Peace

A short break...

He is my Light and my Salvation
Whom have I to fear?
In His secret place i'll hide and pray that i might hear
a simple word...

Oh, how I would have despaired if
You had not come found me there
I can lean against Your throne and find my Peace
find my Peace

And when my enemies draw near
I pray that they will find
That I'm protected and secure
All tempests He will bind with a mighty word

Oh, how I would have despaired if
You had not come found me there
I can lean against Your throne and find my peace
Find my peace

- Jennifer Knapp
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Psalm 27

The Lord is my light and my salvation -
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life -
of whom shall I be afraid?
When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.

One thing I ask of the Lord,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.
Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Hear my voice when I call, O Lord;
be merciful to me and answer me.
My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, Lord, I will seek.
Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.
Though my father and mother forsake me,
THe Lord will receive me.
Teach me your way, O Lord;
lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.
Do not turn me over to the desires of my foes;
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.

Those who sow in tears will reap in joy...

Till We Have Faces

Of holy fear, homesickness, and revolution.

I've contemplated long and hard on the title for this account - a summary of the lessons, trials, and triumphs of my late life. It speaks of a holy fear of God. It speaks of revolution. It speaks of my case before a holy God. It is the account of my joys and of my sorrows, my hopes and my doubts, my graces and my thorns. I don't know whom it may interest - I only know it must be written.

The hardest part is knowing where to begin.

The following is part of a series of thoughts under the grand title "Till We Have Faces". Although it is similar to the thoughts of others I have lately read, I believe I should like to share a few more words with you.

A deep breath before the plunge... and the journey begins.

Part I: Looking for Overland

'Men swear by something greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled totake hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.

Hebrews 6:16-19a

There is a chest in the middle of my room, worn and well-used - and, from the looks of it - well-loved in its time. It sits right up next to my dresser and mirror, the place of much daily traffic and bustle and preparation. Though the place may somehow sound prominent, it's really not - half-hidden it lies behind my bedpost, submerged in half-light and a bit of mystery. Looking at its dented cover and rusted gold locks, the more alert imagination would conjure up in its past a good deal of mystery and a few well-kept secrets. I guess we'll never really know.

The chest inherited a few secrets of my own a week or so ago, when Tia lovingly carried it out from among her late findings and into my room, remembering the faint sparkle in my eye when first I saw it. After its unexpected arrival into my bedroom, I threw my arms around Tia's neck in a wondrous fury of excitement, spoke a few words of profuse thanks, and, gently closing the door behind me, I began to slowly pace the room, trying to choose wisely its new contents, and where it would be placed. Then, as suddenly, I pulled aside the closet curtain and (on my very tip-toes, for lack of height) I reached up for an old paper shoe box gathering dust on its top shelf.

As I removed the lid and began to peruse the contents of that one small box, memories flooded the forefront of my mind as each small artifact recalled someone dear; a moment I had loved. It's funny how striking and memorable an old school eraser can be. An old letter from my brother; an old picture from the summer camp that I dressed like Princess Leia. Old quotes from my wall, my "encouragement page" from the very first Caborca trip; pictures of old friends and new. An old ring from Preston; a bracelet from Stephanie. My old sixties shades; a page from one of my first "romance novels" - hand-written and yellowed with age. Deep in its depths lie a few more recent letters and notes; pictures of my "sisters" - a few poems and words of encouragement that - to this day - are emblazoned on my memory. Some of them are painful; some of them joyful - but all are tokens of grace.

Slowly I laid the box aside and let my mind fill with moments and stories, loves and losses of days bygone. As I reflect on the valleys and the heights that the Lord has led my family through, I cannot help but realize what an incredible life I have lived. Even as a young child, unaware of the blessings of faith and salvation - in my darkest hours of fear and of pain - I was always struck by the seemingly "coincidental" good luck my family has always had. We were always getting ourselves into scrapes; taking "adventures" and gallivanting off to new and exotic lands before I could offer up an "if-you-please" or some other common-sensical complaint. The amount of change we had subjected ourselves to couldn't have been quite safe. But, in the midst of it all, we never wanted for food and shelter; we never went without any good or necessary thing. Perhaps I didn't have all the grand playthings that my wealthy, stationary counterparts could boast - but my books and my imagination, my adventures and family were more than enough for me. Time and again, we left everything and started all over again, convinced of a call to missions and to the Lord. And somehow, every new home contained some new blessing. Somehow we were always taken care of; somehow - even in the strangest, most unbelievable circumstances. Call it luck; call it karma. I know it now as divine providence. I know it now as faithfulness.

