So many thoughts and so little energy to write them.
Here is a stream of consciousness run through of the days ponderings...
So many things to do! I must get them done! Why do I do these things anyway! Why do they come before sleep and health often times? It's remarkable how many times I've climbed these steps, even in a single day, and for what? A supposed timed meeting? An existential thought-what is the point of time anyway...is it really only a measure of degeneration? Work, nothing to do in particular, and yet I stay. So many things to do, and yet I sit in an office to "earn money." Why do we do these things? Rush to help teach reading to children. Watch their minds twist, their bodies need to burn energy. Time? A measurement of degeneration, and yet scolded, sit still. take your hands from your face. sit in the corner. you can read can't you? Reading. Symbols on a page, inflections of a pen on a page. A cave man understanding, and yet intellectual, a symbol in itself of intelligence. Eyes flicker over flash cards with letters, what process turns the wheels in her mind. Why do they not pay attention? What does their not paying attention mean? They mean no disrespect I trust? Disrespect. Isn't insinuating something based on my skin, hair color eye color, appearance in general, a disrespect? How much generalizations and stereotypes are true. I've traveled, yet I remain white. No change. Dance- communication...long distance, and yet dance so close, separately and together, learning, interacting. My point is? A child's understanding, God's voice. Who do you hear? Who do I hear? Environment, race, parents, lucky, travel, guilt...Worship. loud and up front. Songs about loosing ourselves and yet glamor in the singing. Loud enough to drown me out. If I'm drowned out, if I'm still, if I don't draw an eye, do I profess my Christianity? Friends-conversations means so much. open up, relationships, close their heart breaks. Study, study, study, type type type. be concise, be articulate. Print and sleep.
repeat!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Dear void...
I haven't written on this blog in so long, I doubt anyone will read this, but to you great void, I write anyway.
It would seem, I only write on here when I'm in a dark mood. When I feel alone enough to write without worry or care as to whom will read my scrambled thoughts. I'm changing. I'm new. My steps are thought out but my direction is vague, at best. To write in riddles is the only way for me today. To become specific would confuse even myself.
My eyes squint in vexation, my eyebrows twist with mixed emotions. Heart and mind speak opposites. What can I express in words about these thoughts that fill my mind and make my shoulders heavy?
Friends in search of purpose.
Friends fighting themselves.
Friends wondering who I am.
Friends wondering who He is... why is there care?
To be Christ's aid and arm...to be his church...means what? What is my role? Is my judgment sound?
A lurking fear haunts me. Questions tortures the back of my mind like a foreboding shadow. It's like the music in a sad movie.. when the character knows heartbreak breathes just around the corner.
The future stares me in the faces and begs the question, "What's the next step?"
My heart pulls one way, my mind, the other. Uncertainty and mistrust plague conversation.
Why do we love God? What are your answers? Are they sound? Are they righteous? Do they fit His Character? Are your thoughts biased? Does agenda hide in your steps? How much is too far, and how far is good? When is enough, enough? Is this fear relevant?
I make so little sense and so much of something minimal, but the effect is huge.
I want to understand God in other people. I want to understand the mechanics of thought.
Dear void, thank your for listening to this strange tongue and exhausted mind.
It would seem, I only write on here when I'm in a dark mood. When I feel alone enough to write without worry or care as to whom will read my scrambled thoughts. I'm changing. I'm new. My steps are thought out but my direction is vague, at best. To write in riddles is the only way for me today. To become specific would confuse even myself.
My eyes squint in vexation, my eyebrows twist with mixed emotions. Heart and mind speak opposites. What can I express in words about these thoughts that fill my mind and make my shoulders heavy?
Friends in search of purpose.
Friends fighting themselves.
Friends wondering who I am.
Friends wondering who He is... why is there care?
To be Christ's aid and arm...to be his church...means what? What is my role? Is my judgment sound?
A lurking fear haunts me. Questions tortures the back of my mind like a foreboding shadow. It's like the music in a sad movie.. when the character knows heartbreak breathes just around the corner.
