Hold Everything with Open Hands

It's been real difficult. I find myself struggling with everything they warned us we would struggle with when we got back to the United States.

Sometimes I feel like India ruined me in a lot of ways. It is extraordinarily difficult for me to even want to love people that feel sorry for themselves. People's everyday real complaints about the so-called misery of their lives just make me want to barf. Or maybe shake them and tell them until they wake up to how good they have it. I just have to grit my teeth and say, "I'm sorry..." when really, I'm not sorry "bad" things are happening to them. I'm sorry they feel so sorry for themselves about it.
I was reminded by my roommate last night that I have to have to be gracious-because I can't expect people to know what I now know when they have not had my experience.
I have to remind myself of other things as well. Like that it is really important to talk about India to other people, because it's not fair to the stories of the lives I interacted with this summer to not be shared. And maybe it's a way I can open the eyes of other people like how my eyes were opened. It's not right to keep it to myself or hide it away. But sometimes my heart is still so broken up, I don't even know where to start. It's a weird thing that happens when you feel like you could honestly and easily disappear in a place forever, and then abandon it. Sometimes it's even hard to talk to God about, because every time I just fall to pieces.
I hate referring to being here as "coming back" because I would rather call it "going forward" so that my life can feel like it is continuing and not regressing. And I will hold tight to the belief that Jesus will also continue His work (which was never mine) in the hearts of the people I love (and He loves first) in Goa, in Birla and Vasco and Bogmollo.
I still think about the preschoolers, the kids at tuitions, the women on the beach, the families in the villages, and the church in India daily-hourly-moment-to-moment. I'm still working through the places my heart and soul were taken this summer. I'm still learning how to hold everything with open hands.

So, Jon Foreman wrote this song for me. It sums a little of what happened to me there.

Looking for reasons

To believe instead of doubt

A way in instead of out

There's got to be a reason

Looking for answers

For the beauty and the pain

When they both start to feel the same

There's got to be a reason

Only one breath at a time, she says

All my tears are falling on the floor, she says

I've never felt it rain like this before, she says

I'll sing these black eyed blues into the storm instead

I'll be waiting for the new eyes to arrive

One breath at a time

Kings and queens and little dreams

Are stuck inside these nightmares sometimes, sometimes

And the fairy tales we play

Seem so far away from where we are tonight

Sometimes

I hear her talking to herself in bed

All my tears are falling on the floor, she says

I've never felt it rain like this before, she says

I'll sing these black eyed blues into the storm instead

I'll be waiting for the new eyes to arrive

One breath at a time

Oh, one breath at a time

Oh, one breath at a time

Oh, one breath at a time

Oh, and I'm holding on to you

And I won't let go

The world is torn in two

But I won't let go

You're the only thing that's true

In this whole world of black eyed blues

And disillusioned points of view

When the pain feels like a knife, she says

I'm not giving up tonight, she says

Oh, she says

Oh, she says

I'll be waiting for the new eyes to arrive, she says

She says

Oh, she says

Oh, she says

Oh, she says

I'll be waiting for the new eyes to arrive

Snapshots of India

I finally decided to put the effort into posting some pictures... Here are some small glimpses into what life looked like for me this summer!

These are my Preschoolers!

Rebecca and I after Leela let us all try on Saris at her house

Bangles, an example of how many colors we saw everywhere

Yvette and I after the first time we got mahandi done on our hands

These are some of the wonderful people I worked with. I'm not sure how safe it is to put names up online...

Ragu, Akash, and Vignesh. The boys at tutoring were so energetic and they especially loved it when I taught them colors in English

This is Vijalaxmi from the preschool. Sometimes the girls in India would seem very cold, but when they discover how much you truly like them, it's like they can't get enough attention. It made me consider how so many of their parents feel when they heard the words "it's a girl" and the importance of being wanted.

Sudandand, whom we called "Gopi" was the silliest! Sometimes he pulled his socks up to his knees and slid all over the floor just for fun!

Gulfan was one of the most mean and difficult children I ever encountered. It seemed like nothing we could do would get through to him. Then one day Lindsay just hugged him instead of punishing him. When we simply loved him, which turns out is more important to God than getting him to learn the ABC's, he responded better and better to us and learned more as well. By the end of our time there he would participate in songs, voluntarily hug us, and cry when he had to go home.

