"I get stuck in bitterness."

I was blessed with the opportunity to go sailing for 11 days in the British Virgin Islands back in January 2009. On that trip, my college group and I learned how to sail. Not motor. Sail.


We learned lots of terminology, how to chart our course, read the wind, to pull and loosen lines and sails, and how cramped life at sea 24/7 on a little boat with 8 people really is. We figured out the best places to sit when the boat was keeled at a steady 45 degrees, that conch shells [though pretty] are full of disgusting bugs, and that dingy boats are fun [and tricky] to drive while intoxicated...not that we were intoxicated...but--uhhhh--one can imagine it would be tricky. Anyway, cool stuff like that. 


One thing I remember very clearly, though, was dropping anchor. Before that trip, I had always thought that once you dropped your anchor, no matter where it landed, you were "good." Set. Safe.


Wrong. 


I learned that the proper way to drop anchor was to drop it down to the sea floor, and then continue to troll around slowly until the anchor [being dragged along the sandy bottom] became lodged firmly underneath a large rock. Or a reef. The bigger, the better. That way, when winds and waves come, your boat isn't swept away. It's good and stuck. Works great as long as you're anchored where you want to be.


Fast forward: *fzzzzzzzzzwhrrrrrrrrrrrip*


...Well, I went as a counselor to a high school camp in the Black Hills this past week. One of the nights, our speaker said something that whacked a funny bone in my heart. *zing*


He said, "When you anchor yourself to a lie, you end up in a bad place."


Last week God showed me that I anchored myself to the freaking Great Barrier Reef of bitterness about 9 months ago. And like that sailboat, I haven't been able to get passed my anchor point.


A year ago I graduated college and God never blessed me with the job I thought I deserved. The position and prestige He owed me for being such a good person. A life partner like all my friends were marrying. A place to live other than my parents' basement. These things made for great crevasses and cracks to lodge my anchor in. I cried. I prayed. I lied and said I was OK with it. I tried to count my blessings. I tried to squirm my way out of the circumstances God had orchestrated for me. And I tried to listen to God and become more in-tune with the plans He had for me. But I hadn't heard anything. Like almost no life direction from Him in 300 days. 


I had anchored myself to a lie, and I was in a bad place. 


See, I was trying to pursue God...but I could only get so far because I still had my anchor dropped on ole' Bitterness Point. But just as I admitted where I had dropped anchor, God graciously swept in and cut my tethered cord and began blowing a new wind in my sails.


He released me from my bitterness. From my resentment for life circumstances. From everything [I didn't have] that I was blaming Him for. From my expectations He had failed to exceed. He loosened my death-grip on the dreams I had for myself and replaced them with some new ones. 


"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." -Psalm 37:4




When I let go of all that bitterness this week, moving beyond Bitterness Point, I started to hear from the Lord. God let me know that He has plans for me in ministry. Youth ministry, for now. I want to pursue seminary. I'm excited and anxious. I can see now that God wasn't ignoring me...I was just too stuck to hear what He was saying.


My bitterness for God's dreams? Wow. God's love is so unfair. Hallelujah!








Do you have bitterness? Acknowledge that...pray to God...and wait for Him to uproot your anchor and take you in a new direction.

"I finish God's sentences. A lot."

Having patience is hard.


It's the little things that creep under my skin. Like when the Internet is super slow and I squirm as I watch the blue loading bar slowly creep its way across the URL. Or when my mom spends 30 extra minutes every Sunday after church saying "goodbye" to all her friends [while I sit baking in the car in the parking lot because I thought we were leaving 30 minutes ago]. Or when I freak out because my dog has to spend 3 entire minutes sniffing every inch of our yard in the morning [5:45! EVERYDAY.] before she can decide on a grass patch worthy of her urine. Or maybe how I eat at least 3 lukewarm meals a week because I would rather choke my way through a cold-centered hamburger than wait for 150 extra seconds to go by on the microwave.


I've even been known to manually pop the toast in the toaster before it's "done."


