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.

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.