One More

This post is indeed about camp, so if you're sick of these (which I imagine you are) I'd stop now. This is for me, mostly. Today I cried. I've cried every day for the past week, if not more than once a day. I miss camp. But to say that doesn't cover it. I ache for and crave to be at camp. Every single Facebook and Instagram picture of staff week shatters my heart and brings me so much joy all at the same time. To even begin to think about camp makes my eyes watery.

Today I'm formally grieving it. I'm letting myself feel that sadness. I'm letting myself look at pictures and laugh and cry and think about this place that I've lost. I don't know what grieving looks like really, but I do know I'm an external processer, so writing is the only way I could of to really do it well. So here I am, writing about camp, as usual. But today will be a little different. I'm going to tell you about camp. All about it. All I care to write down. It might be a long one, so here we go.

I could start when I got the job, but I'll skip ahead to arriving at the gates.

I can vividly remember pulling into the gates and being absolutely terrified. But leadership welcomed me and I took my stuff to my cabin. I was holding it together but inside I was falling apart, I was so scared. I came over the big hill and looked down at the dome and I could see at least fifty people down there and my immediate thought was "I don't know anyone." It's basically a miracle that I kept walking. They put me with Margo who helped me through checking in and then Kaitlyn (Mom) introduced herself to me. We had a really long conversation. After that things get a little fuzzy, but about 24 hours in I knew that the summer was going to be much harder than anticipated.

I wanted to go home.

But moment by moment that changed. 

Week by week God showed up.

The first real pivotal moment was with a camper. I don't know why I can't remember her name, because I really did love her so much. But this is her:

It was week three and I should have been cabin staffing. But I was too scared and Mom was too nice so I was on support staff.....again. But I got her for 24 hours because she was an early camper and I absolutely fell in love. I adored her. I wanted to have her all week. I didn't automatically love camp after that. In fact it was still incredibly difficult. But I finally knew why I was there. I mean I understood the mission of camp and I truly fell in love with it. With these kids. With these beautiful people. I fell in love with Barnabas that week.

This was week seven, when I finally had campers. This was the best day. Our activity was water play and my co was in the cabin dealing with another camper. I remember I was so scared. I had never run water play in my life and I was basically making it up as I went along, but it ended up being so, incredibly fun. We played for such a long time and everyone had a great time. I finally felt like maybe I could do this, I remember just feeling so good about myself as a leader. 

Anyone who has been to Barnabas knows what this is. I can't even tell you how I often I sat looking at that view. Every morning, in worship, in quiet times. I can vividly remember sitting at IP and crying out to Jesus asking him to please come show me what I'm doing. IP holds so much for me. I remember walking there our very first night and sitting, listening to Mike, and worshipping and thining that I can't do this. I can't be here because I'm so very scared. This view is one I miss deeply.

Camper arrival, without a doubt, was my favorite part of every week. There is no kind of joy. I've yet to find something that exhausts me so much and fills my heart even more. I honestly believe that camper arrival is a glimpse of heaven and I never, ever got tired of it. It was the most incredible thing. I remember holding back tears during my first one. And week after week it never lost its magic.

This was my favorite week of Core Team. Oh Core Team. What a blessing this family was. I regret how long it took me to embrace them. But breakfast Bible study on the Teas back porch, floating the river at sunset, bonfire in our cross carry clothes, and making literally thousands of T-shirts. If I could go back to Core Team I would in a minute. Thank goodness for all their love.

And week nine. Oh week nine. It was glorious. It was incredible. It taught me that no, I will never be perfect, but there is so much joy in our imperfections. I loved this cabin. I loved my volunteers, I loved my co, I loved it all. It was the most perfect ending, the best way to leave I could imagine.

Oh there are a hundred stories I could tell. I didn't even touch on how I got two weeks with sibs, something that shouldn't have happened, but thankfully did. How I am now determined to gear some of my child life career towards sibs because of those sweet girls. I could talk about my first crises or walking Caroline or excurtion in the rain at three in the morning. I could laugh at the time I walked the creek float and it was awful and wonderful all at once. There are a hundred stories in our week at the lake and the fact that I was literally the worst CIA ever. How often I cried and how much I laughed. How Barnabas for me is the most perfect example of "You don't know what you have until it's gone." Jesus brought me to Barnabas. My own feet, my personality, my desires would have never brought me there. I had no experience, I clearly didn't get myself the job. He brought me in and through and out. It has changed my life. I'm getting a Disability Studies Certificate and I'm so excited because of Barnabas. I'm tutoring a child with Down Syndrome this summer, something I never would have done before camp. I have been changed, inside and out.

