I Repent

Trepidation is about the best word to describe the full extent of my attitude towards my latest adventure. As its approach drew near, I realized I was anything but ready, and the task was no small one. I was one of ten in a small evangelistic team headed for North Africa… and, although I do happen to be a former MK (missionary kid), the Muslim culture is one that I had not experienced until now. I have so much to say… and the trip was so long that it’s divided itself into different sections in my mind. So, without further ado (and from the very start)… the adventure begins.

Day 1: A non-starter
This particular day – July 3rd – a bomb scare closed down London / Heathrow airport, and 108 flights in and out of the place were cancelled. Meaning… ours as well. Right from the start we realized that this was not a trip on our own strength, and if God was going to make things happen, He was going to make sure that we knew – for sure and for certain – that WE weren’t the ones responsible. J So, with our living room a chaos of suitcases and various and sundry different packages – the four occupants of the Paasch household were very still: simply waiting. Living life on hold.

This moment of not-knowing is quite an analogy of my life right now.

If you were to walk into my bedroom right now, you wouldn’t see much. We sold my desk and packed away all its contents months ago now. Ok, 1 ½ months is all it’s been, but for me… it feels like a short eternity. You see, about 6 months ago my parents were seized with this awesome and radical idea to sell everything, box up what little was left, and move down to Tempe, next to the university campus, in order to live life and share the Gospel with students. It was a radical, exciting, very Paasch-esque thing to do, and we were all stoked. We found a place right across from campus, boxed up only the necessaries, sold all the rest, and put our house on the market. Unfortunately, no one bit on our house. So, I’m left with a chest of drawers, some clothing in the closet, a lone loft bed, and a lot of questions.

Life on hold.
~*~
Since writing the last paragraph, I’ve been told that someone – presumably from our party – has re-booked us to fly out of LA tomorrow, then to Paris, and then to Málaga, Spain. The bizarre part is – none of our 10 team members are at the airport or could have possibly made this reservation. At this point my only choice is to sit back and watch God make this thing happen. And, of course, record noteworthy things here and there… in order that I might remember.

Day 2: Independence Day

The 4th of July is always one of the weirdest days of the year. One I spent in Matamoros, Mexico, watching fireworks from across the border next to a drug lord’s house and headquarters. One I spent sitting in a corn field in Iowa. This year… not sure. I’ll let you know how it ends.

So far everything has gone swimmingly. I was severely searched and patted down to within an inch of my life – and considerably embarrassed by the thoroughness of one security officer who pulled out all my crap in search of objectionable items. I really must have looked quite menacing. Other than that… everything has gone quite according to plan (which, of course, is nice for a change). I’m beginning to get the exciting adventure feeling – the kind of feeling that makes sitting in the lobby of Gate B22 looking at the blinking red and orange letters that say “PHX – Los Angeles” for an hour and a half suddenly seem like a secret mission. It’s not 90 minutes “just killing time”… it’s really only 90 minutes till something inexplicably exciting begins.

What can I say? I’m wide awake. Standing on the edge of something large. What’s going to happen? No idea. But that’s the adventure, right?

Hmmm. I guess we’ll just have to see.

~*~

It's 10 p.m. and I'm watching the whole metropolis of LA exploding into flame. As we fly out, fireworks go off on every block... explosions of red and green and blue across the sky.



Day 3: Landing

I’m lying in a hotel room in Málaga, Spain. Will wonders never cease?
It did takes some maneuvering to get here, though… and that’s putting things lightly. Upon recovering our luggage, we came to find out that all the trains for the day had gone, and our only hope was the one last bus that would hit the airport any minute. Somehow we made it, and the bus driver chick dropped us off in the general vicinity she believed our hotel was. And there we were – stranded with 18 40 pound bags in the middle of downtown Málaga at 1 in the morning. We must have been a sight. From there we walked – in no direction in particular – in hopes of perhaps finding the elusive Hotel Silken. Typical moment in the life of a Paasch. Thankfully, by what seemed pure chance (and was really pure providence), we suddenly came upon the blessed Hotel Silken. Debbie and Amy and I were ridiculous all night and fell asleep at 2 a.m. – or 9 p.m., our time.

Sometimes I feel like I’m living inside one of those culture-shock comedies – you know, the kind where the dumb American turns globetrotter… and yet, in spite of it all, I’m beginning to really have a view for the nations. The problem is – I’m by no means an evangelist. Hence my qualms with the idea of “missionary life”. And yet, every time I tell myself that the mission field is not for me, I get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I’d just said something dastardly heretical. (I’m not quite sure that “dastardly” fits there – but it had the right sound effect.) Still, I feel like God has shown me too much for me to be content with my little American air-conditioned life.

