Hearing God's Voice and Hot Chocolate

Wow. Only my second week here in San Fran and yet I feel like I’ve been here years! It is so great to get into routine, explore our ministry here and grow deeper in our relationships with each other. Especially our relationship with God!

This week our speaker taught on Hearing God’s Voice. For me that was something new, I never understood my parent’s “calling” and honestly I thought it was some vague desire that they had and not God at all. But this week I learned there’s so many different ways that God uses to speak to us, and I have myself heard Him numerous times. Extremely encouraging! One thing that stuck out to me was on the first day of teaching, when the speaker was telling us that the whole reason God talks to us on such a personal level and that we have that right is because we’re sons and daughters. If He is the King and we’re His sons and daughters, what does that make us? Princes and princesses! I almost barfed at first because I never wanted to be a princess but then she kept explaining. We don’t need an invitation to go into the throne room when we get hurt, God invites us to crawl up on His knee and tell Him all about it. All the privileges and special perks we have in the Kingdom because we are children of God, heirs of His love and mercy. That for me was never realized before, I always considered myself as not good enough.

So I’ve been breaking that bond this week. One thing that I noticed throughout this week and last is that God is breaking through everything I have in me. I asked for this, but I was more than a little surprised it is happening so soon... And as things are broken through, as wounds are surfaced and false beliefs of the past that it’s my fault and I’m not good enough surface, I once again get the urge to cut... This urge has grown stronger when I fail at something or I do something enormously stupid, such as lose the check that I was supposed to hand in for my tuition... Talk about nerve wracking! Things like that which happen either because of me or inadvertently or not at all related to me but I still feel responsible. My first impulse is still, “you should be ashamed. You’re so careless and stupid! You need to be punished for that.” Thankfully, I am proud to say that not once have I given in to that desire! Only by prayers of those around me and through Jesus is that possible... I’m writing this not to glory myself but to admit with all humility that for myself I would have given in, but by the strength of Jesus He restrained my hand and took the blade from my thoughts.

Tonight we had hot chocolate ministry, which is where we go out with a jug of hot chocolate and offer it to people we meet on the streets. Some are homeless, some are drunk, some are high, and a lot are mentally unstable... But the warm reception and how happy they are that you are giving them that hot chocolate almost breaks my heart. The sincere thanks they say after you ask about their night, where they are from, etc and actually truly listen (if only for 5 minutes)... It’s breathtakingly humbling. How can we not love our brothers and sisters on the streets? How can we not be doing everything physically and spiritually possible to love and encourage them? What higher purpose is there in life than to show God’s love and kindness?

So, this is what I learned this week. I made this post shorter just because I knew if I shared everything I’d be writing until morning and even then not tell everything! This is the gist of things and I hope you enjoyed reading it and God showed you something through it. J

Week #1

Day #1: I flew out of DFW at 8 am this morning, and had an uneventful flight to San Fran. I was picked up from the airport by two of the staffers and we went to eat while we waited on another student, Kelly, to come out of customs. After that we were brought back to the base and had the afternoon off. So after settling down a bit, Kelly and I decided to explore the city and ended up walking for nearly 2 hours. It was so cool to see everything (Starbucks on every other block!) and try to realize that this is real. I really am here!! Incredibly surreal. We didn’t have much in the way of official business today, so tomorrow the real fun begins. There are many incredible people with incredible backgrounds here and I look forward to getting to know them! At the moment, I’m going to get to know my bed. Morning comes at 6:45 :P

Well, that was all I had to say then but now I feel like I could write a book already! This week has been absolutely amazing. Monday it was all surreal, but now it’s started to feel like home and it’s sunk in that we’re all really here for 3 months! We finished staff testimonies and sharing our student testimonies on Thursday and it was so great to learn where everyone came from. A bit daunting to be so vulnerable, but the atmosphere was all encouragement and love. Almost hippie and definitely awesome =]

The city is thrilling and gorgeous but most of all I’m impacted by the people. You can’t walk down from our rooms without seeing the homeless. They’re everywhere: sleeping outside the door, all along the sidewalk, and especially lining up across the street for the soup kitchen in the early morning. I get up at 5:45 each morning to do worship before breakfast with my amazing roomie Michelle and one of the YWAMers, and even at that early hour there is a line half a block long of homeless standing and waiting to get their food.