In the years that have followed circumstances have changed, and I've grown accustomed to one home; one life; a stable sort of living. Change, after all, was never a neutral thing in my life; I was always fighting it - always feigning a battle that didn't need to be fought. The memories have not left me, though - I don't believe they ever will. Slowly I have become to realize that although it may be difficult - although everything within me battle to the contrary - perhaps living radically is the way we all should be. A friend of mine once said that all the trials and pain and change come to guard our souls from apathy. I believe him now as I never have before. And if this one humble life is the only chance I get, I believe I'd like to spend it searching for Overland. *

There are three reasons that this must be written; three reasons for you to keep reading; three points that I hope to make in the end. I want you to realize the need to live radically; the need to live heavenly-minded; and to daily remind ourselves of our Savior's great faithfulness.

*see Chronicles of Narnia: the Silver Chair

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Heavenly-Minded

In Chapter 5: Flag of the World in his Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton remarks on the oddities and the inconsistencies of those two peculiar gentlemen known as the optimist and the pessimist. Both of them (if their logic is examined carefully) believe in two entirely ridiculous things: either the world is as good as it could possibly be (other than the nasty pessimist who taints its surface), or, from the pessimist's point of view, the world is all bad (excepting, of course, himself). The optimist, according to his logic, paints all the world through the curious view of rose-colored spectacles, and is therefore a blatant liar. He will not wash the world clean of impurities, but will rather seek to whitewash it. The pessimist paints the world in black gloom and is a liar, too. It is only the man who loves the world without worldly reason that will be of any real use to it. The man who will improve the place is neither optimist nor pessimist; he follows after His Savior and loves, because He did first.

In his search for reason and truth, Chesterton began to realize that the Christian was, indeed, this man. Its martyrs talked of death with glee; they died that something else might live. Christ himself was their example. He had loved the world not because it was lovable, or even particularly comfortable; in fact, quite the contrary. But He took on our form and flesh and revolutionized the world with the simple weapon of love in action. We are unnatural here; but that is our glory.

But the important matter was this - that it entirely reversed the reason for optimism. And the instant the reversal was made it felt like the abrupt ease when a bone is put back into the socket. I had often called myself an optimist, to avoid the too evident blasphemy of pessimism. But all the optimism of the age had been false and disheartening for this reason - that it had always been trying to prove that we fit into the world. ... The modern philosopher had told me again and gain that I was in the right place, and I had felt depressed even in acquiescence. But I had heard that I was in the wrong place, and my soul sang for joy, like a bird in spring.

I knew now why grass had always seemed to me as queer as the green beard of a giant, and why I could feel homesick at home.

I've always been afraid of the unknown, above anything. Courage to move forward, to persevere even when I have no idea what the road ahead of me looks like - this is unnatural, unworldly courage. But I have found that courage is not an "inner strength", the conjuring of a healthy mind, or the blind faith of a foundering heart. Courage is merely a deepening and heightening of a founded faith in the God who is there; in the God who sees, supports, upholds, withstands, divines, understands, and knows. Think of Moses' deep trembling at the Lord's calling. Think of Jeremiah's cry - "I do not know how to speak; I am only a child." (Jeremiah 1:6) But these were only the beginnings of stories much beyond two simple men and their fear of the unknown. God used one simple man and his staff to free a nation from slavery and brought them through a very ocean. The fire and passion that so burned in Jeremiah was one unequalled by worldly ambition, lust, or desire. Our Lord cried - "Not my will, but Thine be done!" and now He stands in glory.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

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The Beauty of Grace and Faithfulness... and Our Lives in Light of That

Some trust in chariots, we trust in the name of the Lord our God

I have often wondered what faith really means. Far too often I feel like a foolish child venturing forth on a vicious sea armed with little more than an able imagination and the naive conjurings of a childish heart. And though I know He walks with me - everything within me will sometimes chant a different tune. I long - with every fibre of my being - to help others, to be one who lends aid in times of bitter need - but I cannot carry the weight of their needs and their burdens alone. And daily I take the weight of the world onto my own shoulders - a burden I should not carry, and do not have to. I continually - even subconsciously - add to my faith in Christ. No wonder I feel so alone! I must trust myself to all-sufficient grace.

