Disgusted, I looked down into the sink to see dozens of beady eyes staring back at me. My pride told me I was above this task and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. When I first saw the fish, I hopefully picked up a head of cabbage to chop - but to no avail - I was told the fish needed to be finished first.
This month in Malaysia, we’ve been working at several ministries - one of our favorites being a kitchen serving the homeless on the island of Penang. The characters we’ve met over rice and curry prep are already etched into our hearts - gentle Uncle Ben, who pours his love into each plate that leaves the kitchen. John John - always smiling with a heart of gold - and our Warrior Princess, a 80 year old lady who comes into the center every single time it’s open to volunteer her time. And who could forget Timmy - the homeless man I talk to after lunch, who isn’t a Christian yet, but is so close - who tells me hard stories of life living on the streets in Malaysia but leaves with peace in his heart.
Back to the fish - I was starting to be overwhelmed with the amount of fish I needed to prepare. Chop off their heads, at an angle so you also pull out their hearts - for someone who doesn’t like to eat fish in the first place, it was the stuff of nightmares. I walked to the bathroom, eyes stinging, and took my time carefully washing my hands - anything to get away from the task at hand.
“Lord, I understand you’re trying to humble me through this task. I know even Jesus washed his disciple’s feet. He was a carpenter - I’m sure he did many menial jobs during that time. I know you’re trying to teach me something through this - and I can do it. I just ask you to send someone to help me. I can’t get through it alone.” All my other teammates were assigned to different duties other than the kitchen that day - and even the Malaysians Uncle Ben asked to help me wrinkled their noses in disgust before slowly backing away from the fishy sink.
But the Lord answered my prayer! In walked Prema - a beautiful friend I’d made earlier in the month. She asked if I needed help, and I readily agreed. Now gutting fish turned into a thing of joy - fish jokes made way for giggles and uproarious laughter as we worked on our task, that seemed to keep going and going. There were so many fish!
Finally, after four bags of fish heads were taken away and several hundred fish had been gutted, Prema said, “We’re almost done! Check the sink!” A check revealed that there were only about ten fish left in the sink. We can knock that out in no time! But as we finished those fish and I reached my hand back in the sink, I was shocked to find the sink FULL of fish. Where were they coming from? Again and again, the sink seemed to empty of fish, then - miraculously - fill itself up.
“This sounds familiar” - Prema said - “Multiplying fish!” I couldn’t believe my own eyes but that’s exactly what was happening. At the end of the day, we gutted close to one thousand fish. Each person in the homeless shelter was able to eat as many fish as they wanted - many came back for seconds and thirds. We were all praising Jesus with big smiles and full bellies. And even after that feast - we still had a huge bowlful left over and were able to share the blessing with another homeless shelter in town. I can’t even believe the story even as I type it. I’m so thankful the Lord took my prideful hands and used me to perform His miracle.
I didn’t want to teach that class. It was the last week of ministry in Cambodia at the seminary where we had been teaching. I wanted to teach Bible memorization, the easy class I taught most frequently, but two of my teammates had already signed up to teach it. The only class left on the signup sheet was a writing class. “I don’t know anything about writing, Jesus, but help me through it!” I prayed. Actually, that’s been my prayer many days on the race.
About an hour before the class, with the help of a friend, I jotted out a quick outline of what I could teach. The art of storytelling - that’s something I know a little about. I can throw in a few nuggets of wisdom from my career and experience in sharing stories, I thought.
Then the class began, and something weird happened. Words I didn’t know were in my head were on my lips. All of a sudden, I was on fire with a speech about how everyone has a story worth telling, and how everyone should tell their stories. I had bullet points and Bible verses to back my speech up. I told the students how their stories are powerful, how it can encourage and inspire others. How it can show God’s love, the depth of His grace for us, how it can reveal more of who God is. I told them how to tell their stories - how to first pray and ask God to reveal the parts of their stories he wanted them to tell. How they should be bold and courageous and lastly, that they should be vulnerable because others may share their same struggles.
