Africa Will Always be a Part of Me

When I graduated high school a friend painted a beautiful scene of the Rwandan hills for me and he included the phrase Africa will always be a part of me. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now, almost four years later, I recognize that Rwanda, and even the continent of Africa, is in me.

I’ve been spending my Christmas break in Rwanda and it’s just so comfortable. I can’t think of a single thing that I dislike about this place. Even after almost six years I’m still in a constant awe of the rolling hills and the swerving motos and items stacked high on the shaved heads. Every bite of matoke and every trip to the market is like it’s my first. My heart beats to the pulse of the Rwandan drum.

When I stepped off the plane a couple weeks ago and breathed in the cool earthy night air, I did a little leap of joy right there on the runway. And an armed guard smiled at me. And I felt welcomed.

I’m so impressed by this developing country and the speed at which the buildings are rising and roads are paving. It is hard to believe how many new things have sprouted all over the city in just half a decade. However, despite all the new, there is still plenty of old. I love that we still live on one of the most awful, beautiful dirt roads in the city. I love that bicycle taxis are still in business. I love that I can raise my eyebrows at a boy in a yellow vest causing him to dash across the street and hand me a card full of airtime for my phone. I love that I can walk down the road and buy charcoal-roasted maize from a group of ladies for a mere 100 francs (12 cents).

I love that I know this culture and so much is still the same, and I love that this culture is evolving. I love that I can go to the market and have vendors – friends – call me by name and ask about my family. I love the inconveniences of power outages and lack of water and friends stopping by at inopportune times and our dirt road –  I can’t seem to get over our road. Is there any thing more beautiful?  Will Heaven’s streets of gold be neck-wrenching and made of dirt? I hope so.  

But now I find myself living in America, and I love that too. I love my university and my course of study and I don’t want to be anywhere else. I’m thankful for where I am at the young age of 22 and all that I have learned and am learning. And I know that Africa will always be a part of me even when I am far away from it, and I wonder how long it will be before I can call it home again.

I long to live in an underdeveloped village and drive an old tin-can car that has experience on the dirt roads and become friends with the kids who run around in their tattered clothes playing with bicycle tires and making up games with sticks and rocks. I long to live in a tiny clay house and have the power be out for hours and the water out for days. I long to speak in another language and dance in another culture.

And these longings and desires are good. And they are deep in me. But for now I will be faithful to complete my education and wait on the Lord. I want that; I’m okay with that. He knows my desires for dust-covered bare-feet and plates of rice and beans and my desires to create and write and live a colorful life.

The years tend to roll together like the hills and we all just keep growing and learning and becoming. In just a couple days we will all find ourselves in a brand new, untouched year with a fresh start. The years don’t have to roll together and blend to a monotonous shade of dull; each one can be new and exciting as we wait in patient expectation for Him. As we strive to learn something new, or learn something old on a deeper level. And live in obedience with what and who He has placed before us. One day at a time, giving thanks for everything. Happy New Year, friends. May the start of 2017 be richly filled with loud drums and dancing people and with His goodness and abundant blessings.

Really Living

The skies are still gray.

There are beautiful golden-yellow and vibrant autumn-orange trees lining the road, and the wind is strong and blustery, tumbling all that color around in the air, and I count it as a gift, but I’m hung up on the fact that the sky has been painted a dull, pale gray for more days in a row than I can count.

And I’m having a hard time counting the gray sky as a gift. Where is the beauty in a gray sky?

Maybe the beauty is that the gray sky is created by God. And what God creates is beautiful.

Thank you Lord for painting the sky gray.

My heart still isn’t in it. I don’t like to say things unless I really mean them. So I’m withhold my thanks, as if that is even really an option. The God of the universe chose to paint the Minnesota sky a dull gray and I think it’s okay for me to scrunch my nose and withhold thanks until I see more of a blue color.  (I roll my eyes at myself.)

Thank you Lord for painting the gray sky.

A couple years ago I read Ann Voskamp’s book, 1,000 Gifts, and it significantly changed my way of thinking, my way living. And now she has come out with another book, The Broken Way, and it is just as beautiful and life-changing as the first. I am devouring every artistically placed word in between homework and classes and work. (Seriously, read the book. Read both books. They are so good.)

