We Speak to Nations

Our team crossing the second stream before
reaching Monte Hermon

I don't think I have ever sweat so much before in my life.  I was sweating in places I didn't know could sweat.  And I know I wasn't the only one.  Our shirts were practically drenched and our bandannas couldn't seem to mop up enough of the sweat rolling down our faces, into our eyes, down our back.  But our hearts were full and our joy was complete because we had come to proclaim Him.

We had driven about twenty minutes and hiked an equal amount to find this remote village in the mountains of Guatemala, a village called Monte Hermon, or Mount Hermon. (You can find references to it in Psalm 42 or Psalm 89.)  We crossed two streams, hiked past a pineapple patch, breezed past the neatly swept dirt porches of wooden houses and gathered in the center of this small community, a community it seemed the rest of the world had forgotten.

The Mission2Guatemala staff had told us this village had never seen North Americans before.  Hard to imagine.  But one of the village leaders - maybe the pastor? I can't remember - had approached Mission2Guatemala and asked if they could send a team to come visit their village.  It was rather spur of the moment that our team was asked to go.  We were asked Tuesday morning if we wanted to go that afternoon.  Yes, of course, we'll go.  Doesn't matter the hike, doesn't matter the heat, doesn't matter the exhaustion.  I mean, isn't that why we came to Guatemala?  To roll up our sleeves and preach Jesus to the nations?

Filing into the church

The people filed into the tiny village church, one by one, all of the children clamoring to get to the front.  And there we were, more than 60 people squeezed together into what amounted to a space not much bigger than a single-car garage.  We danced and laughed and sang our way through the afternoon.  We spoke of Jesus and his free gift of salvation.  We spoke of his great love for us.  We spoke of his sacrifice.  And we spoke of his desire for the nations - that they would know he is God and that he had come to set them free.

Translating took some extra effort, as many of the people did not speak Spanish but Kekchi, an ancient Mayan language.  So most everything we said to the group got translated from English to Spanish, Spanish to Kekchi.  But we shared Jesus with them despite the language, despite the heat that was threatening to leave us all in puddles on the dirt floor.  (Of course, the Guatemalans have yet to break a sweat and are merely dabbing their foreheads while we are practically wringing out our clothes.)

Explaining the parachute game

We eventually made our way outside, beyond the stifling heat of the church.  We separated the children into small groups, doing our best to explain how to make the craft.  It essentially was a game of charades, pointing at beads, demonstrating knots, smiling, nodding, approving as best we knew how.  I think some of the kids probably wondered who these crazy white women were and what they were saying.

And trying to explain a game to a group of kids who had never seen a parachute before?  Yeah, you should have seen that one in action.  We pulled out a parachute we had, inflated some beach balls and set out to gather the kids around.  They really had no idea what we were trying to get them to do so here we are attempting to demonstrate the concept, looking like awkward fools.

And as we stood there, proclaiming Christ and loving people in simple ways, I just kept thinking, "This surely is what heaven will look like."  This is what it looks like for every knee to bow and every tongue to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.  Someday when I get to heaven it won't matter the language.  I won't need to translate what I speak into Spanish and from Spanish to Kekchi.  It won't matter the skin color.  It won't matter the background.  It won't matter the family.  It won't matter the hurt.  It won't matter the disease.  It won't matter the nation or geography.  It won't matter the age and it won't matter the ability.  Because we will all bow before a mighty and holy God and confess that he is worthy of all glory, honor and praise.

But until that day - we speak to nations.

We speak to nations - be open.

We speak to nations - fall on your knees.

We speak to nations - the kingdom is coming near to you.

We speak to nations - be free.

In Our Expert Opinions

  

I wouldn't say that I am deathly afraid of spiders, small rodents or other creepy-crawlies.

It turns out I am delusional.

Our team of eight women had been in Guatemala for a few days already by the time last Wednesday rolled around.  We had spent Saturday and Sunday traveling, Monday was a prep day, Tuesday was spent in the school and then a remote village.  So by the time we hit Wednesday we thought we had been initiated into all that comes along with being in remote parts of foreign lands, mainly things like finding spiders in your shoes and killing enough no-see-ums (evil bugs) to last a lifetime.

It also turns out we were delusional.

We were wrapping things up for the night.  We had done our debriefing, had devotions and were heading back to our rooms.  You can see in the picture that the place we were staying was basically a thatched roof and all of the doors opened to the exterior.  (The bedrooms were all enclosed and had drop ceilings, so it's not like our rooms opened up straight into the thatched roof.)  I was the first to walk back down the exterior walkway, looking forward to crawling into bed and crashing for the night.  I got past the first door when I noticed a rather dark blotch on the side of the window frame.  The lights were dim so I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking at.