I don't get to go back to camp. Sure, I'm visiting in July....but I'm spending my summer elsewhere. I only got one summer and I don't know why. My heart aches and breaks for camp and that's not something I can will myself into stopping. So I'm going to let myself cry. I'm not going to try and stop it. I'm not going to try and hold it back, because that's not going to do anything.

I am unbelievably sad that I'm sitting in my bed and not raking leaves in Purdy, Missouri right now.

I am incredibly heartbroken that camper arrival will happen while I'm in Iowa City on Sunday.

And that's okay.

A week from now I'll be in Iowa City. And that's going to be okay too. I look back on these moments at camp and above all else I think and remember that God is faithful.

He who has given us all things, will he not give me this as well?

Praise Jesus for Barnabas. I am eternally, overwhlemingly thankful for its role in my life. If I never spend a summer there again I will never regret a minute of it.

I have no doubt that this isn't the last time I will cry over camp. But I also have no doubt that God knows my loss and comforts me in it. Every one of his moves is out of love for his daughter, so I will also go forth into my summer, into life, knowing that he is a good, good father. When all the tears subside and I can look up, he's waiting. He knows. He sees. He hears.

Oh, Jesus, I miss camp. But I know you will lead me just as well through whatever comes next.

Drowning Myself

I'm listening to "It Is Well" by Bethel Music on repeat.

It's two am and I'm not leaving for camp today.

I have no idea where I'll be a year from now, if I'll be in my program or not. If I'll have a practicum spot or not. If I'll be heading into my senior year or taking a year off.

Three weeks from today I'll be back in Iowa City, sleeping in a dorm room.

A year ago I hadn't even walked across the stage and now I'm a year into college.

There is so much about the world that I don't know. This year I learned a lot, but one thing about myself sticks out above all else.

I am afraid.

Afraid of what? Of everything. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it seems to be true. I am afraid of failing, but I'm afraid to succeed because that will raise the bar. I'm afraid of stepping out of my comfort zone, but I'm afraid to stay in it because I might miss out. I'm afraid of my future because it is so unsure. I'm afraid of people because they can hurt me so easily. I'm afraid of being alone, being left, having to do it all on my own. I'm afraid to make choices because I could make the wrong one.

Fear drives me. It drives me to run, to cry, to build walls and isolate myself. It drives me to shrink back, to step down. It drives me to put up sinful defenses. To give up. To turn away.

Right here at two in the morning I cannot imagine anything beyond this. This paralyzing, overwhelming, constant fear. Because I am so very fearful and because it is in response to nearly everything in life....how can I overcome that?

I most often believe that my fears are greater and more powerful than my God.

There's a line in a Casting Crown's song that says "I'm trying so hard to stop trying so hard."

This is often the heart beat of my prayers. I am exhausting myself trying to swim through my sea of fears. I'm desperately trying to reach the shore. I see God telling me not to be afraid and my heart takes that and believes that He cannot use me until I am fearless. I am trying so very hard to rid myself of the excessive fear, to force myself into the storm.

And I'm really tired. I'm tired of crying about this summer, I'm tired of fearing every possible moment in it, I'm tired of fearing that I made the wrong choice. I'm tired of trying to tear down all the walls I have built on my own. I'm tired of thinking about my future and trying to map out every single possible way it could go. I'm tired of cutting people off simply because they are people with the ability to possibly hurt me.

I'm tired of swimming.

I think that maybe it's time to let myself drown.

Because the thing is, my God is not standing on the shore. He is not waiting for me to pull it together. If He was this sort of God His son would not have shed innocent blood for me before I even existed.

No my maker is standing beside me, guiding me, upholding me, loving me.

To let myself drown would not result in drowning at all, but in finding myself caught up fully in my Father's arms.

Yet to stop swimming to let go is against all the pride I have. It's unnatural for me, and I want so desperately to have a checklist for how to go about it all.

"Through it all, my eyes are on you." 