It’s Saturday night, and today we had a tour of the city. It was cool to get out of the Tenderloin (our neighborhood) and see the tourist destinations of the city. We were set lose in groups of 4-5, given a piece of paper with instructions and a bus card and told to be at the last stop at 5:15! It was 10 am. I know I could write pages and pages just about the wonderful walk and exploration of the city, but I’ll hold in that desire for now. Needless to say it was all gorgeous and fun and tiring and stressful and enlightening and draining and wonderful- all at the same time!

I have two stories I want to share about this week. The first is the story of a prayer walk we did through the TL (Tenderloin aka our neighborhood). My first prayer walk was in Belize, at the YWAM base there, so I felt a little bit better going into this one having already done one before. I was teamed up with my two fellow students, both from Australia, and we were told to go where we felt led and don’t be afraid to ask people if you can pray for them. Amazingly, I did ask 2 people if I could pray for them in spite of my shyness. I was declined both times. The first time was a rough looking young woman, and I think it’s safe to say she was hardened to the church. The second time was a construction worker on break. He was curiously watching us as we prayed over a massage parlor (75% of which are fronts for brothels), so I approached and he asked what we were doing. I explained and even though he declined my request, we stopped a little ways away and prayed anyways. I can’t get this young man out of my head. I feel like I should have shared more about what we were doing and how loved he is to Jesus, and I didn’t. Now I’m beseeching God to put him in my path again so I can redeem that missed opportunity before.

My second story is about a homeless man I talked to on the streets. As we were walking back from our bus stop we passed a man holding a sign that said “Jesus loves you” in bright red letters, and as I caught his eye he smiled so wide! And I had the idea to get him a cup of hot chocolate. It was bitterly cold tonight, harsh wind and freezing air. I couldn’t imagine standing on the sidewalk for hours just holding a sign trying to be a light of love. And I’ve seen him there every time I go downtown, which is pretty much every day since I’ve been here. So I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and after I dropped off my bag at the base I grabbed two friends and we were off! I took the Starbucks card one of my friends had given me as a going away gift to use to buy it, and after we got to the square I looked around for him... And he wasn’t there. Rather than drink it though, I still felt like I should give it away so I kept looking. We crossed the street and I saw a homeless man sitting by the steps to the train, and I didn’t want to stop. It looked like he was asking for money but as I drew closer I realized his sign actually just said “any kindness.”

  I knew I was supposed to give it to him so I knelt down, still pretty apprehensive, and offered him the cup. His eyes immediately welled up as he took it gratefully and I asked if I could pray for him. He readily agreed and after I finished he was wiping tears from his eyes. I sat down beside him as the people on the sidewalk gave us a wide circle as they passed on. It was amazing, to say the least! His whole life story sounds like it should be in a movie. At first I was hesitant to believe him, but there was no outlandishness in his tale. Just a tale of loss. Sons who abandoned him in his time of need, a wife who took him for all he had and then left him, and a newly found daughter who visits him on the street and takes him to breakfast as often as she can. He kept referring back to his Bible beside him and insisting that he was doing alright, making it from day to day. He smiled and laughed and said he knew Jesus loved him and he knew he was doing a lot better than some folks so he wasn’t worried.

He said he wasn’t worried. He has lived on the street I saw him on for the past 1 and a half years! And he isn’t worried? It’s incredible to me. How can that be? How can I sleep in a bed every night, get plenty of food at every meal, have SO many perks, hot water for a shower whenever I want it, friends and family who stick by me, and the opportunities of a lifetime at my fingertips! I’m young, I’m not dying, and I’ve been given a wealth of experience and chances. Yet I worry enough to kill myself. I worry about money, about clothes, about my image, about my school, what my friends think of me, how I’m going to get from one day to another, and about boys. I worry constantly. I bring myself down and carry a cloud like a balloon. But this man Craig who sleeps, eats, and lives on the sidewalk, doesn’t worry at all. What is his attitude? “Even Jesus was homeless.”