The lesson I taught the students was great - but there was just one problem. These were not thoughts I’d had before the class. These were thoughts and words that were spontaneously popping into my heart and mind as I said them. I was shocked and amazed at the turn the class had taken that day - I truly believe that day I was strictly a conduit for letting the Holy Spirit move in that classroom.
Then something incredible happened. Three students stood up and shared their stories, their testimonies, with the rest of the classroom. Most of the students were first generation Christians - almost all had grown up in Buddhist households and becoming Christians had been a huge step out in faith. I encouraged them to share their stories with their families and I asked them if they wanted to pray for their families and we stood up and prayed one of the most powerful prayers I’ve ever been a part of. The World Race teaches you how to “warrior prayer” which is when everyone prays out loud at once - and Cambodians know how to warrior pray like I’ve never seen. Each student was boldly asking God to change the hearts of their parents, sisters, and brothers. At one point I looked around at the students and saw that several of them, including the men, were wiping tears from their eyes.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for allowing me to be the message bearer on that day for your children in Cambodia.
"... and he whispers to your heart to let it go and to be alive."
This weekend, my team took a four hour long bus ride to the beach (it only cost $5! World Race budget style :)) and are staying at these cute little bungalows right on the Gulf of Thailand.
Something a little strange happened when we checked in yesterday. We have a ton of girls piled into one room and not enough beds for each of us, so I planned on sleeping in my hammock. I asked the nice woman at the reception desk if that would be safe and she didn't understand my question. However, a minute later she explained that we really needed to lock up all of our belongings and be very careful to not leave things laying around because, she explained with wild eyes, of "the man in the jungle" - and pointed to the jungle beside us. She explained, in broken English that she had seen him just yesterday and that he caused "many problems."
After what happened to me in Durban (see my blog post about getting robbed), I take things like weirdos hanging out in the woods seriously. Fear gripped me when I thought about sleeping in my hammock, something that had brought me tremendous joy in the past. Before before getting robbed, I was cautious but I didn't let those types of things invade my thoughts too much.
So I went to investigate the situation. The porch where I would be sleeping seemed very secure - on stilts about 8-9 feet off the ground and it would take a lot of effort for someone to get up to it. There was barbed wire on the side that faced the jungle. I could leave the doors open to the room and be about 3 feet away from my teammates. In all rational thoughts, sleeping on the porch wasn't that big of a risk. Still, fear gripped me. But then, that changed. I decided to not let fear keep me from doing something I wanted to do. My teammate Leticia prayed over the porch and over me. She prayed for God to send angels to protect me through the night (did you know we as Christians have the authority to summon angels? So cool!). And not just any angels - she asked for the big strong ones. She also told me she was a light sleeper and would hear me if I called out. So I set up my hammock and confidently slept soundly through the night - only waking a few times to picture the 'big, strong' angels at each corner of the balcony. And you know what? I really believe they were there, looking over me and the other girls in our room. I couldn't see them but I could feel their calming presence.
I also started thinking. You know - there's always a "man in the jungle." There's always something or someone lurking, whether it's real or imagined, and often times, we let the "man in the jungle" - or the fear of him - hold us back.
One of the biggest compliments I've ever gotten was from my voice teacher in Lexington, Kentucky (John Ireson). My mom was talking to him once and he told her "I like Kara. She's got guts." And for the most part, I do. But the thing is, I'm not always brave. Sometimes I let fear hold me back. I felt the calling for missions long before I went to Haiti but I let the fear of not having enough money to go hold me back, not realizing the blessing that comes through fundraising. I didn't want to ask others for money - I didn't want to admit that I truly needed others, and there's also a lot of humbling that comes through the process that I wasn't ready to do yet. When I was called to the Race, I hesitated on the decision. I had many sleepless nights, sweating with anxiety thinking about missing my family for a year, thinking about not seeing my niece and nephew for 11 whole months of their lives. Wondering how much I would miss from home and what if something happened and I couldn't be there?