Earlier this afternoon I was sitting in a coffee shop working on math homework and actually getting it. I was doing algebra by myself and getting the answers correct. (This is big!) And then I decided to take a break and read a couple pages of Voskamp’s new book. She was talking about grains of wheat and our days being limited and how we must die to ourselves.

Then, something on the table caught my eye: a little seed, probably from a muffin. But the seed looks exactly like the ones of the cover of the book, and exactly like the ones I was just reading about. And that seed that was probably knocked off the top of a muffin by a careless set of teeth became the cause of a huge smile on my face. I sat there and stared at the seed for a long time and marveled at God’s tiny gifts that He gives all day long.

And I took that seed home with me and I taped it to the wall next to my bed so that I can remember. I can remember that God gives and gives and gives. And He cares. He cares that math is not easy for me so He helps me. He cares that I’m totally impacted by this book and so He gives me a little seed of my own. The seed now taped to my wall is a reminder to daily die to myself. To be broken. The only way to live is to die (John 12:24-26). This is the premise of her whole book.

Earlier today I took an exam for my advanced grammar class and I walked out of the room after spending approximately 65 minutes on five sentences, feeling like that exam slapped me hard. I felt conquered by that exam. (They call it advanced for a reason.) But, I just got an email with my grade and it is about 15% more than I thought it would be. Not because I am really smart and studied super hard but because God cares and He enables me to do my best. And it is because of Him that I received such a good grade.

And until I can die to myself every day and give Him everything I have and count every gift He gives, even the dull gray sky, I am not really living. And I don’t want to live another day without living. 

Joy-Stealer

Have you ever seen The Princess Bride? You know the scene where Miracle Max, Inigo Montoya, and Westley are talking and all of the sudden Miracle Max's wife, Valerie, jumps out and starts yelling, Liar! LIAR! LI-I-A-AR! 

This is what I imagine I'm supposed to do when I feel attacked by Satan. Liar! LIAR! LI-I-A-AR! Joy-stealer! JOY-STEALER! JOY-ST-E-E-E-LA-AR! 

Paul says to the church in Galatia, You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?

It feels so matter-of-fact, like a rhetorical question.

But it's a valid question.

I was running just fine and then I stopped. Why? Who hindered me?

Well, circumstances did, but I know there is one who is doing everything in his limited power to hinder me, so it's not merely a coincidence that I stopped running.

And, let's not forget, I'm human. I get tired of running. I get distracted. Netflix looks like an appealing way to spend the evening and hitting snooze a couple times in the morning feels like a good option until I can't possibly delay waking up any longer. And with each passing day, discipline goes out the window and I'm in a vulnerable, undisciplined state, and Satan attacks and tries to hinder me from running. And then he throws discouragement and condemnation on top of that, making me feel bad for not running, and making it difficult to go back to running. And with each passing day, the act of not-running becomes normal and the act of running feels strenuous. And who would want to do something strenuous?

But then I realize that I'm barely living. Life is passing by, day after day and I'm standing on the sidelines watching it. There goes my joy and my strength and my love, and here I stand, with arms crossed.

I've spent the last week walking around under "skies of gray" - literally. I don't remember the last time I saw blue skies and the bright sun. But also, metaphorically, the skies have been gray. And I've chosen to simply accept the gray feelings and the lack of joy and strength and love.

And this is exactly where Satan wants me. The conniving fool somehow managed to blindside me again.

The race is hard and strenuous and it can feel like a good idea to stop running, to take a breather, but that's one of the times that Satan uses against us.

I'm tired of being disciplined. I'm having a bad day. Things aren't going my way. I'm tired of running. And our weariness becomes so present and he convinces us to stop.

Let us not forget that it is our weariness and weakness that Christ uses to make us strong. So when we feel like giving up on the whole running-the-race thing, hand it over to God because it is not really us who are running anyway - it is all Him.

And the next time we find ourselves contemplating the idea of halting the race, just yell: LI-I-A-AR! Because life isn't better outside of the race, no matter what he tries to convince you. It's boring and joy-less. Keep running, don't be hindered!

Darkness to Light

God has given me a passion for truth and a desire to pursue what is right.