And then I got closer and realized I was looking at one hairy spider, seeming rather tarantula-like. I made an immediate u-turn and headed back to the group to warn them of our visitor.

The picture does not do it justice.  It was a baby tarantula
in our expert opinions.

So, of course, being women, we all gathered around, trying to get close but not too close.  I know, we do weird things.  We're terrified of the blasted thing but we still want to get close enough to get pictures.

And, of course, being women, we had to figure out how to kill the thing pronto.

And, of course, being women, we found the biggest can of bug spray we could find and unloaded about half of it on this spider.

He slowly slid his way down the wall and by the time he got to the floor, he was still going strong.  So we sprayed some more.  He kept inching along, fighting his way through the flood of bug spray.  We sprayed some more.  I didn't think this sucker was ever going to die.  And if he did, it would probably be our luck that he would come back from the dead.  

The black, round little blob is the dead spider.

Jill, being our resident bug zapper, whipped off her flip flop with the intent to just smash the thing and deliver the final blow.  And in my head I'm thinking, "Jill...I really don't think you want that thing all over the bottom of your shoe.  This is not some itty-bitty mosquito we are talking about crushing here."  Because there won't be just a little blood spatter by the time you get done killing this thing.  You'll need a stick to scrape this thing off.  So I told her to grab a rock.  

Which she did.  And then she dropped it on top of him.  Direct hit.  The rock proceeded to shatter all over the place, but thankfully when we removed a few chunks and unearthed the spider, he was curled up on his back, sufficiently dead. You lose.

But wait!  The story doesn't end there.

So we took a moment to regroup after our minor spider mishap.  We were all back standing up at the top of the stairs.  I decided I was going to brave another attempt to get back to my room and crawl into bed.  I was practically holding my breath, hoping nothing else would come out of the shadows.

I made it back to our door - and for whatever strange reason, I hesitated, just standing there before I opened it, staring at the door.  I then heard this slight rustling noise.  My immediate response was, "Dear Lord, please don't let anything come falling out of the rafters on top of me."

It didn't come out of the rafters but it sure came out of the shadows.  This rather smallish rat/extra extra large mouse came scrambling out of the shadows of my door frame.

I don't think I have ever screamed, jumped or scrambled so loud, so high or so fast in my life.

Which then precipitated a wave of correlating screams from the other seven women.  And I'm not even sure they knew what they were screaming about.  They just heard me screaming and saw me running.

At this point, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Cara was nearly beside herself in tears.  I think Karen was ready to pack her bags or at least sleep in a sealed container for the night.  And I'm honestly not sure how the rest of the women responded because I was too busy laughing hysterically out of nervous fear and adrenaline.

It's at this point that we see the lights from the mission house come on.  Out comes poor Karren, one of the Mission2Guatemala staff members, to check on us and make sure we were all still alive.  I'm sure with the amount of screaming we did, it was easy to think one of us had died or had at least been abducted.  We rehashed what happened and I think she was looking at us like we had lost our minds, especially when we showed her pictures of the spiders.  I swear it was bigger in real life than what the pictures indicate.  But being the polite, kind woman that she is, she humored us and checked our room for any creepy crawlies, four-legged creatures, or any other member of God's creation.

When I was telling the gathering of pastors' wives the next day about our little escapade, they, too, laughed and thought we were crazy and maybe slightly overreacting.  I liken it to the moment when a parent has a child who is overreacting and they want to pat the kid on the head and say in a slightly patronizing tone, "There, there.  It will all be okay."  I suppose if we had been in the South, they would have all just smiled sweetly at us and said, "Bless your little hearts."  

And since being home, I have killed two spiders.  They are no baby tarantulas, but at this point, I don't care.  They're dead.                  

To Bend Low in Order to Lift High

Some of the women walked two or three hours on well-worn paths, making their way from remote parts of Guatemala.

Some of the women left at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning, searching their way through thick brush in the pre-dawn hours.

Some of the women carried babies wrapped in slings strapped to their heads or across their shoulders.

It's unfathomable to me the effort these women made to come see us.  They were all wives of pastors who served various districts of the Nazarene Church in Guatemala.  One of the Guatemalan women said she had been dreaming of this day, the day when all of the pastors' wives could have their own gathering and fellowship together, not just their husbands.

And somehow we got the awesome privilege to be a part of that dream, of that long-ago prayer.

