Notes From the Thick of Battle

You said the straight and narrow
But this road's crooked; broad.
Whispers I heard of peace...
All this naught but untrue and odd.

I must say how mortally tired I am
Of trying to find You here
Where once I did see remnants
I wade in poisoned pools of fear.

Earthly lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true
And all I hope: to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of you.

I once was so verbose
And now I have no tongue.
Songs and rhymes -
Now hardened times -
Undefined and still unsung.

You used to give me words -
Ah! How we used to play
'Cross meadows of song and consciousness
From falling night till day.

My rhymes are now gone.

And that train! That train!
That ghastly, that condemned train!
Condemned to be running through my head
To be green grass and sinking lead -
The ghost of futures yet untold
(And damn my fickle heart: it's sold)
To whistle tunes that I can't play -
Can't seem to keep these wolves at bay -
Are they his? Or are they Thine?
Or are they all invention mine?

The barriers you once put up he's now torn down.
Or was it me?
(He and I look an awful lot alike these days.)
Potential's all that's left of me.

Hellish lovers seem to fade
As wanted as they're true.
And all I hope; to catch anew
To catch for me a glimpse of You.

Found and founded:
The things I miss most.
Oh for when peace was somehow my boast.

Blog Makeover

Hi friends! This is your official notice of a blog makeover.

First, I want to apologize for posting once every three months or so when I have something remarkable and world-changing to say. One of my very honest friends jokingly described each post as "a systematic description of the meaning of the world in 8 short pages"... or something to that extent.

I'm here to change all that.

I have no idea if anyone still reads this, but I'd like to get some interaction. Graduating from college / figuring the world and life out is not as easy as it might sound, so I like all the advice I can get. My posts will be shorter. I'll be asking questions. PLEASE COMMENT even if you merely want to say... "Hannah, you're pretty much an idiot," or something to that lovely effect. Honesty is a good thing. ;)

One of my friends described an ideal Christian faith not as 'reformed'... but 'reforming'. Constantly seeking out Scripture, constantly being willing to rework our understanding of God to fit the God of the Scripture. That's what I'm all about.

So let's do it. Talk to me. ;)

Trekking Through Shadowlands

I lay in the back of the truck and wished that it would go on forever.

It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… a day that you come away from shaking your head and wondering what just happened. One of those days when you search really hard for peace… but it seems to stay so out of reach. I was hurt and baffled and scared – very scared – afraid that that which I hold dear might be slowly slipping from me.

Uncertainty frightens me. Frenzy takes over. I try so hard to fix things in my mind but in the end I just create dragons… dragons of shadow and mystery and fancy. Sometimes my shadow dragons frighten me because their form seems so clear on the wall in front of me, all of their menacing features so real and tangible – even before they are seen. Sometimes they are just a nagging dread, sitting in the back of my mind, tormenting me with hints and whispers; smoke and echoing lies. Sometimes I wake up and realize that the dark form on the wall before me is really just my own shadow.

Sometimes I fight me.

I’m young and I love young people. I love seeing hope and ambition and potential in its first budding stage. I love nothing so well as a starry-eyed dreamer… one who not only watches the stars but reaches for them as well. Yet my heart aches when those that I love seem to wander, to founder, to fall. Sometimes our endless searching for a path becomes our very downfall… we’re always looking and never finding. Someone in a movie once said… “Young people always want to be traveling. Even if they find food and a warm fire and kindness, they wish to be gone.” Perhaps our over-worked imaginations tend to get the better of us… whatever we do not yet have becomes our object of worship. The unattainable is always bigger.

Better. Brighter.

Sometimes we forget what we have.

If you’ve followed my thought life through my posts at all throughout the past year, you may know that my topic of choice has been waiting. I feel like I’m always waiting. I wanted to see the world; to see what’s going to happen; to have the future now. Endless opportunities, possibilities seemed to present themselves… I felt like a kid in a candy shop, struggling so with the idea of having to pick only one that I picked none at all. Trust was key; my heart was frail; just when I thought I had faith the Lord would throw something else into my life and I would fall to the ground with a thud. Pictures come to mind of wings being trimmed; plants being pruned; a brave, new little tree kept from erring by a sturdy post in the ground. Its great shows of bravery have only proved how young and green and inexperienced it is in this fine art of growing. And though that bright yellow tape may feel like a hindrance, a roadblock, a ball and chain… in the end it keeps the tree from falling right over in its overexuberant zeal to get somewhere.

It had been a long day… a long, hard, confusing sort of day… and I climbed into the back of that old truck for a moment alone. I stopped for a moment to breathe. No proper words came to mind… but I just started talking. Talking to One who hears. I talked and talked and talked – all about life, about my fears, about the future, about my desire to find it… to know how I should live, personally, in light of this great salvation. I talked until there were no words left and then I stopped for a moment to wait. I know THE way… but what is my way? We are each given gifts, abilities, lives very different from those next to us in order that we might bring glory to God in a manner entirely our own.

Where to, God? Where to?

Oh Captain. Oh Captain. Guide me. What direction? Hear now my declaration of dependence.

The stars seemed brighter tonight than usual. Almost closer. In the distance a train sounded. In the air tension; something hung in the balance. My mind, frenzied, kept reevaluating, rethinking – still searching. Then, suddenly, a few short, quiet words…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say…Be more quiet now and wait for a voice to say... My mind stopped running and one memory pierced my mind with sharp force.
A dark night. Stars as well. Open sky. Caborca. Another life-changing question. The same words, the same melody playing softly, slowly, clearly in my head. Be more quiet now.

Nights like this make my soul forget fear.

I lay in the back of the truck and wished that it would go on forever.

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

Ecclesiastes 8:5-6

The Game

Come and play a while with me, my friend –
Games are free; I’m yours on lend.
We could try things out and see –
Let’s see just how you look on me –
Then, just like that, we’ll turn away
A true love lasted just one day.

You’d think a day would be alright
A few short hours, sunrise to night
But no! Eternity within in our hearts
Gets weary soon of these false starts
Summer tears can last through fall…
Deep roots of pain outlast it all.

Sorry, friend, I tried to play along
To match your voice in this stupid song
But the lock and latch imbedded deep
Now I’m convinced you’re all I need
Until another comes along
To try on me another song.

The music starts; now soft and low
You beckon me to come below
It takes all of me to turn away
(Torture greets me in your face!)

Arousing prematurely is something we do well…
I should have looked into your eyes before the darkness fell.

Come and play a while with me, my friend
Can we forget in our world of pretend?
We could try things out and see…


We could try things out and see…



Painted smile is all that’s left of me.

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.