Sometimes it took a lot to get the girls to smile with their teeth. This is Neelama from Tutoring.

This little boy was almost always content in his own little world. He liked to build towers with the blocks and pretend they were ice cream.

Manjunath is a very very special little boy

Typical moment of singing and slight chaos in the preschool

I got to ride an elephant, in the jungle, in the rain. :)

This is Akash at tutoring, working on schoolwork.

My friend Leela who worked on the beach selling things from her shop to tourists. She can speak good English, but Caitlyn and I got to teach her and two other women on the beach how to read and write for the last week or so.

Gathering with the women after a nutrition class.

Just to give credit where it is due, I did not take all of these pictures. Our team shared them, so some of the other girls are responsible for some of them.

Love With Skin On

I can actually feel the difference that being in India this summer has made in my heart.
It's really easy to think you are one way if you know stuff, but kind of different figuring out that you are really not so much that way as you maybe thought you were, once you try living out that stuff in a different way.
I'm just going to copy one of my journal entries from last week in here since I didn't blog then anyways and all.

July 12th, 2011
I've been reading the book "Blue Like  Jazz" and even though I didn't really want to like it so much because EVERYONE likes it, I love it. Not only because it makes me laugh-out-loud by the absurd but accurate way Donald Miller describes things, but also because of why He believes in God. It's not because of an emotional experience or even intellectual understanding. His faith he describes almost like instinct, and he's okay with that. Jesus is the risen son of God, and he knows it. So why do anything in life apart from Him?
But the reason why I bring this book up is because Don says that we all want to be fancy.
I've been thinking about that a lot because I think it is true of me. I even have daydreams of myself sometimes being in nice places, looking all dressed up and put-together and doing classy things all prestigious-like.
But it's a stupid fantasy because these probably wouldn't even be fun scenarios for me to be stuck in in real life considering all the best times I remember having are when I'm dancing around the kitchen with my sisters in our pajamas, spending all night talking with best friends under the stars--waking up soggy with dew, or when I'm laughing about how funny farts are. I'm not even a fancy person. But sometimes for some reason I think I want to be.
So why do I have this desire to be fancy? Thinking about it gets me thinking about how much I have romanticized the whole third-world missions thing. It's so great and easy to talk all Shane Claiborne and Mother Theresa-like when you're in a dorm-room, classroom, or air-conditioned coffee shop. It's so easy to care deeply for the poor and under-class when they are this idea that you can't feel the dirt on, smell the rotting feet of, or worry about catching lice from. You can't catch lice from an idea. And it's great to be upset and raving about the injustice of the world and claim to be like Ghandi was about war, but we don't come even close to living like he did, and our attitudes still suck.
What made me think I could love the beaten child here when I can't even put forth the effort it takes to continually love the the friendless at home? If I am too selfish to even try to love the stuck up-project member, the difficult professor, the annoying sibling, the clingy freshman, the grumpy janitor, or the friend I disagree with, how on earth did I expect to just travel to the other side of the world and be able to sacrifice my selfishness on a day-to-day basis with people here?
Though I am certain my motives to apply for this trip were not for selfish ambition, it does not matter how unselfish my initial intentions were if I spend every day thinking about only me.
"How is this story going to make me look good when I tell people at home?"
"What can I do to feel less tired, less hungry, more happy?"
"Will this be enough to validate me to those who supported my trip?"
But in reality and in all of life, nothing will ever validate me except that I am loved by God, and His love is the biggest miracle because it doesn't even make sense. And I don't understand it, but I know it, and I can't do anything to make Him love me. He loves me not because of what I do, but in spite of what I do.
People tell you to give of yourself to share the gospel to the nations and to those who don't know Christ. They tell you to love the unloved. They tell the awesome stories of victories over Satan. They don't tell you how hard it is to sleep at night or wake up in the morning. They fail to mention how many more times you fail than succeed. They don't warn you that being amongst it doesn't make the pain you experience when you hear the stories of those suffering lesson when you encounter them yourself. It only increases. Or maybe they did say these things and I somehow didn't hear those parts or got it all wrong in my head somehow.
It would suck to be like Mother Theresa. I adore her because I could never do what she did.
I've been frustrated a lot while being here. I take it out on the leaders or the other team-members or on the fact that "this is not what I signed up for" crap. The real reason behind my frustration, I think, is that I still want to be fancy- a fancy humanitarian. I have to face up to the fact that it is the idea of compassion that I love, but I would rather write a story about it that moves people to tears than go out and be what people need even if it means I get stepped  on and trampled down all along the way.
I hate what I am finding- that I am more about figuring out what I did that made a difference than  I am about the actual difference it makes.
God was wise to put me here. If I couldn't learn to love difficult preschoolers, what was I thinking? How on earth could I care for people who have been damaged and disturbed to the degree that girls taken out of the brothels have experienced?
I can just feel God asking, " Do you have any idea what it is like to love disturbed people? I do."
And then I get real humble and a whole new  sort of appreciation of Jesus coming to earth and dying for sinners, but living for us too--touching us with His own hands. I'm in so much awe of who He is and His love for us because my own love falls so short.