The future stares me in the faces and begs the question, "What's the next step?"
My heart pulls one way, my mind, the other. Uncertainty and mistrust plague conversation.
Why do we love God? What are your answers? Are they sound? Are they righteous? Do they fit His Character? Are your thoughts biased? Does agenda hide in your steps? How much is too far, and how far is good? When is enough, enough? Is this fear relevant?
I make so little sense and so much of something minimal, but the effect is huge.
I want to understand God in other people. I want to understand the mechanics of thought.
Dear void, thank your for listening to this strange tongue and exhausted mind.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
knots
It's amazing to me how much your mind can effect you in every way. Physically, spiritually, or any other --ally way. I feel like the inside of my torso, from my stomach up to my collar bone is on fire. I'm terrified, excited, anxious, confused, joyful, and hopeful. It's just too many emotions to feel at one time over so many different things...each deserving some attention. I could explain right now...but...nah. I even feel guilty for having such ridiculously over-sized emotions! I'm not usually super dramatic...I don't think....but I can't help it (or maybe I could but I also feel like that would kill me inside...if I just held it all in.)
-sorry I'm not making much sense, and my writing is crappy!-
There's only one good thing that ties all of this together and helps me know I'll get through this and come out better than I am now...God. Typical answer I know but an honest to goodness, completely true cliche.
My life is feeling pretty crazy and I'm mostly confused...but in a strange and completely natural way, I understand. Because God is finally in charge of my life. He's always been there and has always been guiding me. I've always tried to give Him my life and have asked Him to make it His. Now, finally I feel like He he is taking it. My reaction is steps firm and sure. I know that because I feel so out of control. Because anything could happen. Because I don't have a clue, I am positive that He does.
-sorry I'm not making much sense, and my writing is crappy!-
There's only one good thing that ties all of this together and helps me know I'll get through this and come out better than I am now...God. Typical answer I know but an honest to goodness, completely true cliche.
My life is feeling pretty crazy and I'm mostly confused...but in a strange and completely natural way, I understand. Because God is finally in charge of my life. He's always been there and has always been guiding me. I've always tried to give Him my life and have asked Him to make it His. Now, finally I feel like He he is taking it. My reaction is steps firm and sure. I know that because I feel so out of control. Because anything could happen. Because I don't have a clue, I am positive that He does.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The tale of the lost bit
A little bit of my heart broke off today.
I know just where I lost it...
but I think I'll let it stay.
The crease that turned to a gap
began a while back.
I felt the soft organ bend and twist
like the snapping of someones wrist
The brake came slow with pressure ever increasing
But then it was only a small piercing.
It throbbed
but the piece stayed lodged.
But today that fault finally cracked completely.
A few salt tears traced the line quick and sweetly.
The little bit fell
As I hugged him well,
"We'll see him soon," I whispered to the little bit
It nodded, but disappeared into his pocket.
"Pathetic," I muttered
"You said it," it shuddered.
But I let it go anyway...
I know just where I lost it...
but I think I'll let it stay.
The crease that turned to a gap
began a while back.
I felt the soft organ bend and twist
like the snapping of someones wrist
The brake came slow with pressure ever increasing
But then it was only a small piercing.
It throbbed
but the piece stayed lodged.
But today that fault finally cracked completely.
A few salt tears traced the line quick and sweetly.
The little bit fell
As I hugged him well,
"We'll see him soon," I whispered to the little bit
It nodded, but disappeared into his pocket.
"Pathetic," I muttered
"You said it," it shuddered.
But I let it go anyway...
Sunday, August 31, 2008
New Friends
I don't want to leave you my friends, thinking I'm unhappy here at PLNU. So I want to tell about some new friends. Not only am I writing about them because I feel I ought to say something positive after my last blog, but, also because they are pretty darn awesome!