Maybe you can relate to that. And as funny and harmless as some of those things are, I see that impatience creep into my spiritual walk ALL.THE.TIME. I don't know if I've ever continually prayed for something for longer than a week. Don't get me wrong--if I say I'm praying about it, I am--but really it just boils down to: It's a "yes" if I don't have a sinking feeling in my gut about it by tomorrow night. Maybe 2 nights from now if I'm feeling uber-disciplined. 


What's worse? 


I have a habit of finishing God's sentences. 


I'll start to sense the Lord stirring something new in my life, and I'll immediately begin arranging the circumstances of my life to support what I'm assuming God is going to do next. And then when I assume wrongly, not only have I wasted my time pursuing something God wasn't leading me to in the first place, but I spend at least a week berating myself for having screwed up...again.


So damn over eager.


Cases in point? Oh, where do I begin. I'm only going to list two examples...any more and it would be too convicting.


Roll back to last August when my summer job ended. I had a college degree but no more direction than I felt when I graduated high school. When I felt God calling me unto Himself, I decided being "closer to Him" meant applying to an obscure Bible School in North Carolina. I did the 10 page application, figured out how I would move my stuff over there, had a phone interview, and then couldn't get a loan to save my life.


As life would have it, God was calling me to my parent's basement in Mitchell for awhile. Not North Carolina.


Or how about in January when I was getting ready to return to the US after two months in the Dominican Republic? In my prayer time I was asking God for my next steps. The conversation sounded something like this...:


Me: "God what am I going to do when I get back home?"
God: "Well, next I want you t------"
Me: "To-sell-all-my-stuff-and-ask-people-for-money-so-I-can-fly-back-to-the-Dominican-Republic-and-live-here-the-rest-of-my-life-as-a-missionary! What a great idea. I'm so glad we had this talk."
God: "......"




EHHHHHH, wrong.




Yep. This sentence-finishing-thing seems to be a trend. Guessing and planning and arranging. Starting and stopping. Explaining and deciphering. Anticipating and worrying. For a girl who struggles with the toaster, I find my patience in spiritual matters is tested often. Thing is, it's tiring to fill-in-the-blanks.


The last three weeks I've been feeling the Lord starting something new again in me. And for the first time, I'm sitting back and enjoying the ride. Because [I'm learning] if I walk through today constantly straining to get a glimpse of what's coming over the horizon, I forget that He's holding my hand right now. And if I'd just hang onto that hand through enough "todays", eventually [together] we'll reach a place with a better view. 




^{Proverbs 3: 
"5} Trust in the LORD with all your heart
   and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
   and he will make your paths straight.^"








Are you trying to finish some of God's sentences? How's that working for you?

"I can't explain the Gospel better than this. So I'm not going to try."

A GREAT VIDEO ON THE G.O.S.P.E.L.

"I still get nervous explaining the Gospel."

I like to make my blog posts as interesting as the next girl, but the last few weeks I've really felt convicted to write a very plain, straight forward message. The Gospel. No frills, no funny stories, no deep metaphors [for the most part]. Just the Gospel. Who God is. Who Jesus is. Who we are. And how we fit together.


Because how SAD would it be if someone stumbled upon my blog, read all my posts about God and what I feel He's doing in my life, but never really heard the truth?


Very sad. So here it is:


G : God created us to be with Him.
O : Our sin separates us from God.
S : Sins cannot be removed by good deeds.
P : Paying the price for sin, Jesus died and rose again.
E : Everyone who believes in Him ALONE has eternal life.
L : Life with Him starts now and lasts forever.


That's the saving power of Jesus Christ. 


God is not church. He's not religion classes. He's not rules or summer camp or a self-help book. He's not interested in tallying up your good deeds, church attendance, Hail Mary's, or how much you give up for Lent. He doesn't desire perfection or sacrifice.


God is love.


He is love we can't imagine. Love we don't deserve. Love we can never earn. Love that is too good to be true [and frankly freaks me out, sometimes if I really think about it]. 