His words echo across the millennia - "And surely I am with you always, even to the very end of the age..."

I have learned now that faith is only as good - only as strong - as the object on which it rests. And so often - even without noticing it (oh, the vileness of my own soul!) - I add to Christ. My faith is in the Lord... and in my own strength. My faith is in the Lord... and in my friends. In the Lord and in my own current happy circumstances. It is, then, no wonder that my heart falters! It is no wonder that I stumble and fall. Defeat is inevitable when Christ is not first. No - I shall venture more. When Christ is not all. When He is not everything.

After years of switching and changing and instability in my discipleship group, have finally settled down with my own small group of girls, and tonight we began our first real Bible study. IN fact, it's the first discipleship Bible study I've had since eighth grade junior high! How I have longed for it - and today it finally began. Colossians 1:1-8 was our starting point - verses that I had only just finished memorizing a month or so before. Time and again I had read these eight verses - even as I read them our corny-but-catchy little tunes that we set to help us remember them figure prominently in my memory. But the words have sudden new meaning, and as my mind struggles to understand them, I realize how similar was the plight of the Colossians to ours today. Once a strong church, they had become surrounded by both legalists and hedonists; false teachers adding to Christ. And although at first glance it may seem no more than a lengthy introduction, Paul seeks in these first verses to remind them where they've come from. He urges them to remember the all-sufficiency of the "word of truth"; to remember that theirs is a simple faith in an all-encompassing Savior... and that they should live accordingly.

We always thank God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints - the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you.
Colossians 1:3-6a

When this faith is lived out, it should look different. We should not be as we were before. There should be a marked change in us. As 1 John so wisely states - Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with action and in truth. With action! To keep this incredible salvation and faith that brings lasting peace amongst ourselves would be a vital mistake. Let us love our world with the love that Christ gives; let us keep our faith in Him; and let us live radically because of the radical change in our hearts.

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To Conclude

Jill Carratini, in a recent "Slice of Infinity" says this ...

In a world where faith is defined as foolish and irrelevant, the definition of faith in Scripture stands by the better country - even if it at times eludes us. Like Abraham who looked for the city of foundations... we are strangers on earth, setting out to spend our lives looking for a country of our own. It is by this depth of certainty that Abraham lived and died, knowing that the small family he could gather together in his final days would yet one day outshine the starry sky. The one who promised is faithful, and He is the builder of the city we seek. Let us therefore hold onto the hope we profess, looking for Overland, for the city with foundations, the city of the living God. It is his story of starry skies and Promised Lands and unseen things above; and it is a story we love to tell.

As Paul describes the heroes of our faith in Hebrews 11, he says this -

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things snow that they are lookng for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Now there's Bible authority for you.

Oh, that these verses might describe my life! I have often wondered what might be said about me when my days on this earth are complete and I reach my new, my better home. I can only hope that it might be said that I was longing for a better country - a heavenly one.

To this end I hope and towards it I run, looking for Overland.

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So that night, not very long ago, I took a moment to thank the Lord for His faithfulness in the past; to put my future into His hands and trust Him with it. I quietly closed the box that night and laid it in the chest where it now sits until necessary for me to remember again. As I closed the chest and turned out the light, I was filled with a sense of regained purpose. I am not worthless. So often when life does not go as I had planned - when my efforts, my endeavours, show no fruit and I feel so useless - I have only to remember that Christ, my Savior sees; that I do not belong here. My love for this world and for its people is from the outside looking in - here, on the other side of something - beyond the realm of death and despair. It is a letdown of sorts - everything here now seems somehow trivial. And yet the hope that awaits beyond the borders of this dark country and the twilight zone of the mortal's grave surpasses all letdown and earthly sorrow. Therefore let us look for Overland together - so heavenly minded that we might be of radical earthly good - and let us never forget: we are not home yet.



The journey continues; the battle rages; onwards we march towards revolution.