Psalm 139 talks about how God goes before us on the path and brings light to the darkness in front of us and calls back to us saying, “It’s okay; the coast is clear! Come on ahead!”

And even while He is walking ahead of us lighting the way, He is walking next to us maintaining the light. He desires to bring darkness to light. And this has compelled me to bring darkness to light as well.

My eyes have recently been opened to the world of pornography. I really didn’t know it was much of a thing before a year ago. But it is a thing, and it’s everywhere, and it’s darkness, and it’s hurtful.

And I don’t want people to live in darkness. There is so much happening in the light, and I want everyone to be a part of it. I want to call pornography out of darkness, bringing it to light, so that it loses its power in Jesus’ name.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. Isaiah 9:2.

Prior to this week, I thought I was better than every person who struggles with pornography. I thought I sinned less; I thought I deserved more.

But God has shown me otherwise. There is some very real sin in my own life and the Lord placed three friends and three specific conversations in my week for the purpose of bringing these unconfessed sins to my attention. I too have sin in the dark corners of my life, and I desire to keep them in dark corners.

In my hypocrisy, I think I can stand in front of people and talk about the sin of pornography and talk about bringing darkness to light, all the while keeping parts of myself in darkness.

Yesterday, in great sorrow, I apologized to the Lord. And then He called me to go a step further:

Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. James 5:16a.

Last night I sat on the floor of my room and spoke my sins out loud and confessed them to my roommates. I showed them an ugly side of me and it was scary and uncomfortable. My sin is coming to light. And after our conversation we danced around the room because the sin is no more, and I am free to dance and sing and laugh in Him.

Jesus came so that we would not have to carry the weight of sin in the dark corners of our heart. He came so that we could be free. He came so that we could live in the light.

And my heart asks in bewilderment, "What love is this?" This love so great that He would take my sin and allow me to stand before Him. It is a love unlike any other. And it humbles me and causes me to worship and begs me to share it with others and compels me to bring light to the darkness.

So join me, friends, let's talk about sin more. Let's call it out of darkness and bring it to light. Let's create environments of love so that honesty and vulnerability can be a part of our conversations. Press into the discomfort. There is freedom on the other side.  

Like the Trees

Fall is finally here, and my heart is happy. I love watching the trees worship the Lord – the way they move and stand and the way their branches bend. And even now as the leaves are changing colors, falling away, and dying (even now) the trees are bringing glory to Him.

It makes me think of the words of the prophet Isaiah about being an “oak of righteousness.” If we can be like a tree, able to praise Him and bring glory to Him in all seasons, then we are really living. Real worship and real living means embracing all seasons of life and finding beauty in the way our branches bend. Finding beauty in standing still and in swaying with the wind. Oh that we could be like the trees and praise Him.

I have learned how to praise the Lord in the fall and winter when I feel like I am dying and I’ve lost my identity. I also have learned how to praise God in the springtime when growth is evident and new things abound. And now He is teaching me how to give praise in the summertime when life is good and easy and laid-back.

Life is good and easy and laid-back.

These are adjectives I never imagined using to describe my life. And they are so true! My life is good and easy and laid-back. I love waking up to life and finally being Grace. Unfortunately, because I can now use these words, I have this mentality that I’ve reached the end of my race. I’ve made it, I’m complete, I’m done. (And those of you who are older than I smirk at my youthful ignorance.) 

The Lord has been kind to me over the last four months to give me rest from the constant storm, and in that rest I mistakenly thought we (God and I) were at the end. But alas, there are still plenty of things I need to learn and discover. And there are things that I thought I knew, but I find myself slipping into old ways of thinking and believing lies that I denounced a long time ago.

Yesterday a memory flashed through my mind of a very painful time in middle school. The wound stung. And then I became very frustrated with myself because I have already been healed from that particular hurt, and there I was reliving it and taking on the blame. Does this mean I’m not really healed from it?

No, not at all! I am healed from it. (Period. It is finished.) However, it is so important to find the balance between being healed and being made whole in Him and recognizing that I still make mistakes and my race is not over yet. I have more to learn, and I have new ground on which to run. (How exciting!) I’m entering a new phase of my race. A time when I can put into practice all I have learned. A time to love. A time to listen. A time to learn.