                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~
I know that was long, but it makes up for no blog last week, and really gives a good insight into some things I've been figuring out.
But let me tell you also that God has dug up a love in me that I didn't even know was possible. I hate the fact that I am leaving in a week, because I have come to love these people-the preschoolers and the women living in the villages and slums and on the beach-SO much. I got to share the gospel with 20 women yesterday and tell them about a hope so strong that it makes the bad things in this life not even that important anymore. I didn't want to just pray for them and watch them go. I want to sit down and have conversations with them and find out more who they are and where they are at and who they think God is and what their heart wants to believe. I want to continue doing life with them--eating at their tables, teaching them to read, listening to their stories, showing them by who I am what love was meant to mean. I care about them, more every day. I want them to grow in their understanding of the Bible and God's plan for the world and His promises. I don't care at all if I never feel fancy again.
And I love Jesus. I love who He is. He is the meaning of compassion.

We Happen Once in a Lifetime

Every single moment is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I have been thinking so much about that this week, especially since two of the girls working here (not a part of our team, but involved in the same ministry) left to go back to the U.S. on Thursday. I have found myself thinking about what it will be like when I go home, the time I will get to spend with people, what my first American meal will be, how nice it will be to have a real shower and feel clean... etc.
But what if I never get to go back? What if I get hit by a crazy rickshaw driver and die in the streets? All of those thoughts and energy spent on them would be a waste.
I want to use what I have been given to do all I can where I am. Investing in these people and the work being done here requires a mindset that is ETERNALLY focused. When I think about the time ahead, when I will not be here anymore, I miss out on what is happening in the now. I want to live life on purpose, and never ever live as if I am just getting through it.
So pray for me, that I will recognize the precious value of every hour I spend here. Pray that I don't check out early. Pray that I live fully, as cliche as it sounds, as if each day were my last.

They are Precious in His Sight

I did not anticipate working with children again this summer.
Not in the setting that I am, anyways.
Last summer I spent a whole lot of time trying to get children to do things that they didn't want to do. This summer feels similar, but more difficult, as most of them don't speak English.
I work in a preschool every morning, and it is hard work. I don't recommend trying to teach boring things to two and three year olds. Ever. Everything needs to be exciting and entertaining, or they decide to entertain themselves, and then you've lost all control. It takes a lot of energy, and a massive amount of patience and perseverance.
As this past week progressed, I became more and more frustrated with the task set before me and the children in my classroom. I began to ask questions.
Is there really a point in me pouring into these kids?
Will they even remember anything I teach them?
Can I really get through to them?
Is this making a difference at all?
A couple of the kids behave so badly all of the time, it seems like an impossibility to even continue trying.
As I was reading through Matthew on Thursday night, I was convicted simply by reading about how Jesus talked about children. They were important to Him when his disciples tried to send them away. He made them a priority. He used their hearts as examples for us in His teachings. He loves them so much. When He told the parable about the shepherd and the lost sheep in Matthew 18 and how he left the ninety-nine to find the one, He was telling us to not look down on little children. They are special. He tells us, "In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any one of these little ones should be lost."
Not a single one. If He is willing to leave the ninety-nine to find the one, and my heart is after His, my heart should be all about loving these kids with persistence. It is not in vain. In fact, it's extremely important.
Pray that I would continue to have energy and motivation to care for these kids.
Pray that God would work in ways we can't see, and that I would be okay even if I don't get to see the results.
Pray that our team would be very unified in purpose to do God's work and not our own.

