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.

Singing We Are Yours

If I had to come up with one sentence describing my growth since I got saved it would be this:

Constant reminders that I am not my own; that I belong to the King, who died to save me.

There have been a hundred lessons learned, a million miles traveled, since that day. In the end it all comes back to this fact, though. That I am called His. I was bought at a price, I am no longer a slave to my flesh or this world, but that I am seen in His love and by the cross alone. Finding my identity in Jesus is something that my heart has to come back to daily.

How many times does the Bible describe this? Too many to count. Everytime it describes us as believers it is proclaiming an identity that only comes through Christ. Understanding that we belong to Him is the only way to the freedom. Jesus is "the way, the truth, and the life" and if we are not called His then we cannot walk that path. 

What a priviledge to be called His! This is not a demeening word. To be called someone's, in love, is pure affection. Saying you are my child or my friend or my husband describes a relationship that is intimate. To be called His frees us from trying to climb to heaven on our own. It provides us with a foundation, a fortress, and a friend. 

I am His.

This one sentence holds more weight than any other sentence in the world. In saying this you are also assured of a thousand other things. I am His means:

I am loved. I am seen. I am heard, accepted, vidicated. I am free, joyful, peaceful, and brave. I am okay, blessed, understood, walked with. I am held, holy, heaven's citizen, a friend. I am redeemed, saved, and alive. I am gifted, reconciled, rescued, found. I am a bride, renewed, beautiful, forgiven. I am adopted, light, an heir, wonderfully made, and clean. I am healed, important, a temple, worthy. I am remade.

And beyond.

The world and everything in it is trying to steal my identity. Daily I have to fight off the urge to call myself by other names. Even good things, like a friend or camp counselor, do not define who I am. These things will disappoint, they will disengrate. But Jesus will not. 

Tenth Avenue North says it best:

And through the dark

Singing we are yours

Your love will lead us through

Like stars in the night

You are His. A truth that counters every lie. An understanding that can change your life. An identity that does not hold you back, but sets you free. Three words that mean a salvation we cannot fathom. A joy defined by only the cross, and spurred by a love bigger than the ocean. A constant foundation for who you are and where you can run.

I am His.

You are His

We are His.

I Love College (I Think)

Two weekends ago I went to Hidden Acres on the J-life retreat (left photo) and this past weekend I drove to Missouri to staff Barnabreak at Camp Barnabas (right photo). In both instances it felt like going home. It felt like reuniting with family, like walking around places I grew up in. It was easy. It was good. It was joyful.

But the place I spend most of my time these days, my dorm, my classes, this campus, has yet to feel that way. It still feels like a place I will leave soon. I'm unattached and still a little bit out of place. I still feel uncomfortable, as if I'm reaching desperately to try and find a stable place, but getting nowhere. 

"How's college?" "Do you like it?"

I've been asked these two questions about a hundred times this semester and it's always the same answer. 

"It's great! I love it!"

Every single time I answer the same way. Except I'm not sure if I'm answering truthfully or not. 

I do love it. I love parts of it. I love that I'm closer to my dream every day. I love my church and my ministry. I love the independence of it all. I love that I can be anonymous. I love that it's not at home. I love that I can essentially do whatever I want whenever I want.

But it isn't home.

It isn't always comfortable, it isn't always easy. It's taken patience and forced joy and I've had my fair share of bathroom crying sessions. It's been lonely and confusing. It's been overwhelming and exhausting and more often than not I'm unsure and pretty scared.

Of course nothing is meant to be perfect all of the time, and that's a pretty obvious truth that I have to remind myself of often. Life, relationships, building a community, finding a place. These are things that take time and patience and effort and understanding. 

College has reiterated everything I learned this summer over and over again. I cannot imagine my transition with Barnabas, because of just how much it's impacted my life here. Lessons I learned there are directly applicable and people I met there have been my rocks in the hard moments.

This weekend after answering those questions the same way to just about everyone on staff I really stopped and thought about what I was saying. I was so quick to point out and only pay attention to the things about Iowa that I do love.

I have yet to tell anyone "Sometimes it's really hard, but I also see so much good in it."

Which would be the most truthful answer.

In the end it's only November and it's only my freshman year. I have a long ways to go and I can see glimpses of the joy and plans God has for me here. I feel and understand that He is present here and has provided for me beyond anything I deserve. I know He will continue to be faithful. I see relationships being grounded. I'm finding my way and I have so much time.

My first night as a Hidden Acres camper I layed in my bed and cried because I was so terrified.

When I left Barnabas for graduation I bawled the first two hours of the drive because I hated it.

