Apathy Acts Like An Ally

As the departure date for Haiti approaches (April 2nd!!!), I find myself increasingly eager to begin the trip. I've received all my shots and pills, I've collected gear and supplies, I've fasted (13 of 21 days done so far) and prayed. And yet I'll never feel fully ready to go. At the end of the day, I may be safe from Typhoid and Malaria, I may have a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope, but I'll never feel fully prepared. That's where I get to do all I can do and trust God to do the rest. I get to give Him my weaknesses, my failures and shortcomings, and see Him shine in the midst. I fully expect Him to work in great ways in our team and in the people we meet. And the more I pray, the more my heart yearns to engage with the Haitians, the more my perception of their pain comes into focus. I cannot imagine what changes they have been through in the past 14 months, nor can I begin to understand the depth of sorrow they've experienced. But I long to be with them, to share a smile, to validate their pain, to encourage and pray with them.

Brooke Fraser's "Flags" has been my theme song of the month. Click here to listen to this amazing song. I sense my emotions triggering when I hear "reality has left you reeling" and it's just downhill from there. It's rare to end the song with a dry eye, yet Brooke's poignant prose speak of something oh so hopeful. It's got God's promises spelled right out:

You who mourn will be comforted
You who hunger will hunger no more
Oh the last shall be first, of this I am sure

In Luke 6, just after choosing His disciples, Jesus makes these promises to them. It is with this truth settled deep within me that I will pray with expectation as I walk on Haitian soil. That is the hopeful part...but there's also the part that haunts me every time.

While apathy acts like an ally
My enemy and I are one and the same

Uuuugh, it just makes me grown inwardly. How often am I apathetic towards those who mourn, those who hunger, those who weep? Do we turn away and move on or turn towards and press in? It's easier to just move on, but we're called to press in. The Great Comforter has commissioned us to be His hands and feet. We are the physical embodiment of His Spirit on earth. If we turn the other way, who will be there? I'm challenged to think of where I miss opportunities, where I let my busyness distract me from seeing the need of those calling out. Preparing for this trip has made me aware of not only the needs in a far off country, but also the needs of those in our own circles. Sure it takes courage to fly to a foreign country and share Christ's love. But isn't it just as courageous to extend your hand to those right here?


In light of recent natural disasters - the earthquake in Christchurch, NZ (which was close to home for me) and now the wreckage in Japan - I'm also challenged to not just feel sadness at the weight of the tragedy, but to DO something! No, we can't jump on a plane to every country in need, but we can pray...unceasingly. Let's set ourselves apart from the enemy, raise our weapons, and fight the spiritual battle in prayer for them!

Disobedience Hurts

We all know the scenario...alarm goes off at some ungodly hour of the morning, in a groggy state you reach over and hit snooze...again...and again...and again...until finally you rouse to some level of consciousness that reminds you there was a reason your alarm went off when it did. You finally stumble out of bed and wearily begin the day.

That was my morning. And boy was I mad. Not at my alarm. Not at my bed for being so darn comfortable I never want to leave it. I was mad at myself. Plain and simple. I had my morning all divided up: 30 minutes with God, 30 minutes to shower and get ready, 30 minutes to eat and get out the door. I don't like to rush in the morning, so the 30 minutes schedule works quite well. Unless you get up 30 minutes late. I had to skimp on something. I couldn't bring myself to completely cut out any of the three activities (let's face it, it would take some serious security to step out of the house and work a full day with no makeup). So if nothing was removed from the schedule, how would I get ready on time? I ended up shortening all three. It was the best solution I could come up with in my sleepy state, but it made me sad. I did get everything done, but I had to rush. And I skimped on my time with God. That was the most saddening. It doesn't matter what I might say to Him, my actions speak clear as I reach over and hit snooze for the third time. And I think really? I would really choose an extra 5 minutes of sleep over spending that time resting in the presence of my God? One who satisfies all desires, who has plans to prosper me, the One who created the mountains and yet formed every detail of my being. This morning I chose sleep over all that. And I was so sad. I couldn't shake it for some time. I know He is also a God of mercy and grace, a God who redeems me every day, but I let Him down - I let myself down. And like a child who disobeys his parents, I was hurt by the disobedience. No, God didn't ground me. He didn't send any lightening bolts either. But I missed out on time with Him. I was the one who suffered for my own actions. Disobedience pulls me away from Him, the opposite direction of where I want to go. So I was left to spend the rest of the day changing my trajectory. Although my initial actions, before I even rolled out of bed, didn't put Him first, I had the opportunity to set it right. At some point I had to stop being mad at myself and move on.