.bloggage.

This week I was at a new (as in different than last week) ministry site. WE still taught preschool in the morning, but in the afternoon we did tutoring (which they refer to as "tuitions", which doesn't even make sense) with the kids in the village. I think that preschool is difficult and frustrating. Sometimes it feels like we are doing so little that it would make no difference if we were there or not. But on e of my roommates and I were talking this morning about that quote from Mother Theresa (bless her India-loving heart)-- "We can do no great things. Just small things with great love."
I have been thinking about how much better everything would be if I would just stop trying to accomplish something and instead be satisfied by loving. Simply loving. It is in the small things that God's great love is shown. Nothing is pointless.Or at least it doesn't have to be. And in loving it benefits me as well.
I am learning better what it means to share the gospel in a closed culture. During house visits on Thursday my new friend Saresh encouraged me and pushed me a lot to ask questions to the mother of the household. As her eight-year-old son translated, I was able to tell her that Jesus Christ is the only one who can save us. It reminded me of how the Word says, "From the lips of children and infants you, Lord, have called forth your praise"
There are a lot of girls from the ages of 13-20 that I see every day. These are at the most risk for being trafficked. Pray that I would think of creative ways to love and serve them. Though we are not encouraged to directly share the gospel, if they ask, we can answer.Pray that opportunities to explain the truth would arise and every kind of hope and strength would shine through it. Pray for doors and hearts to be opened and strongholds demolished!

Color and Dirt

After a week, I think I am finally adjusted to life here in India. No bathing every day, washing clothes in a bucket, everything being slightly damp (if not totally drenched) all of the time, and only drinking water from bottles or jugs. Most of the work done at Rahab's is prevention against sex-trafficking. We go into a small town nearby in the slums and work at building a better community that will empower the women and give them good options for work as well as a resource center to come for if they need any kind of help. We spent each morning this week working in a pre-school and each afternoon/evening in sewing classes with women from the slums. My favorite part is when we have the translator sit with us and translate stories that we share from the Bible and from our lives with the women. Sometimes they get to open up and share as well.
On the day that I shared, I told a story about my life and how God worked in it for the morning class. But for the afternoon class I felt lead to share the story of Hannah who prayed for a son and gave him over to serve God. I learned later that one of the women, Netra, has been struggling for a long time because she cannot have kids. She cried when the story was over. A lot of the women have struggles with their husbands and with their families because of the religious animosity towards believers. Many fathers and husbands have drinking problems. Most of the girls are married at a very young age. My friend Cincoa was married at eight years old to her uncle, whom she is now seeking a divorce from.
I'm not sure I anticipated how hard it would be to hear about other people's sufferings, and to even watch it happen. I feel like I don't know what to do or how to help a lot of times. They language barrier has been really difficult for me. I struggle because I feel like I have nothing to offer.
But yesterday during women's nutrition, I stayed outside and played with the kids. It was a riot because Soni, a girl in my pre-school, had a live crab on a string. They were dragging it around like a pet. There was one little boy whom I started to play with. He was responding so well to me, even though he didn't know what I was saying. We played the whole class, just different little games and he laughed a lot. When the class was over one of our team members informed me that he was deaf, and that his family did not take care of him so he spent a lot of time with one of the other women who comes to translate for the nutrition classes.
It was just really cool because I know that I communicated with him yesterday and that we both found joy in each other. It didn't matter that he could not hear me. He understood me. It gave me hope that if I could give the message of love to this little boy, then there are ways to love all people without necessarily being able to speak words to them.
I would love to have your continued prayers for strength and persistence. Pray that God's love would be shown as strong as it really is, stronger than any darkness in the world. Pray that more opportunities would be evident, and that we would have truth always on our hearts, ready to share. Pray that I would be more and more willing to rely on my team members for help and guidance. Pray that we would work as the body of Christ is supposed to. Pray that we don't get discouraged, but grow stronger each day. Pray that in all the dirt and grime, we would celebrate and praise God for the beautiful colors. Pray that walls would tumble down and the truth be obvious, that Jesus Christ is the one true God who saves us.