But now when I turn onto that gravel road or drive through that gate it feels like home. Now I can look back on the bad moments and counter them with good. I can feel how these places and the people in them have built a part of me. I can remember wonderful moments. I love it there.

They are home now, but they weren't always.

And so some days I love college and some days I hate it, but every day I know that it'll grow and develop and someday taking that exit into Iowa City will feel like going home and when that day comes it'll be good. But until then I am not alone. I am not abandoned. And above all I am not unloved or forgotten.

The Greatest Treasure

"If we do not rejoice and share our joy in the treasure we have found then we are saying we have been disappointed."

This idea has been in every thought I've had since I heard it on Sunday in a fall retreat message describing the importance of sharing our joy from Christ. The Bible is clear about sharing our joy of the kingdom:

The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls.  When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.

(Matthew 13:44-46)

Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’ 

(Luke 5:8-9)

I have heard these stories, but they have never meant anything to me until now.

Jesus is the greatest treasure we have. His death gives us all things, His love and grace is of infinite worth. None of these things will decay, they will not grow old or unusable. Daily they are made new, and yet are unchangingly good. 

Nothing in this world can compare to the worth of having Christ.

Yet I often find that much more joy in a good test grade or in a snow day or in sleeping in.

These are the things I share with those around me, making the gospel old and heard of already. I push it away saying that I understand it. 

Why is joy so hard to have? This is the question I'm still exploring. It is because other things rob my joy, because I search for it in other places, because I do not stop long enough to gaze upon the treasure that is the cross. 

Where to go from here? That's the other question. Joy cannot be forced. Joy is not happiness. Joy can be attained amongst sorrow, it is deeper than happiness, and more permanent. 

I, we, must go back to the source of the joy. To rid ourselves of those things robbing it from us. To search for it where it is, and to stop and look at it every single day.

To remember that God loves us so, very, very, very much that He chose to send His own sinless son to take our sins upon the cross and die. To remember that Jesus conquered death by rising again. To remember that grace, mercy, and love is abundantly ours. That we are given the same spirit who did all those things, and to know that the God of the stars is leading us out of our darkness and into His light.

To remember that we need nothing else.

And to find this every day. To seek it out intentionally and to allow it to work in our hearts, where our only, possible response could be inexpicable joy.

Seasons

Perhaps this is just the camp counselor in me, but I believe you can connect God, and more specifically the gospel, to just about anything. God is present everywhere, even in the worst of situations or strangest of connections.

That being said, I've been thinking about the seasons lately. Over the weekend two things happened:

1. The world began to fall, autumn has come. When I left on Friday the trees on campus were still green, but when I came back on Monday leaves rained down and colors began to appear.

2. My world began to fall. This might sound dramatic, but a lot of things happened this weekend that hurt me. I left on Friday with high hopes about college, and came back on Monday drained.

The process of trials is reflected in the seasons.

Every year we see the world fall down in September. Every beautiful green leaf falls off and dies, the trees become bare. The world gets colder. Then we all trudge through winter. Winter has its beautiful moments, but it also has wet, cold, windy days that make you just want to stay in bed all day. Eventually though the sun comes out and so do the buds of new leaves. Somehow the world begins to wake up and spring, the time of new birth appears, rolling into a summer, a time of sunshine and joy.

And then it starts over.

When something happens, when a mountain or trial or change comes our way it often feels like our sky is falling. Our lives become bare, drained. We reach the midst of the mountain, trudging through the dark days, thinking it will never end. But then one day it does. A little at a time, never all at once. But then soon we look around and see that life has been renewed and we find peace, finally entering our summer.

And then it starts over.

Sometimes seasons last longer than we want them too, sometimes we are blessed with a long summer or early spring. Sometimes winter is harder than usual, sometimes fall happens quickly, sometimes it's one leaf at a time. Sometimes our seasons in life are blessingly peaceful, sometimes a trial can see like it will never end. Sometimes it seems as though this cycle is constant, never staying anywhere for long.

There are about a hundred things we can learn from this comparison:

-Be prepared. Just because summer seems like it'll last forever doesn't mean you throw away your sweaters. Know that even in peace life is still life and you will face trials. Grow and cling to Christ, even in the summer.

-Know there's a light. Winter can seem to last forever, fall can be terrifying. But remember that even if it doesn't happen until April or May the flowers bloom and the butterflies fly and the birds come back.

-Every season has something to offer. Even cold, dark winter sparkles with a new snowfall and brings Christmas with it. Even the hardest trials have a purpose and beauty within them.

Those are only a few. But the biggest one is this:

God made each season.