You can bet I'll be faced with the same dilemma tomorrow. Satan (and pretty much everyone else) knows I'm not a morning person. He's very aware that the less time I spend with my Father, the more likely I am to listen to his lies. So it's not just about that extra 30 minutes of sleep. That decision sets the spiritual tone for the day. It's a small action that can win or lose the first battle I'm faced with each morning. This morning I lost. But I've got a battle plan for tomorrow. And I've got God and the angel army on my side. I will win.

My Divine Valentine

I'm gonna go ahead and call myself out on this one. "Divine Valentine" is just plain cheesy. No way around it. But it's also true.

Today has been one of the best, if not the best, February 14th in my adult life. Let's face it...as a kid, it's the greatest day next to Halloween...pretty decorated Valentine boxes, secret admirers, gobs of free candy...what's not to love? Then you enter adulthood. Single adulthood. And the holiday seems to generally be a slap in the face. There have been years of, let's see, loneliness, bitterness, pity-partiness (yes, I'm aware that's not a word, I had to match the theme). The list goes on, but who wants to dwell on that, ay? This year this day was different. I woke up almost tangibly aware of God's love. The lyrics to "Your Love Never Fails" were running through my head - even before I swung my feet off the bed. Then on the way to work I listened to one of my faves - Phil Wickham's "Divine Romance." And it hit me: I've got a Divine Valentine. No bouquet of roses delivered to work or doily-esque cutout heart with words of gooeyness written on it or a kiss on the cheek. BUT, He did give me a natural world full of life and color! He also gave me His Word full of promises (my eyes treated themselves to Psalm 139 this morning). And the sunshine kissing my cheeks as I drove home with my sunroof open....that moment couldn't have been beat. Walking into work I heard a most beautiful birdsong. I got to talk to Him all day - even while I was at work. Then I got to end the night with my small group - a great time with fabulous ladies! 

So I could have spent the day belaboring the fact that I had no date (although I did receive the sweetest card from my dad, just as I do every year...and I hope he knows how much I look forward to getting his card every year). But sheesh, had I spent all my energy focused on the negative I would have missed out on so much! It was a seriously lovely day.

What an Experience!

Ok, I've stared at this blank screen for minutes now, trying to find words to express what is within me, grasping at some way to eloquently explain the details of Monday night through Wednesday morning. Forget eloquent, I'm just hoping for adequate at this point. Here goes...

Monday evening I began to send support letters to friends and family for my upcoming trip to Haiti. The key word in that sentence is began. You see, I never got a chance to finish. Within 48 hours of sending the first letter, God had provided in a big way! I woke up Wednesday morning to find my personal need of $900 met. Done. Finished. I hadn't even sent all my letters! I was fully prepared to embark on at least a month-long endeavor of support-raising. I've seen it firsthand. I lived with a dear friend who does full time missions. She and several friends have shared with me the joys and trials of support-raising. To be honest, I've more often heard of the trials. So I bolstered myself with a prayer of faith (probably the size of a mustard seed...) and approached the dreaded task. I'm not one to love math, but even I couldn't help but try to work out equations of "this many people would need to give this much to meet my need..." Each time popping the math bubble in my mind with an abrupt reminder of God's faithfulness.

And faithful He was. Our Jehovah Jireh not only confirmed my call to go on this trip, but He also caused my faith to deepen significantly. I spent most of Wednesday in disbelief, longing only to fall flat on my face and praise my Creator. I blared praise music louder than ever before...if that was even possible. I teared up time and time again. I almost did a cartwheel down the hallway at work...almost. It was truly a feeling I've never felt before. I felt like God had picked me up, twirled me around, and set me back down to continue on with my day. The God of the Universe had given me this incredible blessing! I am, of course, beyond grateful for my family and friends. Their love and support will walk each step with me in Haiti. 

While my personal goal has been met, I do however encourage anyone to continue with what you feel God is leading you to give. There are vaccines and supplies I need that are not covered in that $900. Also, anything above and beyond my personal need will go to help the other team members - and if there is any left after that, we will buy supplies to donate. I know that there are a few people on the team specifically who do not have support of their families in this trip, so they may benefit greatly from  the overflow! Donate to the Haiti trip by clicking here.

I'll close with some Scripture that speaks to where my heart is firmly planted:

Psalm 52:8-9

...I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise You forever for what You have done; in Your name I will hope, for Your name is good. I will praise You in the presence of Your saints.

Psalm 95:1-7

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to Him. The sea is His, for He made it, and His hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.

Praise Him!