I am like a tree. I go through seasons, some seasons are more brutal than others, and some are more beautiful. But regardless of the season, like the trees, I desire to bring praise to Him in every action and every word, always.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,

Thou mine inheritance, now and always,

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart, 
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

Remain

The news is full of deaths and natural disasters and my facebook feed is overflowing with pictures and videos of riots and protests and shootings. Worse news piles on top of bad news and I can hardly keep up with it. The debates are heated. The hatred is fierce. It’s not just here in my city. It’s across the nation. It’s across the world.

My heart is burdened, my thoughts are heavy, and my mouth is wordless.

I’ve been reading articles about how Christians should be responding to all of this. Aaron Cline Hanbury, editorial director of Relevant magazine, said, "Evil forces at work are causing fear and hatred to rule and reign in the hearts of people everywhere." His words are so true.

This shouldn’t be coming as a huge surprise to Christians. We were warned.

But even still, what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to react?

A lot of articles are saying to pray for those broken, lost, and wounded. Pray for peace.

But isn’t that the next most popular “Christian answer” next to Jesus? It’s the go-to answer. And it’s a fine thing to do, but I think there’s more.

Remain faithful.

God has made it pretty clear how we should live our lives. And I don’t think those commands have changed. Keep living how God has called you to live. Be consistent.

Be joyful, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, love as He has loved us, let peace rule in our hearts, be gentle, be kind, forgive others, be quick to listen and slow to speak…

People are looking for answers and comfort for the pain and the hurt. And wouldn’t it be great if they could look to us and see Jesus? The gospel, people, the gospel is all that matters. I too easily get caught up in the unimportant things of this world. The world is falling apart. It’s not going to last much longer.

I’m not encouraging you to stand on a street corner and start preaching at people. I’m encouraging you to remain faithful to the Lord and the life He has called you to live. Be the light of the world. Wherever God has you at this moment, be there. Be present for those around you.  

Sometimes I feel guilty living my comfortable, American life. I get to sit in coffee shops and go to work and go to college and spend time with friends. I haven't been directly effected by all these horrific events. But I shouldn't feel guilty because this is where God has called me for this stage of my life. He hasn't asked me to be in the slums of Africa or the restricted nations or the refugee camps. He has called me here to Minnesota and intentionally put people in my life for specific purposes. And He has asked me to be faithful. I am thankful for His kindness and protection and will gladly remain. 

Bridges

95% of the time I’m a really good driver. I’m cautious, I follow the rules, and I don’t speed. The other 5% is because the majority of my driving career has taken place in Rwanda. Sometimes I do some things that make me want to get out of my car and walk over to the other driver to apologize. I drive through a stop sign, or swerve around a car in a “no passing zone” (with an oncoming car in the other lane) and I don’t think anything of it…until the other driver honks at me or gives me a confused look. If you’re reading this and I’ve cut you off or seemingly narrowly missed your vehicle, I apologize. It’s a habit, and I’m trying to break it.

Speaking of driving, the other day there were some pretty heavy showers. I was driving down the highway and every time I went under a bridge the rain “stopped.” Obviously it didn’t really stop, but for a second the rain stopped pelting my windshield, and it was quiet.

I think God is a lot like a bridge. When we are caught in a storm God hovers over us. Not all the time, but when we really need it, He makes the rain “stop.” I think the rain continues to fall, but we can’t feel it or hear it because He’s blocking it.

[I didn't take this picture. Google is just so good at meeting my photo needs.]

The problem is, we can’t hide under the bridge forever. We have to keep moving because we’re running a race. We take a break, under the bridge of Christ, catch our breath, and then march on. God knows how much we can handle. He’ll build another bridge to cover us down the road when we’re soggy again and worn out from the storm. And eventually we’ll run our way out of the storm into clear skies. Rain doesn’t last forever.

Also, while we’re on the analogy of highways, there’s usually a speed limit and a speed minimum sign. There is nothing wrong with choosing to go the minimum speed, or a speed less than the maximum. It’s all right if other cars are whizzing past you. Don’t let it discourage you. We’re all at different places in our relationship with God. Some of us get to drive a fancy sports car and cruise just slightly above the speed limit while others of us get to drive an old Honda closer to the speed minimum.