His love does not demand that we clean up our lives before we come to Him. I believe God delights in piecing back together the messes we surrender over to His capable hands. He takes the filthy rags we've been wearing and gives us dazzling, white robes instead. He can bring beauty from any tragedy. He extends his mercy, grace, and healing to everyone on this earth.


He desires relationship with us. He desires that we accept the overwhelming gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. When we do that, He grants us his HOLY SPIRIT to live within us. The fullness of God in our frail little bodies. He knows--once we get an authentic taste of His divine love--we will spend the rest of our lives attempting to glorify and draw closer to Him.


A faith motivated by love. 


Not by fear. 


Not by religion. 


Not by striving.


A life of following God is marked by adventure. Exhilarating. With purpose. And He pursues us. He pursues us despite our ignorance...disobedience...or indifference. 


Romans 5:8 "Christ didn't die for people who already loved him. He died for sinners--people whose lives were bound up and directed by sinful desires that went contrary to God's will. It was the sick he came to cure, not the healthy."



Acts 4: ¹² "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”




He made you on purpose. With a purpose. And OH how He loves you.

"I wish I was more obedient."

My dog, Mimu, up until last January, had touched the inside of her carrier kennel ONCE. Twice, tops. [That event included interstate driving, a lot of unbearable whining, letting her out, and her semi-successful attempt to scale my back like a cat at 75 mph on I-90. But that's a story for another time. We probably shouldn't be alive.]


When I started my temp job back in January, I had to start doing a lot of things differently. After 6 months of leisurely lounging around with my pup all day I was suddenly faced with a dilemma: lock up my precious baby for 8 hours a day in her kennel, or spend 20 minutes every evening after work locating and cleaning up pee spots? 


Yep. In the kennel she went.


For the last 3 months, every morning goes just about the same. It hits about 8:30 AM, I am scrambling for a last minute sock or bobby pin before I leave for work, and Mimu is no where to be found. I call her name. I search the upstairs. Flip a few couches. I usually find her curled up in some far corner of the house with her eyes closed--as if she's attempting to feign sleep for disobedience. As I pick her up, she'll crack a lid and look at me sideways out of the corner of her eye, as if to say, 


"Ohhh you were calling for me. I thought you wanted the...other Mimu."


Some mornings I'll find her before she's had a chance to hide, and as I say her name [slowly, with that disapproving tone, eyebrows furrowed...Mimuuuuuuu] she will immediately shrink down--as if crawling under a tiny, invisible limbo stick--and try to slink away in shame.


No matter what state I find her in, I quickly pick her up with a hand around her belly, promptly walk to the kennel, and slide her inside with two of her toys while trying to avoid direct eye contact. Seriously, her eyes are so SAD! Anyway.


This has been our routine since January 23rd. So...this has happened roughly 100 times. Every weekday morning.


Until Tuesday.


Tuesday morning I climbed the stairs as I got ready to leave for work, I began calling her name as always. As I peeked my head around the corner of the upstairs hallway to see if I could see her slinking away, I watched her do something that made me choke up. {I'm such a sap.}


There she was laying in the middle of the room. As I spoke she lifted her head, looked at me, picked up the bone she had been gnawing on, and made her way to her kennel where she proceeded to climb in and settle down. I couldn't believe it.


I know dogs don't have thoughts like we do. I know. But I started tearing up when I thought about how, even though she knew she would spend 8 hours alone in that kennel, she climbed in anyway because I wanted her to and she trusted me. That's all there was to it. She doesn't like it. I tell her to do it. And she does because (I'd like to think) she trusts me and I love her. I may have sentimentally let some tears fall all the way to work that morning.


In that, I guess I saw a glimpse of how God wants me to live. There are a LOT of things I do on a weekly basis that I don't directly enjoy because I know God wants me to and I've trusted Him with my life. And if it made me that happy to see my dog blindly follow my direction, how much more must our Heavenly Father be pleased when we blindly trust in Him?