It was an orientation assembly. All the students were supposed to sit in sections, designated by their majors. Bryson, being undeclared, sits by me in the Graphic Art major's section. The person holding the sign to group the Graphic Art majors into a section was named John. He was a sophomore and seemed friendly enough to talk to, and we did, but we didn't think much of it.
Two days later Bryson and I search for a table to sit and eat lunch at. We find John and decide to sit with him and his friends. We are introduced to everyone at the table. It was first time Bryson and I had seen a steady group of friends. It felt like high school. They were comfortable with each other and that comfortable atmosphere washed away the awkward aura freshman seem to carry with them.
At the table sat: John, who I've already introduced, Sarah, a 6'4" sandy blonde junior in the nursing program, There was also 6'8" Brian who looks a lot like Bryson and has so much in common that was starting to freak us out a little bit. There were others but it wasn't until later in the week that we got to know them.
On open dorm night we visited Sarah's room and played super-smash brothers, another night, we visited John's room, and on Sunday we went to church with John, on another day we went Target shopping with Sarah, and John, and of course in between times made a couple trips to Santanas. We had movie nights, a "how many girl's can we fit in Brian's room" glow stick party,went to Bobby B's birthday bash, along Caf. Lane, visited Make out Point, Shelter Island and played sardines, all in our first week here at Point Loma.
During all those events, we met more of the "group," or the "family," as John calls it (and Sarah cringes at it!). We now know, Johnathan and Megan. Johnathan is hilarious, and Asian! We're planning a superhero laser tag party and I've designed his costume. He will be going as the "Fly-Mater!" and Megan, his cute little brunette girlfriend, with be going as his arch-nemesis, "The Swatter!" (I will be posting pictures!). Scott, another 6'7" or 8" (something like that) guy that looks again a bit like Bryson and again has a lot in common with him, I've also met Danna who played sardines in Robot footsie pajamas, Justin, another funny Asian, Abbey my kindred spirit in funky costume design, Jacky, who went to church with us today, and Hannah and Clair, which are two blonds that I met last night while playing sardines.
They are all just awesome people! Very, chill, and relaxed, rolling with the punches and excited for the next fun event! Their accepting and real, and real is something I have come to really appreciate!
yay for friends!
It was an orientation assembly. All the students were supposed to sit in sections, designated by their majors. Bryson, being undeclared, sits by me in the Graphic Art major's section. The person holding the sign to group the Graphic Art majors into a section was named John. He was a sophomore and seemed friendly enough to talk to, and we did, but we didn't think much of it.
Two days later Bryson and I search for a table to sit and eat lunch at. We find John and decide to sit with him and his friends. We are introduced to everyone at the table. It was first time Bryson and I had seen a steady group of friends. It felt like high school. They were comfortable with each other and that comfortable atmosphere washed away the awkward aura freshman seem to carry with them.
At the table sat: John, who I've already introduced, Sarah, a 6'4" sandy blonde junior in the nursing program, There was also 6'8" Brian who looks a lot like Bryson and has so much in common that was starting to freak us out a little bit. There were others but it wasn't until later in the week that we got to know them.
On open dorm night we visited Sarah's room and played super-smash brothers, another night, we visited John's room, and on Sunday we went to church with John, on another day we went Target shopping with Sarah, and John, and of course in between times made a couple trips to Santanas. We had movie nights, a "how many girl's can we fit in Brian's room" glow stick party,went to Bobby B's birthday bash, along Caf. Lane, visited Make out Point, Shelter Island and played sardines, all in our first week here at Point Loma.
During all those events, we met more of the "group," or the "family," as John calls it (and Sarah cringes at it!). We now know, Johnathan and Megan. Johnathan is hilarious, and Asian! We're planning a superhero laser tag party and I've designed his costume. He will be going as the "Fly-Mater!" and Megan, his cute little brunette girlfriend, with be going as his arch-nemesis, "The Swatter!" (I will be posting pictures!). Scott, another 6'7" or 8" (something like that) guy that looks again a bit like Bryson and again has a lot in common with him, I've also met Danna who played sardines in Robot footsie pajamas, Justin, another funny Asian, Abbey my kindred spirit in funky costume design, Jacky, who went to church with us today, and Hannah and Clair, which are two blonds that I met last night while playing sardines.
