May23

Roots before Branches

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Roots before Branches

Tonight I watched the season finale of Glee. It was the bittersweet graduation episode. At the very end, a character sang a song called Roots Before Branches. More proof God can use anything, even a very secular TV show, to speak to my heart.

The lyrics are fairly simple, and yet were exactly what I needed to hear.

“I gotta have
Roots before branches
To know who I am
Before I know
Who I wanna be
And faith
To take chances
To live like I see
A place in this world
For me”

In Bible Study tonight, we were talking about the metaphors of gardening and growing in the Bible. I have recently become an amateur gardener. So more than even before, I am beginning to understand these metaphors of where seeds fall, of how long it can take to bear fruit, of the necessity of cutting off parts of a branch to help the whole plant grow stronger.

I saw acutely in my planter of Thai basil the need to grow roots. Though the package advised me to only plant the seeds ¼” deep, some of my little seedlings were toppling over. Their roots were so small and undeveloped, and their leaves were starting to grow.

Because their roots were not deep enough, they could not grow tall in a healthful way.

This season is one of rest but also refinement. Like a fine wine that needs a few years to age and grow legs, I am resting but also being refined.

I don’t want to be someone who topples over as I grow because my roots aren’t deep enough. I have been resenting this season of being at home because it has hurt. It has hurt to step down from a place of authority and into a season of needing to grow deep.

The need to grow deep has been here all along, but it was counterbalanced by a need to be known, a need to be seen and be an influence.

I am doing my best to yield those last few needs to the Lord and instead enjoy this season of growing deep. I know a day is coming when it will be time to stand up and grow tall, to be a leafy, flourishing oak tree whose roots are equal and sometimes greater than the volume of the visible part of the tree. Isn’t that crazy? Now those are some deep roots, and that is what I am aspiring to.

I just found this on a gardening site: “The [oak tree’s] root system’s purpose is to uptake nutrients and water from the soil. The root system also stabilizes the tree; damaged roots could result in the tree falling over.”

In growing deep with Papa, I am taking what I need to live–vital nutrients from his presence, living water from his love. I am also stabilized in my faith, and rooted deeply—I don’t want to fall over  when my time comes because my roots are damaged or weak.

I want to be so anchored in truth and so deeply secure in Papa’s love that when my time comes, I will not wobble and fall over like my poor little basil seedlings, but instead, like the tree in my backyard planted when I was born, I will grow deep and then grow tall. Roots before branches.

Grow deep, grow tall. Most of all, keep growing.

 

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PPS-I hope you like gardening metaphors because this is probably just the beginning…

 

May22

I Am A Writer

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I Am A Writer

I recently finished a book by Jeff Goins called “You are a Writer. So Start Acting Like One.” (Check out his blog and the details here).

It was an excellent e-book on how to start writing, how to develop your skills and how to get published. There was a lot more, and you should read it.

But the important part I will take away is the need to take myself seriously as a writer. I have often described my desire to write, to be a person of influence via the written word, and yet I struggle with the follow through.

I am realizing more and more as I grow older that the people who accomplish their dreams, goals and desires are the ones who DO follow through. Success belongs to the people who get their heads out of the clouds long enough to actually do the work—to create the organization, to follow through on the business plan, to finish the book, the painting, the sculpture, or whatever else it is.

Somewhere recently I read that plenty of people have the gumption to get started, but few have the dedication to complete it.

I don’t want to be one of those people. I want to be someone who finishes what they start.

I will be someone who finishes it.

I am a writer. This is my declaration for all the world to see (or all 8 of my blog readers…thank you. I really do love and appreciate each of you).

I am a writer and I write. I write because I know I have a voice that needs sharing, and I write because I believe in the power of words. I write because I love to honestly share the ups, downs and realities of life in and out of America, and to share what I receive. I hope it is one of those pay it forward kind of phenomena—I’ve been blessed so I can and will be a blessing.

I am a writer, and I will continue to write it as I believe it. Because before the world can believe it, I need to believe it.

I am a writer.

May10

Hopped off the plane at LAX, with a dream…(repost)

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Hopped off the plane at LAX, with a dream…(repost)

Two years ago, I was in Thailand on Month 5 of my World Race. As many of my friends prepare for graduation tomorrow, I think about my own special graduation, and wanted to share this with you.