Today, laying in my hammock next to the jungle with tears streaming down my face, I'm overcome with thankfulness that God has walked me through those fears. What if I had missed out on this year in my life? What if I had let fear hold me back - what if I hadn't met the 39 other people I've been doing life with and who have changed me, in big and small ways? What if I hadn't experienced everything I have this year - had my heart broken by poverty in South Africa, helped a new church plant in Botswana, felt overcome by God's love and also had my heart bleed for orphans in Madagascar, taught English and been called "Mom" for the first time in Vietnam? Experienced a team change, a fresh start, and felt more loved and accepted than I have in a long time in Cambodia?
Releasing fear's grip on our lives is scary, terrifying even. But when we realize that God has our families in his hands, sends his angels to watch us as we are sleeping, and even uses traumatic events like getting robbed to work in the hearts of those who steal from others and the hearts of those who have things taken - we start to embrace the journey that God wants to take us on in our lives. We start to experience the grit and the dangers and the hard stuff - but along the way we see glimpses of God's beauty. We start to - like Peter - take our eyes off the waves and start focusing on Jesus' face. And we realize we can accomplish things we never thought possible. We stop sinking and start walking on water.
"Adventure in theory is full of excitement and bleeds with passion for life. But adventure in reality is full of breathless moments, silent nights and wounds that leave scars of memory on a heart. Can I go the distance? Can I give all my mind to get what the Messenger is saying? Can I surrender my knowing? Can I survive the humility of ignorance to obtain a treasure that earthly gold cannot buy?"
"Take me back, back to the beginning. When I was young, running through the fields with you..."
By the way, if you haven't checked out United Pursuit's album, Simple Gospel, you really should. It's great! Also, how do I have 194 subscribers?! That is amazing! Thank you for caring so much and sharing this journey with me. I love all of ya'll!
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"Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground."
To be completely honest, I don't know much about the Bible. It sounds strange, doesn't it - a missionary who doesn't have all the stories of the Bible memorized. I'm trying to change that on the Race by reading the Bible - so far I'm on Numbers, and if anyone has any insight to the Pentateuch, please let me know.
Month three was the first time I really took a good look at Ephesians 6 and the "Armor of God." To let you in on a little about Madagascar, we had some very strange things happen there. As much as I loved Madagascar, there was definitely some spiritual heaviness unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Sex trafficking is pretty big there, and we saw several "massage parlors" which were really just fronts for other services. There are witch doctors in Madagascar who sell potions and trap people into spiritual bondage by putting curses on people in the name of healing and who open the spiritual realm for darkness to enter. People pray to their ancestors and at night, those of other religions will dance on their relatives graves. We heard unspeakable evils that happen in the country, things I don't even want to type because a part of me still refuses to believe those things happen.
My heart also broke in Madagascar time and time again when I saw orphaned children living on the street. They would come up to us with their extended hands open, their innocent eyes pleading with us. What do you do when you can't save them all? I have an image burned into my memory of a little child, no older than two or three years old, sleeping on a pile of trash in the middle of the chaos of Antananarivo, the capital city.
Madagascar was a country of highs and lows for our whole squad. This month was our "all squad month" so we all lived and worked together - about 20 of the girls living in a bunk room on the Operation Mobilization Madagascar compound. The first week, over half the squad got sick with strep throat. I was lucky to (mostly) escape being sick. But other unexplainable things started happening at night.
One night, several girls were woken in the middle of the night by screaming, as one of our squad mates had a nightmare. Several of my friends said they felt a spiritual heaviness in the room right before. The next night, I woke up and heard several other people around me up and moving around restlessly. I saw some shadows on the ceiling but prayed for protection and went back to sleep. Several girls said they heard music, drums and chanting outside and saw shadows crossing in front of the windows.
The next night, we wanted to cover the place in God's protection - so we had a "night watch" which is when people take turns praying overnight. We also started praying and physically acting out putting on the "Armor of God" prayer before leaving the compound in the morning. When we arrived back at the compound, before entering, we prayed that any spiritual darkness that had attached itself to us throughout the day would leave us before we entered.
To be honest, before I started doing missions, I don't know if I fully believed or understood the way the enemy works in our lives. But I'm realizing more and more on this journey that the more we step into the light, the more the powers of darkness will try in desperation to cast shadows on your soul.