Day 4: It begins.

A long walk, a bus, another long walk, and a ferry ride later, we arrived in C____. The worker living there (who I’ve heard of for ages and am now finally getting to meet!) met us coming off the ferry, and gallantly rescued us poor females from a few of our extra burdens. With him we had a bit of a pre-trip pep talk, and his advice and well-put direction put my heart a tad more at ease. Just be yourselves, he said. Love people, and it will show. And I’m clinging to his words. If life is war and souls the target, we 10 of us are headed into hand-to-hand combat. Five times a day in a Muslim culture there is a call to prayer, broadcasted from the rooftops of mosques everywhere. After hearing the call to prayer here, I was struck with a very odd, rather eerie feeling – as though I could feel the foothold of the Enemy more clearly than before. My deepest desire is to – for a few short days – bring a candle into a dark place, a place that has gathered shadows and darkness for centuries now… and I want to do it by just tangibly loving people. I have no idea really what that would like in this context, and I desperately need wisdom.

Day 5: First day inside.

We are now in Africa. Our worker friend dropped us off and we were left to the mercies of our new friend, Nuri… our tour guide. We busted out of that hotel and almost immediately found ourselves in the heart of the city’s marketplace. Vendors were all around us, shouting sales calls for their individual wares: fruits, vegetables, fish straight from the water in all varying degrees of freshness… sides of beef and goat and freshly gutted chickens. Immediate sensory overload. Exotic spices – and stenches! – filled the air. Labyrinthine pathways of white-washed walls and centuries-old doorways stretched out in every direction. It was an exhilarating experience, but simultaneously a bit frightening, as dark eyes all around me stared straight into mine – some friendly, some less, some with a sort of brooding hostility. Oh that light would shine in this place again.

From the marketplace we were led (quite unawares), into the local tannery, where we experienced up close and personal the leather-making process. Suffice it to say that, should curiosity into the arts of tanning ever overtake me again, I will gladly content myself with pictures and the the Dummy’s How-To Book at my local Border’s. Some things are better left unsmelled.

Authentic food, hidden courtyards, passionate colors… words cannot do justice to the ancient and intricately carved doors, the mosaic tiling, the incredible craftsmanship we saw everywhere. I wish I had words to describe all I have experienced, just today. There is only one word that begins to give an idea: life-changing. Mind-changing.

Later that night we wandered the streets of the city, looking for opportunities to share, and finding fewer than we expected. No one spoke Spanish, and although we had tried to assimilate our dress to the culture, one could really begin to feel the oppressiveness of the culture as it weights a naïve newcomer down. I began to realize my real inability to make any semblance of a conversation happen, and, circumstances being what they were, we took the chance to walk up and down the streets, just praying. Praying hard. I feel like I’m on a reconnaissance mission of sorts – just learning is all I can do. It’s a humble place to be.

I must remember: love is a universal language.

Day 6

The effects of Islam in the lives and hearts of people are becoming shockingly clear. It hit me just today how little space there is for love in a culture like this… honor and shame are all that matter. Save face. Follow tradition. Appease God. I so desperately want to show them love… but HOW? Does there ever come a point when language and culture barriers are finally too great to overcome?

Tonight – I think – I got my answer.

I realized just how high the stakes were when the time drew near to visit the White Fellowship this evening. We had two taxis drop us off on a beach, and, at a pre-determined spot a brother came and picked us up, leading us through a little doorway (exceedingly well fastened and bolted) to the fellow brothers and sisters awaiting us there.

Once inside, I was surprise at what I found. Instead of the 7 or 8 I expected (the size of the White Fellowship a year ago), 16 or 17 were there to greet us… all with different stories or backgrounds… and yet all of us had somehow been led by the Lord to that very place this very night. 3 American college students were there from all over the U.S., recruited by a very brave young couple working here, and their two precious and very tiny children. Each of the national brothers and sisters were all incredible examples of what God can do in a Muslim heart. Such joy was written across each face… so heavily contrasted with the oppressive somberness that seemed to weight the eyes and hearts of those walking the streets of our city. I had seen the leader of them in a video taken by another worker, entreating all of those fellow believers listening to pray for His people here. And there he was, all smiles, praising with such gladness and abandon that I could not but marvel at God’s faithfulness to His promise… He does indeed have his people from among every nation, tribe, people, and tongue. The Arabic language – so often labeled as a language of hate – was used to bring praises to a beautiful Savior in a remarkable turn of the tide.