God, in His incredible creativity, thought of this cycle, a direct reflection of His power of renewal and consistency. And we can see him in each one.

In fall I see Him in the beautiful colors. I feel Him in a cool breeze, and sweatshirt weather.
In winter I see Him sparkle in the ice, in our breath, and in the joy of Christmas.
In spring I see His beauty in new butterflies and flower buds and feel Him in the warm sunshine.
In summer I see His faithfulness in the constellations and hear Him in children's laughter outside.

He is in each season happening around us, just as He is in each season happening within us.

And each season has a purpose, just like every mountain we climb over.

Maybe I am entering a new season, but what a comfort it is to know my God leads me into each new day with open arms, patience, grace, and love. Despite the changing seasons our God is unchanging, He is the same God in the sunshine of summer and the coldness that is winter. He is the same God if our world is falling apart or if we are feeling renewed.

Therefore I will not pray that my life backtracks to summer, but that I push forward leaning on the one higher than I. That I embrace whatever winter there is to come, knowing it will bring growth. And that above all I am constantly reminded that I have an unchanging God, who is steady in every season.

All of my life 
In every season 
You are still God 
I have a reason to sing 
I have a reason to worship 

I Am Free

                         

Katie told me something once that I have yet to forget and I don't know if I ever will. After my first summer JCing Katie and I sat outside the Ankeny Starbucks for four hours as I told every detail about my summer. She made me call Ellen and be encouraging. We discussed prayer. We laughed at funny camper stories. It was a wonderful time. But part way through, I remember asking a question that I probably wouldn't ask anyone else. "Katie, can you see a change in me?"

I felt that my summer had changed me, had spoken truth into me. I felt truly revived, truly free. But was I just fooling myself, or was this change evident? Katie would be honest. 

And she was. "Yes," she said, "I can see it in your eyes." 

She went into further detail about the way I spoke, the joy that was evident. But that comment was the part that has stuck with me. "I see it in your eyes."

The picture on the left was taken my sophomore year at a speech competition, the day before my first big meeting with Katie. The day before the day I got saved. In this picture I am one big ball of mess. I was struggling through life, terrified and unhappy. I was covered in scars, had suicide notes written. I was at rock-bottom. I felt dead.

The picture on the right was taken this summer at camp, only a few months ago. It was a good day. I was at peace with my girls, I was building my leadership abilities. I adored my campers (particularily Becca, the one pictured). Life was not perfect, but it was abundant. I felt loved. I was joyful.

Can you see a difference?

I can. And maybe that's just me, knowing the context and being able to remember and feel the difference. But I can also see a difference, in my smile, and in my eyes.  

This is a silly thing to be thinking about perhaps, but in the last few days I've told my testimony two seperate times, and I realized something. My testimony felt….joyful. I feel so very far away from that person I once was. For a long, long time I would tell my story and still feel like part of me belonged to cutting, belonged to that depression. But in the times I've told it recently I've felt….

free.

I am not "moving past" that sin anymore. My life is not and never will be perfect. There is not a goal to Christianity, it is a journey that only ends at heaven's gates. However, I also know that I have dropped the chains I once held so tightly to. I am far, far more than the scars. 

Whom the son sets free is free indeed. (John 8:36)

What truth there is to that. We are free, so free. 

I was once weighed down with so much sin, so much guilt, so much shame. That is not something that simply disappears. As much as I hated my chains, I also loved them. I held onto them so tightly for so long, convinced that somehow I would need them, or that living without them would be more difficult. But over the last almost three years God has been ever faithful in prying my fingers off the chains and into His hand. Little by little, one by one. Until I stood hand in hand with Him…..free.

I am still a sinner. Oh, believe me. 

But more than that I am a free child of the King.

Maybe you can't see a difference in those photos. But I can. I know that there are a million miles between left and right, miles of worship and God's word and loving sisters and mountains I moved and cliffs I jumped off. Miles of setbacks and leaps forward and tears and laughter and joy and sorrow. 

Miles and miles and miles in those three years.

I am free.

And I can only imagine what God has planned next.

Empty

I listen to a lot of music, but every so often I'll find a song, in particular a couple of lines of a song that stick with me. I think that music has the ability to change lives, change hearts, change views. And sometimes I find a song, or even just those few lyrics, that do just that.

Empty handed

But not forsaken

These five words are from an overall incredibly song called "Broken Vessels (Amazing Grace)" by Hillsong Worship. The entire song is full of truth and joy, proclaiming the gospel and bringing a new light to an incredibly well-known song (Amazing Grace.) It is these words, though, that I cannot get over. These words, as I see them, take our entire identity as children of the Lord and captures it. In five, beautiful words. 