In Madagascar I also recognized Satan's voice for the first time in my own life. The way he attacks me is similar to the way he attacks many women. The enemy whispers about my self worth - telling me I'm not good enough, that I'm being rejected even when I might not be, that I fall short of the acceptance that I want and need from my friends and others.
It happened a night when the entire squad was together. I was talking with two of my friends before our meeting when one of them cut me off in the middle of my sentence. A few minutes later, another friend asked me to move from where I was sitting because I was in the way of others. These things weren't meant to be taken in a hurtful way at all - but soon after, the enemy's voice was magnified in my mind.
When I first heard his voice, I was shocked. Mainly because for 33 years, I had no idea that those things I believed about myself weren't from me at all - they were lies from the enemy. The first time I recognized his voice, I also realized I was too weak to fight it on my own. How many times have we heard the enemy's voice and even believed his lies and not recognized where those lies were coming from?
It is so important as Christians that we recognize the enemy's schemes and also equip ourselves to fight against them.
I write this to you from a seminary in Cambodia - where we are teaching students how to speak and write in English. Never in a million years did I imagine myself teaching at a seminary, but here we are, pouring into and helping equip the next generation of teachers and preachers in Cambodia. God's pretty amazing like that... and it's also amazing how that teaching is 100% reciprocal. I've been working with students in a Bible study class. Each day we have the students read a chapter out of a book in the Bible and then have them memorize a verse or two. Today we studied the armor of God, and I thought about how much the armor of God has helped us over the past two months of the race and in my life.
How often we need to put on the full armor of God - the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. The shield of faith to help us extinguish the flaming arrows of the enemy, the helmet of salvation and the sword of the spirit, the word of God.
What are the ways the enemy is working in your life? What are the ways you can fight against it?
]]>Finally. THIS is what I expected from the World Race! We stepped off the plane in Antananarivo, Madagascar and into a whole new world. The airport was a tiny, dirty building with (from what I could tell) only one baggage carousel. I honestly had absolutely no idea what to expect from Madagascar - I’ve never even seen the Disney movie. The only thing I knew about the place was that it had lemurs and the best vanilla in the world. I had no idea how to pronounce the name (try saying “Antananarivo” out loud). The first thing I noticed in the airport were the people. Beautiful dark brown skin and almond eyes with soft-spoken voices. Malagasy people are as diverse as the country itself - a unique blend of ethnicities from Africa and Asia.
Madagascar is technically part of the African continent - but it is unlike ANYWHERE else in the world. I found out when we were in Africa that Africans don’t really consider Madagascar part of Africa. One book I saw online calls it the “Eighth Continent.” It is essentially ‘no man’s land.’
Going through the line to get our visas and have our passports stamped, I asked a Malagasy police officer how to pronounce the name of the capital (where we were) and after some giggles, he told us… but no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t say it right. After a few weeks here, I now know it’s Ann-TAN-na-naRIVE.
We grabbed our backpacks and headed for our ride - two public buses that we would fill to the brim with people and luggage. I sat next to my teammate Taylor Toaster (Kloster for those of you who don't know her) and another teammate stood next to me in the aisle with a massive daypack that shoved into my side at the slightest move - we were crammed in just about as tightly as we could be with daypacks on our laps. As soon as we started driving, Taylor and I were transfixed - trying to take in every sight outside the bus. Colorful old buildings were tightly packed together, row after row right on the road. The buildings looked very old, older than any building I’d ever seen in the United States - all painted brightly in different colors. I couldn’t stop staring - and I couldn’t think of any place I’d ever been or seen pictures of that it reminded me of. The soft blue-green rolling mountains in the distance reminded me of Haiti - and the poverty definitely reflected a 3rd world country like Haiti - but even then, Madagascar is uniquely it’s own. Something about the hectic-ness and busyness and also the building structure reminds me of Diagon Alley on Harry Potter. During our first view of the city - we saw that there were people everywhere. No street signs or painted lines on the road - it didn’t look like there were any rules here. The streets were barely enough for two lanes, much less the people who took up the sides of the road. There were sidewalks - but they were all taken up by vendors spilling onto the streets - their goods lined up on tables or in baskets or spilling onto the concrete from blankets - they were selling everything imaginable from fruits and vegetables to clothing, shiny pots and pans, sim cards and little toys. Behind the vendors were tiny shops - little storefronts cut into tiny rooms with women cooking pastries or handing tin cups of coffee to customers. Without a word, we looked and looked around and I was hooked. Before we even got to the compound where we are staying, I was in love with Madagascar. I told Taylor I feel like we were driving through the scene of a Broadway play, every building intricate and interesting, every 15 feet showing a different scene. We were experiencing something that very few people in the world get to see. An up close view of the one of the most incredibly different countries in the world!