Those That Wish to Remain Unnamed

Fear. It's a four letter word that likes to hold significant power, yet it doesn't get this power on its own. We have to give it. It's amazing how much it can affect the outlook of my life, my week, my day. At the same time, those I interact with on a daily basis probably have no idea of the fears that nag inside. We all have them. So how do we get rid of them? How do we remove them from our lives, reclaiming all that God intends to be ours? We name them. That's right. Giving them a name, calling them out, shining light on them (ugh, I don't like the sound of this either), that is what causes them to shrink and disappear. So, without tons of explanation, I'm naming some of mine. For all to see. I've had friends who've done this via blog. I sense it's freeing. And scary, but mostly freeing. So here goes...

I fear failure...I began to conquer this after arriving in New Zealand - I apparently need to reconquer.

I fear missing the point of why God has me here...in this world, in Georgia, in this season of life.

I fear not being able to follow through on the point of why I'm here...lacking gumption.

I fear all things financial...enough said.

I fear I will have to "go it alone." (Wording from U2's "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own.)

I fear getting hurt...it's a fact of life, but I'd sure as heck love to avoid it.

I fear hurting others.

I sense God desiring me to purge these fears. As I said in my last post, He's working on some things in me. I think He has some things to show me that require a progression, a deep-set call to continual attention, not just a sudden change. I feel like my verse of the year is 2 Corinthians 12:9: 

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 

As God began working these things at the start of the year, something became clear early on that I am seeing come to fruition. And it took some fear conquering to get me on board. Ever since my experience in the Philippines, I've been longing to go back. And I believe I will someday. But first, He's asked me to go somewhere else...

HAITI. I've been accepted to travel with a team from 12Stone Church on April 2-10!!!! I felt the pull to apply one night while I was listening to Louie Giglio talk at Passion2011. There was a heaviness in my heart for this country and an excitement that I could be a part of the hope in the rebuilding. I had heard of the opportunity a few weeks earlier but to be honest, I felt nothing. I talked myself out of it before I even gave it a shot. Fast-forward a few weeks to the first weekend of the year. Getting the last-minute opportunity to volunteer at the conference, I knew there was a reason for me being there. Worshipping with thousands of others seeking God. Meeting a dad and his daughter from Haiti who have suffered greatly from the earthquake. Talking with a doctor who pinpointed the reason for my medical burnout. He encouraged me to pursue nursing outside the US, in a place where getting medical care is a luxury, where red-tape, protocol, and all sorts of other passion-killing things aren't even on the radar. All people want is proper medical attention. I had lost sight of the need for medical care. It's common and expected here. And so much of it on the healthcare provider side is so far from the personal interaction. It's paper and charts and computers and red tape and people making decisions from behind a desk that have never walked a day in the life of a nurse. And so I'm going to Haiti. A medical team of me and 9 others will be serving in any capacity we can. And I'm pumped! Beyond excited. I'm begging God to wreck me. Yes, you read that right. To...wreck...me. To take these now named fears and give them no ground to stand on. To blow them so far from my life they'll quiver at the thought of returning. It will take vulnerability. And transparency. And emotion. Just a few things I like to shy away from. One could even call those weaknesses in my life. But that's just the spot for God to enter in and reveal His power! 

The Pull and Tear.

There is a certain pull on my soul as one leading a life following Christ. The world and all its expectations try to tell me one thing. Beliefs and faith tell me another. It's easy to feel the pull to become one among the crowd, to be "normal" along with everyone else. We have TV ads, magazine articles, educations even telling us who and what to be. Pursue this career, move to this area, read this book, watch this movie. The world even goes so far as to tell us when we should be married and starting a family. But then there's Jesus. He also tells us what to be. He doesn't say anything about being one among the crowd or being normal. His life, in fact, was quite radical. He shattered expectations on so many levels. And I believe we are called to do the same.

But there's still that annoying pull. That innate desire to go with the flow of life, of the world's expectations. Sure I desire to be settling down, getting married, starting a family. It feels OK to follow this for awhile, but at the core I know something is wrong. My focus begins to shift off the One who leads me and starts to settle instead on instability. I wander off the solid ground of Truth, and my footing becomes shaky. But all the while I'm praying for God's will to be done in my life. Praying that He would become greater and I would become less (John 3:30). Praying for Him to have His way with me. Society and cultural norms call loud and clear (even when we don't want them to). Yet God's still small voice is ever-present under the din of worldly temptations, if I would only listen. I sense the pull getting stronger toward the true, narrow path. God's Spirit is moving in me, pulling me back to Him. And then it happens. The pull gives way to a tear.

I've lived in that pull the past few months. Desiring some sort of safe, comfortable, normal life. One where I might meet someone and "settle down" - whatever the heck that means. Basically desiring a life that I can fit into a box. Here's where the problem starts: God doesn't work in boxes. He is so outside of the box its ridiculous! But in my prayer for Him to have His way with me, what did I expect? Did I expect comfortable or radical? Safe of crazy? To be honest, it was the comfortable and safe. I tried to see how God would work all the while limiting Him to the safe box. Longing for a way out of what seems to be this holding pattern stage of life, I looked to how He might be shaping the future. But then there's Crazy Love. His crazy love! What does He want for my life? Marriage and family? I don't know. I just know I've felt the pull to get a routine, a sense of a comfortable life. And God can be in that. But I'm sensing that's not for me right now. He's asking for more. Something more radical. And so I tore.