About 21 ladies streamed off the mission's bus, after having been picked up in the nearby city of Chisec.  They came loaded with nursing babies and nothing but flip flops on their feet and the traditional Guatemalan skirt and top.  Whispered "holas" and timid hugs were shared between our team of eight women and these new-found friends.  They found their seats and we quickly found space for their babies in our arms.  They worked on some of the crafts we provided for them and we found out how just terrible our Spanish was.  They leaned back in uncertainty and we pressed in with confidence.  Confidence rooted in the fact that God had not forgotten them - and that we had come to remind them.  

They had come to receive and we had to come to give.  To give blessings, to give encouragement, to give rest.

So often, the women in Guatemala are seen simply as baby-makers and nothing more.  They have little value in the culture and their worth is rarely spoken of.  So when our team was tapped to facilitate a women's time, we jumped at the chance.  We gathered together goodies and supplies we were going to hand out to them - potato peelers, dish towels, bath towels, flip flops, hair brushes, bars of soap, Spanish Bibles, and the list goes on.  We prepped a full lunch of chili, baked potatoes, fresh fruit, fresh bread and chocolate cake. But above all, we wanted to convey to them a message of encouragement and hope, to remind them that they were not forgotten.

And in a world of calloused, scarred feet, thready sandals and dirt-covered toes, we did what anyone would do -

We washed their feet.

Just as Jesus had commanded in John 13, we washed the precious feet of these Guatemala women.  We bent low so they could be lifted high - so Jesus could be lifted high.  I think they were a little stunned we were willing to do such a thing.  We spoke of the story in John, reminding them this was what Jesus had commanded us to do.  And we told them we were not American women coming to them as Guatemalan women.  We were simply coming to them as women ministering to women, living out the gospel as best we knew how.

We divided up into teams of two with four stations.  We gathered small groups of women around our buckets of water and snow white towels.  They gently slipped their well-worn feet out of their well-worn sandals.  We tenderly rinsed with fresh water and we dried with white towels that would soon become muddied with the dirt from distant roads and winding paths.  The Spanish version of Kari Jobe's song "I Know That You Are For Me" played quietly in the background. 

I know that God is for these Guatemalan women.  

He is for me.

I nearly wept over the feet of these women as I dried them, remembering Mary as she wept over the feet of Jesus.  These women who had walked so far to see us, who carried babies on their backs and scars on their feet.  And maybe a few scars on their hearts.  The whole thing was just so overwhelming to me as I sat at their feet, feeling so completely humbled and at a loss.  It almost seemed absurd the grace given in that moment.

And because He is for us, we bent low and washed these precious women's feet.  They would later do introductions, telling us where they lived and how far they had come.  And then they would thank us, thank us for the reminder of Jesus washing the disciples' feet, thank us for the many blessings of goodies we had handed out.  And I wanted to stand up in the middle of it all and protest, to shout at them that we had done nothing to deserve their thanks.

When we had come to give, we found out we had received instead.  Shouldn't we be the ones giving thanks, asking them instead how we could repay them?  We had set out to wash their feet - and we had - but we found out our own souls had been washed as well in the process.

Isn't that how it always goes?  You come to be the blessing only to find out you are the one who has been blessed.

And you find out you can never repay God for his overwhelming grace that gets displayed in situations like this.

There will be many more stories to come from Guatemala.  Our team was there for a total of 8 days - 4 of which were spent getting to Chisec, but the remaining 4 were still packed full of Jesus and more of Jesus.  And it will be like any other trip I've taken - it takes time to decompress and to put into words all that we saw, all that we felt.  But this story - the one of washing the feet of these women - it couldn't wait.  The image of their freshly washed feet will be forever seared onto my brain and the reminder that sometimes you have to bend low in order to lift high others will not be quickly forgotten.                

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All Things Books

I was on the hunt for the perfect book.  One that I could cut up and basically destroy.  All in the name of love and weddings and friends.

I had the privilege of hosting my friend Alexanne's wedding shower yesterday and I decided to ixnay the usual ho-hum wedding theme and go for one that was uniquely Alex. Book-themed, of course!  The girl loves all things books.  That's probably why we are such good friends.  I think we could sit and talk about books all day.  I drafted the invitations to look like the old library card catalog cards from way back when we didn't have anything saved on a computer.

  

I asked each guest to bring with them their favorite book to give to Alex as a gift to add to her own personal library.  I included a bookplate in the invitation so that they could easily write her a note and then include it in the cover of the book.  This way she would have a personal note from each person, but also have something from everybody at the shower that was uniquely them.  I like it when practicality meets meaningful gifts.