Crashings

Currents rage and torrents roar
Could I have ever wandr'd more
Blindly led to valleys low -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

The pain, a fire within my flesh
Ashamed, I turn from all the rest
My voice cries out, to friend or foe -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

I am not heard; no answer comes
The darkness has me overcome
I ache for guidance; for overthrow -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

Seek me! Hear! I call your name
Thy glory only to proclaim
Rent asunder, even so -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

I lift my eyes up towards the hills
"Save me" - and my heart it fills
Beneath me strength I've never known -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

At once my feet are sudden firm
New strength in bones once lame; infirm
Lifted am I by love unknown
His rivers flow;
His rivers flow.

I dare not wander from your throne
I dare not seek where others sow
I dare not turn from what I know -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

I cannot turn to right or left
I cannot dally here or there
I must not stray, for this I know -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

Currents rage and torrents roar
I know my soul has never more
Searched and found; and I am free -
His strength in me,
His strength in me.

I boldly stand amidst his stream
The world has now no hold on me
I fear no danger, though waters flow
For hope I know;
Hope I know.

Surrounded by His love perfect
The truth yet reeling; but erect
My soul finds rest; no more to roam
I'm walking home,
I'm walking home.

- Hannah R. Paasch

Passing Through

This world does not belong to me;
Nor do I to it -
There's greater joy awaiting me
For which my soul is fit.
This world does not belong to me;
I'm only passing through
A peace unknown; a greater home
When earth is made anew.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul will pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height -
Where faith at last becometh sight.

I do not know what beauty great
Untold and undescribed;
I do not know heaven's delights -
Enthroned in bright eternal skies.
Human mind shall never fathom
The glory of that crown;
The brightness of the glassy sea
When heaven's bliss is found.
My mind's eye cannot see
What bliss awaiteth me;
But I know in whom I have believed -
His face - one day - I'll see.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

Small else shall matter much to me
When before His throne I stand;
I'll care little of these griefs and pains
Before in earthly land.
I only hope that when it's done
When I at last shall rise -
Oh, may I be found faithful;
Worthy of His blessed prize.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

Although the pain may now be great
Though the showers now be strong
The griefs that now encompass me
Shall not really last for long.
All my soul now searches for -
All my heart does seek
Fulfilled and satisfied I'll be
When that great Voice shall speak.
And consummation full shall be
When in His great grace I'll hear
The greeting that shall finish all -
'Well done, and enter here.'

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

This world does not belong to me;
I'm only passing through
May I be found, in Him, complete -
His judgment cometh soon.
This world does not belong to me;
And one day I'll be free
Of pain and tears, of griefs and fears
And I will meet my King.

No greater joy do I desire -
My soul shall pass both flood and fire
After the valley there is great height
Where faith - at last - becometh sight.

An Anchor for the Soul

Be still, my soul
The Lord is on your side
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain
Leave to your God
To order and provide -
In every change He faithful will remain
Be still, my soul
Your best, your heavenly friend
Through stormy ways leads to a joyful end.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense
But trust Him for His grace
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face

Be still, my soul
Your God will undertake
To guide the future as He has the past
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake
All now mysterious will be bright at last
Be still, my soul
For the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He walked below

So...

You fearful saints, fresh courage take
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessing on your head

Be still, my soul
Be still, my soul
Be still

-Anonymous hymn
2 verses from William Cowper


And the tears flow...

Waffles and Spaghetti

Mood ring, oh, mood ring...

The male mind is a peculiar place. I have often wondered about its dark secrets, and have desired to further search out its depths, in order that I might see if there is anything therein truly worth searching out. Just tonight five of us sat around a pool table (not actually playing, just sitting around it) - and somehow (don't ask me the exact details of the "how") the female mind came up. It always does. Somehow we are the ones that are considered strange and complex - by the males, of course, who do not (at times) understand us in the least. They've written so many books on us, trying to study us and find -at times create - a method to our madness... but we rarely stop and take a moment to make heads or tails out of our outspoken and unruly students themselves. What goes on up there, anyway? Why? As this aforementioned conversation came to a close, it was ended, as usual, with the theme song of mankind... Mood Rings by Relient K.

Mood ring, oh, mood ring, oh tell me, will you bring the key
To unlock this mystery
Of girls and their emotions
Play it back in slow motion so I
May understand the complex infrastructure known as the female mind.

Not too bad. It's a fair argument. After all, who knows, perhaps mood rings just might be the resolution to all of our differences and misunderstandings. However, if you've heard the rest of the song, I'm sure you're familiar with its all-too-catchy and often completely revolting lyrics...