Bananas for Breakfast

After a three hour bus ride from training camp to the airport in Georgia, a small layover in Newark, NJ, a fifteen hour flight from the states to Mumbai, a twelve-hour layover at the airport there, and one more short airplaine ride, we finally made it to Goa. Our first day I hardly remember anything. The jetlag had some of us (including myself) sleeping upright on the bus... and if you know anything about bus rides in India, this is no simple feat. Most of the time they jam as many people as could possibly fit, WAY beyond the comfort level we are used to, and they BLAST Hindi music. It is a bumpy, sticky, sweaty, twisty-turny adventure, every single time!
But everything here is taking a little bit of getting used to. The food is spicy, the smells are strange, and the language makes things really fun to try to figure out. Yesterday, when I was much more awake, we had our first day of ministry in the slums helping teach school and a health class for women. We also spent time doing house visits. The women were so excited to invite us into their homes. I tried to put myself in their position, lving in conditions like that, and I could honestly not even imagine it. There were rats in the ceiling (GIANT rats), dirt floors, ten people living in one room, and everything was dark and smelly. But the women are not dispirited by any means.
My favorite part of the day was when we did Mahandi (or Henna) with the women in our little classroom. Preyma, the woman who did the mahandi for me was extremely nervous because, even though she was thirty, she had never done it before. Some of the girls were very skilled and quick, and she was afraid she would mess up. After much encouragement from me, she began to try. Her hand was shaking and I could tell it was difficult for her. But she got better as she kept going, and by the end, both my hands were beauitufully decorated with this ancient Indian art. I told her, "acha hai!" which means, "good!" and is one of the only words I know in Hindi and I could tell she was pleased.
Later, during the health class, she had her two children with her. She made me show my hands to them and I gladly did. She was so proud! I loved being a part of empowering her to do something she thought she was incapable of, and seeing her so joyful showing it off.
Today is only our third day in Goa, so I know many more stories are to come! I'll keep you posted :)

From Training Camp

I wrote this from training camp and thought I would paste it here...
Preparation and Anticipation
I am so excited to be in India. I feel like I've been waiting so long already, so at first, training camp seemed like it would be a drag. To be honest, it would be really easy to allow myself to be anxious to just get this ovetrwith and get out of here. But already being exposed to what it might be like on the field, I have felt a little overwhelmed. I fell like I'm tumbling down a hill and can't stop myself. God is using this time to prepare me in ways I didn't even know I needed to be preapared.
Getting to know the girls on my team has been pretty fun. It usually isn't easy for me to find how I fit within a group. It just takes time and mutual experiences shared in order for me to feel like I can be myself and be known as who I am. Already within our team, walls have been coming down. We have been able to be honest with each-other and I would say we are off to a great start :)
I still have a few worries about details of travel, luggage, health, safety, and some stuff that still needs to be taken care of, but the attitudes of staff here are reassuring and comforting. All is well, and we set off tomorrow!
June 6th, 2011

Love is the movement! Dare you to move...

It feels good to be RUNNING in the grace of God.
There are a lot of places I could be and things that I could be doing this summer, but I can't imagine my heart being any more settled than it is right now, knowing I will be in Goa soon.
It's a weird sort of peace because there is so much I have to step out in faith about. I would think that with all of the uncertainties and all of the unknowns I am facing it would make me feel the opposite. But I think that since this was God's idea and His work of getting me this far, I would feel much more uneasy if I had chosen something on my own to do this summer.
I keep thinking about how life is so short and we only have one chance to live, really. What are we waiting around for? For our hearts to change themselves so we will feel more ready? For passions to be concocted out of nothing instead of being chased after and developed? For the "right opportunity" when everything looks smart and feels safe? I think we deaden our own faith because we steer clear of all the places where we need any faith at all.
Jesus is ALIVE and He's moving. He told us to love the least of these like we love Him. I'm taking Him seriously.