I kept the decorations fairly minimal, but I was inspired by some posts on Pinterest that included the pages of old books used as decor.  I liked the idea and thought I could easily find a book that I could cut up and use the pages.  This is when my hunt for the perfect book to destroy began. It turns out it was harder than I imagined.  I made a pit stop at the thrift store and as I was thumbing through the 25 cent options, I found myself starting to have a mild dose of anxiety because I suddenly realized I wasn't sure I could bring myself to cut up a perfectly good book.  I originally was aiming for a book that would be highly symbolic and meaningful to Alex.  I found Knowledge of the Holy by Tozer, but when I pulled it off the shelf, the anxiety escalated and then I knew for sure I couldn't cut up a perfectly good book.  

Which means I needed to find a perfectly bad book that I had no emotional connection to and felt no guilt over destroying.  

I settled for Tales from Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett.  I'm sorry, Jimmy.  Don't take it personally. It was all in the name of love, weddings and friends.       

I took poor Jimmy's book and cut it up into a series of pennants and then used mini clothespins to hang the pages from a string of twine.  I draped it across the fireplace and then along the cupboards in the kitchen.  I went for all things colorful, so the pennant book pages were coupled with solid-colored pennants and then all of my tableware and utensils were bright colors - kelly green plates, aqua napkins, orange and yellow forks, pink cups yellow cupcake wrappers and lots of bright flowers.  The more color the better in my world.    

I also then pulled off a lot of my own personal books from the shelves and used those as centerpieces.  I stacked them up, stuck some brightly colored flowers in mason jars, scattered some of the extra pennant book pages and voila - a centerpiece that makes for a great conversation starter.  I highlighted a few of the books by sticking popsicle sticks in them with a flag on them that said "Alex's favorites."  This way people got a chance to peruse a few books that Alex enjoys, learn a little bit more about her and chat about whether anybody else had read some of the books stacked up.

I am not a big fan of bridal shower games, so I decided to spare everybody and opt for a slight alternative.  Since everybody was bringing a copy of their favorite book, I put them in a big stack and told Alex that in order for her to open any gifts, she had to guess who had brought the book.  And then the person who brought it had to explain why it was their favorite.  Turns out Alex knows her friends and family quite well as she got a vast majority of them right on the first try.  The collection ranged from Bossypants by Tina Fey to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis to To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee - and a whole lot of other titles in between.  It was fun to see what each person brought and why the book had been significant to them.

And because it's a book-themed bridal shower, of course the favor has to be a book!  I found copies of Gary Thomas' book Sacred Marriage super cheap so I bought a copy for each guest and wrapped those up in tissue paper and tagged each one with a bookmark I had embossed with each guest's name. 

All in all, I was delighted with how things turned out.  Sometimes I surprise even myself.  Here's to you, Alex, and your book newly acquired book collection.  May they keep you company for years to come.  Just not so much company that you forget Jed exists.  ;)    

One Year Later

It's hard to believe a year has already passed.  I've been reflecting on a lot of anniversaries in recent months - the passing of a friend, the ending of a dating relationship, the beginning of my walk with Christ - and now I look back on my return trip to Kenya, one year ago tomorrow.

With the passing of time has come an overwhelming sense of confirmation regarding my decision to return to Kenya - and to quit my job here in the States in order to stay longer in Nairobi.  There have been no doubts and there has been no second-guessing that decision.  I would do the exact same thing over again if I had the chance.  I was right where I needed to be, even though none of it made any sense at the time.  I felt like I was living in a cloud of confusion, entirely unsure of which way was up, entirely unsure of my what next steps needed to be.  But with time has come gracious clarity.  God has been faithful to pull back the curtain just a tiny bit and help me understand all that happened in such rapid succession last summer.  And for that I am oh so grateful.

I am reminded of Kenya at various times.  I mince garlic and I think of Kenya.  I eat rice and think of Kenya.  I pull Hannah's note out of my Bible and think of Kenya.  I read Ann Voskamp's blog and I think of Kenya.  I eat kale and I think of Kenya.  I buy supplies for an upcoming trip to Guatemala and I think of Kenya, oddly enough.  So many reminders of it scattered throughout equally scattered moments of my life. 

I don't know what it looks like to return to Kenya someday - or anywhere in Africa for that matter.  I know my heart doesn't ache quite like it used to, burning with a desire to set foot on the red clay of Africa again.  And I don't always know what that means, why that feeling has faded.  I know I'll probably go back some day, in some fashion.  I just don't know when and I don't know the reasons why just yet.

But in the meantime, I look back over this past year and marvel.  Marvel at the goodness of God and a time in a faraway land I will forever cherish.          

"A wise man once said that the problem with visiting Africa is that you feel forever an exile after you have left."   - Mark C. Ross

Here I Raise My Ebenezer

"Then Samuel took a stone...he named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far has the LORD helped us.'"  1 Samuel 7:12

Thus far has the Lord helped me.  