I want that attitude! I want that view of my life. And I want to remember Craig and visit him as often as I can. Because he is an inspiration to me and a wakeup call in my life. Where’s your wakeup call? Did you walk past it today like I almost did? Never be afraid to step out on a limb and trust God. Sometimes people say no, but sometimes they say yes.

Another New Chapter (Or Book)

I love how people title a move or radical change in their lives as "A New Chapter." It's very bookish and being a writer and bookworm, it makes me happy. However since I have moved so often and many radical changes seem to happen to me almost daily, I don't feel like anything is just a new chapter... My life could already be a book. I've had so many adventures, scares, happy moments, sad moments, love, and pain that I feel like if my life ended tomorrow I would have lived a full life. Full, but cut short. Because there are many more things I wish to do and I feel called to do!

That being said, it is with great excitement and peace (after my typical long struggle with panic attacks which reared up again a month ago and are finally subsiding as the time of my flight draws closer), that I announce that in 14 hours I will land in San Francisco, California!! Which seems surreal. Surreal in the strange way that my entire life has felt surreal, from the moment I was told we were moving to Jamaica.

As my life has progressed, there are times that I am overwhelmed with nostalgia and there are times that I feel perfectly content to be in the present moment. This past week it's been a mixture of both. Perhaps it is my constant reflection on where my life has led me, what I've seen God do, and the vast array of memories of distant places which help me to appreciate the present moment all the more. All I know is that I seem to be enthralled with the little moments and even notice them, more than the people around me. Maybe it's because I usually don't have a schedule so I can bend my time any way I choose. Beautiful day? I think I'll take a drive down a back road with the windows down, and thank God for the American life.

A harder part of my life is, as I mentioned, my panic attacks. I can usually conceal them with little difficulty, pleading fatigue or back pain as an excuse. Staying quiet. But I think in my effort to conceal them, I have grown ashamed of them. And that will not do. Because it is too easy for me to pressure myself into demanding perfection in my life. Yet life isn't about perfection, and I know it. So, I say this without any shame and with the full conviction that God is sovereign and my constant Comforter. I experience panic attacks on a regular basis. Yes, even though I am a wholehearted follower and worshiper of Christ Jesus. This does make me weak but not a bad Christian. I'll say that again in case you missed it: I am weak. (2 Corinthians 12:9 comes to mind.) In my weakness, His strength is made clear. In my panic, His peace is obvious. There is no situation I can face which He has not foreseen and established as a safe place for me. Not the darkest alley, or the richest skyscraper. Even in the midst of my stomach tightening, my heart racing, my whole body shuddering in terror, He is watching over me. He is holding me in His hand. And it makes me long for Him!

That's why I'm going to San Francisco. I want to learn more about this Savior I call my Lover. I want to know everything about Him, I want to know His life (both on the earth and in heaven). I want to know better how to become like Him, love like Him, lead like Him, and lay down my life like Him. I truly want to mirror Him to this world. To me this does not seem crazy or radical. This is simply real. In the surreality of my life, this is in sharp focus as the only true reality. I am headstrong and crazy, with more than just a dash of stubborn, but I want to live every day in awe of Him. I want to be a child each time I see His hand in anything. A beautiful sunset, a hot meal on the table, a warm bed at night, friends and family who love me. I want to see Him in it all! Because He is the only thing of worth in this world.