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This week is the week I was supposed to walk and go through graduation. From my time of acceptance at USC in the spring of 2006, I was looking forward to May 14, 2010, when I would become a graduate and alum of the University of Southern California. My plans, though, didn’t match up with God’s, and so last fall I found myself applying for and being accepted on the World Race, departing in 3 months from my acceptance date. This meant no graduation ceremony, but I thought I would be okay with that. At training camp, I struggled with the idea of missing the ceremony, but was assured by multiple people that it was boring, overrated, and the World Race/following after my heart and God’s calling on my life in this season was much better.

Sometime in that period, I saw in my mind’s eye a girl handing me a diploma and my WR team celebrating my graduation. In this vision, if you will, we were in Thailand (though we were scheduled to be in Cambodia), and it was women’s month (even though we should have been in Cambodia.)

Yesterday morning I woke up, really sad that I would missing graduation. I had a dream about graduation and was sad to be missing it. I went to the coffee shop and got to talk to a lot of people, all of whom reassured me that I was where I needed to be, and graduation was just one day. I accepted this, and was getting over it. Last night, after dinner we were told to get ready and look nice. I saw Leyna had her camera so I thought maybe we were doing a photo shoot or something. In my heart, I really hoped (against all hope) that it might be a graduation celebration for me, but I talked myself out of it, and told myself not to cry when that wasn’t what it was.
From glenalynhunt.theworldrace.org
I walked downstairs and Nicole and Cat were waiting for me. Someone hit play and the notes of Pomp & Circumstance overwhelmed me. I began to cry. I entered the chapel and was handed a cap and gown. I proceeded down the aisle, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe it. It was so special and beautiful and all for me.
From glenalynhunt.theworldrace.org

Kathryn and Megan gave amazing speeches-check out the VERY long video for more-and Lindsey handed me a diploma Leyna made. I even turned my tassel, signifying my status as graduate. It was awesome. I felt so loved and cared for. I had never had a surprise birthday before, so to have a surprise graduation, in the middle of Thailand, was great. It may not have been May 14, and it certainly wasn’t the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, but it was a very special celebration, very personalized and short, (plus the Trojan Marching Band didn’t play-you would’ve liked it, Dad).

Thanks ladies of Team Again for the First Time. I will never forget my college graduation, at the USC Thailand extension ceremony.
From glenalynhunt.theworldrace.org

 

Hopped off the plane at LAX, with a dream…(Now with VIDEO).

May9

And other days, back to Thailand or Budapest or Ukraine…

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And other days, back to Thailand or Budapest or Ukraine…

It’s tempting, isn’t it, to live in a romanticized notion of all your best previous experiences? To escape when things get boring here on planet suburbia to memories of time spent overseas, living amazing adventures?

To forget about how you had to flush the toilet by hand in Thailand because the minor inconveniences of living in a less developed country have now been overshadowed by the power of positive memories, which recall the celebratory moments, the afternoons off spent in coffee shops or pizza places, the precious children holding your hand or wanting your autograph?

It’s easy, two years later, to forget just HOW HOT it was, or how cold, or how ____________________ you were.

I figured this would happen. That whole “All’s well that ends well” phenomenon. If an experience ends positively, you tend to romanticize the whole experience. I learned this in my Science of Happiness class in college and have found it largely holds up, especially after some time has passed. Something happens in our brain that we can process things and then see the good (well maybe not everyone… but I would imagine my fellow optimists do similar things).

I’ve written about this phenomenon before (read it here), but I was struck afresh in the past few days as I have random flashbacks of my time in Budapest or Ukraine or Thailand or Australia  or Peru or Guatemala, that what I flash back on isn’t my discomfort, or my complaining, or my challenges. No, I think back to the things that made me laugh, the moments that made me cry good tears, the beautiful sights I saw, the people I met, and I am glad I did it all.

It was always harder than I anticipated, but it was always better too. These trips rarely looked like I thought they would, and in that, it was easy to be a little bitter or a little frustrated. But with hindsight and process and time, I realize that it was always what needed to happen to move forward.

My repeated statement on these experiences has frequently been: It was hot, it was challenging but it was good.