This coming Friday, I will raise my own Ebenezer and say, "Thus far the Lord has helped me."  Friday marks 15 years of choosing to follow Christ, of choosing to believe he is worthy of my devotion.  

I remember the moment as if it just happened.  I was standing in the pavilion at Camp Kirkwood in southwestern Ohio.  I had a red track shirt on that I had from running track in middle school.  I had a black pair of soccer shorts on and a really crappy pair of black and red Nike shoes which my family had been begging me to get rid of.  The night's presenters were teaching about the importance of running the race of faith, basing it on 1 Corinthians 9:24-27.  They had several volunteers, myself included, come up and represent the different types of people who run the race.    There are the runners that are standing at the starting line - the race has started but they are just kind of wandering aimlessly.  There are the ones who have also entered the race, but they have so much baggage and so many chains wrapped around themselves they can't even begin to run.  There are those that are just flat out running in the complete opposite direction, far, far away from the finish line.  And then there are the ones who are running the race wholeheartedly, with their eyes fixed on the finish line, fixed on Jesus.

I was picked to represent that last person.

And I remember thinking, "I am the last person who should be standing up here to represent that person."  I was doing anything but running the race.  I was so full of hypocrisy and double-mindedness.  And in that moment, this sudden dawning came over my small teenage mind: I can never bridge the gap.  I can never get from here to God apart from Christ.  I am nothing without Him.  All of my vain attempts, all of my striving, so desperately trying to get my act together in my own strength - it's all futile.  And in that moment, I bowed low and said, "I am yours."

Grace waving farewell.

And while I celebrate the sovereignty and grace of God over these last 15 years, these reflections were made even sweeter when this past Sunday I dropped my own niece, Grace, off to the very same camp, nearly 15 years to the day.  It's her first time to go to Kirkwood, to be away from her family for an entire week, to be on her own.  As my brother Jeremy, Grace and I all drove down to Kirkwood, Jeremy and I swapped stories and rehashed memories, giving Grace tips - things like keep your elbows off the table or they'll make you sing.  Or stay away from the boys' camp.  Or just stay away from boys all together.  Or don't take food into the cabins unless you want critters sleeping with you.  See, Jeremy was there as well the night I accepted Christ, serving as a counselor.  I remember being a sobbing mess in the moment and when I finally bothered to look up and make my way out of the building, I was desperate to find him, to give him a hug.  All the more sweeter then, to come full circle, to set foot on this cherished ground over a decade later, to have my brother back in that same place with me again but then to send my niece off, his daughter, the next generation.  I want her to encounter the same Jesus I met at Kirkwood all those years ago.  He is still alive.  He still sits on his throne.  He still welcomes sinners.

And I still raise my Ebenezer to Him.  Thus far the Lord has helped me.

Thank you, Marshall Segal

As I've mentioned before, this season of life has been all too-sweet for me.  Not because it has been without hard moments, but because it has been so satisfying.  Like deep-down-in-your-gut kind of satisfying.  I'm not one of those girls who laments being single.  I love being single.  And I'm sure one day I'll love being married.    They both have their benefits.  But I don't mourn being single.  I don't wish it away and I don't resent it.  It just is.  And I'm going to enjoy it in the meantime and soak it up.

Marshall Segal echoed those thoughts in his latest blog post on the Desiring God blog.  I think he spoke a lot of wisdom and a lot of truth for those that are not-yet-married.  I remember Jason Illian saying in his book Undressed: Singleness is not a disease and marriage is not the cure.  Amen to that.  Enjoy Marshall's blog and be encouraged, those who are not-yet-married.

If you’re single, Satan is after you.

Okay, he’s after all of us, but there are some unique dangers in singleness — especially in unwanted singleness. He loves to deceive and discourage single people in the church and derail our devotion and ministry. But God intends to use you, your faith, your time, and your singleness in radical ways right now, as you are.

You might come away from a reading of 1 Corinthians 7 with two categories in mind: those who will live, serve, and die single and those who must marry. Paul sings singleness’s praises, listing the spiritual benefits of being spouse-free. The single life can be (relatively) free from relational anxieties (7:32), worldly distractions (7:33), and wide open for worship, devotion, and ministry (7:35). So, Paul concludes, skip the ceremony, literally, and enjoy “your undivided devotion to the Lord.”

Most say, “More power to you, Paul… but I’m getting married.” Maybe temptation overwhelms you, and you need a God-honoring way to satisfy that longing (7:2). Maybe it’s abundantly clear that you need a helper to carry out God’s call on your life (or it’s abundantly clear to others that you do). Maybe you want to have kids and realized that you need help with that. Maybe you just have a deep, undeniable desire for a loving, committed companion. In each case, it is good for you to get married.