I suppose why I don't feel the path my life is taking is odd or radical because of my nature. That good ol' headstrong, crazy, and more than slightly impulsive little tomboy who secretly wants to be a princess as well. Whether these qualities survive God's refinement remain to be seen. I have a feeling they will be my companion for the totality of my life on earth. Though I can pretend I am not as impulsive as I once was, in reality I am. I just have more control over it now (sometimes). I still mess up, but now I try to find God's leading in it more. If I feel like I should say a certain thing, with the risk of completely missing the target and looking like an idiot, I say it. Because I want to be used. I've been used for many years, but that was for my body. Now I want to be used for my soul and for the souls of others. Another reason YWAM is important to me. I want to hardcore study how to be used! Many people have told me there is no space between my mind and my mouth, and on more than one occasion that's gotten me into trouble. But it seems more often it opens doors, leads conversation in a new direction, and establishes a mutual understanding.

The latter part of this post was me rambling, but I felt I should say it so I'll not apologize. I want to be used, and when I feel the inclination, I'll blindly trust He will do something with it. I may not see the fruit of it today, or even in this lifetime, but I can trust it is there. Because He is there, and He uses all things for His glory and honor. I hope yall have had a good week, I became an aunt again! And that God continues to reveal Himself in every second daily. :)

Scars

When I was little, I loved being outside. I was a tomboy inside and out. I climbed trees, I went barefoot, I played soccer, I played war, I pretended I was Batman, and I hated pink. Something I loved was scars. They were like trophies, how many scars did you have and how big were they? I have them from climbing trees, running into trees (yes my clumsiness goes back that far), and all the games I played. I liked them. It was like a road map of things that had happened to me on my skin! Cool, right?

Then I got a scar I didn't like. I didn't ask for it. I wasn't playing a game or having an adventure when I got. I was in surgery. I was 13.

It's surreal for me to remember my surgeries now. I kind of want to believe they didn't actually happen. Because I honestly don't remember a lot of them... I don't know if that's normal, and how my memory was before I had them, but I don't have many memories. Especially my first surgery, which I remember only a few flashes of. Like waking up after and being so thirsty my throat felt like sand paper, begging the night nurse for water and only getting ice chips. Crying for water. Pain. Intense, overwhelming, agonizing, ripping pain all up and down my back. My oldest sister visiting me (I just remember her standing in the door), my mom being by my bed every time I woke up. How much I hated the physical therapists... And being stiff. I can't remember how it felt to be able to bend your back, but I do remember how stiff I felt after that first surgery. And how it wouldn't go away. Days, weeks, months went by but the stiffness remained. I had to learn a whole new way how to do everything. How to get out of bed, tie my shoes, pick things up, balance, sit, and walk. I felt like a robot, so stiff and walking so awkwardly. I still feel that way sometimes.

Memories I have from after my first surgery are more painful. Painful, but not in just the physical way. I can remember how proud I was to walk back into church, I could walk by myself without blacking out! But I had to take 2 pillows, somehow the chairs had transformed into rocks. My sister Ruth followed me and helped me position myself so I wasn't in too much pain. I refused to look around and see if anyone was staring at me. I wouldn't even look at my friends. I was too preoccupied with trying to stand and sit when everyone else did, and standing so long was so hard! I remember the first time I went to church without pillows. Not because I didn't need them, but because I was stubborn. I was tired of carrying them, of reminding me and everyone around me that I was different. I slid out of the car and walked away as quickly as I could, leaving my pillow behind on purpose. The agony that greeted me during the service made me grind my teeth to keep from crying, but I was determined to be strong enough!

That need to be strong enough has been the most influential lie in my life. I have told myself time after time, as soon as the pain or tears start to come, I have to be strong enough. Pain is weak, tears are weak. Moaning about the pain or giving into tears doesn't help anything, it just makes me look pathetic. It makes people around me uncomfortable, and then they might avoid me. Even worse, they might ask about my pain. They might want to know. And I was tired of telling the story. I was tired of the reactions, the looks, the pity, the carefulness. Or the complete lack of anything, and the laughter. I hated feeling inferior, so I started covering the pain. Pills were for the weak, I would deal with the pain myself. If I just paced myself, I could do it. The problem is, I always push myself. A game at youth, I should sit out, but I don't want to be left out. If I just lay down during small group after, then I can do it! And I compromised myself into everyday pain, barely managed.