I do drive a Honda, but I don’t usually drive the speed minimum. I’ll continue to work on getting rid of my Rwanda driving habits and be content with where God has me. And right now He has me in a really beautiful place. 

Moving Forward

I’m spending the summer in Hudson, Wisconsin which is just over the river that separates Wisconsin from Minnesota. I’ll be making many trips across the river throughout the summer, spending time with friends, working, and exploring this new place I’m venturing to call home.

I’m staying at a friend’s house all summer. A Kenyan family lives across the street. I just met the father, Gilbert. We exchanged a few words in Swahili and then switched over to English. At one point in our conversation he said:

Once you go to Africa, some dust gets in your lungs which you

are never able to remove, no matter how hard you try.

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Africa, especially East Africa, has worked itself into my heart and dirtied my lungs with its sweet, raw dust. Africa will always have a special place in my life.

God, in His great way, has turned my heart from East Africa, for the time being. He has made it possible for me to leave and it doesn’t hurt so badly this time.

I’m learning what it means to commit to something or someone or someplace.

God has drawn me back to this region of the United States and He is giving me what I need to commit to it.

The scooter/military truck accident occurred three weeks ago today. The accident redefined my final days in Rwanda and I had reason to be bitter about it. The accident redefined my initial days in America and I had reason to not reenter well. But I did leave well and I did reenter well. The accident revealed another side of Americans that I had never seen before. I drove through 11 states to get up to Minnesota and in each state I experienced kindness. I encountered many people who were willing to hold the door for me, or make me as comfortable as possible. As I hobbled around on my crutches and sported my stylish knee brace, people looked for ways to help me.

The kindness of complete strangers softened my heart toward this country and broke down walls and stereotypes.

I’m thankful for God’s kindness to me. He allowed the accident to happen and protected both Adam and me from anything too serious or fatal. However, He allowed me to get just enough injured so that I could experience the kindness of Americans. He brought friends into my life and then, just for fun, He brought me to a house with a Kenyan family across the street. 

I can breathe just as deeply here as a I do in Africa. I can allow my lungs to be filled with the dusts of Minnesota and let it work its way into my heart. I can commit to it. I can allow it to be my new home. 

An Unexpected Ending

On Sunday afternoon Adam and I ventured over to the market on the other side of town. He wanted a Rwanda football (soccer) jersey to take with him to university. It was intended to be our last trip to the market before heading state-side.

The market trip was pretty successful. We bargained hard and perused the aisles, looking for things we didn’t really need, just enjoying the smells and sights of that place. I asked Adam if he wanted to drive home. He said yes, I hopped on the back of the scooter/moped, and we began swerving and dodging through traffic.

Should I turn left here? He asked me.

Yes. I shouted through my helmet.

I heard Adam groaning. I opened my eyes and saw the blue sky. He was lying next to me on the side of the road. I was confused. And in a lot of pain. I couldn’t form words, tears flowed uncontrollably down my face. My knee was already three times the size it should be.

50 or more people crowded around us.

Someone pulled the helmets off of our heads.

Adam told me to call Mom. I couldn’t. He took the phone from me. His adrenaline pumping over-time. I remained on the curb, crying. In shock.

I don’t remember the accident, which might actually be a good thing. Adam remembers. And he loves telling stories. Something about colliding with a truck and flying over the handlebars.

We were both scrapped, bleeding, and bruised. My mom came and took me to the hospital for an x-ray of my knee. It’s not broken or fractured.

In case I thought I was going to rush my recovery process, the Lord saw fit to give me a 24-hour stomach bug on Tuesday. On Wednesday morning I woke up with a sore throat which turned into a good old-fashioned cold.

Five days later and the swelling is almost gone, but bending and standing still prove to be too painful. Adam’s swollen elbow is just about back to a normal size too, and if you can look past the gory scabs and bruises, it’s almost like the accident never happened. Crutches and a knee brace have made it feasible for me to start moving around the house and I am improving with each day.

We’re leaving Rwanda in four and a half days. This is the time when we are supposed to be “ending well” – doing all of our last things. Instead, I’m on day five of keeping the couch warm.

I came to Rwanda to heal, emotionally. And now in my last week I sit, in need of healing physically.