While it may seem like two categories at first, we soon discover in application that there are three: the single, the married, and the not-yet married. After all, as any single person knows, a desire for marriage does not a marriage make. My hope in reflecting on Paul’s words is to restore hope and ambition in the hearts of the not-yet married and set them solidly on mission in their singleness.
All Dressed Up and Everywhere to Go

Perhaps the greatest temptation in singleness is to assume marriage will meet our unmet needs, solve our weaknesses, organize our lives, and unleash our gifts. Far from the solution, Paul makes marriage out to be a kind of problematic Plan B of Christian life and ministry. Marry if you must, but be warned, following Jesus is not easier when you join yourself to another sinner in a fallen world.

While marriage may bring joy, help, and relief in certain areas, it immediately multiplies your distractions because you’re intimately responsible for this other person, his or her needs, dreams, and growth. It’s a high calling and a good calling, but a demanding one that will keep you from all kinds of other good things.

Therefore, for the not-yet married, our (temporary) singleness is a gift. It really is. If God leads you to marriage, you may never again know a time like the one you’re in right now. A season of singleness is not merely the minor leagues of marriage. It has the potential to be a unique period of undivided devotion to Christ and undistracted ministry to others.

With the Spirit in you and the calendar clear, God has given you the means to make a lasting difference for his kingdom. You’re all dressed up, having every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places (Ephesians 1:3), with literally everywhere to go.

With God’s help and leading, you have the freedom to invest yourself, your time, your resources, your youth, and your flexibility in relationships, ministries, and causes that can bear unbelievable fruit.

So, here are eight suggestions for making the most of your not-yet married life.

1. Avoid Trading Marital Distractions for Other Distractions
Paul may have been right about our freedom from spousal concerns, but in an iPhone, iPad, iPod, whatever iWant world, single people never have trouble finding their share of diversions. In fact, if you’re like me, you crave diversion and tend to default there, whether it’s SportsCenter, Downton Abbey, working out, fancy eating, endless blogging and blog-reading, surveying social media, or conquering the latest game. We might call it resting, but too often it looks, smells, and sounds a lot like we’re wasting our singleness.

“Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). Everything just mentioned can be done for God’s glory, and it all can be a dangerous distraction from it. If you deny the latter, you may need to put down the smartphone, controller, or treadmill.

Look for ways Satan might be undermining your mission with short and simple pleasures. You may not need to eliminate it, but limit it and look for ways to welcome others into your life through it. Be creative and make disciples over college basketball, cooking, or Call of Duty, rather than going AWOL from God’s mission because of them.

2. Say “Yes” to the Spontaneous
It’s just a fact, marriage murders spontaneity — not entirely, but massively. If you haven’t learned this yet, I doubt any of your (formerly spontaneous) friends have gotten married.

One of your greatest spiritual gifts as a single person is your “Yes.” Yes to a random phone conversation. Yes to coffee. Yes to help with the move. Yes to stepping in when someone’s sick. Yes to a late-night movie or the special event downtown. You have the unbelievable freedom to say yes when married people can’t even ask the question. When the spouse doesn’t exist, you can’t hurt them with your selfless, impulsive decisions. Be willing to say Yes! and bless others, even when you don’t always feel like it.

3. Practice Selflessness While You’re Still Alone
“Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Philippians 2:3–4 will only get harder in marriage, so practice now.

Think of a couple people or families for whom you could lay down your single life. No one is expecting you to care and provide for others right now — no one, that is, except for God. So be mindful of the needs of others, especially those in the church, and consider contributing. It could be money or food or just time and energy. Maybe especially time and energy. Regardless of your paycheck, you have been given much. Spend it wisely and liberally on the needs of others.

Financially, you’re supporting just one person. Sure, save modestly for days when you’ll need more, but while you wait, look for ways to provide for others. While you’re not buying groceries for five, dinner for two, and endless diapers, budget to bless and develop attitudes and habits of sacrifice for others. It will serve your future spouse immensely and make Jesus shine beautifully to those around you in the meantime.

4. Do Radical, Time-Consuming Things for God
Just as you are free to say yes to more spontaneous things, you’re also able to say yes to things that require more of you than a married person can afford. Dream bigger, more costly dreams. Start a daily prayer meeting or some regular outreach. Commit to multiple discipleship relationships. Organize a new Christ-centered community service project. Do all of the above. You’d be surprised, with God’s Spirit in you and a resolve to spend your singleness well, how much you and your single friends are truly capable of, especially when you dream and work together.

Be radical, but not reckless. The idea is not to spread yourself dangerously thin, so make decisions prayerfully and in community with people who love you and can tell you, “No.” My perception, however, is that most not-yet-married believers can afford to give or do more than they are.