I witnessed a miracle tonight.

A few things on my mind:
1. We are NOT safe. One of the Fellowship’s members, in all seriousness, eagerly prayed that we would sleep in our hotel tonight. The last city we’ll reach is one known for terrorism towards evangelists. It makes one think … what am I willing to risk? Would I be ready to give ALL? And yet these brothers really live that, every day.



2. Love is unconditional. I cannot rebel… I have no choice. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Through the love that Christ has poured out on me, so undeservedly – undying, untiring, all-sacrificing love – I therefore CAN love others.



3. Can I be comfortable, now, going home to a comfortable home and comfortable life? It’s not luxurious, perhaps… but it is comfortable. Is this life I have lived merely some coincidence? I have seen too much to be normal now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Someone once said that the actual trip is only the first part of a journey. Coming back to life and putting into action all the things you've learned and seen is quite another thing. I'll tell more about Europe and life getting back later. This is only the beginning.

Loving a Person

Loving a person just the way they are - that's no small thing.
It takes some time to see things through.
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting...
We need grace either way.

Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.


Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...


There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can occupy the same spaces, baby
And only one makes you free...
Hold on to me, and I'll hold on to you.



Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through...



If we go looking for a fence, we're gonna find it.
If we go looking for real love, we're gonna find it...

Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing.
That's the whole thing.
Loving me just the way I am, that's no small thing.
It takes some time,
It takes some time,
It takes some time.

How Firm a Foundation

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word!

What more can He say,

Than to you He hath said,

You, who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?

In every condition - in sickness, in health;

In poverty's vale, or abounding in wealth;

At home and abroad, on land or on sea,

As thy days may demand, shall My strength ever be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a sweltering August day in the year 2004, with an unmerciful sun beating down at high noon. The Paasch van was parked in front of Chandler-Gilbert Community College, a recent meeting-place of all of the family's latest discussions and worry, and the subject of particular loathsomeness to the two young girls who sat therein. It was an interesting time in life... I had just recently ended my freshman year in high school, and here I was, not yet quite 14, on my way into my freshman year of college.

This wasn't fair.

Why me? I began to ask myself. Why me??? This always happens to me! I always end up in abnormal situations. What, after all, would be so terrible about being ordinary?

My mind knew better, but my heart still fought. Desperately I tried to think of any way out of this... could I fake sick? Nope, that would involve lying... too risky. Could I feign being asleep? That wouldn't last long! Excuses began to flood my mind... I'm too young. They don't want me here. I can't do this. I'm not smart enough! This isn't realistic.

Fortunately enough for me (as I would later come to admit)... my very determined little mother would have no excuses. Nothing seemed to budge her. It was enfuriating! Cheeks boiling and heart pounding, I stuck my face into my new backpack one last time, double-checking for textbooks, folders, pencils, etc. Everything was there and as it should be, to my growing dismay. I could've at least left one at home!

The minutes passed all too quickly, and suddenly it was 11:38. Class began at 11:40. My mom was saying something - something encouraging - but my mind was lost in a tempest of fear and doubt - anger at life not going how I would have planned. What happens next? I asked myself. Where do I go from here?

11:39.

"Alright, girls, time to get going! God be with you! I'll be right here when you get out."

Suddenly we were out of the door and swept up into a crowd of students heading to class. We walked in the door to Building B and I stopped dead in my tracks. Before me was a long hallway, lined right and left with seemingly hundreds of students waiting to get into their classrooms. Fear pierced my heart, and for one endless moment, I was absolutely paralyzed. I felt as though every eye was on me; that every student there knew just how naive and insecure and little I really was.

Somehow I made my way down that endless hallway that first day... but I swore (inwardly, to myself, and also quite vocally, to my sister) that I'd never do it again.

From then on, as we walked onto campus, Amy would walk down the corridor of fear, and I would go around the long way, sheepishly slinking against the side of the building, embarrassed and afraid to be who I really was.

Courage has always been something I'm short on. Every new change, every fresh trial, anything even remotely different would throw me off completely and leave me - as I said before - mentally (and at times physically!) paralyzed. It wasn't until that next year that I realized my problem ran much deeper than scary hallways and age numbers... it had to do with my heart, with my faith... with my lack of trust in a sovereign and faithful God. Every now and again, with a fresh pang of conviction, I would recall Joshua 1:9... "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and couageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

Do you believe this? I would ask myself.

