September 7, 2009
It’s amazing to consider that it was eleven years ago this month that I moved to England to set out for my mission training school with Youth With a Mission (YWAM). Certainly there have been many different and new chapters in the years since, but as I lay in my hammock on this pleasant eve of my twenty-ninth birthday, I most definitely feel the closing of one book and the anticipation of beginning a new one. This summer I took some time to re-read my journals from over the years, searching for things that God spoke to me. I wish to now build on that and to document a refection of sorts, for myself and for those who have so faithfully supported me on this journey.
First of all, know this. When I was sixteen and still learning to recognize God’s voice, I felt Him call me to “full-time ministry”. That call became specific and led me to train and work as a missionary as soon as I finished high school. On the journey, I heard God broaden the definition and I now know that my “calling” is no different than any follower of Christ: to minister first to God’s heart through intimate relationship with Him and second, to serve the world, wherever I find myself.
Second, God is faithful and has proven that He can be trusted. The clearest demonstration of this faithfulness has come to me time and time again through practical provision. The choice to train and then work with a missions organization who (at first) did not pay its workers (did later, but less than what is considered necessary in our country), granted me the fantastic experiences of trusting in Jehovah Jireh, of living simply and in community, of creatively using my talents for income and of humbly making my needs known to the body of Christ. I have noticed that it is our experiences of interaction with God that enlarge our revelation of who He is and, since I have so many testimonies to His provision, the truth of His faithfulness in this area has finally been driven home for me! (There are other areas of His goodness that I still doubt, of course, but I trust that my faith will keep growing.)
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Sometimes I wish I were more of a storyteller. I know that the stories from these experiences would be more meaningful than just a list of what I did. I’ll never forget the woman who taught me the best lesson I could have ever learned about gratitude. She was a First Nations woman, sitting on the streets of Toronto one frigid February day. We sat together and she told me that every day when she awoke, she would give thanks to the Creator for another day of life. Thankful for life, while she had no home and not much of anything.
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Sometimes I wish I were more of a storyteller. I know that the stories from these experiences would be more meaningful than just a list of what I did. I’ll never forget the woman who taught me the best lesson I could have ever learned about gratitude. She was a First Nations woman, sitting on the streets of Toronto one frigid February day. We sat together and she told me that every day when she awoke, she would give thanks to the Creator for another day of life. Thankful for life, while she had no home and not much of anything.
Then there was the man in Thailand who invited our team into his home, gave each of us a very old Thai coin and then told us how thankful he was for our help after the devastation of the Tsunami. He was thankful to God and he decided to believe in Jesus. And our team was there only to build. No one ever once spoke about Christ. Of course he knew that we were working with Pastor Wasan (the funny little man who said of Durian fruit, “Smell like hell, but taste like heaven!”) who was such a strong witness of the gospel of action—working still to host teams to rebuild. He didn’t care if the team was made up of Christians or not.
And of course, the two places I have been to the most: Manaus, Brazil and New Orleans. I remember New Orleans before Katrina. And I remember it eight months after, when it was still a very big mess. And then a year after that, when it was STILL a big mess. Driving the streets and feeling like I was in a developing country. Seeing row upon row of white trailers and water marks on the buildings. Trying to write a song to express my feelings. Sadness and anger at the same time. That city is definitely in my heart.
It has been such a neat experience to watch an orphanage grow in the Amazon. To see it after receiving its first four kids, to help build, to see new additions, to see more children come and to see children go (sometimes to be adopted, but sometimes they run away back to the streets). To watch the YWAM workers give much blood, sweat and tears and to hope that they find their reward.
March 13, 2010
Amazing (and embarrassing) how long it's taken for me to complete this letter of reflection! September brought my first year as a full-time university student, which, while also holding a part-time retail job, I found to be a very different pace of life. But here I am finally with a free weekend!
Many people ask me what I plan to do after this. I don't have a plan other than to continue enjoying the journey and to discover the answer at the appropriate time. Yes, I really had no plan, nor even the slightest idea that I would not be working with Global Youth Network this year, but when new things began to unfold, I knew they were right. Many of you know that the last few years have not been easy in my family and, although there isn't a lot of change in the situation, me being “more than just ok” has been able to come about since I made a few decisions for change last year; God has graciously given me newness of life.
This morning I read something from Henri Nouwen that I'd like to share:
We must learn to live each day, each hour, yes, each minute as a new beginning, as a unique opportunity to make everything new. Imagine that we could live each moment pregnant with new life. Imagine that we could walk through the new year always listening to a voice saying to us: “I have a gift for you and I can't wait for you to see it!” Imagine.
Is it possible that our imagination can lead us to the truth of our lives? Yes, it can! The problem is that we allow our past, which becomes longer and longer each year, to say to us: “You know it all; you have seen it all, be realistic; the future will be just another repeat of the past. Try to survive it as best you can.” There are many cunning foxes jumping on our shoulders and whispering in our ears the great lie: “There is nothing new under the sun...don't let yourself be fooled....”
So what are we to do? First, we must send the foxes back to where they belong: in their foxholes. And then we must open our minds and hearts to the voice that resounds through the valleys and hills of our life saying: “Let me show you where I live among my people. My name is 'God-with-you.' I will wipe away all the tears from your eyes; there will be no more death and no more mourning or sadness. The world of the past is gone” (see Rev. 21:2-5).
We must choose to listen to that voice and every choice will open us a little more to discover the new life hidden in the moment, waiting eagerly to be born.
'Hold onto the promise, the stories are true: my Jesus makes all things new! The dawn is upon you.'