5. Spend Time with Married People
The longer you’re not-yet-married, the more time you have to learn about marriage from other people’s successes and failures. While you can’t avoid your own set of marital missteps and sins, you certainly can increase the odds of successes, small and large, by being a good student beforehand.

Look for opportunities to be a regular part of a married person’s life and family. If you’re not around enough to see any ugliness or messiness, perhaps you’re not around enough. Don’t impose on people, but don’t be afraid to initiate the conversation, either. It could be as simple as having lunch with them after church on Sundays. Make it easy for them to say yes by being a willing and eager servant. Offer to babysit on date night or help with yard work or bring a meal when one of the kids goes down sick.

Then be a student. Watch carefully. Ask questions. Take notes on what to imitate. In all your observations, be humble and gracious (if you could see your future marriage, this would be less of an issue). As our minds and hearts are being shaped by Scripture for marriage, we need examples of flawed but faithful marriages. These kinds of ongoing relationships make the principles and lessons real and repeatable.

6. Spend Time with Not-Yet Married People
While married people provide an important perspective and example, you need people in your life who are experiencing the same feelings, longings, and temptations you are. You should find and invest in people who are asking the same questions as you and also seeking to make the most of this unique season of singleness for Jesus’s sake.

Think about it, though he was never married, Paul did most of his ministry with someone. Find the trusted, gifted, and mission-minded friends in your life and be accountable to one another to make your not-yet married life matter for the kingdom. Following Christ was never meant to be done alone, even when you’re single.

7. Find a Fiancé on the Front Lines
Instead of making it your mission to get married, make your mission God’s global cause and the advance of the gospel where you are, and look for someone pursuing the same. If you’re hoping to marry someone who passionately loves Jesus and makes him known, it’s probably best to put yourself in a community of people committed to that.

Join a small group, not just a group of single Christians, but one actively on mission together. Get plugged into a ministry in your church that’s engaging the lost in the local community. Focus on the harvest, and you’re bound to find a helper.

8. While You Wait, Hope in Jesus More Than Marriage
Make it true first. Spend lots of time satisfying your soul in all that God has become for you in Jesus. Then be bold to say it when all anyone wants to talk about is your love life. “So, any women in your life these days?” “Are the two of you an item?” “She’s a really great girl. What do you think about her?” “Would you be willing to go on a date with my wife’s cousin’s roommate’s brother?” Married people have lines, too.

Use the awkward small talk as an opportunity to point them to the Groom who purchased your eternal happiness whether in life or in death, in sickness or in health, whether in matrimony or “on the market.”

So when you feel lonely or discouraged in your singleness, remember that if you’re saved, you’re sent. Instead of waiting until your wedding day to get about the work, make the most of this not-yet-married life.

New Favorite Hobby

I think my new favorite hobby may be embossing things.  I have had this painting in my head for months now (probably since last November) and when I tried to hand-write the quote on it, it just didn't look right.  I had never embossed anything before, but I knew in order to get the look right, I would need to figure out how to do it. So I bought some slow-drying ink and embossing powder, thinking I could get away with just using a blow dryer to apply the heat.  Nope.  Needed to find a legit heat gun.  So I've been on the hunt to find a cheap one.  Thank you, JoAnn Fabrics, for having an awesome sale today because I finally found one on sale.  Cost me a whopping $10.  Watched a few how-to videos on YouTube and we are good to go.

I came home and pulled the painting out.  I had already painted the background and the gold lines, it just needed the quote added. I hand-stamped the letters, dumped some embossing powder on it, shook off the excess and applied heat. Voilà.  Okay, so some of my letters and lines are crooked, but in this instance I don't care because I am so jazzed about the final product and the fact that I didn't do something crazy like burn a hole through the canvas on my first attempt.   

This stuff is magic.  And I might be obsessed.  

  

One of my very favorite quotes from The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien originally wrote it in
Return of the King, but when Peter Jackson made the movies, he put it in
The Two Towers.  But who cares.  I love the line either way.

In No Mood for Words

Oddly enough, I have not been in much of a mood to write as of late.  This is a strange occurrence that happens every so often when I am just fresh out of quasi-witty, quasi-profound thoughts or stories to tell.  It can be a bit distressing at times.  I guess you could call it writer's block.  I could probably just call it laziness some days.  I do, however, have pictures and those often more than make up for lack of words.  So, in lieu of words this week, I give you my life recently in photos:

One of the groomsmen in Jeremy and Emily's wedding recommended
I read The Silmarillion by Tolkien.  I'm just wondering how long it will
take me.  The Lord of the Rings trilogy took me about 3-4 months.
Give me about a year and then ask me how far I made it through this book.