Thank goodness the Lord didn't leave me there. Many times since I have asked Him to challenge me, to grow me... and, (to my utter dismay at times!) He does and has answered. Many times He has pushed me... not merely to the borders of my comfort zone, but completely off its steep edge and into the world of the unknown. Situations like... calling someone I've never met. A public speaking class. Remembering an essay due two minutes before the start of the very class. Going to ASU! Walking up to complete strangers and asking to share with them the Good News of the Gospel... many of my friends have no idea what an inward battle the first Gospel Nite on Mill was for me!!!! Being an interpreter on various mission trips. Speaking up for what I believe in. Trusting God's kind sovereignty when I can't see what's ahead of me - moments when all I can do is trust. All of these things have asked courage of me... courage I did not have.

And yet His grace is greater than my weakness!

1 Corinthians 10:13... No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.

I keep coming back to this glorious truth - all that His grace asks, it provides.

The parable of the mustard seed is indeed a good description of my faith sometimes... other times it seems smaller yet. There are days when it seems I shall lose sight of it all together. Sometimes fear overwhelms me. One thing that has always frightened me is the thought that I'm not quite "normal". I have often said that living a life of "not-knowing" is my deepest fear. Although it seems these fears threaten to overtake me at times, I've decided to fight.

It is always encouraging, in moments when the future seems bleak and uncertain, to look back on those moments where the Lord has shown Himself faithful. You'll be surprised to find elements of faithfulness interwoven throughout every single moment of life - through both easy times and difficult, through both poverty's vale and abundance of wealth. And in our abundant weaknesses, He is proved strong.

This past weekend I spent in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico... my hometown. As I traversed all of those old haunts - places that once were home - I could not but marvel at the faithfulness of God to bring me where I am now. I love remembering where I've been! I finally came to realize - for sure and certain - that I would never trade all kinds of material wealth and security and "a normal life" for the incredible adventures that I've been able to live, always supported and held up and led by One who does not fail like earthly things. Now my chief joy is in remembering that underneath are the everlasting arms, arms that will not falter, whose strength does not waver like the shifting shadows. As my days may demand, so shall HIS strength ever be.

How firm a foundation is the one that we stand on.

The Pursuit

"Strange, piteous, futile thing

Wherefore should any set thee love apart?

And human love needs human meriting:

How hast thou merited -

Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?

Alack, thou knowest not

How little worthy of any love thou art!

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee

Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take

Not for thy harms,

But just that thou might'st seek them in My arms.

All which thy child's mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:

Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"

Halts by me that footfall:

Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,

I am He Whom thou seekest!

Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."

-Francis Thompson

excerpt from the Hound of Heaven

Portraits

I just realized, after writing this whole entry, that I wrote a post with the very same song almost a year ago now - February 21st, 2006. I feel as if I've come so far since then... and yet, reading the post over again, it feels as though I'm right where I was before. All I can say is this - praise Him for His faithfulness, despite me.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me
Either way
And the places I long for the most are
The places where I’ve been
They are calling out to me
Like a long-lost friend…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As a self-supposed connoisseur of all things vintage, I confess I am often completely mystified as I walk around your average antique store. (No, this hobby is not confined to Arizona’s winter snowbirds… although I do sadly confess myself on quite the younger spectrum of customers in said places! My generation doesn’t know what they’re missing.) It seems that so many things once commonplace and hum-drum are suddenly beatified by age. It’s as if the yellow haze on an old portrait somehow makes the face softer; the nose less pointed; the eyes kinder; the features almost familiar, like an old friend.

And yet I have also noticed, as I walk about these places, that it’s not only the yellow haze that adds such beauty. In fact – more often than not – a fair amount of deceit is (unbeknownst to the customer!) incorporated in old works of art. Long before the now universal camera, photography was carried out in portrait-painting. Paint and canvas were the instruments conveying faces and figures to posterity, and the mind behind paint and canvas was often well paid to be inaccurate. I remember reading – with a good deal of both amusement and disdain – that many portrayals of well-known faces were glorified and magnified beyond even recognition.