]]>After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them two by two ahead of him to every town and place where he was about to go. He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send workers into his harvest field. Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Do not take a purse or bag or sandals; and do not greet anyone on the road.”
Before the World Race, I thought a lot about Luke 10. How radical is that - being sent out to do missions barefoot without as much as a purse? And why?
I talked at Training Camp about how I would love to go on the World Race with just a daypack - having the freedom to travel lightly, to only have a few things in my bag, to completely rely on God to provide whatever it is I need. I hoped that at some point on the Race, I could ditch some things that were weighing me down and live in a bigger sense of freedom. Living out of a big backpack and a smaller daypack was already pretty extreme, but I knew there were some things I was hanging onto that I needed to let go of.
Although I didn’t choose to live this way, God has led me to a Luke 10 journey in a way that has been totally unexpected.
You may have read my blog about being robbed at last month’s debrief. A little fabric backpack that came with my big pack was stolen - along with several items inside of it. My bible, cell phone, point and shoot camera, a few clothing items, my Eos lotion and lipgloss, hairbrush, suntan lotion, my passport, pictures of my family and a letter from my niece (the thing I think I’m the saddest about), a silver cross given to me before the trip, as well as my debit and credit cards and the cash I had on me were all taken.
The next day, I figured I might as well embrace what was already started - so I went through my pack and decided to mail home some things and give away some others. I passed on my GoPro to a friend who didn’t have a camera or the means to buy one but who wanted to tell stories through video. Last I heard he was using it every day. :) I also gave away my dressy pair of shoes and set my Chacos on the free table. Two of my squad mates decided to take turns wearing them. After starting with four cameras (my point and shoot, my GoPro, the camera on my cell phone, and my Canon DSLR), I’m now down to just my DSLR. I’m also down to just two pairs of shoes - flip flops and some tennis shoes. It’s definitely lightened my load and eliminated some clutter.
But stepping into this space of simplicity has allowed God to show up in big ways and ultimately, drawn me closer to Him. I first worried about my passport - as we were leaving the country in a day and a half after my things were stolen. My squad of around 40 had bus tickets purchased and honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was to stay in a hostel in Johannesburg, I just wanted to get out of South Africa. I had no idea how I would get a passport in literally one day - and our squad Mama Sharon had worked to get an appointment at the embassy and found there were none available. But one of our squad leaders (Leanne) and I headed to the U.S. Embassy in Pretoria anyway. After begging the guards at the front to let us in, I was allowed up. I have no idea how this all worked out, but after a trip to the ATM, a trip to get a passport photo made, and several hours waiting, I walked out of the building with a temporary passport in my hand. I’ve also been able to get a permanent one made in Botswana (I even got one with 52 pages - holla! Maybe one day I’ll fill them all).
The night after the robbery, a squad mate came into the room where I was staying. She had a handful of cash and handed it to me. I almost started crying - she said she didn’t want me to miss out on anything in between the time that I waited for my new debit card.
My teammate Taylor’s parents so kindly reached out to my parents right after it happened to tell them I could use Taylor’s bank account. My parents have been able to get money to them and very luckily, I’ve been able to have money on the race.
Sharon also gave me her sunscreen before she headed back to Texas which, again, almost made me cry.