In our controlled climates of the United States, it is easy to shirk these challenging experiences. If we get too hot, there is always air conditioning. If it gets too challenging, there’s always a way out (though I feel like I usually avoid the hard things). And if it is hot or challenging, then it is not good, because those two things are not perceived as good.

But I have realized, again, that challenging experiences are usually good, because they make us grow and change and develop and those are good things.

So here I am, five months removed from Guatemala, seven months removed from Peru, and 18 months removed from the World Race. I frequently reminisce of these experiences, possibly as an escapist method, but what I am remembering is it is always worth it. The heat, the challenges, the inconveniences, the difficulties, the frustrations… it all adds up to GOOD.

A faith that grows deep and shouts loud.

A Spirit that is one of overcoming challenges and finding rest.

A knowledge that it really does get better.

And a God that loves me more than I can comprehend and orchestrates it all-the good, the bad and the ugly—for my good.

May1

cause somedays I’d like to just go back to the jungle

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cause somedays I’d like to just go back to the jungle

…cause some days I’d like to just go back to the jungle… life seemed simpler then.

There was no running water… and light came from the sun or a single exposed light bulb. There were plenty of mosquitoes and who can forget those demonic flying beetle creatures, straight from Beetlejuice himself?

Tarantulas roamed freely along with chickens and a rooster who didn’t understand the difference between the middle of the night and dawn.  I heard the rooster died a few months ago. No tears were shed for him.

We ate chicken and rice every day, but somehow I didn’t mind. Maybe having an excellent cook was part of that.

We bathed out of a bucket or in the river. The bucket water seemed dirty until a week of river bathing, and then it was as pure as a bottle of Evian.

It was hot, and we all rocked our Amazonian glisten, akin to the jungle vampires from Twilight.

There was plenty that could have been complained about, and plenty that didn’t go according to plan. I was sick and struggling with spiritual warfare.

And yet I would not have chosen anywhere else to have been last summer. There were divine appointments in that jungle tree-house. There were songs to be sung and people to be delivered and hope to be preached and Christians to be encouraged. There were youth to teach English to and children to love on.

Most of all, there was a group of high school students and their three crazy leaders, who went from strangers to a team to a family in 3 short weeks.

I know if I went back, it wouldn’t be the same. You can’t recapture these moments in time. They are precious, ever fleeting, and for one of the few times in my life, I found myself mostly present. Mostly there. Readily available, despite my own ailments and insecurities and struggles and failures. That was a gift in and of itself.

To walk away with a group of people I call my Peru Cru, and to have spent three weeks living square in the middle of my destiny, in the middle of God’s presence, in the middle of it all, was a completely amazing blessing.

And I guess most of all that’s what I am missing today. That feeling of knowing I’m exactly where I need to be, exactly where God wants me, living out my kingdom calling and speaking life. I miss living every day like that. I suppose it’s possible where I am now, but it’s a heck of a lot harder.

Somewhere a light is coming, the dawn is breaking through. But while I wait…

I think of the jungle and the cru.

And ask Him to help me see those opportunities here, in the ordinary, every day life I am currently living, awaiting the extraordinary, which I know is coming someday soon.

Apr22

Shabbat Shalom!

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Shabbat Shalom!

This morning, I went to church. The sermon was a familiar one (not that I’m counting… but it was the third time I’ve heard about the Sabbath and the need for rest and margin… and I don’t even make it to church every Sunday…).

About three years ago, I heard a similar message about the Sabbath—and it really stuck with me. That semester when I went back to school, I intentionally took Saturday night-Sunday night to just rest, spend time with Jesus, with friends and relax. And like it was mentioned in church today, it became a little addicting. To know that quiet afternoon is coming when you can sleep off your food coma from post church lunch, and maybe make a nice dinner and just to take some time to be.

I’ve never really liked being a BUSY person. My parents made sure I was not the typical Pleasantonian kid. I was not overscheduled with soccer and Kumon and Girl Scouts and squeezing church in on the side. Nope. Church and youth group came first, then whatever art/sport/activity I was into at the time. I was allowed to be a child. And when I went off to college, I tried to be the super busy, super involved person, but I found it to be empty. What really filled me up was quality time with quality individuals, which I mostly found in campus ministry.

