Serving Others and Commitment Issues

I tend to write about the weather a lot. Probably because I’m American and it’s the natural conversation starter; therefore, the natural blog post starter.

It’s been so cold and rainy lately. So cold. Where I come from (wherever that is) it’s supposed to be warm by the end of April. Not here. Minnesota is cramping my style. I’ve heard “April showers bring May flowers” and I understand that the rain is necessary so that new life can grow, but I’m tired of wearing layers of warm clothes. (There’s a good spiritual analogy there, but I won’t get into that today.)

Instead, I’ll confess: I am a rather non-committal person. There’s a backstory that sheds light about why I choose not to commit (again, I won’t get into that today). I always want an out so that I’m never “stuck” anywhere. I hate being stuck. I’ve lived a life full of abrupt movement – with friendships, with houses, with emotions. My spontaneity also largely contributes to poor commitment. I’d like to say it’s something I’m working on but in actuality I’ve come to a place of owning it and enjoying it. (This is actually bad; I should not be encouraging myself to be non-committal.)

So, believe it or not, I don’t love college. I’m here because I need a degree and if I have to go to college, Northwestern is where I want to be. It’s not the place (well, sometimes when it’s really cold the place is a contributing factor) it’s more college itself. That’s one bad thing about living abroad and taking time off from school: you have all these amazing experiences and opportunities and then you go to college and spend hours a day cramped in a tiny desk, taking notes, and remembering life in the real world.

Because of this, I’m always looking for a reason to leave….or a reason to stay. I’ve been here for a year and half, so by my clock it’s time to start packing up and heading to a new place. However, I don’t really have anywhere else to go. So I keep waiting for someone to give me a decent reason to stay here.

Today at church the pastor preached about serving others. Towards the end of his sermon he posed two questions: "What is it that God has uniquely given you? What would it look like for you to invest that in something larger/greater than yourself." We all have been given different talents and abilities; now, what are we doing with those? Are we keeping them for our own personal gain or are we using them to serve others and Him? We’re supposed to find our niche, discover our gifts and talents and then use them for His glory. We get to do what we love for the Kingdom.

After this, the pastor asked the congregation to close our eyes and allow a picture of one of our unique gifts to come into our minds. The image of an old quill pen entered my mind. I sat there in the wooden pew with that image and dug a little deeper.

The pen represents my love for writing and the talent God has given me. I am supposed to use my writing for the Kingdom, for His glory. My first thought was: Lord, I already do this. My blog is basically about my relationship with You and I give You full credit for my ability to write. As if I had reached the end of my ability to serve with my writing. The image of the pen goes further than that.

The quill pen gives me a reason to stay.

I’m pursing a degree in professional writing so that I can further my writing skills and get a job that allows me to write all day. Writing is my niche, and I can use that for the Kingdom. If I leave school I will not be honoring the Lord with the gift He has given me. I need to hone my craft and delve into new territories with it. I need to stay so that I can learn what it means to commit to a school, or a friend, or a degree. It’s selfish of me to choose to not commitment; it’s the opposite of serving others. By remaining non-committal I am, in a sense, choosing to use my gift for my own personal gain instead of contributing to something larger than myself.

I have a lot of hurts and wounds and experiences that make me what to run from community and commitment and serving. Some days I’m an extrovert who wants to love people, and other days I’d prefer to burrow under my covers and think only of myself. But we are not called to burrow; we are called to serve through our gifts that God has given us.

And I am called to stay. And commit. And serve. And write. 

Making Good Choices

I don’t write anymore. These words exasperatedly came out of my mouth yesterday. I’m a professional writing major who doesn’t write – ironic. Of course I am writing a lot, but it’s all technical and professional and words from my head instead of genuine and informal and words from my heart. I love studying professional writing, but when I don’t have time to write for fun I feel like a musician at an engineering convention or a business man in a hippie town – in other words, out of place.

Repetitive, mundane lives are one of my greatest pet peeves and I’ve found myself living one. It’s caused me to forget my song and lose track of my dance steps. However, when I get off my groove or forget who I am it’s because I’m the one who has taken a step backwards. I stop giving thanks for His gifts. I stop acknowledging His hand in my everyday life. And then it just cycles further downward from there. 

Satan actually does wait like a prowling lion ready to devour and he won’t stop short of absolute destruction. Destruction of my relationships, of my passions, of who I am. He uses something as simple as routine to drive wedges in my life.

So I’ve found myself at yet another low point. Months of mundane and grey skies, wordless days and bland thoughts. And I take responsibility for it. I’m the one who stopped singing. I’m the one who got bored and gave up on counting gifts and daily discipline for His glory.

Actually, we’ve had some beautiful spring weather lately that has tried to breathe air back into my deflated lungs, and I’ve refused it. I’ve chosen to close my eyes to the shorts and t-shift temperatures, and focus instead on the negative.

We live in a very broken world and I’m reminded of it more each day. We live in an exile of sorts, like the Israelites in their 400 years of silence, waiting for God to come back and defeat evil. God has made it very clear how we should live and how we should wait. So I return to the basics: be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances. I’ve been pursing these three commands for six years and I still forget how to do it.

If we expect to really live a full life pleasing to Him, we must put the shallow carbs back on the shelf and dig into the wholesome protein foods instead. We have to give our bodies and our minds what we are really craving, instead of short-term, temporary fixes.