Well first she's Jekyll, and then she's Hyde
At least she makes a lovely pair...

She's so pretty but she doesn't always act that way
Her mood's out swinging on the swingset almost every day...

I tell you. The things those men come up with. That's really not all that fair. ;)

As that last verse was sung, I heaved a rather exaggerated sigh, and - to no one in particular - mentioned that perhaps ladies might have a thing or two to say about things the other way around. The Mood Rings singer therefore challenged me to elaborate - as he is in the habit of doing - and so, as not to cop-out, I write this the very night of said engagement. Let it never be said that I do not complete my word or my duty. ;)

I have heard said - by someone far more experienced and learned in this subject than I - that men are like waffles, and women like spaghetti. At first thought, this seems utter nonsense... but there's quite a gold mine of truth to be had in that short statement. Yes, they're both carbohydrates (as those of us who have, at some point, walked in the Atkins way should know)... but they have a few key differences. Let me gather all my powers of reasoning and try to explain.

Women are, indeed, a bit like that interesting and very common Italian pasta dish - all mixed up and thrown together, and yet somehow all the ingredients combine to make a delicious dinner. Don't ask us how every piece of pasta got to its exact location on the plate. It just did. We think in connections, and daily fly the banner of the determined multi-tasker. Our thoughts about anything and everything are always combined, always spring-boarding, and never really fully decipherable from the rest. We are at once organizing everything, and nothing.

I need an example. Hold on for a moment while I search around for something to better illustrate my meaning.

Alright. Being a girl, this wasn't too difficult. Observe the inner workings of that complex infrastructure for a moment.

Hmmm... I just took a quick glance into my clean, organized closet. Seeing it reminded me of Tia, who recently cleaned it for me. Tia's in the room right next to me. Thinking of Tia made me think of my plans with Tia tomorrow, and how we need to get a ride to Pan de Vida, our hispanic mission. My mind then branches (ah, the joys of springboarding) and at once I'm thinking of every possible ride-giver in the Valley, and also of the Canadian missionaries staying in my aunt's house, preventing Tia staying there any longer, and moving her into the room next to me. My mind then begins to organize tomorrow's schedule, with a ride-giver chosen from among the many. Do the Canadian missionaries need breakfast? Do they need a ride? Who could give them a ride? Who has a van? Two of my Spanish class students have vans that size. Spanish! Oh goodness, I need to finish that flyer for next semester! I wonder if those students will be taking classes again! I need my dad's computer to finish that flyer. Where is my dad? Is he still at work? Do I need to call him? While I call him, should I call my ride for Pan de Vida and the missionaries' ride? Where's my phone? Did I leave that at my friend's house? I wonder what she's doing right now, I should really give her a call....

And on, and on, and on it goes. There's really no end. And that's just a closet, an inanimate object, and really not very exciting - as objects go.

You see? Spaghetti!

Now we come to the confusing part.

Men, I've heard, are more like waffles. Their lives are considerably more compartmentalized, and they like it that way. It keeps things simple and understandable. As they go through each day, their mind slowly moves from box to box... and when they leave the box, all of its contents remain therein. I've even heard that there's a box with nothing in it. When guys are just sitting, doing nothing, they're in the empty box. We wish they would be thoughtful and help with the dishes... but they're not trying to be unthoughtful, they're just not in "thoughtful help" box right now. You see? They're so complex to us, in their very incomplexity!!! As women, we see someone sitting, staring off into proverbial space, and we want to know...

What's wrong? Did I do something? What's he thinking about? Maybe I can help him!! I'll just have him tell me. He won't tell me. He says nothing. He says he isn't thinking about anything! He's hiding something. He's hiding something and he doesn't want to tell me. What could it be? I did do something wrong, didn't I? Oh gosh. What now? Is this where the relationship ends? We can't be secretive like this... we just can't. He won't talk. He has nothing at all to say to me. What a jerk!!!!!!

Off storms the girl, bitter and pained... and there sits the guy, trying to understand why in the world she's gone off to cry now when he didn't say anything.