But I think when I really got hooked on a day of rest was on the World Race. There is a principle of taking one day off per week—no formal ministry, no formal schedule, just time for the team to recuperate, relax, use the Internet (in the more developed places) and re-energize for the week.  It was awesome. My favorite days off from the WHOLE year were the ones in middle of nowhere, Africa.

There was no internet. Sometimes there wasn’t even electricity. So really, all one could do was SLEEP, READ, EAT (Clif bars… in Kenya at least), and talk. We played games upon games of Euchre, and I read and re-read my favorite books. It was truly a day to be quiet before the Lord.

One of our days off in Uganda, we were supposed to be sleeping in. But the little children came up to our windows, yelling “Mzungu, you okay? You okay? You sick?”

Nope, not sick. Just sleeping in—a foreign concept to people who must work hard every single day of their live—except Sundays. (This was a Monday). Many Africans spend all of Sunday in church—they leave very early from their homesteads and get to their local church and spend all day in worship, Sunday school, and fellowship.

So us sleeping in on Monday was a foreign concept. But I loved that day. I finished a book and a half, I wrote a blog, I talked to my teammates, we played Uno (I despise Uno…but I think we played the Speed version so it was slightly better).

Yesterday I had a similar day to that day in Uganda. I woke up with nothing particular to do, except some vague plans to go shopping with my mom in the late afternoon.

I only slept til about 9, and then did my morning devotional. I took the dog for a walk with a close friend and afterwards we got lunch. I baked cookies and sunbathed and re-read a favorite novel—all in one day. I spent some time with my mom and ate dinner with my parents. I did go shopping—and found exactly what I needed. I went to bed by 11.

It was an amazing day of rest and recuperation. I don’t think Sabbath means you can’t do anything. I think it means you can do what brings you rest and restoration from the past week and the week ahead. God created you exactly as you are—with what brings you joy and enjoyment, fulfillment and rest. So as long as He is the center of your Sabbath day… then go ahead and make some cookies—because you love it, not because you have to. Because baking and reading and talking with friends brings you life and in that life, you are filled up to pour out God’s glorious love on others.

But I am also wondering if it’s possible to live in a spirit of Sabbath, all the time. Not that you are super lazy and don’t do anything, but that you are resting in the Lord all the time. That you are giving your worries and fears and hopes and dreams and aspirations to Him in a state of constant surrender and constant rest, dwelling in His deep places and living out of them in day-to-day life.

Personally, I don’t like to be busy. Anything more than work and a few activities a week and I get stressed. This rhythm of life and abiding in God’s love and rest is so appealing. I’m not seeking to earn favor or working so hard to be loved. I am loved so I live in love and I work hard to share that love with others.

Six days of work and one day of God-rest? I think that’s a good start. But I’d love to get to a place where I know how to rest in God seven days a week, and live out of that place of restoration and peace constantly as I pursue what is in front of me.

 

What are your thoughts on the Sabbath? On Resting in God’s love?

 

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Apr8

Easter Ham, Blingy Crosses and Other Resurrection Sunday Thoughts

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Easter Ham, Blingy Crosses and Other Resurrection Sunday Thoughts

Today, or perhaps yesterday, for my non-west coast friends, was Easter! Woohooo yay Jesus.

But seriously, I had some thoughts today and just wanted to share them.

1) Easter Ham. I have often pondered why we eat ham on Easter. Granted, the two meals I enjoyed today had ham and prime rib, or ham and chicken, but I just went straight for the nitrates and was as un-kosher as possible this Passover weekend.

But I had a thought about Ham on Easter. When Jesus lived, He lived out the law perfectly, which is impossible for us as simply human beings. When He died, He took the penalty for all of our sin and was separated from His Father–He took our place and our failure to fulfill the law and fulfilled it in Himself, His life, and death. In His resurrection, He gave us grace and the power to live a life victorious from sin.

Jesus made us clean, and God tells Peter in Acts 10 that he should not call anything God has created unclean.

SO my thought is perhaps a long time ago, someone decided Ham was a good Easter dish because it was like a full-on declaration of being free from the law and being free in Christ, and living in the clean, wholesome life He gives to us.

At least, that’s what I thought today whilst piling my plate with pork products (insert wink face)

2) Normally I abhor blingy crosses.