Lets just read that again, shall we?

Empty handed

But not forsaken

Everything about who I am, who we are as Christ's, is said here, in the simplest of ways. 

We come into our salvation with absolutely nothing. This world is incredibly temporary, falling apart constantly. We are not good enough, not even close. We have nothing to offer God. We are broken, empty sinners, with more bad than good in us. In fact, with really no good in us at all. 

Even after we are saved we have nothing. It is THROUGH Christ in us that we have the ability to offer forgiveness and grace and love that is not corrupted by the world's ideas. It is only THROUGH Christ that we become anything at all. It is HIM IN US, not us with Him there. The cross does not lift us up that last foot or so, it picks us up out of the canyon we are dead in, brings us back to life, and carries us to solid ground. And then continues to catch us everytime we fall off again. 

If you have never been saved, if you have recently been saved, or if you have been following Christ for years, it is still the same. If you are in a good season or bad season or hard season or easy season, it is still the same. If you are young or old or a missionary or teacher or mother or student it is the same.

We are all completely and utterly empty handed, standing in front of the Lord with absolutely nothing to offer. Absolutely nothing.

And yet He is reaching out. He is taking our empty, dirty hands and washing them with His son's blood. He is picking up every piece of our broken existence and putting them back together with His grace. He is breathing life into us with a love that can move mountains. And yet. We are not being forsaken. We are not being abandoned. 

We have less than nothing to offer, yet God has chosen to love us anyway.

We have been set free, and given everything.

Because not only has Jesus embraced us in our broken nothingness, but has handed us the Gospel, unimaginable joy, grace, mercy, and love. He has come into us, sending His spirit to guide us, promising us a place in His kingdom, and eternal celebration.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While this applies entirely to every single believer, I (naturally) have been focused primarily on it effects me and my life. As you can imagine it impacts me quite a bit. 

I am currently in one of the most peaceful, content seasons of my life that I can ever recall. I am walking through life joyfully, activally trusting that the God who loves me is faithful in guiding me around any mountains I may encounter.

But the funny thing is that that doesn't mean I am any better.

In a good or bad or in-between season I am still incredibly needy, broken, and empty.

I am nothing. I have no words, I have no strength, I have no honest love.

On a bad day I am nothing.

On a good day I am nothing.

On any given day I am absolutely nothing.

But all of this is changed because in my salvation, in my decision to walk in the light

On a good day Christ is everything.

On a bad day Christ is everything.

On any given day Christ is everything.

And because of this, because over and over again He accepts my empty hands, I am walking freely. I am seeing the light. I know that in this season right now I am His.

College is hard. Making friends is hard. Feeling alone and overwhelmed and scared is hard. 

Yes, I am content, but that doesn't make these hard things go away.

And I am so empty in all of them. I come offering nothing, and in need of something much bigger than I am. 

Daily I offer up these empty hands.

Knowing that though they be empty, they are not forgotten.

Here

"Wherever you are, be all there."
(Jim Elliot)

I saw this on a friend's Facebook the other day. And it amazed me. It made me stop, and think. And I went back to it. And it's been on my mind since then. 

The concept is pretty clear. It's not really all that deep or complex. Jim Elliot is clearly telling us that wherever we happen to be, whether physically or simply as a whole (school, a certain season of life, ect) we are to be there wholly and completely. Not thinking about anything past or present or future. But simply fully enganged in whatever is going on around us in that moment, at that time. Because that is really what we control. And if we are constantly living in a moment that isn't that moment then do we ever really live any moments for real?

It's a simple, easy idea. But like flossing it's something I more than often forget to do. And if I'm being honest, something I'm not always sure is really that important.

That's not to say I'm constantly in another world. I live where I'm at, of course. I engange and do and be there. 

However I also spend a lot of time pushing towards something to come, reliving something that came, or thinking about somewhere else I could be. I spend so much of my time trying to get somewhere that I'm not. I spread parts of myself everywhere, so that I'm almost never fully there.

Is this bad? I'm a planner, an overthinker, a to-do-list maker. I have a tendency to focus on one thing, one moment to look forward to and to live for that moment until it's over and I have to find another moment. I think over what happened days, weeks, months, ago over and over and over again until something better to overthink comes along. I overwhelm myself with all that I need to be doing, with all the places I could be right now. It's not all good, but it's kind of who I am.

So this quote, is just really advice, right? I don't always live where I'm at, but I don't miss the important things. So I'm okay.