Yesterday I started to sing again, started to count gifts again: the creamy green of an avocado, the sweetness of a mango, making granola from scratch, almond milk, simple workouts, dancing, Rwanda, friendships. And today I went back to a church that I had visited last semester and it felt right. It felt like how church is supposed to feel: reverent and genuine. And the words are flowing; I’m writing again.

I went to a coffee shop this afternoon with wifi worse than any café in Rwanda (that’s saying something) so I laughed and left and went to a used book store instead, because I’m choosing to look for ways to break up my mundane.

I crave more and I know that there is more in store. If we choose God in our low times, greatness is bound to happen. His mercies are new every morning, even when the skies are grey and the fog is thick. One day He will return and rescue us from our exile. Even if there are more dark days ahead, there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel if we choose Jesus.  

Walk Worthy

In 2014 God gave me a word for the year: peace. I learned all about His peace and how it is the opposite of stress and how it surpasses my understanding. This one word became my theme and it brought me closer to the Lord and established this fruit of the Spirit in my heart.

I enjoyed the experience so much that I asked God for a word in 2015. But He didn’t give me one. I didn’t ask very persistently and before I knew it, the year was over. Again, in 2016 I passively asked God for a word and never received one.

And here we are, a month and a half into 2017. This time I intently asked the Lord for a word for my year. I deeply desired a word to study, a trait to acquire. And He gave it to me.

Purity.

I still have ten and a half months (and a whole lifetime) of learning about purity, but so far I am delving into three facets of this word.

Physical Purity

Physical purity is more than just sexual purity. It certainly encompasses sexual purity, and it is definitely something worth studying and talking about. I think in Christians communities we're pretty good at implying sexual purity, but I'm afraid it isn't talked about enough. (Future blog posts) Physical purity also incorporates diet and exercise. Am I treating my body as a temple for the Lord? Am I honoring God with my body? Are the things that I’m putting into my mouth, into my stomach, beneficial for me? I am becoming intentional about what I eat and how it is impacting my life. I want to put pure foods into my body for His glory. And on a similar note, I can exercise and stay in shape to keep my body pleasing to Him. A simple 30-minute walk-jog will go a long way in keeping me alert and healthy. Exercising can be an act of worship because I am responding to His love and blessings by choosing to honor the Lord with my body.

Mental Purity

Are my thoughts about other people pure? Are the movies, tv shows, articles, and conversations that I watch/read/engage in, pleasing to the Lord? Am I keeping my mind clear and pure for Him or am I polluting it with unbeneficial content? Am I an active learner, keeping my brain engaged with good knowledge? The Lord gave me a highly capable and functioning brain and it should be my natural response to honor Him with it. 

Relational Purity

Are my friendships pure and honoring of God? Does He have a place in our conversations? Is He glorified by the things that I say and do with my friends? I am a relational person, I love to meet new people and I love to grow friendships. I also love to address conflicts and restore relationships. I desire to seek out broken relationships to find healing and restoration because I believe that it is honoring to God. Purity comes with restoration, right? Well, it can; however, some relationships that are in conflict are toxic relationships. God may be allowing the conflict for a reason. There are certain relationships in my life that have developed into conflict and toxicity and I have desired to restore them to a pure state. But, I am learning that sometimes it is more honoring to God to let relationships end. The relationship was never pleasing to Him and it just needs to go.

With these warm February days, I feel as if I am spring-cleaning my life. I am seeking to detox my body, my mind, my heart, my life. I want nothing other than to be pure before the Lord.

“…walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God; being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light” Colossians 1:10-12

Notice the New

I crave change. I crave different. I crave new. You might think that college works pretty well for me because of the new classes and schedules that I receive every 8 or 16 weeks. False. It usually takes about four or five days before monotony sets in and I begin to go stir crazy. I find myself buying new pencils or a new water bottle throughout the week just to add a little bit of new into my predictable week.

I’m tired of opening my eyes in the same room and letting my feet hit the same carpeted floor every morning; sleepily dragging myself over to the same mirror where I gaze bleary eyed at my same face and robotically get ready for another day filled with the same professors and the same tasks. (No offence, professors and friends; it’s not you, it’s me.)

I am constantly anticipating the next thing; working forward, with goals in mind. While this is good; it can also be taken too far, taken to a point that makes it difficult for me to enjoy things that are right in front of me in this moment.

Which brings us to Revelation 21:5:

Behold, I am making all things new.

First, on a slightly insignificant note, I like the word choice of behold, as if saying, Stop, look here, and let the following words soak in. (Good word; I might use it more often.)

Second, I like the present progressive verb am making. Not, I have made, or I will make, but I am making…currently, right now, Jesus is making new. In this moment and the next and forever, Jesus is making all things new. The use of a present progressive verb implies a continual process without an end in sight.

I recognize that this verse is referencing heaven and how everything here on this earth will be made new, made clean and pure once again. And while this is very exciting and something to look forward to, I think it applies to here and now too.

There is new around me every day: a new snowfall, a new person walking on the sidewalk (whom I have never met), a brand new untouched day – a whole 24 hours that have never existed before. New gifts that are waiting for me to readily count them (Ann Voskamp’s 1,000 Gifts).

If only I would look up and notice. If only I would get my head out of the mud and monotony and instead choose to focus on the new, the gifts, the life He has given me.

Every day we are faced with a question: how will we spend this next set of 24 hours? We can spend them in a variety of productive and selfish ways. Am I letting stress and monotony rule my life which ultimately clouds my vision? Or am I taking every moment to live for Him and notice the new? 

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!