"I know my call despite my faults and despite my growing fears"

The past few weeks have been pretty crazy with ending the semester, moving out of the dorm, and preparing to live at home for a month before going off to India!
The semester ended April 29th, but before I went back to little ol' Adrian, I spent a week with the GVSU chapter of Intervarsity Christian Fellowship at Cedar Campus up north at a retreat like event called Chapter Focus Week. I was so excited to be done with all school and homework for the summer and spend ample time just listening to God. And call me crazy, but I felt as if He was also gladly anticipating getting me all to Himself.
Someone once told me that God rarely works in the way we expect Him to. She said that if He did, Christianity would be just like a happy game, and we're not making this up.
I think what I kind of expected from CFW was to be able to listen to God's voice very intently. I thought He would reassure me about how much He wanted me in India. I thought He would bless me with His presence and start preparing me bigtime for the things that I will face this summer. I thought He would just wrap me up in His love and let it be a week of relaxation and joy.
I was wrong.
Well, sort of.
From the very first time I was alone with God in the wilderness on Sunday and throughout the rest of the week God continually showed me the true conditions of my heart. I'm not afraid to admit anymore, that it was not pretty. There is so much that needs to be done inside of me. God showed me people I need to ask forgiveness of, deep wounds that still needed to be healed inside my heart, and bitterness that had built up because of those things. He taught me that I am not above having to repent. Just because I have truly been seeking Him for a very long time doesn't mean that I don't still struggle. And struggle I did! I struggled all week long, but the victory is in Christ, for He was cleaning me out.

God wants clean vessels. It was hard work, being obedient to God and forsaking all other desires last week. It's still hard work. It is so difficult to admit how prideful I am and how much I still try to use God as a means to prove myself. I had so many conversations that I KNOW were divinely appointed with brothers and sisters where I was able to be held accountable and encouraged and understood. The kind of honesty I was able to have broke me in the best way possible. God knew exactly how He wanted to use that week to prepare me. And though it hurt a lot, I know He dug those things up in me because He loves me. I've had to face up to a lot since then, and it's not over yet. But this is part of getting ready.
God also used people after CFW to give me great reassurance through prayer and encouragement. The GVSU Intervarsity Students all gathered around me and two other people in our chapter to send us out this summer. Their prayers were so much appreciated. It was as if God spent the whole week emptying me out, and then used their prayers to fill me up. Then on Sunday, Crossroads Bible Church, the body of believers I worship with in Grand Rapids, gathered around me in what they call the "prayer pit" and laid hands on me and prayed. It was SO encouraging to know they are behind me and will be all summer. I had so many people that I had never even talked to before affirm what God has been telling me after the service. One man even said "I feel like I am sending my little sister to go preach in a strip club or something! Take care and let Christ be your strength." Several people even cried as they prayed. I was so so blessed by those believers.
And now, as I get all the last details together (I got my visa and travelers insurance today! Woohoo!), I still feel as if God is working just as hard to prepare me from within.
The hardest part now, I think, is leaving behind people here. My older brother and his wife are about to have a baby and I will miss out on the first two months of his/her life. I won't be near my parents or other siblings all summer. I had to leave my roommate whom I have spent probably more time than with anybody who is outside of my family in my entire life for four months. I said goodbye to GVSU friends already and soon will be doing the same for my beloved ones here. I will be forsaking opportunities that I might have had to visit close friends from the East Side of the US this summer. I won't be with the kids that I worked with for the past three summers. But along with leaving this behind, I am going to be able to embrace being part of a team of amazing women with the same passion for showing Christ to the women of India that I have. I will be experiencing things I never have before, and knowing God in a new way. I will be right on the battlefront. I will be loving people like I never have before. And thought I can't have expectations as to how, I know that God will work. I fully trust God with everyone here and with me there.

Lord, Increase My Faith

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

Phil. 4:6



Oh Lord, increase my faith.

I have a giant list of things to get done before I go to India, things I have been putting off because of the other more immediate things I have had to concentrate on this semester. But now that I am officially done with my last exam tomorrow, I am remembering this list, and feel a little like I'm drowning.

I am waiting for my visa to come through.
I have yet to get travel insurance.
I still need to get shots and vaccinated.
I need a plane ticket to Georgia (where our team is flying out from).
I need to buy things on my packing list and pack.
And I still have to somehow raise about $2400.

I had a little mental breakdown. I feel scared, legitimately scared that I won't get it together in time. At the end of this week I will be going with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship on a week-long retreat focusing on ministry next semester. After that I have essentially two weeks to do everything on that list and more. I'm freaking out inside. I don't know if it is possible! I start to wonder... doubts are creeping in. What if God doesn't want me there after all? What if He is just going to teach me a very hard lesson about not being efficient enough in getting these things done earlier?

