roots and wings

I love my wings.

I really enjoy traveling. It’s a good thing, since I do so much of it. I love the newness, the adventure, the constant change. I enjoy experiencing the new and the different, discovering things I’ve always wanted to see and things I didn’t even know existed.

There is nothing in the world like stepping into the unfamiliar, unknown, unpredictable, and unexpected. It makes my heart come alive.

Most of all, I love people. It is such a gift to be constantly meeting new people and spending cherished moments with friends. Experiencing other people’s worlds means embracing new rhythms of life, and I learn so much from all that is different than me.

I value my heart’s desire for change.

I also love my roots.

I crave security and stability. At times, the humdrum of routine is the sweetest sound I know. There is comfort in the known and the familiar, joy in the predictable. Going to bed after a day that looked exactly as expected makes for some sweet contentment.

I’m grateful for the sense of belonging that comes with home. It is a beautiful thing to have a space in life that’s carved out with my exact shape—the warm hug of that perfect fit is absolutely matchless.

Being in one place long enough to be missed when I’m gone makes my heart exhale. I love being with those rare people who feel like home to me—who know what I’m thinking before I say it, who can read my slightest facial expression, who just plain “get” me, no explanation needed.

I value my heart’s desire for same.

I live in the tension between my wings and roots.

At times it’s exhausting… at others, exhilarating. When I’ve had one for too long, I start yearning for the other. All change with no same makes me just as restless as all same with no change.

And I’m feeling restless now.

The past 19 months have been nothing but change. My heart longs for steady. Predictable. Certainty. I want some surety under my feet. My wings are tired.

So I’m trying to create pockets of same in the midst of all the change. Little bits of routine. Tiny fragments of consistency. I need to find some more creative ways to do that…

Cause after all, a girl can have both wings and roots, right?!

Right.

Are you more of a wings or roots person?
Any thoughts on how I can create some “same” in my
very unpredictable life right now?

prone to wander

I love the raw honesty in the comments on these prayer posts. I am so thankful for the transparency and community here at The Grit. Thank you for sharing your hearts in this space.

I want to pass along some things that help my prone-to-wander heart stay connected with God in prayer. Not as a formula or because I think these are the best or only ways to do it. But because maybe they will spur on ideas that work for you personally.

: : :

I create prayer prompts for myself.
I’m visual, so it helps me when I connect things I want to pray for with specific objects or even places. Then those serve as triggers, prompting me to pray whenever I see them. For instance…

• My pillow is a reminder, when I lay my head on it at night, to pray for my mind, thoughts, dreams, and sleep.
• Putting my hands on the steering wheel when I get in the car reminds me to acknowledge that God is in control and not me.
• Y’all know I like me some Starbucks — It’s comfort in a cup for me. So I’ve made Starbucks to-go cups a prompt to thank Him for the peace, security, and belonging I have in Him.

Short arrow-like prayers invite the Lord right into the moment with me.
I love Nehemiah’s example of this: “The king said to me, ‘What is it you want?’ Then I prayed to the God of heaven, and I answered the king…” Mid-conversation, before he even responded to the question, Nehemiah shot up a prayer. I try to be intentional to do the same, shooting up quick prayers for help and wisdom, to thank Him, or just to point out something that I love…

I keep pen and paper nearby.
Scribbling down the random things and to-do lists I think of makes it easier to keep my mind fixed on talking to God.

Some of my best prayers are prayed in bed at night.
I usually struggle to fall asleep, because my brain lacks an OFF switch. Quieting my heart to pray is a good way for me to turn late-night concerns right into conversations with God… even if I do fall asleep mid-prayer.

I use post-it notes. Lots of them.
I write down things I want to pray for, and stick them where they’ll be visible. I have Fuzzy Brain Syndrome, and will simply forget without reminders like this.

I don’t often tell someone I’ll pray for them.
Because I know full-well how quickly my good intentions get away from me. When I do say I’ll pray, I stop right then and do it.