They are all just awesome people! Very, chill, and relaxed, rolling with the punches and excited for the next fun event! Their accepting and real, and real is something I have come to really appreciate!
yay for friends!
My First Week at PLNU
Monday morning: Today was my first day of classes at PLNU. It’s been pretty rough. The day began with my roommate waking me up, saying “Katie it’s 7:40, don’t you have a class at 7:30? Your already 10 minutes late!” I replied, “My alarm didn’t go off! No! oh no, no, no, no, did you hear it go off? No? I can’t be late my first day of college!”
I flew around the room changing quickly and throwing a hat over my crazy frizzy curls. Then I jabbed on a bit of mascara, and I ran out the door and began charging up the hill from Klassen to the linguistics building. My feet had been blistered from my previous two days in my new flip flops, so as I ran to class in my normally comfortable flats, the shoes sliced open the fresh scabs. By the time I got to class, breathless, sweaty, frizzy, and overall, humiliated, the insides of my shoes had blood stains.
The teacher responded, “Buenos dias Katie!” then looked back at the class and said, “Katie es tardes!” Then he realized there was no extra desk for me. So he disappeared behind the door I had just entered. I stood awkwardly at the front of the classroom, clutching my little white folder and I suddenly became very interested in the square tile floor I was standing on. The class simply stared in bewilderment at the strange sight before them and their thought bubbles read, “What the heck?”
After what seemed a lifetime, my teacher reentered and placed a desk in a row of its own in the very front of the class. I sat down and waited for class to be over and as soon as it was I bolted for the door.
Theatre was next. I found the room easy enough and tried to make small talk with some of the kids. Either they had been in my last class or I still appeared as if I had been in a fight with my blow dryer, and lost. I gave up and soon after, my next professor arrived. He seemed the typical theatre persona. He was an older man, and thin with glasses. Interesting I thought, he had an artistic atmosphere about him. He asked us what we thought the reason was for taking introduction to theatre. My peers responded with intelligent answers, but the teacher seemed intent on making sure we understood that Americans have no interest in learning, lacked culture, and further more liked it that way.
Next was chapel. I walked to Brown Chapel alone. I saw few people I recognized and the few I did, I was to scared to talk to after my experiences with other people that day. The day became very lonely and chapel was hard to enjoy. My boyfriend originally had plans to sit with his hall in chapel but I could find no one to sit with, and though I protested, my knight and shining armor came to sit with me on the far edge of the chapel. He prayed with me and gave me hug. Of course being a girl, I got all choked up and the embarrassments of the day came crashing down in droplets on my cheeks.
The rest of week went much better. In fact I had a very good week! I solved each problem I had on Monday. First of all I set three alarms, at intervals of 10 to 5 minutes apart. Because I had time, I was able to dress well, contain my hair and walk to class. I had sliced up my feet pretty bad so I solved that with two bandaids carefully placed each morning. I got to Spanish early and found a seat nearing the back of the classroom. Theatre improved by God’s grace, or the professor had suddenly become patriotic over night. Tuesday I had art classes and my day started at 9:30 instead of 7:30, just those two things alone could have saved my week. I also made friends with some sophomores, who now even drive my boyfriend and I off campus and too church on Sundays. They are a lot like my friends from home and made me feel at home here!
I flew around the room changing quickly and throwing a hat over my crazy frizzy curls. Then I jabbed on a bit of mascara, and I ran out the door and began charging up the hill from Klassen to the linguistics building. My feet had been blistered from my previous two days in my new flip flops, so as I ran to class in my normally comfortable flats, the shoes sliced open the fresh scabs. By the time I got to class, breathless, sweaty, frizzy, and overall, humiliated, the insides of my shoes had blood stains.