I had to go running. As I heaved clean spring air in and out of my lungs, my mind cleared a little. The sky was a dark blue, but it looked soft. And there were these big billowing clouds that looked like mountains on the horizon.
I felt like crying. What if? What if this is all for naught?
And then I heard it. Underneath the panic and disquietude of my soul, a blessed assurance.
I'll get you there baby.
Hold on to me, child.  

But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?

            In all honesty, I was not planning on going to India this coming summer. I had all sorts of plans to get a paid internship in a big city (preferably Chicago or Boston) and take classes online so that I could work on academically getting back on track in order to graduate some time in this century as well as make some much required money. I found myself explaining this to a representative from Adventures in Missions (the organization I had applied to and turned down a trip to India due to wedding-ness) who called me sometime in September. She wanted to know if I was interested in re-applying for the next summer. I told her I had been making other plans. She asked what had interested me in the trip to begin with, and I shared with her a little bit about how God had been leading me towards using my resources to reach those trapped in forced sex-work. I also briefly explained traffic light.

            I think I really confused her as to why I didn’t want to go to India. “I understand that you want to be smart about school,” (it’s true, I had spent the entire week before this phone call counting credits and trying to fit enough classes in so that I would graduate as soon as possible,) “but just think about the kind of impact a trip like this would have on your life. You would be able to experience first-hand what these brothels you have researched look like. You would have names, faces, and stories to put with something that used to just be a statistic and a number. You would be able to personally show the love of God to those He has broken your heart for. And then you could come back and share it with everybody through traffic light.” I was a little taken aback by her boldness, but I couldn’t help thinking she had some really good points. She prayed for me before we hung up. I did not feel pressure from her to make the decision either way. She just prayed that God would open up my eyes to what is really important to Him and that He would lead me where I would be most useful in building His kingdom.

            I was still pretty resistant to the idea. I would have to raise so much money in order to be able to go on this trip, and I wanted to be able to MAKE money, not lose it in the summer. But once again, God’s idea was a little different than my own.

            The very next day I went with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship on their fall retreat. I was having a great time getting to know the other students in the chapter, but the decision about the summer and India weighed on my mind. That night I probably had one of the worst night’s sleep of my life. I had only brought one blanket and a pillow, and I slept on a hard, cold, cement floor. It was freezing, and I could not get comfortable no matter how much I tried. I put on all my shirts and my sweatshirt on top of that, and the other clothes that I brought I unpacked and tried to put them underneath me as a makeshift mattress. I fell into a fitful sleep in which I had a brief but memorable dream.

            In the dream there was a room full of orphans. I have no idea how I knew this or where we were, but that’s irrelevant. There was one boy I approached. He looked up at me, so sad. His hand was twisted and his knuckles all crunched up and he was in constant pain. I asked him what happened and he told me, “This is how it has always been.” As he spoke I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I looked down, and my hand was twisted and warped just like his. I tried to move it and I couldn’t because it hurt so bad. In my dream I grabbed the boy’s broken hand with the one I had that worked and I began to pray to God for healing. I prayed for a long time. As I prayed the boy’s hand began to function again and as his hand healed, mine did too.

            I didn’t have much time to think about the dream until later that day when we were given time to go off by ourselves in order to simply listen to God. I’m going to share excerpts from my prayer journal here:

I want to get out everything—every thought—that is filling me up right now. Then I want to prepare myself to listen to You. Then I want to read your word. Speak whatever you wish and whatever you mean to communicate with me God, let me understand. I’m not looking for any answers or any mystical revelations. I’m only looking for You. I just want to be where You are.

I don’t always feel like I need you, but I always do. What is this life, what does anything I do in this life amount to if You are not in it? I think you have been trying to communicate a little with me these past few days. I am sure you really want me to listen hard. I am driven to you because I need direction. I want to be all yours. I get the feeling you want me to stay in school. But yesterday as I was looking over my psychopathology notes and stressing out about upcoming quizzes when I distinctly was stopped by a clear-cut idea louder than my thoughts suggesting, “I didn’t bring you here to do that.” WHAT? Then what the heck am I doing? I told you I would stay in school if there was a purpose for it—some specific academic goal for me to achieve. And how you’re saying my degree isn’t even what matters?