This is what this song keeps saying to me. I think maybe it's that simple. I like to overcomplicate, I like to have a step by step plan.

But Jesus always just said "Come."

2nd Chronicles 20 wrecks my heart every time I read it. Jehoshaphat had an army that he could not overcome. He was afraid. He was weak. He did not know what to do or how to fight.

So he sought the Lord. He prayed this incredible prayer of praise and promise and pleading. He rejoiced fully in the Lord, he called his community together to do the same. He followed the Lord's directions and praised His goodness when he had victory. I have read this passage a hundred times this semester and I cannot get enough.

To respond to fear this way is foreign to me. To go forth and stand firm is not something I could imagine myself doing. To reach out to community and ask them to plead alongside me seems terrifying in itself. He tells the Lord, "We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you."

To keep my eyes upon the Lord.

This will save me from drowning. Yet, it will allow me to give up trying to swim. To forget about the water beneath me and follow the light instead. To reach out for His extended hand, letting go of my chains in the process. To allow Him to knock down walls, to run to Him instead of away. To bind myself to Him and His people.

Every day. I wake up every day and have to decide if I'm going to try and swim or let myself sink into His loving arms. Some days are harder, some days I think that if I just kick a little harder I can make it. I'm learning, though. Learning that He leads better. That I can do so much more in surrender.

Fear controls so much of my life....

but I am learning (slowly) that letting myself drown in those fears is the only way to move past them.

Yes...I do not know what to do.

But, Jesus, my eyes are on you.

Eternal

I debated writing this because I already wrote such a long explanation about my summer and it's changes. However, I am still working on moving past camp and into where God has called me next. So this post is a compilation of the top ten things camp, both Hidden Acres and Barnabas, has taught me and how they apply to my life, to all our lives, even now. A few weeks ago was Spring Barnabreak and from Iowa City I watched my social media explode with pictures of people I love so much and more than anything in the world I ached to be there. I cried all weekend long. Even now I'm holding back tears, wishing that I could say I was going back this summer. However, I'm also confident that God will provide. That even if my heart doesn't always believe my head knows it's true. 

Both camps have impacted me deeply. Chances are if you have a conversation with me camp will come up. It's through camp that I saw high schoolers and college students living out their faith. It's where I first experienced worship, devotions, and true community. It's really where I fell in love with children, serving, and Jesus. God's plan is funny and perhaps I will be lucky enough to spend future summers at camp, but for now it seems my time is over. However these things (and many more) are still carried with me daily. I'm learning what is eternal. Camp is not eternal. Whether it was this summer or next, or even if I had spent three more at camp, eventually it had to end. And in ten or fifty years I may not remember the names of my favorite campers. I may not even speak to anyone on staff. But that doesn't make it unimportant. It definitely doesn't make it pointless. So here are the reasons that are eternal; the things that will make a difference and still be true in fifty years. 

(Eternal) Things I've Learned From Camp:

10. Be flexible.
Life doesn't always go as plan. Actually, lets be honest. Life rarely goes as planned. Let be begin by saying that I am not really a flexible person. If I had it my way there would always be an incredibly detailed plan that everyone knew and it would be exucuted flawlessly. Camp often seems like the opposite of this. "What's going on? What time is this? Where is that? What are we doing?" These were daily questions. And beyond that unexpected rain or heat, a sudden crises, or a slower-than-expected activity could throw everything off balance. It was important to be flexible....so I learned how. And I learned that it isn't very hard. Plans are good. Details are good. But life is messy and it'll all come together eventually. So in all walks of life I must take a deep breath, remember that it'll be okay, and embrace a little choas.

9. Community is important.
This is one I'm still struggling to implement in my "real life" life. But it is from camp that I draw the truths of this from when I forget. I can remember a hundred times that I need the rest of staff at camp. They let me cry, laughed with me, encouraged me, convicted me, walked with me. Camp is not a solo job. You will not survive without investing in those around you. Allowing them to cry with me in the hard weeks and rejoice with me in the good weeks was vital. One vivid memory I have is that of my first week of campers at Barnabas. I didn't get "real campers" until week seven, mostly because I was scared out of my mind. But I knew it was coming and I wasn't ready. I can remember reading my name on the cabin list and immediately bursting into tears. Taylor was there ready to help calm me down and throughout the weekend all I heard was encouragement. Between our two staff meetings I had four people walk up to me and pray specifically for my week. I was absolutely terrified and unprepared, but I had a community that loved me and believed in me. I honestly believe that that is how I got through that week. And it's no different now. I need others. No matter how much I'd like to tell myself I don't we are built as living stones. And a stone can't be anything on its own. I need other people. And I always will.