Often when I’m driving alone, I pray out loud in the car.
I tend to spiderweb less when I’m praying out loud.

When I really need to hash through something with God, I journal my prayer.
Writing out my conversation with Him helps keep me focused, and seems to make it easier for me to listen for His response.

I am so thankful that the Holy Spirit intercedes for me.
When I don’t know what or how to pray (which is pretty often), I often just whisper: I have no words right now. Holy Spirit, I need You to pray for me because I simply can’t…

: : :

“Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.”

-from the hymn Come Thou Fount

What are some things that help you pray?

coming out from under the guilt

For me, prayer has always been wrapped up in condemnation.

Not that it was a conscious thought, but it was always there… underlying my foundational beliefs about prayer. And about myself.

While I’ve never been one to pray for very long, my mom, on the other hand, was known for her hours-long prayer times. And in a way, it became a measure of spirituality in the brand of Christianity I was raised in.

A measure I fell very short of.

I’ve been made to feel like a “bad Christian” because of my prayer habits (or non-habits).

I’ve been told that I’m not spiritual enough because I don’t pray for long periods of time. (Along with my insufficient Scripture usage and lack of structured “quiet times”…)

Prayer became yet another area that I’m simply “not enough” in. The guilt always gave birth to shame in my failed attempts to try harder.

So it’s something I’ve had to realign my thinking on. And I find myself still needing to. Often. Because I still feel the weight of those lies.

I want depth and realness in my prayer life to stem from desire, not judgment.

I’m tired of trying to pray more/better/longer/eloquentlier because I’m “supposed to”. I’m done should-ing on myself, and I’m done with others should-ing on me too.

Because, let’s be honest… Guilt, disapproval, and judgment have only caused me to pray less, not more.

Ironic how condemnation works. Even when it’s self-inflicted.

I digress.

There is significant freedom in remembering that God created me as I am, on purpose.

He’s not surprised by my “oooooh! shiny!” tendencies when I’m talking to Him. He’s not baffled by my inability to sit still for extended periods of time. He’s not confused when I pray in short one-liners spread throughout the day.

He knows what I’m like. He’s the One who knit me together for God’s sake! (No blasphemy intended. He really did create me for His sake.)

And He hardwired me exactly as I am. Intentionally.

I think He loves when I relate to Him out of the uniqueness of my own DNA rather than out of some mass-produced version of how Christians “should” pray.

So today I’m choosing to shake off the shackles of should and supposed to. And I’m giving myself the freedom to discover how God wants to relate to me.

And how He created me to relate to Him.

Which is as individual and unparalleled as my fingerprint.

What are some of the unique ways you can relate to God?
Do you feel freedom to connect with Him like that?

thoughts from my dusty prayer closet

Praying has never been easy for me.

Not something you’d ever expect to hear from a missionary, I know. But it’s the truth. Praying is sometimes usually really hard.

So I don’t pray nearly as much as I “should”. Not as much as I want to, even. Or maybe not as much as I want to want to would be more accurate.

I get distracted really easily.

Midway through mentally writing my Target list, I’ll remember that I’d actually been praying.

Oh. Yeah.

So I shift back to prayer and, sure enough, my mind begins wandering again. Even if it starts with thoughts of the person or situation I’m praying for, my brain very quickly spiderwebs into countless random things. Until I remember—again!—that I was in the middle of praying.

Oh. Yeah.

Take 29.

I also can’t spend hours in prayer. I just can’t.

Many people can. And do. And actually love it. But not me. I’m simply not wired that way.

I’m more inclined to talk to God in bite-size conversations throughout the day than in one long official “prayer time”. Maybe it’s because I’m more do-er than be-er, more Martha than Mary. Maybe it’s because I can’t sit in one place very long. Or because I don’t feel like I have that much to say. Or because I struggle with structure. Or because of that whole “easily distracted” thing.

Maybe it’s a combination of all the above. And then some.

