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.