No. That's wrong. And I'm realizing how wrong it is everyday. Yes. I like to plan. Yes. I probably will always overthink what has already passed. And that's ok. But what Jim Elliot is telling me is that what's most important is that I make every effort to live fully where I'm at, because someday I'll look back and regret it if I don't. That I might think I'm not missing the important things, but who I am to really know when the important things might come? 

So veering away from all that for just a moment, I decided to look up exactly where this quote comes from. Cause honestly, I have no idea who Jim Elliot is and I've already mentioned his name several times. 

Well, as it turns out he was a missionary in Ecuador and was killed for his faith by Huaorani Indians.

And, there's another part to this quote. Yes, Jim said this, and I'm sure he meant it. But, in my opinion the second sentence says just as much as the first. The whole quote as Jim said it was:

"Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."

First thought: what's a hilt? Don't worry. "Live to the hilt" is basically saying "live all the way," just fancier. So what Jim is telling us here is not only that we ought to be fully present, but that we should being living all the way any situation we believe to be the will of God. So it's okay to just go through the motions in the moments we believe are out of God's will, right? Sure. But what is God's will? 

Well, if I were to stop and think about it I often think that "God's will" only applies to the big things in life. Jobs and schools and major decisions and hard days. But the fact that I'm stuck in Human Biology, that's not God's will. That's just bad luck. The fact that I ended up in this car on the way to church, or in this group in Rhetoric. Those things aren't big enough to be God's will. Right?

Well. No. The little things have surprised me before. Moments I thought would be just me passing through ended up being more important than I could imagine. Days that started out ordinary ended up being extraordinary. It's the butterfly effect- you never know what big thing might happen because of those small, "unimportant," things. 

So if every moment, every day, every plan and place is God's will that means that Jim is telling me here that I ought to be living all the way, fully enganged, wherever I happen to be. Not only because it's a good idea, but because it is God's will and because God put it there for a reason. And who am I to go through the motions, to ignore it, to be somewhere else?

So let's circle back. 

This quote has been on my heart all week, because I am not living for here. More often than not I'm preparing for next weekend or next summer or even simply the next homework assignment I need to do or the next class I need to get to. Yet, this is really a crucial time to be living moment to moment because I do not know what will happen next, and in general making friends and paying attention to where I am comes from this idea of being fully there. 

And in the end none of us know God's will. Nothing is too little, no moment is too small for God not to use it. He is ever-present, even in the most mundane of situations. God never goes through the motions with us, so who are we to walk through His loving will for us that way? Jesus has given us LIFE. And that life is happening. Right. Now. Our Father is present in every heartbeat and in every breath we breathe. He is in Biology. He is in church. He is in new, awkward friends. He is in NOW. And, as it happens, so are we. Yes God is also in the past and the future, but we are not. We cannot live in these things because we have absolutely zero control over them. If we are living to bring glory to our Savior we must allow Him to use us now, where we're at. Not next week or next month. Not living off that one time we did it a couple days ago. But here and now we are called to be vessels. We are called to be in the world sharing His message. Well, news flash: you're in the world. The world does not happen after high school, or after college, or only on the weekends. The world is all around you. And so is Christ, and so are His plans.

And finally, above all, God is always fully there for us. He does not flake out when something better is coming. He does not think about someone else when you are talking to Him. He walks, hand in hand, with you every. single. step. We stray, but He only follows. We fall, but He only picks us up. We get scared and and try to run, and He only holds us closer. God is not ever half there. He is always fully and completely present to every one of His children. 

So if we are His reflection we too ought to be fully and completely present.

Whever we happen to be.

Islands

     On October 25th I will be seeing Tenth Avenue North in concert for the sixth time. Their current tour is based on their new album "Islands." The point in these songs is that we are not islands. We are meant to be a community, in fact our God Himself is a community of the son, the father, and the spirit. "No man is an island." We are made to need one another.

     I am an introvert. For a long, long time I was on the fence about this. I was convinced that I was in between, a little bit of both. But that's wrong. Too many people overwhelm me. I feel easily lost in a crowd. Socializing is exhausting. The joy I find in being alone is unexplainable. I love going to Panera or Starbucks alone, I've spent many Friday nights with Netflix and my cat. One of my top three favorite things about college so far is the incredible amount of alone time I get. I thrive in small group settings, and drown when more than ten people show up. I like making myself an island.

     I don't need anyone else.

     This is what I used to think, what I often like to think. I like to convince myself that Jesus is my satisfaction, that community and brothers and sisters are not really that important, especially for my particular personality. This has especially come into light as I've entered Iowa, alone and a little lost. I came in with a deep understanding of having no one, of being alone. I spent my spring semester pretty alone, and then spent a good half of my summer struggling to make relationships. I'm good at being alone, and had little to no expectations for a community.