Whatever the reason(s), I don’t often pray for any great length of time.

But none of these “challenges” give me license not to pray.

They don’t let me off the hook from growing in this area.

I still need to spend more time praying than I currently do. I need to be intentional to stay focused in prayer. I need to ask, seek, and knock. I need to give thanks and make my requests known.

I still need to pour my heart out like water before the Lord. I just no longer need that to look like some Wonderbread version of a quality prayer life.

I simply need it to look like me connecting with Him.

I’m gonna unpack more thoughts on prayer
tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d love to hear
what prayer (honestly) looks like for you.

how do we tell?

I’m no stranger to challenges, both in ministry and in life.

I’ve roughed the stormy seas of tight finances. I’ve braved long seasons of everything possible going wrong in every way possible.

I’ve endured numerous devastating fires on our mission base. I’ve watched a tornado lift the roof right off of my house. While I was in it. Twice.

I’ve faced countless health issues, lost loved ones, sat broken-down on the side of the road more times than I can count.

I’m not oblivious to the schemes of the devil.

I know the enemy attacks hard on the front lines.

I also know God uses the situations we face to guide and shape us.

He disciplines us, redirects our paths, and goes to great lengths to get ourattention at times.

And so today I find myself wrestling.

I’m coming up with more questions than answers, though.

A barrage of negative/painful/stretching circumstances could be an attack we should stand against in faith. Or it could be God’s way of “closing a door”, turning us around, or shifting the direction of our path.

How do we tell the difference?

i was young and foolish

I moved to Africa twelve years ago today.

It feels like a lifetime ago in some ways, and in others, it feels like just yesterday.

Some people think I was brave and bold for packing up and moving to Africa when I was 19.

If I was either, I certainly didn’t know it.

I felt a whole mix of emotions on that long flight across the Atlantic, but brave and bold weren’t in the mix.

Sad, frightened, and unsure were though.

Right next to equal doses of anticipation, hopefulness, and nervous-excitement.

I was young. And slightly foolish.

Foolish enough to think I had something offer. Foolish enough to believe I’d felt God’s leading. Foolish enough to imagine He could use me.

Twelve years later, I smirk as I thank God that I still have some foolishness in me.

Part of me thinks it’s a little wrong to celebrate my “Afriversary” in America. But it isn’t the first time. And it probably won’t be the last.

And it doesn’t change the fact that twelve years ago today, the entire trajectory of my life changed forever.

Here’s to another year lived for Africa, even if not in Africa.

even greater things

I’ve seen God do some incredible things through me in my lifetime.

He used a poem I wrote as a nine-year-old girl to bring my separated parents back together.

On my mission trips as a teenager, He spoke through my faltering words to lead people to salvation.

I’ve stepped out in faith for eleventh-hour financial provision, and had money miraculously show up at the last minute.

In my early years of living in Africa, I rubbed cataracts out of a woman’s eyes.

I saw a man’s leg grow out six inches as I prayed over him.

I pulled a lame man to his feet and watched him take his first steps.

I get goosebumps just thinking about the amazing things God has done. And I feel humbled that He’s chosen to use me.

But it all feels like ancient history.

It’s been a very long time since God’s done something supernatural through me.

But I know it’s not because He’s changed.

I think somewhere along the line, I stopped believing Him for the miraculous.

My faith grew dim.

I got “busy”.

And I stopped actively trusting.

But I want my faith back. I want to trust Him for the miraculous again.

I want to trust Him for even greater things.

That feels like a huge risk right now. My battle-weary heart is scared to hope, to believe.

But every mighty move of God in my life has required an act of faith.

And, Lord knows, I need Him to move mightily.

Not just through me, but in me.

So I’m asking Him to strengthen my faith and fill me with the assurance that He is trustworthy.