My friend Julie has loaned me money for adventures in Victoria Falls and countless other people have stepped up to help out in big and small ways. I can’t even list them all but I’ll think of all the little acts of kindness and it just puts a big smile on my face. God was redeeming almost everything I had lost.
Except my iPhone. At Training Camp, Seth Barnes invited us to think about not bringing our cell phones on the race. He said one of the biggest regrets he heard from returning racers was that they’d spent too much time on their smart phones. I felt a tug and a conviction to leave mine at home, but I ignored it. But after having my phone taken from me, I knew I wouldn't replace it until I felt like it was time.
At first, I panicked every time I thought about contacting someone from home and realized I wasn’t able to, at least not at the precise time I wanted to. We only have wifi here at our ministry site, and at that it’s extremely slow. I’m used to texting my parents and friends from back home every day and at first I felt so uncomfortable not being able to. But once again, God has shown me that growth isn’t always pain-free. I’ve started praying for my family more and realizing that God will take great care of them while I’m gone, even when I’m not able to check in every day.
I’ve also realized some things about myself that aren’t so great. For instance, the first week or so that we were in Gabarone, I wasn’t able to get Facebook or any other social media sites to load. I realized I was more frustrated with this than I should be and eventually realized that I seek a lot of approval through social media. So perhaps this unintentional social media fast will be a great thing for me. God is showing me time and time again that my value and worth should come from Him and Him alone.
Not having an ATM card has been hard for me. I’ve rarely budgeted in my life, I usually just have a general/vague idea of how much money is in my account and if I’m broke, I don’t buy anything. I’ve realized now that I do need to start writing down where I’m spending money and holding myself more accountable to even small things I’m buying. Taylor has been amazing for working with me on my spending money but I don’t always want to bug her for money - but again, I’ve also learned something from this. I don’t always need a coke or a snack every time I’m craving one… and it’s okay to feel a little hungry from time to time. God will provide, and there have been times when I have been craving a cold soda or juice and have just had one handed to me. Pretty cool!
Also, when we were in Victoria Falls, we all woke up with nasty bedbug bites all over our bodies. When we got home, we’ve had to bag up everything in black garbage bags and set them out in the sun. Hopefully those suckers are dead now because bedbug bites are not fun! We don’t want to infest the apartment our friend Sadie has so kindly allowed us to stay in. So - basically everything we took to Victoria Falls is out of the mix for us to use or wear. That means no towel, pillow, bag or purse, and about half of my clothes. I’ve had to borrow things I thought I would never have to borrow before, but it’s making us rely on each other more - and it’s also kinda fun borrowing clothes.
?Living in more simplicity has also pushed me into a bigger mindset of community - literally having to rely on others to survive. I’ve been so far out of my comfort zone, but I’ve grown in leaps and bounds in ways I never expected before the race.
By the way, I’m writing this in Gabarone, Botswana in our apartment, listening to the neighborhood children sing songs outside the window. Our neighbor has a huge great dane named Jamal, who isn’t in the least bit threatening. He’s a big baby and scared of us. His owner, Freddie, is 19 and lives with his aunt and his little cousin, Junior, a little kid that always has a huge smile on his face and who claps when we come home. We’re leaving here in a week. I’ll miss Botswana and the people here.
]]>Sunday started out as my absolute favorite day so far on the race. Our squad coaches, Bob and Sharon, had provided a fun day out for our entire squad during debrief at this amazing waterpark in South Africa. It was right on the ocean - one of the most beautiful beaches I'd ever seen. It was a resort- type area, nice shops and amazing restaurants. A man named Derry bought ice cream for my friend Julie and I - he was a widow and wanting someone to talk to.
We slid down slides over and over and laughed and had such a great time. One of the slides you used a huge raft to go down and you could fit 6 people on it. We all piled on and laughed the whole way down. My squad mates made me face my fear of heights and encouraged me to go down the highest water slide in the southern hemisphere. It was a little scary but a lot of fun. Four of us ate at this amazing restaurant that was two levels and at the end of a pier. Later my friend Julie and I had a one on one (or two on two really) with Bob and Sharon at a coffee shop and it was so nice and relaxing. I bought South African flag stickers and patches and I took a ton of great pictures of the whole day.