8. Loving is your final job.
This is what my Bible study leader at Barnabas would tell me, constantly. Love, love, love. If you are loving you will be okay. Yes it was my job to get the campers up. It was my job to run activities and lead volunteers and clean. But above all, above everything else, my job was to LOVE. To love the campers, to love the volunteers, to love the other staff. To get up every morning and see them as Jesus does. To know that my sole purpose was to reflect the love He has for me, to love through every moment, to care about them personally. To love. And to love is my purpose in life. Whatever we believe we are called to it is founded on our commandment to "Love others." 1st Corinthians 13 tells us that without love we are nothing. And so to love is the very most important though. No matter where I am or what my job description says I must strive to love.

7. Patience. 
This is that super cliche Barnabas lesson that I can't help putting on here because of how ridiculously true it is. Both camps taught me how to be patient. How to wait. How to wait physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Patience is a virtue because all good things take time. Patience is a virtue because the wait is worth it. Patience is a virtue because we are people and we all need others to be patient with us, so we are called to be patient with them. Be patient. Be calm. Wait for the Lord. Wait for the child. Wait for the moment. Listen, watch. Wherever I am patience will be necessary. Wherever I am patience will be worth it.

6. Use every moment well.
I can vividly remember Ryan Graden telling us to use walks. Use that walk from the girl's cabins to the dining hall. Don't be silent. Invest, talk, ask, question. I always thought that was sort of silly. Until I got there. Some of the best moments with campers were on that well-worn path to the dining hall. Some of my favorite Barnabas moments were waiting for to be let in for lunch. The moments that it was easy to withdraw, to rest, or to even turn to other counselors and catch up. I am learning lately that God is big, but not above any moment. All those "God moments" in our lives were just regular moments until God decided to do something with them. There is not one second of our lives that we aren't in desperate need of a Savior. There is not one hour of our lives that the gospel isn't completely, overwhelmingly applicable. So we can never withdraw from a moment and say that it's worthless, that it's too small for God to use. Because we just never know. So I pray that God convicts me of every second this summer and this life, to constantly be running hard after Him. To be constantly investing in wherever I happen to be. 

5. Quiet time is vital.
I discovered Habakkuk at Barnabas. I want to say it was week four, but who really knows. I needed it though, and I think I read it six times that week. Quiet time was so necessary for my summers. There were days I skipped sleep, skipped showers, skipped friends because all I craved, all I needed, was time in scripture. I can't tell you how much time I spent sitting in my spot in the woods at Hidden Acres or at IP at Barnabs crying out to Jesus, asking Him to help me. Yet as vital as it was for my camp life it took four whole summers of that before it finally started to really seep over into my real world life. It took the loneliness of college this year to make me realize that crying out is just as necessary in everyday life. And it is. My quiet times are everything some days and I see significant difference in weeks that I don't prioritize my Jesus time. So I'm finally learning to schedule it, invest in it, and let it make a difference.

4. Attitude is everything.
Ugh. This one makes me mad. Because attitude is a problem I've had my whole life and something I struggle with constantly. I am stubborn. And if I decide I don't like something then I'm not going to like it. That kind of attitude has ruined so many moments, days, and situations for me. And I let it. I constantly let my own negativity overwhelm any chance I had at enjoying the situation, or at least getting through it with some joy. Yet I have learned (begrudgingly) that just going into something with a new attitude can change everything. There's a quote that says "If you think you can or can't do it, you're right." I hate that quote, mostly because of how true it is. Camp taught me this. I could tell you story after story of countless moments at camp that pushed me way out of comfort zone. Barnabas itself is completely outside my personality; I'm honestly still blown away that I actually did it. But that doesn't stop at camp. Especially as I move through and past college I'm sure I will only continue to encounter situations that could be completely determined by my attitude....and I am determined to make the right choice. 