The beautiful thing about it is this, though... things don't have to stay that way. We don't have to misunderstand each other forever. God made our minds differently, in order that they might complement each other all the better. Now, perhaps I wouldn't eat waffles and spaghetti together and be much impressed with the ensuing stomach ache (or gained pounds!!!)... but the sovereign Creator's design for men and women is, indeed, an awesome and praiseworthy thing. There's a reason for that diverting little feeling in the pit of your stomach that the world commonly calls chemistry. There's a reason why a little girl loves spending time with her father.
There's a reason why there's two kinds of us.

Let us not forget.

As girls, we always want to be talking. We like constant and meaningful communication. (I know, because I've been there, am in the process of being there, and will probably be "there" in the future.) We want to say what's on our mind, and we want that significant him to understand. We want him to listen. We want to be comforted. We don't want to just tell him; we want him to ask us what we're thinking about and why. We don't always want him to do something proactive about fixing said problem, necessarily... but somehow the problem is made so much better just by knowing that he listened; that he understood. That he cared.

Men are, by nature, leaders. This is how they were made by a very wise and sovereign Creator. And so, I'm told, they do want to fix things. They want to take the lead. Perhaps - with all of our multi-task thinking, we have a great idea for the way things should be, or shouldn't be. And, programmed to be helpmates as we are, we think that the leader ought to know our revolutionary idea. (!!!!) But, my friends, this is not always prudent or helpful. In our desire to be so, we can sometimes detract from their role and depreciate their leadership. Sometimes a helpmate must just sit back and listen and trust. A hard lesson learned - but absolutely invaluable in its application.

Genesis 2:18 The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."

Catch that? Suitable!! According to good old Merriam-Webster, suitable means 'having the required skills for... performance'. Synonyms: competent, able, qualified... good. God's plan is good. His creation, His design, and our differences are good.

There's a lot more I could say, but this is what I'm left with: God's plan, His creation, His design, and our differences are good. We are all sinners... misunderstandings and conflict and pain will come. But, with God's great grace, I am committed to going beyond. I don't want to stay there. It will be an adventure - but I want to love my brothers in Christ as Christ Himself would, looking past these little differences and marvelling in two things: our common salvation, and the separate, beautiful, complementary roles that God has created for us.
I don't know about you, but I love mine.

Let us commit to this together. Let us seek strong, God-centered relationships together. This is God's heart for us... and herein, I believe, is much blessing and great hope. Let us spur each other on to love and good deeds! Let us not lose sight of our great salvation; here is a bond we share that cannot be broken. And let us seek the help of Him who made us both, in His infinite wisdom and to the praise of His glory.

Forget mood rings. Forget waffles and spaghetti; boxes and pasta; conflict and hurt and all that they bring. Let us not gaze at each other, in desire or in bitterness... but let us strive for our Savior and for His glory together.


This is what we were made for.

Colossians 3:5-11

Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have put off the old self with its desires and practices, and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. (!) Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, [waffles or spaghetti], barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all and is in all.

Colossians 3:5-11 *additions mine
HEV (Hannah's Elongated Version)

*All references to waffles and spaghetti come from Bill and Pam Farrel's very informative volume on these two food groups.




Here it comes, a beautiful collision...

Hope Rising

Part I: Life Interrupted

I will tell the kindnesses of the Lord,
The deeds for which He is to be praised,
according to all He has done for us -
yes, the many good things He has done for the house of Israel,
according to His compassion and many kindnesses.
He said, "Surely they are my people";
and so He became their Savior.

Isaiah 63:7-8

We are told to tell of the great things that the Lord has done... for He has done many.
We so often fail to recount exactly what or how He has moved or worked… and, consequently, we so often forget. Perhaps we do not understand precisely what is meant by ‘great’. Perhaps we, as a whole - much like myself, as a single person - believe that the word ‘great’ means (as it is quite often defined) elaborate, predominate, superior, dramatic. Something emotional and life changing that stands out from the simple little details and goings-on of life.

But our God is in the details. And in these He displays His glory.

So, here follows the account of what God has done, first at camp, and Caborca will follow.
The week before Caborca was EVBC Summer Camp 2006: Life Interrupted. Quite a title for quite an event. I had anticipated and looked forward to its span of five days as a time of rest and rejuvenation - a material ‘calm before the storm’, if you know what I mean. I could hardly of imagined anything much further from the truth… but the Lord moved, and through me… and that’s really all that matters.