Later, when we got back to the camp where we were staying in Durban, Julie and I went down to the beach by ourselves. It was close to sunset but still light out and we had been told to only go out of the compound in groups of 4, but things had been safe and we had started to let our guard down. We also thought that another group was coming right behind us. I grabbed my backpack with a change of clothes, my camera, my wallet, my bible and my cell phone inside. When we opened the gate to the camp, we saw two men passing us coming from the beach. I didn't think much of it but Julie and I both mentioned feeling a little sketched out. When we were walking, I had Julie's iPod in my hand. At one point I dropped it and felt terrible for getting sand on it. The beach was completely empty except for us.
We were reading Julie's Jesus Calling book when we saw the guys coming back towards us closer to the shoreline (we were back toward the dune area). They were nonchalantly kicking a plastic bottle and we both commented that they weren't a threat. But just about that time, they reached the place where we were and turned and started walking straight towards us. I knew there wasn't an exit to the beach behind us. It all happened so fast - but Julie said "Let's go" and when we stood up and grabbed our stuff, they ran straight towards us. We started running and the more aggressive one ran toward Julie and the other toward me. I looked up and saw that Julie had fallen in the sand and the man was standing over her, threatening her. I had dropped my bible and my cell phone at some point when running and one of the men had both in his hand. It's kind of a blur at this point, but at some point he picked up Julie's iPod. He had something in his hand or maybe he was just pointing his fingers but I started yelling at him to not hurt her. He picked up Julie's Jesus Calling book and asked "What is this?" and then said "F--ing Bible" and threw it at me. I didn't know what else to do so I threw my bag away from us toward the other guy and told them to just take everything and not hurt us. They grabbed our stuff and ran away. We ran back to camp and grabbed Megan, our squad mentor and Mark, one of our squad leaders, and Mark called the police but they never came. We were completely fine - neither man touched us. I clearly remember seeing my pink Bible in one of the men's hands and can only hope that he is convicted by the situation and decides to change his life around. Although it would be easy to be angry at the men, I keep reminding myself that those men are God's children too and created by God and hopefully they will find Him. I'll share more of my thoughts and feelings in a second blog post.
]]>There's a song by Rend Collective called the Cost, and sometimes I listen to it on repeat.
"I'm saying 'yes' to you and 'no' to my desires, I'll leave myself behind and follow You...
I've counted up the cost, and You are worth it.
I do not need safety as much as I need you. You're dangerous but Lord, you're beautiful.
I'll chase you through the pain, I'll carry my cross. Because real love is not afraid to bleed...
I've counted up the cost, and You are worth it."
I'm riding in my parents car right now down to Atlanta, Georgia for launch and then to fly out to South Africa and I've just said goodbye to (almost) everyone in my immediate family.
In this moment, I'm hyper aware of everything I'm giving up for a year of missions. My 4 year old niece who is the sweetest person I know waved at me from her booster seat until she and my sister drove out of sight. Last night, there was a letter from her (dictated by my sister) waiting for me on the nightstand. I've pointed out all of the countries where I'm going on a map (she loves maps), and she says she wants to go with me to Madagascar. I have a feeling Disney had something to do with this. She's a sweet, smart, feisty, adorable 4 year old and when I get back she'll be a 5 year old kindergartner.
My 1 year old (about to be 2) nephew Max hugged me tighter than he ever has before when I went to see him at daycare. He's a good snuggler. He's getting so much personality. He's learning to say new words (his latest favorite when I'm around is "Brock"). He's sensitive, sweet, and wants to do everything his big sister does. When I left him at daycare he bawled, big tears streaming down his baby blue eyes. I think he cries anytime someone leaves him at daycare, but I knew exactly how he felt.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my grandmother Mimi (on my mom's side). She hasn't been doing well for a while now and dementia has caused her to not remember much, but yesterday she was in a great mood. She was smiling and was generously handing out compliments to everyone around her. I told her I would see her in 11 months.