Sometimes I paint portraits with my life, too. Portraits of places I’ve been; things I once knew. My instruments are not paint and canvas… I use words.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much…
And the place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn’t milk or honey, but then…
Neither is this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Every house I’ve ever lived in – and I’ve lived in a few – is imbued with certain timeless memories. I remember the old trailer in Ensenada for the beautiful cliff 100 yards away looking out on the sea. I remember my last home in Hermosillo, Mexico for its many rooms – ideally built for excellent rounds of hide and seek – and my last big birthday there. I remember North Carolina for the rolling green hills, the forest right outside my apartment door, and the wild onions Amy and I would gather by the dozen. Each of them – despite their many faults – are immortalized in my mind. So what if “home” was nothing but a freezing 4-foot-wide trailer without any heat? So what if the sewer underneath the house exploded? It was home.

And lately – as I began to face the future in real earnest, as people begin to ask me where exactly I’m headed – my heart begins to fear. If there’s anything I hate to say in this world, it’s this…

I don’t know.
And lately, I feel that I don’t know much.

I suppose it’s a healthy place to be, but that doesn’t make it any easier!

I like to hold on to the past; I like to feel founded. Who doesn’t? And so many times, in this painful process of sanctification, I reach for what’s comfortable instead of what’s true. I long for what was once home to me – because I’m afraid to trust Him now.

Numbers 11:4 The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost – also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic…

Apparently they remembered little else. (!) They don’t remember slavery, they don’t remember the murdering of their children, they don’t remember famine and hunger and deprivation and strife. They’ve forgotten the miracles that brought a country to its knees and brought them out of danger. They’ve forgotten that moment when the Red Sea was parted and they walked through its bed to dry land.

All they can see ahead is fog.

As fallen human beings – un-sovereign and un-omniscient as we are – we often do just this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy
To discard…
And I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go…
I am caught between the promise
And the things I know

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I’ve learned…

And those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’ve learned a few things about myself lately. First of all, I’m stubborn. Second of all – even when I think so – I don’t really want what’s best for me. Not really. Because if I did, I would want His will for my life… not mine. Or, better put, my will would be in line with His. And I spent a whole year “waiting”… waiting for God to do something, waiting for God to move. As soon as He does – as soon as He breaks down my pride and allows me to see Him more clearly – I run backwards, away from this painful process of growing. I run back to my memories; to my portraits; to the little earthly anchors that I, in my human short-sightedness, once thought held me secure.

Having realized my error, what should I do now?

The answer, at first, was mystifying to me: remember. Then I realized I was focusing on my own face in the portrait - rather than the glorious Painter Himself, whose brilliant colors and fine artistry far surpass my meager attempts at portrayal. I must remember HIM in all this! I must remember the times He has been faithful when I was faithless. I must remember His promises – to never leave us; to never forsake us; to bring us into the glorious country we will one day share with Him.


I have a new focus; a new hope.

There is a reason why Paul, in Hebrews 12, tells us to run ahead with perseverance the race marked out for us. We are not home yet. We see in Hebrews 11, right smack in the middle of the hall of fame of faith, these incredible verses.

v.13 All of these 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 show that they are looking 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.

Oh boy! Now that’s awesome, in every real sense of the word.

Heb 11:1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Rom. 8:23 … we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

2 Cor.4:16-18… Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

I pray, as I end, that these memories, these portraits of the past may be used in my life as tokens of my God’s faithfulness; that I might remember Him. I pray, that as I look toward the future, my will might be entirely enveloped in His – my eyes fixed, my focus set, my heart willing, my feet running. Running ahead.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Heb 10:35

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.
For in just a very little while,
“He who is coming will come and will not delay.
But my righteous one will live by faith.
And if he shrinks back,
I will not be pleased with him.”

But we are not of those that shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.

~*~*~*~*~*~

-Song excerpts from Sara Groves

Greater....

When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding

When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding

'Cause my ribs are bruised and it's just round two.

When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding

When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding, kidding

'Cause there's a cut on my eye and it's just round five.

And I used to be quick, I used to see it coming

I used to know how to move my feet

Now I can't duck

And I can't land nothing and

I've forgot how to bob and weave...

Bob and weave...

When you said this was a fight, you weren't kidding

When you said this was a fight, you were not kidding

'Cause this room's in a spin and it's just round ten.

And if you care at all

Take that towel from your neck

'Cause I've reached down deep and there is nothing left

I've got nothing

I've got nothing

I've got... nothing

And I was talking big

I was talking

But now...Now what?

Greater is He who is in me

Greater is He who is in me

Greater! Greater...

Ok, ok, ok...

-Sara Groves

Breaking Day

Life begins at the intersection...