     Now as introverted as I am that doesn't mean I hate people. I just hate a lot of people at once and for a long time. I wanted friends here. Who doesn't? Especially with the understanding that I'll be here for the next four years. So I looked for a found a place. 24:7 has welcomed me with open arms and Parkview Church will be my new home church. I have made an effort, I am not living my college days locked in my dorm room with Netflix (only sometimes.) I want friends. 

     The battle for me has been in my need. I'm deeply afraid of friendship. Which sounds so silly. But I've ruined so many of them, and I have enough trouble gaining them in the first place. For me friendship is not a surface level thing. A quirk to my introverted self is that the relationships I do have are incredibly, incredibly important to me. This is a blessing and a curse. The people I care about I care about a lot. But this also means I put a lot of weight and importance on these people. Which doesn't always work out. I crave deep realtionships. So thinking about being at this huge university with thousands of new people is daunting. How are you supposed to build deep relationships in a setting like this? It overwhelms and unmotivates me.

     So I begin to think it isn't necessary. If I'm meant to have a relationship happen it'll happen, right? I don't actually need to put in that much effort, right? And if I go through this semester, or this year, or even college at all, with no real, deep relationships it's ok. Because Jesus is my everything. He's all I need. ……Right?

Wrong.

God has daily been weighing on my heart the loneliness that comes in refusing community. He has been tearing me apart with this idea that He created us as a body, and I'm meant to be within that body. He has put people in my life that push me (in good ways) to step out of my comfort zone to find my community here.

     I need community. You need community. We all need community. 

"You'll need coffee shops and sunsets and road trips. Airplanes and passports and new songs and old songs, but people more than anything else. You will need other people and you will need to be that other person to someone else, a living, breathing screaming invitation to believe better things."

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main."

“Healing is impossible in loneliness; it is the opposite of loneliness. Conviviality is healing. To be healed we must come with all the other creatures to the feast of Creation."

The body of Christ, being part of the vine, loving one another. There are a hundred verses I could quote right here that would explain why community is important. 

     I am learning that I am not alone. And that I'm not meant to be. Going to social events, opening myself up to strangers, being intentional about building relationships, reaching out, being brave. These things often exhaust me. But a relationship is not made in an introduction or a movie night. But in car rides and church services and lunch and texts and day by day, moment by moment.

 I am an introvert. 

     But I am meant for community. And so I will get off my island and sail to shore. And I will get there. By the grace of God and all His faithfulness there will be people to guide me and people to meet me. I am not alone. And I am not meant to be.

     

Coffee Shops and College Goals

     I'm sitting in a coffee shop on a Wednesday afternoon in Iowa City. Because these days I'm in college. Which is a strange thought when I spend too much time on it. That I'm here, that I'm growing up, that those dreams I've had my eye on for so long are becoming reality. That from here on out I'm kind of on my own.

    There is not a way to explain the way it feels to be here. It often depends on the moment, the day, the situation. I'm terrified. But I'm also brave. I'm excited. But I'm also unsure. I'm alone. But I'm content.

     I'm trying to figure it all out, even three weeks into the semester. I figure this is a newbeginning, a time to start over, as cliche as that is for freshman year, and I'm going to use it. Because I'm a to-do list, schedule every minute, know months in advance, kind of person lets start with a list. A list of goals for college, big and little, serious and for fun, realistic and not, things I'd like to accomplish in the time between now and graduation. Here we go:

• Get into the Child Life program
• Spend time outside the country
• Spend at least an hour a week volunteering
• Get a job working with kids
• Be a Big Sister
• Become a student leader in something
• Continue playing the flute
• Do a job shadow of a child life specialist
• Become deeply involved in Parkview
• Find a coffee shop to call "mine"
• Do an alternative spring break trip
• Continue volunteering at the hospital
• Get an internship on the east coast……or Colorado
• Get a spanish minor
• Take an ASL class
• Go on a road trip
• Find a solid group of friends
• Live in an apartment or house
• Graduate with a child life degree…..on time or early!
• Grow in my relationship with Christ

     I'm sure if I spent more time on this I could come up with several more things. But I'd say this covers most of it. Most of the important things. Most of the things that matter. And I could probably discuss each of these in much detail. But lets focus on the most important one. The one that matters most. The one that makes a difference.

     To grow in my relationship with Christ. That's the goal. What does it mean? Well….let's see. I have no idea where I'll be a year from now or two years. My college plans teeter upon when I get into my program, where I get my internship, how many hours I take a semester. But here's what I do know:

     A year, or two, or three (or twelve, or twenty or forty) from now I want to be continuing to draw close to the one who will see me through each adventure. I want to know my Father better than I know Him now, I want to be seeking Him daily, understanding that even if everything else falls through He will not. I want my life to be a reflection of His grace. I want my identity to be solely on Him alone.