I had plenty of things to do this week. I needed to wrap up some projects and there’s this lingering pressure to “end well” with people and Rwanda. How can I possibly end well when I’m lying on a couch?

God allowed the accident to happen. I firmly believe this.

If I was up on my feet this week, running around and doing everything I do, the story would be about me. I would have ended well based on all the things I accomplished.

Instead, I left everything mid-sentence. Loose strings all over the place.

My closure isn’t up to me, it’s up to God. In the past I haven’t ended well. I think that’s because I’ve either avoided it or tried to do it on my own. This time it’s Him because I’m sick, crippled, and incapable of ending well. I need Him to help me leave on good terms and He has already given me peace and closure in special ways.

My phone chimes hourly with text messages and the doorbell rings frequently with friends stopping by. With each person I’m able to connect with, I know that God is accomplishing something big. My heart can rest easy.

On Tuesday, Adam and I will fly from Rwanda to Tampa, Florida with wheelchair assistance. How do you like that? Two young and fit kids rolling into Senior-ville like a couple of old folks.  From there we’ll begin moseying our way up the states. I’m heading back to Minnesota. I’ve missed that place. I’m thankful for the months away but very ready to jump back into my life there. Or, for now, hobble back into life.

The People of Rwanda - A Photographic Collection

Lately I've been exploring new genres of writing. I'm in the process of compiling a series of sketches which capture the beauty of Rwanda. In order to adequately describe the country and the culture, I am spending a lot of time observing my surroundings. This post, unlike others, is comprised of recent photos I took while walking through a small village. And hopefully soon I'll have a collection of small stories to share.

Same Story, Same Song, New Perspective

I’m tired of my story. It seems I can’t move on and experience new things. God has been teaching me about joy, peace, love, and thanksgiving for a long time. I think I’m learning and growing, but if I’m learning and growing, why are we still going over the same things? My blog posts seem to sing the same song: life is hard, here’s a surface level example, here is what God is showing me, stay tuned for more. I’m frustrated because I have nothing new to say. As a writer, I care about my readers and I want to present new things. People don’t like to read the same thing over and over. Sure, sometimes I have some fun and ridiculous stories to throw in here and there, but then it always goes back to my same old song.

Upon a closer look, perhaps He is still teaching me about these things because I am not done learning them. These traits aren’t the kind of things that are learned in a month or even a year. It’s a life-long task. But does that mean that all my posts need to have the same tone?

And maybe this is just the type of blog that I write – a blog not about Grace, but about grace. I could share fun stories and give daily happenings, but with my own self-promoting words, those stories are empty and shallow. There is so much more to say when I talk about God and His grace, joy, peace, love, and thanksgiving.

I guess what I’m trying to say is if God has you singing the same old song, then sing it with all your heart. God has you singing a song! (It’s all about how you say it, right?) I will write about joy, peace, love, and thanksgiving until He gives me a new song. When you hear a song for the first time you don’t know it very well. It takes a lot of practice before you’re able to get it all (singing, instrumental, what have you). Same goes with God’s song: I have to keep practicing this one until I know it, until it’s a part of me, until I can play it in my sleep. I can know joy, peace, love, and thanksgiving in the new and in the same old-same old. And I can pray that He throws some exiting stories and happenings in there to keep my song lively and fresh. 

Waiting

In some circumstances I have a lot of patience; other times I don’t have any patience at all. I have no problem waiting in Rwanda because I understand that it’s part of the culture. I can wait in line for many minutes too long, or wait for my food for many hours too long and not think anything of it. On the other hand, I tend to be spontaneous and impulsive, and if I make my mind up to do something, I want to do it right then. I do not want to wait.

I have been praying for a very specific request for what feels like a long time. Asking God to show me His way. Asking Him to make it clear.

And He says wait.

But I don’t want to wait. I want the answer right now so I know how to move forward. So that I know how to plan my week, my year, my life.

And He says wait.

Right now, today, I don’t need to know what will be happening in the summer months, or after college graduation. Those things do not pertain to the events of today. God will give me the answers I need when I need them. He gives what we need for each day. Manna for today. One day at a time.

Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.

 Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will act.

Psalm 37:4-5

I do delight in the Lord, I have committed my way to Him, and I do trust Him. So now I wait. I’m waiting for Him to reveal the desires of my heart, I’m waiting for Him to act.