It happened this past weekend as I volunteered at the Passion 2011 conference here in Atlanta. There's just something incredibly moving about worshiping with 22,000+ university students, serving for an amazing ministry. It will take awhile to unpack the great messages I heard, the enlightening conversations I had, the passion that was rekindled. I was reminded that this life is all about Him. It's really not about what I want. It's about me bringing Him glory. That's it. That's why I'm here. So what happens in the wake of the tear? Well, I don't know exactly. I can say so far that God is entering in and beginning to change my outlook and my mentality on a few things. It's strange, there's seemingly less certainty in this spot, but oh the peace! The joy of knowing He's at the center of it all. The exact "tear moment" that happened this past weekend is something I'll elaborate more on in the very near future. All I'll say for now is it involves a more radical outlook on my current purpose, more fully embracing this Crazy Love and beginning to pursue expectations outside the box. And it might just involve me taking a short trip outside the country...

My Friend Peter

Friday was a good day. Scratch that. Friday was a great day! First off, it was Friday, thus making it automatically a good day. It never lets me down - it begins the weekend...every week. I began work at the bakery at 8:30, as usual. But this morning my coworker, Liz, and I decided to spice things up a bit - we played Christmas music!!! Now, hold on a second, I can just hear you arguing that Thanksgiving gets cruelly left out as we speed ahead full on toward the 25th of December. Well, for those who care to know, Thanksgiving is in fact one of my favorite holidays. Simply put, playing Christmas music beginning November 1st (now your eyes are really rolling!) in truth helps me get in the holiday spirit altogether. Come up with some Thanksgiving music and I'll play it. Until then, I'll revel in my holiday music collection as I enjoy Thanksgiving as much as Christmas. I don't discriminate.

Now that that's off my chest, I can adequately move on to what turned a good Friday into a great one. It involves Peter. I've mentioned him before. He's a mall walker. An elder British man who seems to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder while still having a soft side hidden somewhere in the crusty exterior. He came into the bakery the other day while I was in the back room. One of my coworkers said, "Hey Erin, your friend Peter is here." It struck me as funny to refer to him as my friend. He is, of course, but admittedly it's an unlikely friendship. Peter and I have never had more than a 15 minute conversation (although the one 15 minute conversation we did have provided a rather large window into his life story). I've never run into Peter anywhere but the bakery. We have no relatives or friends in common. He is 57 years older than me. Prior to yesterday I'm not even sure he knew my name. But we see each other five days a week...and he's my friend. I always inquire about his agenda for the day. Our exchanges often remind me he's quite the quipster. But he makes me laugh, and I feel like there's a part of him that enjoys my extra-cheery smile and "Have a great day, Peter!" as he walks away with his coffee in hand.

During our "life story" conversation, he shared with me that he would be 83 on November 19th. Apparently I misunderstood this, as it's actually his mother's birthday, but I swear to you he said it was his. We'll chalk it up to miscommunication due to either his old(er) age or my inability to sometimes understand his accent. Either way, I was under the impression that Friday was a day to celebrate Peter. So I did. Awhile back we made British flapjacks at the bakery. He loved them! His eyes lit up as he recounted memories of his mother making them. He's been on me to make them again - one day he said, "I'll see you later, now go make some damn flapjacks!" Well, I took him up on that. I made some Thursday night and boxed them up for him with a card tucked on top. I was so excited to see him at his usual time on Friday morning! When he told me it wasn't his birthday (but it was his mom's), I pressed to know the actual date of his birth. He wouldn't budge. So I told him I declared yesterday the day we would celebrate it since he wouldn't tell me the real day. I told him if his mom wasn't born, he wouldn't be born. Reason enough for me! He agreed and read the card. I busied myself as he read my attempt at dry cynical humor as well as honest kindness. The look on his face and the exclamation that came from his mouth as he opened the box of flapjacks was the moment my day became great. He looked so smitten. We got to talking about his weekend, his plans to go to the fresh market to stock up on British items as well as a stop at the British bakery for pastries. He commented on how it can be lonely at his age..."after living with someone for so long, it's quiet when they're not there..." He thanked me, picked up the box and his cup of coffee and said, "This is the nicest thing anyone could have done for me" and was out the door. I held back tears as I turned back to the tasks at hand. There were no other words that could have brought me more joy.

It was a great Friday, indeed. Next Friday has a lot to live up to...