20120408-224943.jpg

My dad brought this for me from Africa.

I think they are kind of terrible when the cross was such a horrible but also beautiful thing, to make these sparkly, blingy crosses. I also don’t appreciate how EMC (Easter, Mother’s Day, Christmas) Christians, especially those in the music industry, wear their crosses just as more bling around their neck but lead a lifestyle that isn’t really bringing anyone closer to Jesus. I feel like maybe it contributes to the rep of being hypocrites Christians tend to have.

Not my idea of a being a good, humble representative of my Savior.

Today, though, I wore my blingy cross. It’s from Africa and my dad gave it to me. It’s pretty, purple jewels and some diamond (?) chips.

And here’s why I wore it: When Jesus died and was resurrected, He closed a gap between me and my Daddy that I never could have. And because of that, I am adopted into God’s family. He calls me daughter, He calls me beloved, He calls me princess.

I am royalty because of the reality of what Jesus did 2000+ years ago.

So I wore my blingy cross because it made me feel like the princess I am, and I celebrated what Jesus did for me on the cross, what He gave me when He defeated death and came back with the keys of hell in His hands, and what He is still doing in me now thanks to the Holy Spirit.

3) Finally, I realized again today why I am not a huge fan of buffets and why I prefer homecooked meals. Buffets always sound better than they end up being. A honey glazed ham ends up being a bland piece of meat when cooked industrially. Brick oven pizza loses some pizzazz when it sits under a warming light. Salad doesn’t seem as special when I have to pay to make it myself.

I think what I really don’t like about buffets, besides never feeling like I ate my money’s worth or leaving feeling totally bloated, is that the food isn’t made especially for me. I realize that at many restaurants, things might be pre-made and then just heated up, but at most of my favorites, and with my favorite dishes, it’s usually made just for me. I like knowing it was prepared for just one person–it makes me feel special. I like it when my food is piping hot and done special. Yesterday, I went for sushi with my uncle and cousins. It was artisan sushi–the chefs drew designs around the sushi and the presentation was magnificent.

There’s just no presentation or personality at a buffet.

And home cooked meals are always tops :)

 

Happy Easter, everyone! We live in the reality of Resurrection Sunday every day. Amen!

Apr5

Good Friday Musings (repost)

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Good Friday Musings (repost)

I wrote this last year, but considering how these revelations have transformed the way I live my life and my faith in Jesus, I felt it was worth posting again. More to follow soon.

Today, while walking the dog with my mom, I was thinking about last year’s Good Friday. Easter was almost a month earlier last year, so we were still in month 3 on the World Race, in Manila. The night before Good Friday, half the squad went to a little restaurant by our house and parked on the road where hundreds of Filipinos were marching up the hill to the church. You may have heard of this cultural phenomenon-when certain individuals throughout parts of the Philippines will enact parts of Christ’s sacrifice through flogging or even being nailed to a cross (not unto death, thankfully). Though not sanctioned by the Catholic Church, these practices still occur.

So last year on Good Friday, we had seen people walking up the hill and some being tortured (their choice!). The ladies outside our house in the Philippines had been singing for much of Holy Week in droning voices (we were thankful when their sound equipment stopped working. Answered prayer…). Everywhere, essentially, were signs of the predominantly Catholic and religious influence on the people of the Philippines.

This year, I’m at home. I have heard and been wished a “Happy Good Friday.” I am not sure about this statement. Yes, I am thankful for Good Friday and what was accomplished on this day around 2000 years ago. And yes, I find joy in salvation and thankfulness that Jesus was willing to pay for my sins.

Good Friday isn’t good because it makes us happy. It is good because it gives us freedom and access to God the Father.

But here’s the conviction in my Spirit I can’t shake. I read earlier this week, in Victory Over the Darkness, that too often we as Christians live and stay stuck on Good Friday-on the crucifixion element of our faith. Yes, it was a necessary sacrifice and yes we are thankful for it. Jesus died for our sins, was crushed and persecuted for us, took our deserved place in the wrath of God. It is hard and sad but good and necessary and I am thankful, so thankful, for Jesus and His sacrifice, and for the atonement of my sins.