3. Take your lessons with you.
I'm good at leaving things where I find them. I'm good at God moments that are left in my seat when I get up and walk out. I'm good at heartfelt prayers that I forget the next morning. I'm good at tear-filled breakdowns that don't spill over into my life. I'm good at getting it. I'm bad at application. This was my biggest problem with camp, and continues to be something I have to fight for. Breakthroughs are important, understandings are important, big-God-gospel-wow moments are important. Remembering them the next day....the next week....the next time....is more important. The reason we learn is to apply. So if I'm testing well, but can't perform in the real situation, then what is the point? I'm learning to apply. I'm learning that all those big-God-gospel-moments have constant, daily application in the "real world" too. 

2. You are not alone.
I'm a crier. I cry a lot. I cry a lot at home, at school, at work. I cried a LOT at camp. I think I probably cried in just about every bathroom on both campgrounds. I remember crying in my bunk beds, in the FLC family bathroom, on the picnic tables outside the chapel, in the Barnabas woods, in both dining halls, in my car on the weekends. I cried a whole lot. I felt lonely a whole lot. But I never was. Jesus who loves me was constantly, actively loving me through every single tear. Through every single fear. Through every single failure. I may struggle with bringing my lessons with me, but God is definitely not hindered by the border between camp and real life. He doesn't even think about it. There is not a difference to Him. So here or there. Wherever I (we) may be....the last thing we are is alone.

1. You can't do it. But God can.
I could fully, completely understand all other nine lessons. I could embrace each one. But if I do not know and strive to understand this one then the rest will be in vain. I'm not capable of those things. I'm not capable of loving others well. I'm not capable of using my time wisely or being patient. I'm not capable of flexible deep breaths, fighting for truth about loneliness, or embracing community. I, above all, am a sinner. I love to run. I love to cry. I love to search for joy in everything except the cross shining down on me. I am prone to wonder, at camp and especially outside of it. Right now I need Jesus. I need Him to love me, cherish me, guide me, help me. I need Him to uphold me, show me, build me, mold me. I need Him because He is the only sustaining, constant thing in my life. He is all that can fill me and all that can save me. It doesn't matter what we are talking about. From devos to tree house adventures to handling breakdowns camp has taught me that I am never capable. I'm never adequate. I'm never good enough. But my big, mighty, loving God is always MORE than capable, MORE than adequate, MORE than good enough. And He is right here.

This summer I may not hear "HEEEEEEEEEYYYYY BARNABAS!!!" even once. I will not have a sore back after "little kid week" (my fav). I will not get to worship on Saturdays in The Silver Lining. I will not battle my love/hate (and by that I mean mostly hate) for Capture the Flag. I will not experience the joy of weekend Boone or Monett Wal-Mart adventures. I will not hold a hundred hands or rub a hundred backs. I will not wake up at 2 am to a tiny face staring down at me. I will not have closet talks or counselor time. I will not have JC meetings or Large Group. I will not cry in the dining hall bathroom or walk all the way to the FLC from the girl's cabins just to get the family bathroom shower. I will not have to run on four hours of sleep. I will not get camper hugs or hear camper jokes. I will not know the joy of finding an email on my pillow or a note in my mailbox. I will not play Raw Macaroni. I will not get to sing the Moose Song. I will not get camper arrival. I will not get skits before meals. I will not eat Hidden Acres cookies or Barnabas pineapple dump. I will not cry on the way home, wishing there was just one more week.

And these things I will miss. These things and a hundred more I will miss, deeper and harder than I can express. These things make me smile. They make me happy. They bring me tears of joy.

But those first ten things will always apply.

Those first ten things are camp truths to carry with me.

Those first ten things will aid me in reflecting Jesus, in finding joy, and in loving well, wherever I find myself over the my summers....and beyond.

And above all it's those first ten things (and many other lessons) that I am most grateful for.

This summer I'm staying in Iowa City. I have absolutely no idea where I'll be a year from now. My future is completely undertermined and is balanced on the edge of a bunch of decisions I either don't have control over or don't know how to make. I'm almost a sophomore in college which scares me way more than I ever thought it would or could.

There are so, so, so many things that scare me. So many things that I don't know or can't control. So many things that are going to change. So many decisions to wait for. So many choices, chances, and options.