The teacher responded, “Buenos dias Katie!” then looked back at the class and said, “Katie es tardes!” Then he realized there was no extra desk for me. So he disappeared behind the door I had just entered. I stood awkwardly at the front of the classroom, clutching my little white folder and I suddenly became very interested in the square tile floor I was standing on. The class simply stared in bewilderment at the strange sight before them and their thought bubbles read, “What the heck?”
After what seemed a lifetime, my teacher reentered and placed a desk in a row of its own in the very front of the class. I sat down and waited for class to be over and as soon as it was I bolted for the door.
Theatre was next. I found the room easy enough and tried to make small talk with some of the kids. Either they had been in my last class or I still appeared as if I had been in a fight with my blow dryer, and lost. I gave up and soon after, my next professor arrived. He seemed the typical theatre persona. He was an older man, and thin with glasses. Interesting I thought, he had an artistic atmosphere about him. He asked us what we thought the reason was for taking introduction to theatre. My peers responded with intelligent answers, but the teacher seemed intent on making sure we understood that Americans have no interest in learning, lacked culture, and further more liked it that way.
Next was chapel. I walked to Brown Chapel alone. I saw few people I recognized and the few I did, I was to scared to talk to after my experiences with other people that day. The day became very lonely and chapel was hard to enjoy. My boyfriend originally had plans to sit with his hall in chapel but I could find no one to sit with, and though I protested, my knight and shining armor came to sit with me on the far edge of the chapel. He prayed with me and gave me hug. Of course being a girl, I got all choked up and the embarrassments of the day came crashing down in droplets on my cheeks.
The rest of week went much better. In fact I had a very good week! I solved each problem I had on Monday. First of all I set three alarms, at intervals of 10 to 5 minutes apart. Because I had time, I was able to dress well, contain my hair and walk to class. I had sliced up my feet pretty bad so I solved that with two bandaids carefully placed each morning. I got to Spanish early and found a seat nearing the back of the classroom. Theatre improved by God’s grace, or the professor had suddenly become patriotic over night. Tuesday I had art classes and my day started at 9:30 instead of 7:30, just those two things alone could have saved my week. I also made friends with some sophomores, who now even drive my boyfriend and I off campus and too church on Sundays. They are a lot like my friends from home and made me feel at home here!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
India...oxymorons, Nimisha, and trust
I went 16,525 miles.
You’d think I would have so many thoughts and questions answered.
Shouldn’t I?
On arriving in India only more questions arose.
I went 33,050 miles total.
After that last 16,525 miles, I have even more questions than I came with.
Was that the purpose of this mission trip?
“To learn, you must have interest.” That is something I learned in India.
I learned about learning, and I became interested.
Our teachers went to India to teach how to teach.
Miss Iverson said she learned from their teachers.
On mission trips it seems we come away with more blessings than the people we come to bless.
It’s a funny twist. It’s one of those strange sensible and yet misunderstood traits of God. Always doing the unexpected, obviously.
God revealed himself in ways I was shocked to experience. They made me comfortable in an uncomfortable environment. It was his closeness, His familiar presence, intangible and invisible.
At the same time, I felt myself tugging on the reins. I was anxious. Things weren’t going according to plan. I had to take a new role, a role where I could let people down, a path where guilt could find me.
In preparation for this trip, I prepared myself to change. I expected change.
Even now I wonder if, by expecting change, I inhibited it. At the same time, I’m writing down such thoughts in pursuit of enlightenment.
See…questions.
Oxymorons and parallels present in each thought.
Here is what I came away with.
I can be a leader.
I don’t like being a leader.
I can bend and twist to make something work.
When I bend and twist to make something work, it hangs by a thread.
I can take the heat.
But when it’s sticky, it gets tough.
Never expect the expected.
But don’t expect the change.
Etcetera.
I have a few evidences of growth.
One of my biggest struggles in life, and particularly on this mission trip, was to trust God.