Two months ago one of my best friends invited me to go to a Louisville basketball game and my seat happened to be right next to the greatest guy I've ever met. We didn't stop talking the whole game. Brock grew up a county over from me in Western Kentucky, and it feels like we've known each other our whole lives. I'm leaving the country with the expectation and hope that he'll be there for me when I get back.
I've said goodbye to my sweet sister who has helped me get all of my things together, even on a day when she was sick. I got the feeling when I said goodbye that maybe I don't want to do this, that maybe I can't leave everyone I know and love for almost a whole year.
My family has put up with me packing and unpacking my backpack no less than 7 times, each time hoping to weed out some things but never being very successful. My parents and grandmother (Kirtley) are taking time out of their lives to be with me at launch in Atlanta. I don't want to think about saying goodbye to them yet but I know it's coming soon.
Sometimes thinking about this journey makes me sick to my stomach, knowing the dangers and the cost of giving up a comfortable, American life for a life of missions. But other times I think of the sweet faces, the orphans- the widows, the people living in mud huts wearing the same dirty clothes day after day who need help- or just a helping of hope. I know God has designated us as His hands and feet for this mission and there are specific people God already has planned for us to meet and be part of their story, and I can't let Him down. And when I think of that, although the cost is high, I know it is worth it.
]]>I still remember the moment my heart changed. Stephen Covey calls it a "paradigm shift." It's when we change the way we perceive or understand the world around us.
For me, it was my first day in Haiti. We were in church - but it wasn't like any church I'd ever been to. From the very beginning, I sensed that something special was about to happen.
The benches were crude - homemade. Walls were non existent. The roof was held up by sticks. The floor was dirt. Chickens danced around our feet. Goats lifted their voices along with ours in praise, and about midway through, a cow joined in the service.
But the scene was breathtaking. Not just the mountains and the blue sky in the distance, but what was happening in that sacred space. People sang out from deep in their souls. There was a hunger in the room - a deep need for closeness to their Creator. In the midst of the severest poverty and brokenness, there was a spiritual wealth I had never experienced before. The air was so thick, so saturated with the Holy Spirit that you could literally feel it.
I left on my first mission trip ready to change the world. But nothing could prepare me for how the world would change me.
"Sometimes, something touches your heart so deeply that doing nothing isn't an option anymore and it becomes more about finding a way than it does about finding excuses." - Bethany Haley Williams
I'm not sure what I expected to happen on that trip. I think I had in mind something like going to the country, giving some much needed help, and leaving relatively unscathed. I had no idea that two short years later, I would be putting everything else in my life aside to pursue this full time.
Some people may not understand why I want to give up the life I have. Why I would want to give up comfort, status and recognition. Why I would want to give up a career I worked so hard for - right when I am seeing the hard work pay off.
Because no matter how "nice" those things may be, they are meaningless when compared to God's plan for my life. I no longer want to be comfortable. I want to be stretched - taken out of my comfort zone - placed in the areas where there is the most desperate need - in order to let God do his work through me. It's radical but that's what I crave. Now that I've gotten a taste of it, I can't imagine not surrendering wholly to God. Anything else, any other path falls short.
“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” - C.S. Lewis
That week in Haiti, we worked with orphans who lived in the street, men and women who were dying of AIDS, children in the hospital with unimaginable burns.
When you hear of these things happening in what seems a world away, it affects you on some level. But when you hold those people in your arms and know them by name, it's a whole new ballgame. Not doing anything isn't good enough. Giving only part of myself isn't enough anymore. For me, I eventually realized that going on one trip a year wasn't going to cut it.
So - I'll go. My journey will start with 11 different countries in 11 months. From there, I'll follow where God leads.
And along the way, I'll be sharing that journey with you through this blog. I hope you'll join me.
Anchoring "Daybreak" with Randy Moore, one of the best in the business.
Derby with our meteorologist, Jude Redfield.
My team with Visiting Orphans on my first mission trip to Haiti.
Meeting Vilanio for the first time - a little boy who changed my life.
Frenaldo - a little boy who never left my side, and I never his.
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