Whether He ever does another miracle through my hands or not, I want to live with heart-risking trust that He can.

i am only one, but i am one

“I am only one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything,
but I can do something.
And I will not let what I cannot do
interfere with what I can do.”
-Edward Everett Hale

Everyone can do something in the fight against AIDS. Don’t let the enormity of the task keep you from doing the something you can do.

Learn as much as you can, discover what you’re passionate about, and throw your full weight into that passion.

• Discover which aspect of the AIDS crisis resonates with your heart. It will be different for different people, and that’s okay! You may not know yet what you’re passionate about in regards to fighting the AIDS pandemic. So begin by reading about the multi-faceted issues involved. Your heart will be gripped by something as you research. It might be orphan care, or medical intervention, or prevention/abstinence programs. Whatever it is, find your passion.

• Find an organization that shares your passion. Again, this may take some digging. But there are plenty of solid ministries out there targeting the various aspects of AIDS.

• Connect as much as possible with the cause/organization you believe in. The more you know and understand about their vision and strategies, the more you can be a megaphone for them.

• Interact with the organization and its team. Visit their website, comment on their blog posts, ask for specific prayer requests. Passion grows when you truly become part of something. Family members have the same blood in their veins. Join the family. Get the vision coursing through you till you bleed it.

• Use your voice and influence to promote the cause you believe in. You can do that through blog posts, sidebar widgets, twitter updates, and personal conversations. You could commit to a monthly megaphone day on your blog where you highlight different aspects of what’s being done, what the needs are, and opportunities for others to get involved.

• Be passionate about it. Anyone can plug something, but passion is unmistakable. People will know how much you really believe in what you’re saying.

• Pray. Prayer really does change things.

• Contribute financially to support the work that’s being done.

• Get off your “but” and go. Drop the excuses and go see for yourself. Travel overseas to not only see the work in action but to participate in it. The best advocates are those who’ve been involved. And I guarantee it will change your life forever.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

What are you currently doing to help in the fight against AIDS?
What are you going to start doing?
What other suggestions do you have for ways people can get involved?

you CAN do something

AIDS is a reality you don’t have the luxury to ignore.

Bono wrote in his book On the Move—

6,500 Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drugstore. This is not about charity; this is about justice and equality.

Because there’s no way we can look at what’s happening in Africa and, if we’re honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t accept it. Look at what happened in Southeast Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, “mother nature.” In Africa 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it’s a completely avoidable catastrophe.

There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames.I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did—or did not do—to put the fire out in Africa.

History, like God, is watching what we do.

Don’t close your eyes or turn your head away. People are dying for you to do something.

What will you do to learn more about the AIDS crisis?
What will you do with what you know?

i’m tired

I was reading along in Isaiah when I tripped over this phrase: “You have not wearied yourselves for Me, O Israel.” I brushed off my knees and copped a squat right there. I knew exactly what God was talking about. And I knew I was just as guilty as Israel was.

After over eleven years in full-time ministry, I know full-well what it’s like to weary myself. I’ve put in the ridiculously long hours. I’ve juggled an impossible schedule. I’ve reached the point of burnout and lived to tell about it.

And as I fall in bed exhausted at the end of a long day week month year decade, my heart sighs, “I’m weary…”

If I listen closely enough, I hear God’s voice, ever loving and gentle. “But you haven’t wearied yourself for Me.”

Without even realizing it, I’ve been wearing my exhaustion like a badge of honor. My demanding schedule and ever-growing to do lists became my identity. As if fatigue is the mark of an accomplished missionary.

If I’m most honest, I wearied myself because I thought my value lay in my productivity. I mistook accomplishments for significance. I bought into the lie that busyness is the telltale sign of successful leadership.

But while I was getting stuff done, and even—by God’s grace—impacting lives, I was ultimately toiling for the wrong reasons.

The work of discipling young leaders in Africa is worth every ounce of my effort and energy. I want to tire myself out doing what I love. But I need to keep the motives of my heart in check. Wearying myself for some self-serving purpose is just plain tiring.

I want to weary myself for Him.

Then and only then am I strengthened.

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