These ten things will always be true. Always. No matter where I find myself these ten things matter. These ten things are applicable. These ten things can be used. I'm so very grateful for all camp has given me. I've said that a hundred times because it's true. But I am MOST gratefulf for these things. Things that are eternal, because they are not of camp but of truth and of Christ.

He is constant. True. Here.

So I can be too.

Being Left At Daycare

This morning at daycare Iris, one of my favorite little ones, came in. Her mom put her stuff away and after about five minutes had to leave. Iris didn't cry, but she followed her mom all the way to the door, looking a little concerned. Her mom slipped out the door and allowed Iris to close it behind her, so that Iris could be with her until the last minute.

But as soon as the door was shut Iris turned and ran towards me, arms out, expecting to be caught. I obliged and she wrapped her arms around me and put her head on my shoulder. After simply sitting quietly with me for a few minutes she was ready to play.

Iris knew that even after her mom had gone she had comfort at daycare. She was loved and wanted and not alone. While it maybe concerned her that mom was leaving she knew she'd come back later and that daycare is a fun, safe place to stay.

Jesus never closes a door and leaves us stranded.

I was supposed to spend this summer back at Camp Barnabas. As we all know (cause I talk about it all the time) I love camp and it changed my life. I've been waiting since October to get a contract. Camp was the plan. I couldn't imagine not going back after last summer.

Then, finally, in January I got an offer. All summer at the lake.

Not exactly what I was looking for, but I knew that God is faithful. Even though I love Purdy and my friends wouldn't be there camp is camp and it would be okay. There would still be campers and wonderful staff and the feeling of all of it.

Then I got my contract for the job....and I did nothing. I looked at it and put it away for a few days. Looked at it again and put it away. This went on for two weeks. If you know me at all you know that isn't like me. I love having things done and finalized. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to print the contract, let alone fill it out. Something was holding me back.

It didn't happen all at once. But over the course of about three weeks I realized that it was another option that was holding me back. The biggest blessing at college so far has been my involvement in Parkview Church and their college ministry, 24:7. One thing that 24:7 does is a summer training program called ICity. They'd been talking about it since August, but my plan had always been camp so I just sort of ignored it. However little by little it began to enter my mind.

At first I pushed it away. Like Iris wanted her mom, I wanted camp. But I didn't fight it terribly hard, because somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was better. I knew that it would be okay and that I needed to let it go. I followed camp to the end of the road. I wanted it. I wanted the decision to be easy, I wanted to go where I had been planning to go.

But I wouldn't grow as much as camp. I wouldn't be as joyful, confident, or invested. I wouldn't be at peace with it. I couldn't sign those contracts. I couldn't hold onto it.

And so through many, many prayers and conversations Jesus allowed me to shut that door myself.

But when I turn around I see only love. When I turn from that door I see another one in ICity. I see a good place. I see brothers and sisters walking alongside me. I see a city I love and I see oppurtunities.

But above all I see my Jesus standing, His arms wide open, waiting for me to run into them.

And He will carry me. He will hold me, and He will allow me to enjoy my summer. To grow and be taught and see more and more of Him. Like Iris's mom did not leave her in a sad or scary place neither has He.

Daycare isn't always that easy. Some days Iris or other kids come in a little more upset and there are many more tears when parents leave. Some days they come bounding in and forget they even have parents. It's ever-changing. However the daycare itself is not. They are always wanted and always loved there, on good and bad days. They will always have teachers and friends waiting for them.

Some days are scarier than others. This is true for life and for my summer. Already I see that I will have days when all I do is ache for camp. Other days I will be able to leave camp at the door and get excited about all that ICity is offering me. I'm sure that the program itself will have good days and bad days. Sometimes I might feel like my God is closing all the doors around me and leaving me alone. But that is never true. He is always there, always waiting. And when I'm too sad or afraid to come running to him He comes to me. He pursues me, daily, because He loves me. I am His and He will not stand without comforting me.

"Are you at peace with it?"

This is the question I keep getting. It's a legitimate question, but I'm learning that its answer is complex. Iris was not totally at peace with mom leaving. You could see in her face that it wasn't totally okay and that really she would prefer if mom would just come back. But she also knew that it would be alright. That if she just sat for a while she would feel better. She still had peace.