My discipleship group - a collection of about ten girls from all different homes and backgrounds - is quite a hodge-podge of cultures and lifestyles and worldviews. Last camp we were a mere five - five strong, devoted, Bible-believing Christian girls who were given to the Lord and to ministry. Immediately after Summer Camp 2005, however, we’ve lost two leaders, merged with another group, and things have been rather different ever since. None of us knew each other when we got on Bus #12, and few of us were sure exactly how to go about remedying that. Although I never would have admitted it, discipleship, for quite some time, had become a bi-weekly "event" for me… corporate worship on Sundays, small groups on Wednesdays, and... that was about it. During my duration in student ministries, I’ve been subject to about 9 or 10 discipleship leaders, met with literally hundreds of girls, and undergone so many changes that I finally stepped back and just let things run about a year or so ago. Being involved had become too much of a chore for me - seeing as how I hate change - and I generally invest my time and energy into steady, lasting relationships. By the time camp rolled around I finally realized how completely worthless and ineffective I was to my group as a whole… and after a huge leadership overthrow and the ensuing general heartache, I realized how much I really was needed there.

But relationships don’t happen overnight - I learned that in a hurry.

By Sunday night of camp, it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was a vast void between our girls and the unity we desired. The facades that we had all been so busy creating the year round were falling apart as God’s Word was once again introduced into their lives - and, for a few young women involved, huge problems were surfacing. Those in the group who were more grounded received little attention - unless they were particularly skilled in making themselves heard. I understood these girls’ problems and pain far better than I did the other… and so this collection of about four became my target group for the remainder of camp. And yet, the more I talked and taught and admonished, the more I realized my own inability. My own weakness. My despair grew as I realized how unable I was to affect any change in the lives of these girls. Every word I spoke seemed empty. They needed far more than anything I could give them.

Sunday afternoon was one devoted entirely to prayer. After an hour of what was dubbed the Sunday ‘prayer walk’, a few of us congregated to lift the upcoming Caborca trip to the Lord. Something - perhaps the passion of my fellow believers with me, perhaps just this time with the Lord - broke me. Immediately afterwards I ran with all my might to the little old prayer chapel on campus, and there I gave it all - my worries, my desires, my hopes and my despair - over to Him whose compassion and faithfulness became, there and then, my only stay in a sea of turmoil and upheaval. My desire was to be an anchor for my girls, a foundation that they could hold on to… but I cannot occupy that place for them. I am not what they ultimately need. And yet there is One who is. Hebrews 6:16 - we have this hope as an anchor for the soul.


Immediately (things seemed to happen rather suddenly that week!) I ran outside and found my 'camp corner' - a particular secluded spot I had "claimed" a few years back. For a few moments I just sat there quietly, looking out on His marvelous creation - a vast, open sea - as the sun slowly slipped behind its edge, casting rays and ripples of bright color dancing across its surface. (The heavens, indeed, proclaim His glory!) I was suddenly reminded of His constant faithfulness - He causes the sun and the moon to shine, He has contained the great ocean from shore to shore. He causes all things to live and move and have their being - and yet He has never left me. He has never ceased to care for my every need. Even when I - stubborn child that I am, like an unfaithful bride forsaking her first love - have spurned His guidance, have sought every other path that this shallow world had to offer - never, never has He left my side. He continues to sustain me and to be my only hope. Why? Why? I cannot account for it. For I am so unlike Him. He is so far beyond me. Psalm 139:5 You hem me in - behind and before; You have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Slowly, surely, every verse of a favorite old hymn came to my mind with full force - its gentle truth stirring me to remember the One in whom true hope - my hope - is found.

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus
Just to take Him at His word,
Just to rest upon His promise,
Just to know, "Thus saith the Lord."

(Chorus)
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I've proved Him o'er and o'er
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus -
Oh for grace to trust Him more.

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus
Just to trust His cleansing blood,
Just in simple faith to plunge me
'Neath the healing, cleansing flood.

Oh, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus
Just from sin and self to cease
Just from Jesus simply taking
Life and breath, and joy and peace.

I'm so glad I learned to trust Thee:
Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend -
And I know that Thou art with me,
Wilt be with me till the end.