I can only imagine what Saturday was like for the disciples and believers back on the original day between Friday and Sunday. Though Jesus had predicted His resurrection, though He has told them death wouldn’t win, though He had demonstrated His power over death through the raising of Lazarus, I have to think as the disciples hid out and waited, they probably doubted. They questioned. They knew Jesus was dead and buried. I wonder if they were disappointed…

But we must remember what comes on Sunday. He isn’t dead. He is risen! The resurrection and the conquering of the enemy and the victory over death. The second part of the holiest weekend on the calendar is so crucial.

It’s really the whole story that we need. Yes, Jesus died for our sins, and yes, this is a necessary and saving part of the Gospel.

But the other part is living empowered in the resurrection life of Jesus. The other part is (7 weeks later, after Pentecost, 2000 years ago, now it’s available all the time) living alive and in victory with the Holy Spirit. Sin has no hold on us, and we can walk in freedom. God showered us in His grace at the cross, and now He gives us the power we need to live awakened into our identity in Christ and in Jesus’ ultimate victory.

So yes, on Good Friday, we remember Christ and His sacrifice and we are thankful.

And on Sunday, we are praising God because Jesus is alive. We serve the LIVING GOD who has victory over death and invites us into a living relationship with Him.

Let us live alive in Christ, freed from death and shame and guilt and darkness, walking confidently as God’s children in victory in Christ.

Amen.

 

Mar22

World Water Day

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World Water Day

In second grade, I rented a movie from the library. Instead of something normal for a 7 year old, like a whimsical fairytale or cartoon animals, I picked one about water conservation.
It literally changed my life. I even got it a few more times from the library. In the video, I learned about the water cycle (how we could be drinking the same water right now as Julius Caesar or Jesus or Abraham Lincoln), how turning the water off while you brush your teeth saves gallons upon gallons of water a year, and how taking shorter showers also saves gallons of water. This was during a time when California was still coming out of a drought, I think, so water conservation was on most people’s minds.
It still should be. Americans use an astronomical amount of water daily. This is something I have been passionate about for a very long time. I realize it’s a weird passion, perhaps, but water is life, and we have it so abundantly.
Why I suddenly am on my soap box again: today is, in fact, World Water Day. For the past four weeks, I have been (mostly) participating in the 40 Days of Water challenge from Blood Water: Mission. The premise is simple—drink only tap water for 40 days (the 40 days of Lent, with Sundays off), and donate the money you saved to build wells in Uganda.
As I am a passionate water advocate, I just wanted to share with you some facts regarding consumption of water both here and overseas, but first must confess the real trigger for this…
In drinking only tap water, I have recycled less but used my water bottle far more. Does tap water taste the same as bottle? No. But I read today that “Our nation’s bottled water habit sucked up the equivalent of 32-54 MILLION barrels of OIL in energy last year.”
Somehow I failed to make the connection that in drinking bottled water, I am requiring plastic, and plastic requires oil and energy to be produced.
Wow. I know, light bulb… turns out bottled water really isn’t very green.
Once upon a time, I thought the idea of bottled water was kind of absurd. Then I moved to Los Angeles, where it is a phenomenon. You can buy water from all over the world in little, recyclable bottles (or you can use your Brita and save money and still have great tasting water).
Then I traveled around the world, and really saw what a precious resource clean water is. Most places, we could only drink bottled water, but this opened my eyes to the privilege and wealth clean water is. Sometimes I complained how the water we bathed with or the water they cooked with was dirty and I sure prayed hard over all of it. But one thing we always had was bottled water—clean, nutritious, pure water to drink and therefore stay healthy. We would visit villages with our bottled water, and see the children go drink from a spout out back where the water looked more brown than clear. It was heartwrenching.
Since being back in the states somewhat full-time, I have been a little more conscious of water consumption. As I mentioned about, I have always cared about the issue. Sometimes my entitlement gets in the way and I rationalized taking longer showers by “how much I’ve lived without.” You know the drill. But what has really got me thinking about it is this 40 Days of Water.
Since beginning this, I have been made aware of a variety of things. The absurdity of bottling water in a country where, for the most part, our water is clear and treated, and if taste is the issue, there’s always the Brita. I have been amazed at the money I’ve saved by not buying coffee, tea, sodas and bottled water, and how that will go to building wells or other sustainable water sources in Uganda. The cost of water in America compared to overseas. The sacrifice women especially must make to provide some kind of water for their families in Africa, let alone if it is clean water.
It has been hard, and I’ll admit, I have given in a few times to “needing” a latte or wanting to go sit in a coffee shop to blog so I’ll buy a cup of tea. But overall, I feel healthier for drinking just water, and better about the environment by using a water bottle.
So all of the above in honor of World Water Day. If you need more facts, check out Blood Water Mission’s website or google water facts. Some of it will astonish you (it takes as much water to flush one average American toilet as it does to supply another day of life for someone with limited access to water).
Just some thoughts… we were created to be good stewards of God’s creation, and that includes water. Only 2% of water on earth is actually usable for drinking, food, cleaning, hygiene, and more. So just think about that the next time you brush your teeth.
And ponder the concept of bottled water in a country where tap water is cleansed and with an added filter, even tasteful to drink.