Peace, I've learned, is not everything going my way. It is not being completely okay with what's happening around me. It's not never doubting or questioning. It's not complete fearlessness. It's not always easy. It's usually a fight to find.

But it is knowing that whatever is happening in or around us God is faithful and constant and He has us in the palm of His hands and that His purpose is only for our good.

This summer will good because my God is good. I am incredibly sad to say that I'm not going back to Barnabas. However, I am so very thankful for the summer I did have there. I know that it was worth it. Above all I know that God is faithful. I will never really understand why Barnabas became a part of my life, but I'm so glad it did. God's ways are good, but often funny, and usually not what I want or expect.

One verse (of many) that I am currently clinging to is Ephesians 3:20, which says: Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.

God is going to do things with this summer (and life) that I will not expect. He is probably going to make more of it than I could even begin to imagine. This verse is truth, proven over and over again in my life. I am confident in my faithful, joyful, loving Lord and know that if I am anchored to Him, running into His arms then it doesn't matter what door has closed or where I have found myself.

I am safe. I am His.

And this summer will good beause of that.

Here I Was Saved

Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when you endured in a great conflict full of suffering.Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times you stood side by side with those who were so treated. You suffered along with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions. So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.

(Hebrews 10:32-35)

These verses were written to encourage believers to not lose their awe. To remember the day they were saved, remember the joy that comes in being washed clean. To remember the confidence they first had, despite the hardships that followed their decision. To find constant joy and peace in the gospel.

I remember the day I was saved. I'm sitting where it happened, right now. Cafe Diem in Ankeny, Iowa. It was a Sunday afternoon (January 22nd, 2012) at a small table in the middle of the coffee shop. I was sitting across from Katie, and we were there for three hours. I was 16 (barely), a sophomore in high school. It was Romans 8 that opened my eyes, and time left alone with only the promises of God. It was not a quick change, but the first huge step on a long climb upwards. I remember the feeling. The feeling of relief, of letting go, of being changed, saved, loved. I remember the awe of the Bible, reading that I was loved beyond measure, that He saw me, that I was not a slave to all that I had done, but that I am called HIs and His alone. 

It was here, that the gospel found me. It was here that I recieved the light. 

I am constantly amazed at how far I've come since the day I found myself here. How I've grown and changed, how God has used me and loved me and lead me. However, I never want to lose the wonder that came in that first moment, and the joy that pushed to climb out of the hole I was in. 

Here I was saved, and despite how far I find myself from that day and this place, I never want to forget it. The gospel never changes. We are never "more deserving" and the king of kings coming down in perfection to hang on a cross for me and you should never become something "we've heard a million times." The gospel continually begs a response, and I pray mine will always be one of awe, wonder, praise, and thankfulness, just as it was that very first day.

Unchangeable

2014 was a year of change for me. To think that I began the year as an early graduate, attending DMACC and struggling through an exhausting job is kind of crazy. To remember that that rolled into achieving a CNA, going to senior prom, walking across the graduation stage is a lot. And to think back on how I found myself in Missouri, alone and uncomfortable (but good in the end), but then found myself even more alone at the University of Iowa and sitting in real life college classes and sleeping in a real life dorm. 

It was a year that handed me valuable oppurtunities, incredible memories, and wonderful realationships. So many of the people I now talk to almost daily I did not know a year ago. It pushed my passion for children and opened my eyes to our broken world. I cried a lot, but I also laughed a lot. It was hard, sure, but it was also very, very good.

And it was not only my physical situations that changed, but me as well. Recently I re-read several of my Katie letters from the summer and found a short, to-the-point list of lessons from Barnabas. 

While this list is clearly very simple I think it does a good job summarizing my year. 2014 taught me that my God does not change, as He is as stable as the mountains and more faithful than the morning. I have seen His love in each corner of my life, and learned that His will does not always feel good, but is still for my good. And above all else the Gospel is the foundation, and He does not waver in love. 

As I process my first semester of college I find myself looking back on my year as a whole. 

Spring semester was a trial in a way I still don't understand. More than anything I found it was lonely. Incredibly, overwhelmingly lonely. I realized more than anything else that my joy could not be found in my current situations, but in Christ alone.

These lessons in being alone served me well at camp, which was a summer to remember in about a million ways. Read about my summer, and know that it was so very good. But also kind of hard. Above all else, though, it was life-changing and full of growth.