If you live the Christian life long enough, sooner or later it will become routine. We, as humans, are creatures of habit... and it seems that anything and everything we do, by mere consistency, can become mundane. Stagnant.

And so, every now and again, the Lord tests what we're really made of. In that moment, when He pulls your world apart - in that moment, you face the intersection.

...these have come so that your faith, of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire, may be proved genuine, and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
1 Peter 1:7

I always thought this last part of the verse "...and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed..." was speaking of that moment when time and this world end and He returns to us at last. But somehow, it seems to apply to my situation as well... albeit in a smaller way.

Sometimes, in this life, amidst our journey along this narrow way, our view is suddenly obstructed. We stumble; we fall; we grope for truth as though blind - madly seeking any reason to even take a step forward. When I cannot see the road ahead of me, hope begins to falter. All those things that are worst in my human nature begin to rear their ugly heads... even in my love of God and of others, for it seems I cannot seem them anymore. That I do not know them. Pride. Jealousy. Doubt. Defeat. The monsters of Untrust and Uncertainty. Every step I take falls on a steep incline... as if, at any moment, I could lose my footing and plummet to the deep dark depths below.

Two questions arise to tempt me... products of the old mind; the life I once knew.

Why me?
What direction now?

My new heart asks - Oh God, what would you have me do? I shout it to the skies above; all I hear is an echo of my own pleading voice: the dark clouds seem to give no answer.

And so I wait.

To you I call, O Lord my Rock;

do not turn a deaf ear to me.

For if you remain silent,

I will be like those who have gone down to the pit.

Hear my cry for mercy as I call to You for help,

as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place.

Ps. 28:1 -2

Oh Lord, I think. We've been through all of this before, haven't we? Didn't I write a blog on waiting a year ago now? I don't understand. I don't understand!

But that's the point - I don't understand. So here I stand at the intersection - this pivotal moment where I have to decide... where is my faith now? Who do I trust here, at the end of myself? I've always said I trusted the Lord... but did I really? Finally... which way will I go?

The question is harder to answer than you would think.

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This one's 'bout a dream I had last night

How an old man tracked me home

And stepped inside

Put his foot inside the door and gave a crooked smile

Something in his eyes

Something in his laugh

Something in his voice made my skin crawl off

He said, "I've seen you here before...

I know your name

And you could have your pick of pretty things

You could have it all

Everything at once

Everything you've seen

Everything you'll need

Everything you've ever had in fantasies...

You've one life, one life, one life left to lead

~ Jonathan Foreman

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It is at this moment when temptation is at its strongest and most lethal. It seems that at our weakest point these decisions come.

And yet, that we might not boast...

"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecution, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

2 Corinthians 12:8-10

Such paradox is this! Indeed... "to be low is to be high, the broken heart is the healed heart... to have nothing is to possess all... the valley is the place of vision."

So He drew me to my knees. That has always been a hard place for me to be; it proves my neediness before a holy God.

The last words I prayed were these - the very same words lifted to His throne so many years ago by a follower like myself...

Lord, let me find thy light in my darkness,

thy life in my death,

thy joy in my sorrow,

thy grace in my sin,

thy riches in my poverty,

thy glory in my valley.

It was then I realized that I had been praying for the wrong thing all along. I had prayed that God would make my path clear; instead He showed me what I really needed to see. He opened my eyes and showed me where I really was... and revealed Himself to me.

All those nights in the valley; all those days climbing, climbing, tired, alone...

... had led me here, to the great mountain top of His glory. I stood, to my utter surprise, on the peak of the highest, most beautiful pinnacle my eyes had ever met. The clouds and fog that had so surrounded me were merely signalling that I had almost reached the top. I had ascended - in the dark! - a height that, had I travelled alone, would have killed me.

And yet his grace...

Now the path behind me suddenly made sense! Now I could see why I had stumbled and fallen; now I knew why every step I had taken had met a steep, frightening incline. And now I saw beneath the firm foundation that had never left me.

My heart beat once or twice, and life flooded my veins

Everything had changed, my lungs had found their voice

And what was once routine

Was now the perfect joy...

~ Jonathan Foreman

I still wonder what God has in store. I am still so eager to see what exactly He wants from me. But I know in whom I have believed. And at that fearful intersection, His grace led me where I could not go... down a path of whole reliance on the One who knows.

And although I still ask - 'Lord, what do you want from me?', His answer - for now - is simply this...

Take up your cross and follow Me.