But if I think about it enough it makes sense. If I die today it doesn’t matter how many credits I have stored up. When I stand before You, You are not going to say, “I’m so disappointed by your GPA.” It’s my relationship with You and other people that counts. So if studying and stressing out about classes begins to negatively affect either of those two things I need to seriously re-evaluate my priorities. You’ve got me just where you want me to be, and though the reason is surely more complex than just completing a degree. You are more concerned where my heart is at.

But where is my heart at? I still struggle with sinful conditions of my heart and mind. Rid me of this humanistic mindset that I can achieve anything by using You as a means. No, I am your means to an end. It is I that must be used. And let me accept that to be used will be in any way that You see fit—even if it is totally different than what I had in mind and doesn’t even make sense to me sometimes.

God lately I have been getting this feeling like I know where you’re drawing me to. You have heard the cries of the destitute in the sex trafficking industry. You are familiar with their screams for help. You want to use me to heal them. You want me to be the answer to their prayer. God, that entails so much. It means I have to give up a lot and work really hard and go through a lot of pain that I could easily avoid. But I believe it is worth it. For you—for Your glory—for Your name’s sake. I want to be after Your heart. I already know a little of what your heart looks like. You want justice for the oppressed, freedom for the enslaved, healing for the broken, strength and empowerment for the weak, new life for the dying, hope for the hopeless, courage and confidence for the terrified, rescue for the trapped, and love for the unloved. Father, I recognize how much you have given with me and how the only way I can keep Your blessing is to pour it right back out.

I wanted to go to Chicago this summer so that I could have an income and I could do school and I could have time to do what I wanted for once. But then that India phone call happened and now what? India would be harder. India would require sacrifice. India would cost. But really, what would be more rewarding?

Maybe this is another one of those points where I must choose between the walk of faith or the walk of sight. If I do this, I want it to truly be from You. I keep asking myself—am I really willing to give up everything that will be required of me if I am to follow you so truly? I’ll have to depend on You so severely for finances. I probably won’t be able to fall in love or plan on starting a family. Sometimes I don’t want to do it God. I don’t want to go—but at the same time it’s all I want. You’re everything.

Sometimes I wish I could just shake it off and focus on living a shamelessly secure life. But I had this dream about a boy whose hand was broken and mine became broken when I encountered him, then you healed us together. Maybe that is part of what it means to say, “you will be my burden”—to take on the pain of others with them until you heal us both. That is part of my gift. Of compassion. I cannot ignore those hurting like that, because my hand gets all twisted too.

But God, You are ALL POWERFUL. And I have the feeling you are going to take everything from me. I have to be humbly and completely dependant on your power if I want to experience anything real at all. You’ve got this God—It’s all on you.

God, but why choose me? What the heck do I even have to offer? I feel like Moses. Here you are saying, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people… I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them… So now, go. I am sending you to bring my people out.” And I, like Moses, say to you-

“Who am I, that I should go to bring your people out?” And you, you look at me in unmerritted love and say, “You’re no one, child. That’s why you need me. And I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: You will worship God on this mountain.” And it’s funny because that is saying I don’t even get to know how real this is until it’s all over. I have to step out in complete faith because the sign is dependent upon the action.

“Moses said to the LORD, ‘O LORD, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.’

The LORD said to Him, ‘Who gave men his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go; I will help you speak and teach you what to say.’”

[verse references from Exodus 3]

Don’t you think I know your short-comings? I made you, remember? But I am enough. Believe me, I am enough. If you don’t believe you can do it, you are right. If you don’t believe that I can do it, you are wrong. You are absolutely wrong. But I can’t prove you wrong until you go. And then we will dance and sing on this mountain together because I have freed the slaves and given sight to the blind and healed the twisted hands.

God, it takes so much to trust and an awful lot of action. But I’m so willing. The things I want to keep—like being able to be with my family or having a family of my own—those things are yours. I hate them in comparison to you. I want to continue to be open to you speaking to me. Speak life. Change my heart. I’m not dead. I’m so alive.

And after that conversation with God, I was willing. I ended up going with Adventures in Missions instead because the trip they offered was focused on just one location and I would be working with a team my age. God has not stopped preparing me, and it is still just as hard to trust Him enough to step out in faith, but I know for sure this is what He wants.