Yes, this would be my cousin Christian with Bob Goff at the
Love Does Stuff Conference in Tacoma, Washington last week.
I'm not jealous.

And yes, this would be Christian again with Donald Miller at the
Love Does Stuff Conference.  And again, I am not jealous.  

Christian was kind enough to pick up signed copies of Love Does and
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years for me at the conference, two of
my very favorite books.  The jealousy mildly eased. 

I bought a box set of Passion City Church DVDs.
Thank you, Louie Giglio, for ruining my prayer my life.  I now have no idea
how to pray and I ding myself every time I find myself starting to pray
"Lord, bless this...watch over and protect me...be with me..."  But that's how it should, I suppose.
That I would not mindlessly pray to the God of the universe.
  "Boys Meets Girl" is solid wisdom.  "Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness!"
Haven't watched the others yet.  

My niece Sophie and her dad/my brother Jeremy working on the pulling tractor.
Just by the looks of Sophie that day you would have thought she had spent
more time working on the tractor than the boys did. Grease stains on her
hands. Oil stains down her shirt.  Dirt smudges on her cheeks. Happy as can be.  

I was going back through journals last week. I found this on the very
first page of the first journal I have.  I think we got resolutions 2-4 covered, thankfully.
It's the first and the last ones we are still working on.  Sixteen years later. Obviously
I have never been good at resolutions.  That's probably why I don't make them anymore.

My latest commissioned art project per my sister-in-law's request.
I'd say with 4 kids and baby #5 on the way, that's a fair statement to
make in their household.

Prep list for what, you might ask? Guatemala, silly!  My next overseas
adventure will take me to the hotter-than-blue-blazes location of Guatemala.
I'm headed there in August for a week with a trip my church is taking.  It will be strange
going overseas for only a week.  Packing will be a breeze!

That's all I have for now.  When I find some words worth putting down you'll be the first to know.  Thank you to the 12 people who routinely read this blog and sometimes find me funny.  You do wonders for my self-esteem, even on weeks when I have no words.  

Sweeter Seasons

Some seasons of life are just too sweet to not relish and revel in.  This has been one of those seasons for me.  Maybe not in its entirety, but at least in parts.  

I was re-reading journals from one year ago and I was so overwhelmed by the extravagant grace God had lavished on my life.  It's absurd, really.  I look back over entries from a year ago - a lot of uncertainty about a lot of things, praying for Jesus to show up. Man, did he ever.  And in ways that I didn't even recognize in the moment, but now see so clearly in hindsight.  In my job.  In my adventures to Kenya.  In relationships.  In dreams.  Every prayer I had written down from a year ago, he had clearly answered.     

One reason this season has been so sweet and tender for me is because I have been given a front row seat to the unfolding love stories of three very important women in my life.  I have never been one to be prone to a lot of loneliness or to ever really resent being single.  But that's not to say that I wouldn't hope to someday be married.  It's just that my identity and purpose in life do not hinge on that event.  Whether God ordains some man to come along and be my partner or not will not diminish my pursuit of Him.  But the hard moments have come nonetheless when I would watch other people's stories unfolding and think, "Why them and not me?"  The bitterness and resentment would creep in and I'd find myself forgetting all that God had bestowed upon me. Utter foolishness.  One time in particular was especially difficult.  I watched God pour out blessing after blessing after blessing on one friend.  And I almost missed it all.  I sometimes got so bound up in my own little mind, comparing myself to her, that I nearly missed the opportunity and the privilege to simply celebrate with her and alongside her.  I vowed to never miss opportunities like that again, to not get so consumed by what I didn't have and miss what I did have.  

So in this season when I have a string of friends getting engaged and married, not an ounce of resentment or jealousy has risen in my heart because Jesus has set me free.  Free to celebrate with these amazing women.  Free to enjoy them and to celebrate their stories.  Free to serve them and encourage them in dating, engagement, in marriage.  Just simply free.  Such sweetness and gratitude over that fact.

I was honored to serve as a bridesmaid in my dear friend Emily's wedding a week ago.  And I loved it.  I loved standing up on that stage and hear her singing "in Christ alone, my hope is found..."  Because I know what Em has been through.  We've walked through a lot of seasons together, a lot of seasons of singleness, and I know what the good days have looked like and I know what the bad days have looked like.  I know the smiley days and I know the ugly-cry days.  I know the hope and the longing for someone else to enter into our fears and insecurities and to say "You don't have to face this alone anymore..."  I know when she sings those words, she may be holding the hand of a man she is absolutely wild about, but she is still confidently saying that in Christ alone her hope is found.  

These are the seasons and the friends and the stories I don't want to miss.  What sweet freedom is found in Him.