     Right now I'm in a place I can only call "content." I'm still very unsure, and quite nervous about so much of my new world. Volunteering at the hospital, while exciting, terrifies me to the core. I can see potential friends everywhere, but no one I really know. I'm good at not getting lost, but don't often feel that way. In my head this is home, but it does not feel that way yet. I see that I'm dearly loved by people far off, but cannot feel that love here. I'm a little fish and my new ocean is calm, but you cannot swim without encountering some waves, even on a sunny day.

     I praise God daily for the immense blessings He has already put in my life. An amazing roommate, a wonderful ministry, a (relatively) easy class load, and oppurtunites to do the things I love (teaching Sunday School). I can see that I will find a home here, even if it takes time.

     There is really nothing special to say about my college experience so far. I'm not drowning, but I'm not walking on the water either. It's a journey, like anything, and it takes time.

     Daily I'm reminded of the simple truth that I'm abundently love. This lesson, the basis of the gospel, has been tearing me apart lately. The idea that God could love me in my mess is incredible. The understanding that the God who spoke the ocean into being, who paints each sunset, who designed butterfly wings, can walk alongside me, picking me up every single time I fall. And to know that I am not defined by the thousands of times I've failed, but by the cross alone. These reminders that I'm actively pursued by Christ, that He desires every part of me, that I am His daughter….these are the things I pray will guide me through college, and beyond.

With My Hands Wide Open

I spent my summer in the most beautiful, challenging, humbling place I've ever been. It's called Camp Barnabas and it's a Christian camp for kids and adults with special needs. For 10 weeks I was there, doing everything from kitchen to activities to cabin staffing. I got to interact with campers, volunteers, siblings, and staff. I grew, and was changed, beyond what I can even see.

I'd be lying if I said it was easy, or even that I liked it all the time. In fact there were many times, days, even weeks, when all I wanted was to go home. I was alone, overwhelmed, scared, and inadequate. I didn't understand why a God who loved me had set me in this terrifying, lonely place. I felt abandoned.

For weeks I begged God to show me my purpose, to give me a relationship, to make me feel purposeful and needed. I cried out with my whole heart, convinced that my God was not listening. Barnabas was hard for me in every possible way. For the first time in my life I was stuck in a job that I didn't really know how to do. I had never been there and I had never worked with special needs. I needed help, constantly, and I had to humble myself enough to ask for it. I was alone, forced to seek out and be intentional about building relationships, and relying on my God to satisfy me. I was terrified. Of everything. Of messing up, of not being good enough. I was incredibly uncomfortable, and constantly exhausted. And whenever I finally felt like I had my head above water something else would happen and I would be pushed back under. The summer never got easier, but it did get better.

There wasn't a real turning point. Relationships were built, lessons were realized, my trust grew. I cannot say I came out of the summer with full confidence in myself, not even close. But I can say that it grew, and that it will continue to grow. I stopped for a while and realized that I had spent the first half of my summer begging God to show me something, to give me a solid reason for why I was there, and all along He had been answering. My Father was telling me to wait, and I was not satisfied with that. And then I decided to be. God's purpose for my summer goes far beyond what I could see, or what I can see now. It was not in one moment or one camper or one relationship, but in every moment I grew in patience, and in every joyful day, and in every time I surrendered back to Him.

I could talk about my summer for hours, there isn't enough time to talk about the beauty that is Barnabas. I have never met a more compassionate set of junior highers before I got to spend a week with senior sibs. I've never felt so much love until Becca held up her "I love you" sign and said, "Love you more." I've never seen so much joy before I saw Lily go down the slide. I've never had quieter moments than simply rubbing camper's backs until they fell asleep. I've never held so many hands or gotten so many hugs. I've never heard prayers more genuine than that of camper's. I've never loved people watching so much until I spent an afternoon at the Barnabas pool. I fell in love with camper arrival week after week, it's a glimpse of heaven.

My God blessed me in more ways than I can imagine. I was given the privilege of building some of the most wonderful relationships with staff, girls whom I adore and who have shown me how big the love of Christ really is. I was given challenges, that I hated in the moment, hurdles I thought I could never jump. But looking back I can't imagine it going another way. God's plan prevailed over and over again, and each time it was so much better than mine.