Mar18

Home again?

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Home again?

I realize we are nearly 3 full months in to 2012, but I am still a little hung up on 2011. It was just such an epic year.  I think 2010 and 2011 being so great has made this year thus far, which really hasn’t been bad, just seem pale in comparison. And I suppose that’s alright. To go from traveling the world and seeing 14 countries in 11 months, to spending another year bouncing around from China to Colorado to the Amazon to Guatemala, and now to living in the same town I grew up in, the same house I grew up in, with the same friends I’ve had for ten years now… well, it’s a little hard.

I find myself longing for adventure, for change, for something new. Even though three months ago when I got home, I was looking so forward to a season of rest and relaxation and stability, I now am struggling again. But I can’t go run off, I don’t really want to, deep down. I just want a WHY.

Why have I had the adventures I’ve had, been blessed as I’ve been blessed, seen the world, learned so much, and now am back where I started?

I feel like Sam in Lord of the Rings. Home is a welcome respite but it just doesn’t fit quite the same way anymore. He knows it’s where he’s meant to be in that season, and after his wearying journey, it’s nice to settle down with his family, but he is changed.

I am changed. I can’t really deny it anymore and I’m tired of pretending I haven’t.

I just don’t know what to do with the changes. I don’t know how to fit anywhere anymore.

So I am continuing on this journey called life, letting the process happen. It’s frustrating at times. I sent a text to a friend a few weeks ago and in it, I realized why I felt this way…

(Regarding wanting to travel again): “It’s just that perpetual wanderlust that gets into you from the World Race and then the consequential realization that this, the world, is not your home.”

I suppose it’s okay I don’t fit anymore. I don’t want to get too comfortable here, because then it becomes too easy to turn my eyes away from Jesus.

Which leads me to an update on my last post… ahh Lenten fasting. So much harder than I bargained for. I’ll admit it, I’ve cheated a bit. This decision to try to break my emotional dependence on food has been really, really difficult. And there have been so many situations where it has been hard to choose. I have been giving myself a lot of grace, perhaps a little too much, but now there are exactly 3 weeks til Easter. Less than 21 days left (I’ve been taking a Sabbath on Saturday night-Sunday evening from the fasting), and I probably have “fasted” more days than I haven’t. So it’s not a total loss.

There has been breakthrough and will continue to be some. I am resolved to keep going, to make this happen. It is hard and I miss cheese and coffee and tea a lot, but I know it will be worth it. I want to draw closer to the Lord.

I listened to a sermon this morning which hit me right where I was at. It was called Build the Wall, from Banning Liebscher up at Bethel. Basically it had two points: build the wall right in front of you (also known as bloom where you’re planted) and don’t rush the process (trust in God’s timing).

I have been struggling with WHY. Why I am here right now? What is my purpose in this season? I went from one where I felt my voice was valued and heard to one where I feel fairly silent. In the message, Banning said that if you are hidden right now, accept it. Build your wall in front of you, and trust God is preparing you for the more He has shown you.

So yeah. Contentment in this season. It is super hard for me right now but so good in His timing. I know He has called me to greatness but this season is about rest and growth. Grow deep, then grow tall.

I again welcome your prayers for this season of fasting and drawing closer to the Lord. Thank you!

 

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