It seems such natural thing for humans to do, throw their cares on everyone else. We ask it of each person we confide in.
But somehow asking the one person who can handle being our confidant, we don’t trust with our hearts.
It’s odd that trusting God is such struggle, when most of the time, humanities downfall is done out of feelings of inferiority and insecurity. Even in situations known for someone’s arrogance and pride, are really stories about a persons overcompensation for one of their lacking qualities.
On this trip I had a small breakthrough, and it’s only in this moment that I realize it’s great proportion in my life.
Nimisha was 12, and a student who lived on campus and attended 6th standard classes. She quickly became one of my closest Indian friends, and soon I found out she was Hindu.
Long story short, I saw a miracle. No, Nimisha didn't come to Christ...as far as I know. No, my miracle greeted me in the form of a little lizard, running up and down, touching the lines and cracks in a church building wall. God knows my weak heart and knew just how to impress it, in that moment.
Side note:
I love how God does that. Think of this, God is humble.
...
...
You don't agree. Do you?
Not only did He become a human, and die on a cross. He humbles Himself each time He talks to us. His thinking is vast! His thoughts are ridiculously amazing and I could not even comprehend His mere ideas! We say, "it's all Greek to me," as a common cliche, now imagine trying to understand the God of the universe! ...sorry..sometimes His indescribable-ness is plain to me and I'm shocked and can't help sounding a little preachy! But, each time He talks to us or "bows" to our desire,...that's exactly it! He "Bows" to our desire, or our wants or something we think we need. When I saw that lizard. It was a "sign," a "safety net," an answer to prayer. It was a miracle! I thought I needed a sign to show me God was with me, because my faith was weak. Actually when I first saw it, I was excited, then I thought about it and I was ashamed. For God to have actually given me my little sign, I really must have been in bad shape, and of course He knew it. But, now as I look back on it. Fine maybe I was in low spirits, maybe God was "worried" about me. But I don't think that was why He gave me my little miracle. I think it was more than that, and less than that.
That doesn't make sense. I know. I'm just full of oxy-morons this time. but...follow my logical madness for a second and see if you agree.
It's like... If your having a bad day and someone gives you a hug or a kind word or whatever would encourage you, it feels like either, they realized you were down and said it or gave it because they pittied or because they worried, about you. On a average day, a non-special day but a not bad day, if someone comes up and gives you a hug or a kind word etc. without the pull on your part to do it, doesn't feel like more?
In summation of my side-note, the point is, God humbles Himself by bringing Himself, again, back to our level. He puts His words into human words and gives us what we need to feel His intangible touch. That day He used His lizard to show me Him. That was something I asked for, something He knew I would understand, and He cared enough about insignificant me to play my little game, and giving me alone a miracle. That's my God! what an amazing King!
Anyway, sorry for the long side note!
So my miracle gave me courage and I felt I had a purpose in India. I was sure of my God and I wanted that same confidence and that same relationship, that same love, for Nimisha. I was excited and sure that the next day I would talk to Nimisha and tell her about Jesus.
Well the next day came. I was met with the same struggles and I was more exhausted than ever, but I still felt that call.
I found an opportune moment to talk to Nimisha. We talked, we shared stories and I told her a bit about Jesus. I'm sorry to let you down but, so was I. She didn't accept Jesus that day. I came away, a little depressed. Again my purpose seemed shot. I knew I didn't fail. I felt I had misinterpreted.
Again, I expected a change. Never expect the expected with God.
The week came and went and on the last day we were to say goodbye. All the way down from our house to the building where we'd say farewell, I pondered my last words to Nimisha. What could I say that would make a difference. I thought of many things, maybe they were good, maybe not, but they weren't what came to mind when I was saying my goodbye to Nimisha.