I can remember the first time I pressed my extra morphine button in the hospital, my “happy” button, and how much I hated how it made me feel. I felt like I was high, my brain was wired, I was strangely aware yet docile. So they changed to a different pain med, thinking the other one wasn't right for my body. But it was the same. I finally realized that was just the way that strong of medication was. I didn't like it. I would refuse to push the button until I was almost crying from the pain, I couldn't speak or move and I was in agony. My mom made me push it more often. But I hated that feeling that came with it. So just like the pillows, I started leaving it behind. When I went home, I purposefully missed a few hours in between medication so I could feel normal. Besides, those pills were made for horses. I wanted to be pill-free, I hated drugs and the whole process I had been through. But there was a problem. I could get rid of the pillows and pills, but that scar remained. Haunting me.

Daily I looked in the mirror and turned around to stare at my scar. So long and white, like someone was halving my back. I hated it. I hated the sight of my back but I couldn't go a day without glaring at it, almost crying in my anger and frustration. I was supposed to be fixed! A quick surgery and the pain would stop! I can't remember how things were before that surgery, but it seemed to me the pain didn't go away at all. At my 6 month check-up, my doctor noted that I was still having so much pain and it wasn't good. But he said I was healing fine and I was healthy enough to fly. So my dad bought the tickets and we prepared to leave. My depression and frustration grew, and my pain had no management. It was all because of that one scar. That one, long, hateful scar that I didn't do anything to get. I hated it and I hated my body.

So many hard lessons were learned from having my surgeries and experiencing such regular pain. I would say the first surgery was the hardest, because on the second I had given up hope. When they said they wouldn't take the hated rods and screws out, I gave up. I'd be a freak forever. Who would ever find me beautiful? I lived on that assumption for a long, long time. I just wanted to feel normal, to not be bitter when I saw how easily other people could bend over. I was embarrassed I had to bend straight from the hips, or else squat down. What was I, an old woman? After my second surgery, I accepted things more. But it wasn't good acceptance. Only now have I learned to push through the old lies I told myself, and started trying to preach the truth. It's rather difficult, the old lies were so believable.

Just the other day, I was talking to my sister about the medication she's on and she said she had vicodin before that but she was allergic. I said I'd always wondered how vicodin was, because that's what House was addicted to. And she told me, “Um you were on vicodin. That's the hydrocodone you had.” I was shocked. The hydrocodone? That's the weak stuff! The pills I take when I'm in a lot of pain, but not enough to warrant the strong pills. And that made me realize something. All the lies I told myself, about my pain not being a lot and I was weak to hurt so much, were truly lies. The pain I experience can't be reduced by some ibuprofen. Or even 5. But it can be controlled with 5. And because I can't operate normally with the high that comes with vicodin and the stronger pills (not to mention I'm terrified of being addicted), I just use the ibuprofen. A lot of it. Sometimes it doesn't help and I have to take more, and sometimes I finally just have to lay down and take the pressure off my back. But I tell myself every day now, that I am not weak. I am strong. I have been through hell. A normal 13 year old's hell is whether the guy she likes will notice her or not. Mine was searing pain. I'm not saying I've had a terrible life and you should pity me, don't pity me! Don't you dare. If you do, you're insulting me. I don't need your pity. I just want your friendship.

We all have struggles, we all have pain and hardship. I used to tell myself that at least I didn't have cancer, so I should suck it up! Well, now I tell myself that in a different way. I can thank God that I don't have cancer. Or a different problem that causes me more pain. I can imagine more pain, because I had much more pain right after my surgeries. I don't want to think of living life in that pain, but some people do. Some people bear unbearable pain every day. Aren't we lucky we don't! I honestly love hearing other people's stories, and I was hesitant to do a blog because it's so one-sided. But if you have a story, comment or message me. Friends share, and I love listening.

Uber long post, and I apologize for that! Kind of. You don't have to read if you don't want to so I don't feel all that bad...