And in my waiting I take matters back into my own hands because He isn’t acting fast enough. So then I have to go back and renew my delight, commit my ways once again, and reestablish my trust. And wait.

Waiting isn’t always very fun. In this day and age, especially in American culture, we want instant gratification. However, there is anticipation in waiting. Eventually the thing you are waiting for will arrive. As a kid, the month of December seems to drag on because you are so excited to open Christmas presents. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and then finally, that marvelous day arrives, and the waiting is over.

God won’t make me wait forever. He will reveal Himself and His ways to me, but I must wait. And, in the meantime, continue to delight, commit, and trust. 

God and Legos

I thought alliterating this title would be a little overkill – Legos and the Lord. (I just can’t help myself.)

When looking at Legos, some people see endless possibilities of fun. They see all the potential structures that could be built. These people tend to see through the little tiny shapes and picture a building or an airplane or who knows what else.

When I look at a pile of Legos I too see fun. But I don’t have the slightest ability to see a finished product of a building or an airplane. I wouldn’t even know where to begin if I were to actually build things out of Legos. Instead, I see colors and shapes begging to be sorted into their correct piles. And I think sorting and organizing is fun. I would much rather take the structures apart and put them back in their correct piles than pull the Legos out of their respected piles and assemble them into something.

Maybe I’m a mother-in-the-making or maybe it’s just my personality. Probably a bit of both.

What about the Lego kits? You can go to the store and buy Star Wars Legos or a box that guarantees a really cool army tank. All you have to do is open up the box and follow the rule book and in a matter of minutes your thing is assembled. Is that cheating?

The thing about enjoying sorting more than building is that I would not be the least bit upset if someone came in and decided to mix the red and blue colors together or if someone dumped all the Legos out of their bins. I wouldn’t mind this because that would mean I could start over and put them back where they belong. Once I’m done sorting, my job is done, I wouldn’t have anything to do anymore. Someone “ruining” all my hard work means I get to start all over and have something to do again.

I like to keep things nice and neat and to appear like I have my life together. Why do I do this? I’m going to venture to say that it’s not only me. I’m not the only one who would rather sort Legos than build and I’m not the only one who likes to appear like her life is put together.

Christians are really good at covering things up. Yes, we do admit to being broken sinners but even when we proclaim our brokenness we stop there. We don’t expand and communicate the ways in which we are broken or the ways in which we sin.

Is it good enough to just acknowledge the fact that we are all broken sinners in need of God? Or do we need to go ahead and say, “You know what? I told a lie yesterday.” “I looked at a woman/man today and had inappropriate thoughts about her/him.” “I had an opportunity to extend grace to someone who did not keep his word and instead I blew up and didn’t let him off the hook.”

Oh no, we don’t say such things. We just go with the generic, “I sin. I’m broken. I need Jesus.”

Is that okay? Is God okay with that?

I think the saying, “cleanliness is next to godliness” might be incorrect. I think Satan wants us to stay clean. He wants our Legos to be sorted into nice neat piles. He wants us to dress up (or at least dress presentably) every day. He wants it to appear like our lives are all put together. Cleanliness can be a trap.

However, God wants our Legos to be jumbled. If we came to Him with our colors and shapes sorted, He would have nothing to do. He loves our vulnerability. He loves our chaotic and confused piles. He loves us.  

The really cool thing is that God is a combination of both personality types. He looks at the pile of Legos and sees the fun in sorting each by color and shape and adding some organization and clarity to our lives. But it goes beyond that. He also loves to pick up the colors and shapes and combine them and turn them into really cool structures. He loves building things. He loves turning our painful pile of Legos into an unimaginably beautiful creation.

And what of the rule book for the prepackaged Legos? Is there some correlation to real life?  Maybe something about Christians looking for the rules and guidelines. Something about not wanting to step out of the comfortable box because then the Legos might get confused. Do what you want with that thought. It can be pondered or thrown away; there may not be a whole lot there.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is stop sorting your Legos. Stop trying to build things with your Legos. Go ahead and allow yourself to be an unbuilt, unsorted mess. In the long run, you’re going to end up much more attractive and likable if you don’t do the organizing and building and let God do it instead.