Nimisha was in tears, and I was on the verge. She kept saying how she'd miss me and how I'd been good to her. (I pray she was seeing a bit of Jesus' goodness) She was upset, wondering if she'd ever see me again. I had to tell her I didn't know. That didn't help. Finally I said something that sounded rather like something my mom would have said. I told her that I knew she didn't know my Jesus, but that I did, and that, if she talked to Him, He could keep us together. I told her I would be talking to Him and making sure she was okay and that she could do the same. I told her how He would love to hear from her, and that I hoped she would try. After a couple sniffs and pause, she nodded and said she'd would.
I know we don't hear from God like a telephone call. I know that it takes a trained ear to listen for His words. But, I also know God, well I know a little about Him. I know He loves me and I know He loves Nimisha. He loves her so much He died so He could get to be closer to her. Because I know that, I know He is working on her heart. He is knocking and I think she is almost ready to listen to Him call and ring the doorbell. I'm happy I could be the one to tell her who the stranger outside the door was.
This trip was tough. I saw no immediate growth. But that was my blessing! It was an oddly wrapped gift but now that I've opened it and am accepting it, I realize it was trust that I received. I have to believe to have faith, trust, that God loves Nimisha. I have to trust Him to continue the work He brought me to India to do. It's a gift in process. A gift for the heart and a gift I not only asked for but needed desperately. And God knew just how to give it to me!
You’d think I would have so many thoughts and questions answered.
Shouldn’t I?
On arriving in India only more questions arose.
I went 33,050 miles total.
After that last 16,525 miles, I have even more questions than I came with.
Was that the purpose of this mission trip?
“To learn, you must have interest.” That is something I learned in India.
I learned about learning, and I became interested.
Our teachers went to India to teach how to teach.
Miss Iverson said she learned from their teachers.
On mission trips it seems we come away with more blessings than the people we come to bless.
It’s a funny twist. It’s one of those strange sensible and yet misunderstood traits of God. Always doing the unexpected, obviously.
God revealed himself in ways I was shocked to experience. They made me comfortable in an uncomfortable environment. It was his closeness, His familiar presence, intangible and invisible.
At the same time, I felt myself tugging on the reins. I was anxious. Things weren’t going according to plan. I had to take a new role, a role where I could let people down, a path where guilt could find me.
In preparation for this trip, I prepared myself to change. I expected change.
Even now I wonder if, by expecting change, I inhibited it. At the same time, I’m writing down such thoughts in pursuit of enlightenment.
See…questions.
Oxymorons and parallels present in each thought.
Here is what I came away with.
I can be a leader.
I don’t like being a leader.
I can bend and twist to make something work.
When I bend and twist to make something work, it hangs by a thread.
I can take the heat.
But when it’s sticky, it gets tough.
Never expect the expected.
But don’t expect the change.
Etcetera.
I have a few evidences of growth.
One of my biggest struggles in life, and particularly on this mission trip, was to trust God.
It seems such natural thing for humans to do, throw their cares on everyone else. We ask it of each person we confide in.
But somehow asking the one person who can handle being our confidant, we don’t trust with our hearts.
It’s odd that trusting God is such struggle, when most of the time, humanities downfall is done out of feelings of inferiority and insecurity. Even in situations known for someone’s arrogance and pride, are really stories about a persons overcompensation for one of their lacking qualities.
On this trip I had a small breakthrough, and it’s only in this moment that I realize it’s great proportion in my life.
Nimisha was 12, and a student who lived on campus and attended 6th standard classes. She quickly became one of my closest Indian friends, and soon I found out she was Hindu.
Long story short, I saw a miracle. No, Nimisha didn't come to Christ...as far as I know. No, my miracle greeted me in the form of a little lizard, running up and down, touching the lines and cracks in a church building wall. God knows my weak heart and knew just how to impress it, in that moment.
Side note:
I love how God does that. Think of this, God is humble.
...
...
You don't agree. Do you?