This summer Jesus lead me, through the most perfect plan, to a place that took everything away from me. I was put down with no friends, no confidence, and no idea how to do my job. There was nothing I could hold onto. I was walking with my hands wide open. He put this huge mountain in front of me, and it wasn't usually easy. There were a lot of days that I wanted to just turn around. There were a lot of tears. But sometimes I would reach a resting point and I could see how far I'd come. I could look around and see the beauty. And I realized over and over again that I was holding onto something that would never let go. The God of the universe patiently lead me through my summer, even when I had no trust, even in exhaustion, even in paralyzing fear. He never let go of me.

It has been three days since I left the place I called home all summer, and I miss it. This alone goes to show how far I came, because at the beginning I could have left and never looked back. But I do miss it. I am so thankful for this place that I didn't even know existed a year ago. I am in awe of God's perfect plans. I stand amazed at His love, grace, and patience with me. I cannot praise Him enough for his goodness, His faithfulness, His gentleness.

We have the most trustworthy God. He is bigger than any problem we can face, and His love is not driven by our failures or our successes. His purpose is for our good, it doesn't always feel good. He does not lead us into a place just to abandon us. He is so very, very good, and I praise Him that I got to learn all of this at such a beautiful place this summer.

Far, Far Better Things

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

This is, without a doubt, one of my favorite quotes ever. And it is one that has been on my mind lately, as I pack for camp and prepare for college and move closer to my graduation. 

This semester was long and difficult. Much more so than I expected. As it turns out the real world, even if that just means DMACC and a new job, is sometimes uncomfortable and scary. I can only imagine Iowa….and beyond. This semester I was forced to accept that only real friends will make an effort after high school (even if you still live in town). I confronted classes on my own, long days at a job I didn't like very much, and sometimes feeling left out of my friends's lives. My CNA class was difficult and I was very, very busy.

I know it was good, though. I can picture myself in high school right now and can guaruntee that I would be an unhappy camper. Because of my semester out I'm able to come back around to see that high school has blessed me in more ways than I thought, and to appreciate graduation. Sometimes you just need a step back to see the big picture.

High school was not as bad as I thought it was. I am glad to move on and out. But I now see that I was lucky to go to a school that allowed me to say that my senior year marks the tenth year of some friendships. I can see that our small speech team made a place for me and contributed to much of the confidence I now have. I can see that my life would not be the same without band, and I'm so glad I stuck with it all these years. I can see that the  ceremony will be a great way to close the doors and really step out of high school fully.

Although I can now appreciate it more, I will not miss high school.

I can honestly say that I've probably grown just as much or more this semester as I did in high school. It's easy to get comfortable, especially at a small school like Bondurant. It's not until you step out of the protection of people you've known for years, activities you love, and and enviroment you know like your own house, that you realize how warm and cozy it all really was. And when you get comfortable you stop growing and changing.

No matter where you are going next year or what you are doing, as close as DMACC or as far as across the country it will be uncomfortable. It will classes of strangers, buildings you've never been in, and extracurricular programs you're unfamiliar with. It'll be scary.

But it is also a door to a whole new chapter of our lives.

And I cannot wait.

This semester, in all my uncomfortableness, I learned a whole lot about fear and running to God with my whole self. I have been forced to trust God with this semester, and that trust will continue to be enforced as I enter a strange place called Camp Barnabas and an even stranger place called the University of Iowa. As I apply for my program and am forced to wait for that acceptance or rejection to direct my future, as a drive to Missouri on Wednesday, and as I move into my dorm in August, in all these things and thousands more, I will trust my faithful God.

I am so grateful for my God in times like these. I know that the passion He has given me for children will be used, even if it's not in ways I expect. I know that He has great plans for me, I am a work in progress, but I am HIS work. I know that He knows my future and it is safe in His hands. I know that He is with me. I know that, above all, He loves me, no matter what.

It is exciting to me to look back on high school. It's been some good times. From my first football game, to my first speech competition. From not wanting to mime to being a spontaneous speaker. From flute to piccolo, and to my first job. From long nights of homework, to movies and bonfires with friends. Sometimes its been hard, but I can look back onto so many good friends and memories, that I'm glad to have had.

However, when I walk across that stage I will be holding the hand of my Father and looking forward. Looking forward to taking Introduction to Play Therapy, which just sounds so wonderful, and to finding a new church in Iowa City. Looking forward to new friends and a place to start over. To joining clubs and trying new things. To living on my own and figuring out my future. Looking forward to the rest of my life, and to all God has planned for me.

I'm so thankful this semester wasn't what I expected, because it turns out I can now look back on high school in brighter light, but look forward to my future with a wide open door.

Yes, there are far, far better things ahead, and I can not wait to see what they are.