Wilt be with me till the end… what wondrous love is this! There was nothing else that my lonely, sinful heart sought. I could ask for nothing more. In spite of my unfaithfulness, I felt that I could finally rest; that peace had been granted me. I threw myself into ministry once again - but this time with a much greater assurance, with a peace that I had not known for many months. There was nothing that I could say to any of these hurting girls that could bring them to Him; nothing at all. There was no eloquence that I could use, no words I could fashion, no admonishment or exhortation or prayer I could give that would make them change their minds and turn them back to their God. It was all Him. Never have I loved His sovereign will more; never has my fearful soul worried less.

That last Monday night we were told that an interruption was planned for us. No one knew exactly what that meant; few of us were prepared for what came next. At precisely 9 o’clock that evening the whole lot of us - a good eight hundred or so, at least - filed quietly into the open air ampitheater of Point Loma University. No speaker or voice accosted us - just a black screen in the center of the floor - but the words that we read there that cold Monday night are words I will not soon forget. They spoke of a great God; a Savior far beyond us. They spoke of our own sin, our need to repent. Of a plan for our lives - a plan and sovereign will that would guide us even through moments we could not understand, through trials we had not foreseen. To our left and to our right were two white walls, clear canvases on which we were invited to leave behind what we had brought with us. Our burdens; our worries; our desires; our fears. That’s the whole point of camp, anyway - to leave behind every encumbrance and the sin that so easily entangles that we might press on. There was a moment of absolute silence as the screen went black. One boy rose, stepped forward, and slowly, the rest of us followed. A few moments later I stood and began climbing down from my seat somewhere in the middle of things; for some inexplicable reason the stairs blurred a little in front of me, and I momentarily lost my footing. Eventually I made my way to the canvas myself and stood a moment, trying to think of something to say. My heart was so full and my mind so busy that I could hardly think straight or form intelligible sentences - but somehow I gave it up to Him.

It was as if my head was then lifted.

I stopped on my way out and looked up, one last time, at that screen, all dark but for two simple words - Life... interrupted.

How true, I thought, as my eyes strayed to the dark sky above me, littered with a plethora of bright stars. (There are so many of them out there, on the edge of the world.) Lord, let us not soon forget.

I reached my bedroom about 1 or so that evening - or morning - if you like; I made it into the building just before all the doors were locked and barred shut. Rarely have I felt a surge of greater, deeper joy than I did that night. I had a chance to talk long and hard with two girls whose lives He had allowed me, in the past, to impact in some way. Last year, that very night, He had saved the hard heart of a young girl whom I had lifted up to Him many times in prayer. That night, I saw - in a more tangible way than ever before - how the Holy Spirit changes people. We are not, as sinners saved by grace, merely better versions of what we were before; everything - everything - is made new in Christ. The old has gone - the new has come! This girl, who had once sought anything and everything but His saving grace - was now changed so completely, was now so in love with her Lord and with His gospel that I hardly recognized her.

I will never doubt His ability to do great things again.

The Lord has lately filled my heart with so many new desires and passions and loves that I hardly know what to do with them. I feel the work of the Spirit as He molds me and makes me into His very great image, and as He prepares me for womanhood and for the role as a wife and a mother that I will someday take up, if indeed He so sovereignly chooses. All I can do now is trust. Praise be to His glorious name - this, my life, is all for His name’s sake anyway. It is all that I can offer - and yet He sees the very depths of my heart - in all their black filth - and yet He remains faithful. This, my friends, is a love indescribable. And I hope, as I continue to grow in Him, that I might be found faithful as well, as He continues to carry out in me the work He began in me almost five years ago now - July 10th, 2000. Forgetting what is behind and pressing on toward what is ahead, I am stayed by His faithful and very great grace.

Well then... I guess that's all for now, folks.

In His grace,
~ Hannah
_______________________________________________________________

When sins and fears prevailing rise
And fainting hope almost expires
Jesus, to Thee I lift my eyes
To Thee I breathe my soul’s desires

Are You not mine, my living Lord
And can my hope, my comfort die
Fixed on the everlasting Word
That Word which built the earth and sky...

Jesus, I lift my eyes
To Thee I breathe my soul’s desires
Oh Jesus, I lift my eyes
To Thee I breathe my soul’s desires

Here let my faith unshaken dwell
Immovable the promise stands
Not all the powers of earth or hell
Can e’er dissolve the sacred bands

Here oh my soul
Thy trust repose
If Jesus is forever mine
Not death itself, that last of foes
Can break a union so divine
Jesus, I lift my eyes…

- Anne Steele