Then came fall, where I was suddenly old enough to be in college (uhh…what?). My transition into college has been ridiculously good and I praise God for the people and situation He's provided. I found an incredible church where I have been able to get deeply involved. My school enviroment has been one that allows me to grow and live in a way that pushes me to run hard after Jesus. 

I am far away from where I started my year. That's a little scary because it seems my life is going to be a constant barrage of changes from here on out, most of which I have very little control over (getting into my program, my summer job, studying abroad). But looking back on this year I can see that that is ok.

Because everything on that little list is as true at camp as it is at Iowa or home or anywhere else I might go. Number four sums it all up: God doesn't change. Sometimes I don't think of that as a very comforting truth, but in fact it is a foundation for trust in His love and will for us. 

Jocelyn and I have been watching The Bible series on Netflix, which is cool because it starts with the Old Testament, stories I honestly don't pay much attention to. But wow, our God is powerful. 

We serve the same God that parted the Red Sea and tore down the walls of Jericho. The God that was with Moses, Samson, and David is still with us today. The faithfulness that saw Israel through forty years in the desert and the love that reached out to them through each sin is ours to have as well. And it only goes on through the Bible. The Gospel that redeemed Paul is reaching out to us. The Jesus that Peter trusted in is the one who stretched out His arms to us as well. The spirit the raised the Son from the dead is within each of us. 

As our world falls down and gets put back together, as seasons change, as life throws hurdles, and as storms come and go our God is constant, unchangeable, and ever-present. 

I have absolutely no idea where I will be in a year. 2015 is an adventure I have very little knowledge about. But I do have the absolute promise that God, the very same God I feel now, will be with me. That He will love me exactly the same, and that the foundation of my identity will still be His. 

Hebrews 13:8 says it simply, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."

I love my little lesson list because it's full of simple truth, unchangeable truth, truth that prevails because our God prevails. Praise God for the comfort that is His consistency.

Thank you, 2014, for all that you gave me. And bring it on 2015, I can't wait to see what you have. 

Because no matter what my God, forever the same, is leading me. So what do I have to fear?

Waiting to Worship

Someday I will have a family that all goes to church on Christmas Eve. Someday Christmas Day will be an all day event. Someday we will worship our King before we open presents. Someday my children will have traditions to write about. Someday Christmas will be about Christ in my house.

So until then Christmas Eve services are a solo event, Christmas is an hour of opening gifts, and it's the most important part. Until then I have my own traditions (The Nativity Story and hot chocolate). And for now Jesus's birth is the reason I celebrate, even when it's not why my family is celebrating.

It's easy for me to think of the someday. Thinking of that verse "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" and waiting patiently to have a home of my own. A home that will serve the Lord.

But as it turns out I don't know when that someday might come. Or what plans God has for me and any future household I might have. And regardless of if it's soon or fifteen years from now, I am not there quite yet. I am here. I am in a home of this world.

I often find myself waiting to worship.

Not only in regards to Christmas, but in life itself. Since the ninth grade I have struggled to run after Jesus before I go to camp, constantly thinking camp will bring everything together. I wait until Sundays or Wednesdays. I wait. I always have an excuse…..there's no time, no place. I'm too tired, too hungry, too unfocused, too uncomfortable.

Someday my whole house will find Jesus to be the focus of our Christmas.

But that Jesus will be no different from the Jesus I find in my current solo worship.

The Bible often tell us not to wait to worship. In most of his Psalms David worships, even if God seems silent. The shepards immediately left their flocks to find the Savior. Jesus tells men who want to bury their father or say goodbye to their family that they must not look back, to follow him immediately. Paul and Peter never waited to spread the Gospel, but went even amongst danger and prosecution.

Our God does not wait to save us. Any "waiting" we do is His will, and He does not draw lines. I wait until a family, camp, a Sunday morning. Small, insignificent things. God does not wait for us to reach a certain point of "good" or to complete certain things. Jesus is not a checklist.

I am learning not to wait. To know that my God is present here and now. That I am loved and adored exactly where I'm at. Merry Christmas! Jesus has been born, and He came as a child to save the world in the way only our God could.

Immanuel, God with us, is here. Now. So come, let us adore Him.