", the private writings of Mother Teresa. It definitely isn't a "speed read" - I'm taking my time to go through it, making notes and reflecting along the way. Again and again I am struck by her supernatural selflessness and commitment to give God her all. She fell in love with Jesus and was so confident of His love for her that out of the overflow of her heart she touched others with His love. She insisted, "Don't look for big things, just do small things with great love...The smaller the thing, the greater must  be the love."

"Why must we give ourselves fully to God? Because God has given Himself to us. If God who owes nothing to us is ready to impart to us no less than Himself, shall we answer with just a fraction of ourselves? To give ourselves fully to God is a means of receiving God Himself. I for God and God for me."

Walls and Bridges

Pain must lodge somewhere. For some people, it settles in their disappointments and becomes bitterness. For others, it hides in the deepest recesses of their hearts and numbs them, slowly builds a wall between them and their cause of pain. I think that everyone has been hurt in some way, and we all choose how we deal with it. The automatic response to pain is denial, and then burial. But it will resurface, sooner or later, and be dealt with.

Or pain can soften our hearts and make us more sensitive and loving.
From our place of greatest suffering can we minister best.
It can become a bridge between us and the hurting.
I don't want a calloused heart.
I'm all yours, God, break me and make me.

chasing fear away

I'll always remember this one summer afternoon at the beach. I was surfing by a pier, the sky overhead was cloudless and azure blue. It really felt like summer. I was lying on my surfboard about twenty yards away from the shore, just past where the waves were breaking. It's easy to underestimate the ability of the current to tire you out, and I was taking a rest, just lying there, my arms dangling off the side of the board. 

Suddenly the water got very still and I felt a chill run through me. 

I thought I saw a large shadow pass under my board. To this day I don't know if I saw something or if it was my imagination, but it doesn't really matter. I came face to face with fear - lying on my board all alone in the ocean, helpless, with the company of some large fearsome fish - and I guess I've never been scared of sharks again. Strange, isn't it? Sooner or later you just get over fear, because you realize that if you don't, it will limit you. Danger is no less real once you encounter it, but you make the choice that you are willing to live with consequences. Playing card games isn't exciting without risk. Neither is life. I'm planning to visit a shark aquarium this summer.