Not only did He become a human, and die on a cross. He humbles Himself each time He talks to us. His thinking is vast! His thoughts are ridiculously amazing and I could not even comprehend His mere ideas! We say, "it's all Greek to me," as a common cliche, now imagine trying to understand the God of the universe! ...sorry..sometimes His indescribable-ness is plain to me and I'm shocked and can't help sounding a little preachy! But, each time He talks to us or "bows" to our desire,...that's exactly it! He "Bows" to our desire, or our wants or something we think we need. When I saw that lizard. It was a "sign," a "safety net," an answer to prayer. It was a miracle! I thought I needed a sign to show me God was with me, because my faith was weak. Actually when I first saw it, I was excited, then I thought about it and I was ashamed. For God to have actually given me my little sign, I really must have been in bad shape, and of course He knew it. But, now as I look back on it. Fine maybe I was in low spirits, maybe God was "worried" about me. But I don't think that was why He gave me my little miracle. I think it was more than that, and less than that.
That doesn't make sense. I know. I'm just full of oxy-morons this time. but...follow my logical madness for a second and see if you agree.
It's like... If your having a bad day and someone gives you a hug or a kind word or whatever would encourage you, it feels like either, they realized you were down and said it or gave it because they pittied or because they worried, about you. On a average day, a non-special day but a not bad day, if someone comes up and gives you a hug or a kind word etc. without the pull on your part to do it, doesn't feel like more?
In summation of my side-note, the point is, God humbles Himself by bringing Himself, again, back to our level. He puts His words into human words and gives us what we need to feel His intangible touch. That day He used His lizard to show me Him. That was something I asked for, something He knew I would understand, and He cared enough about insignificant me to play my little game, and giving me alone a miracle. That's my God! what an amazing King!
Anyway, sorry for the long side note!
So my miracle gave me courage and I felt I had a purpose in India. I was sure of my God and I wanted that same confidence and that same relationship, that same love, for Nimisha. I was excited and sure that the next day I would talk to Nimisha and tell her about Jesus.
Well the next day came. I was met with the same struggles and I was more exhausted than ever, but I still felt that call.
I found an opportune moment to talk to Nimisha. We talked, we shared stories and I told her a bit about Jesus. I'm sorry to let you down but, so was I. She didn't accept Jesus that day. I came away, a little depressed. Again my purpose seemed shot. I knew I didn't fail. I felt I had misinterpreted.
Again, I expected a change. Never expect the expected with God.
The week came and went and on the last day we were to say goodbye. All the way down from our house to the building where we'd say farewell, I pondered my last words to Nimisha. What could I say that would make a difference. I thought of many things, maybe they were good, maybe not, but they weren't what came to mind when I was saying my goodbye to Nimisha.
Nimisha was in tears, and I was on the verge. She kept saying how she'd miss me and how I'd been good to her. (I pray she was seeing a bit of Jesus' goodness) She was upset, wondering if she'd ever see me again. I had to tell her I didn't know. That didn't help. Finally I said something that sounded rather like something my mom would have said. I told her that I knew she didn't know my Jesus, but that I did, and that, if she talked to Him, He could keep us together. I told her I would be talking to Him and making sure she was okay and that she could do the same. I told her how He would love to hear from her, and that I hoped she would try. After a couple sniffs and pause, she nodded and said she'd would.
I know we don't hear from God like a telephone call. I know that it takes a trained ear to listen for His words. But, I also know God, well I know a little about Him. I know He loves me and I know He loves Nimisha. He loves her so much He died so He could get to be closer to her. Because I know that, I know He is working on her heart. He is knocking and I think she is almost ready to listen to Him call and ring the doorbell. I'm happy I could be the one to tell her who the stranger outside the door was.
This trip was tough. I saw no immediate growth. But that was my blessing! It was an oddly wrapped gift but now that I've opened it and am accepting it, I realize it was trust that I received. I have to believe to have faith, trust, that God loves Nimisha. I have to trust Him to continue the work He brought me to India to do. It's a gift in process. A gift for the heart and a gift I not only asked for but needed desperately. And God knew just how to give it to me!
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