Beloved

I don't like cliché and sentimental cheesy dwelling on the past, but today made me honestly think through everything I went through this past year (I skipped a few too painful memories). I don't know whether 2011 or 2010 was a worse year for me, but they are definitely close rivals. I don't want to keep looking back though. This is the new year and as my new favorite quote says, “Don't look back, you're not going that way.” And it's so true. I know at this moment we're tempted to start sighing and saying all the good things that happened to us last year, or the bad things but we learned from them. I don't want to say that. I don't want to say, let's start a new year by remembering an old one. Because I wish I could erase a lot of my 2011 memories. So on to a better prospect!

In my last post I linked a video at the bottom by Tenth Avenue North called Beloved. I love the word “Beloved”. I don't know why, it just seems like something Jesus would truly say. Beautiful has been corrupted for me, pretty has been corrupted. Cute is a puppy, hot is a summer day. But beloved... Beloved means so much! It means you're accepted, it means you're pardoned. It means you're valued no matter what! It means you're worth love. And you're not alone. All of my great fears combined, it means the fulfillment of what my soul longs for. Jesus is the fulfillment of what my soul longs for! I just usually don't know it.

My favorite lyric (aside from the chorus), is what it says right away. “Love of my life, look deep in my eyes, there you will find what you need.” When was the last time you looked in Jesus' eyes? I did it this morning at church, and again when I had my devotionals. It's an amazing feeling, whether you're sitting still or standing and singing, to know that Jesus is loving you right then. That He's listening to you, the way your voice doesn't quite reach that note like it should or you're a little tired, but He doesn't care. He's in love with you. Are you in love with Him? He is all we need, now and forever.

The next lines speak to me as well, “Give me your life, the lust and the lies, the past you're afraid I might see.” How many times do we try to hide things from God? I try all the time! I think to myself that I can just pretend I'm too busy all day long and get away without talking to Him or doing my devos. I think I can allow myself to degrade myself in my mind and He'll never know. I can admit my insecurities to myself but pretend I'm strong to God. I can become depressed again and hide it. But He sees. The great thing is, He doesn't judge when He sees. He just longs for us. And we long for Him, even if we don't realize it. Our souls were made with a God-size hole. And only God can fill it. He's the peanut to our butter. The chocolate chip to our cookie! And I want to acknowledge that more. That's all I want this year. I want to stop every day, and thank God and worship Him. I don't want to ask for anything, or plead for forgiveness or endurance. I just want to worship Him. Because we don't think about that much. We forget that God is so holy He has angels singing His praises day and night! And we only think to ask Him for things... And maybe say thanks. But when was the last time you prayed just to tell God, “You're holy, You're perfect, no other is as great and mighty as You are, and I want to praise You all my days!”

You think God doesn't need encouragement? Well, okay, He doesn't. But praise is something different. God won't die if we don't praise Him, He doesn't need us. But He wants us. Can you read that again? He WANTS us. He doesn't need us to be happy or content or powerful. But He wants us so that He can love us and we can know Him. I honestly can't think of anything greater than that. Because for someone to know me so fully, to know all my faults and failures, and desire me as strongly as Jesus does is humanly impossible! Only Jesus can desire us as fiercely as we need. And we can try to fill His place in our soul with material things, and relationships, and work. Yet it will never suffice. Because all of that stuff combined is like half of an atom when He's got the whole galaxy! Which would you want? Galaxy for me, please.

That's pretty much all I have to say. I love the word “Beloved.” I love when Jesus smiles at me. And I want to tell God how great He is more often.

On a more technical note, I'm exactly 2 weeks away from flying to YWAM! Excited yet very nervous at the same time. I know there are no wounds that will be able to hide once I commit myself to constantly studying Him. And it's more than a little scary. But it's also calming. He loves me. I know He does, because He told me. He told me in the sunset this evening, the stars last night, the blue sky this afternoon, and the worship this morning. He told me and I wanted to dance! (Even though I have two left feet.) That's what Jesus is all about, He wants us to know He desires us and wants us so badly He died and called us Beloved for needing Him to die for us! And with the promise of His love and faithfulness, this year will be the best one yet.