How many times a week do I feel conviction from the Holy Spirit but ignore it? Hearing the call while lazily curled up in some far corner of the house with my eyes closed. Hearing His warning and attempting to feign sleep for disobedience. Yep, I'll crack a lid and look at Him sideways out of the corner of my eye, as if to say,


"Ohhh you were calling for me? I thought you meant the...other Kayla."


Psalm 18:2 says, 
"The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."


What if when God speaks in my life and says, "Turn off that movie/show/song. It's not what's best for you," I just DO it? What if He says, "This is a relationship you should invest time in, even though it'll be awkward at first," and I PURSUE that? What if He says, "You don't know why, but I want you to work at US Bank." And what if I just obediently climb in that big 'ole "kennel" and trust that He knows best? 


I don't think I'm ever going to look back and think:


I sure wish I had been less obedient.


Only God could use a pup [in need of a haircut and potty-training] for His glory. Amen.

"I hate being ignored."

So after my blog on selfishness a few weeks ago, I knew it was time for an attitude adjustment. About my work predicament, anyway. I was going to stop being so proud. Be more patient. Surrender my motives.


Thing is, when you're aiming for humility you don't become more humble. You get humbled. [They sound similar, but the latter is usually more painful, embarrassing, and all around unpleasant.]


Last Thursday, for example. It was the end of a pretty busy day and after the lobby closed my two coworkers and I got a chance to chat about the day. Somehow we got on the subject of faith. I thought, "Ooh, here I go, God!" I started sharing with them about the internship I'm starting, my excitement and reservations, and eventually that I feel my faith has really grown in the past year in a large part to my time spent in the Dominican Republic.


I thought I'd bring out the "big guns" and I began telling them a particularly intense encounter I had watching a demon possessed girl at a church service one night. I shared about how I saw her flail around, overpower a man 3x her size, and eventually fall lifeless on the ground at the front of the church aisle. [I could tell by my coworkers' faces that I was quickly moving from 'friendly new girl' to 'crazy Bible thumper' but I had to keep going]. I thought for SURE I'd get their attention when I told them about how the pastor began ordering the demon in the name of Jesus to leave the church as the girl's limp body began rolling down the church aisle on its own. 


The second after I finished my story--half breathless, eyes wide--awaiting their responses, I heard...


*turns to other coworker* "So, will my time off next Friday still count as paid vacation?"


That was it. It was like I had never spoken. I would have taken flagrant disbelief over that. Call me a crazy person before you blatantly ignore me, please. My mind was racing.


GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I'm quitting. I hate it here. What just happened? That was supposed to be a shock and awe story! What. the. HELL. 


And then I sat behind my teller line and counted the same stack of one hundred, one dollar bills until I was certain my angry tears were no longer in danger of falling out of my eyes. I thought of at least 10 great one-liners that would have stopped them in their tracks for their rudeness...but on second thought I realized none of them would be conducive to my further employment. [dang].


After 5 weeks of politely eating up their dating, relationship, and life advice [from not-so Godly people] with a spoon, it's hard to explain how I was feeling [and not have you think less of me for the expletives I would inevitably have to use to describe it].


That's how it works? They don't know how much they hurt me, and I'll never tell them. I feel like God wants me to know that it's OK that only He knows how it made me feel. I'd like to think at the end of my story that afternoon, as I frantically counted [and recounted...and REcounted] my cash, He whispered, 


"Thank you for telling them what you saw. That's all you can do, my girl."

"I think 'One Size Fits All' is a load of crap."

Ever looked at the tag on the inside of a hat? It reads *ONE SIZE FITS ALL. [You can find similar tags on stuff like arm/leg bands, tube dresses, fanny packs, and other elastic treasures].


Frankly, those tags kind of tick me off. Why? Because I have a disproportionately large head. A big noggin'. Like to the point where a lot of elastic headbands give me throbbing headaches after a couple hours of wear. And hats never, EVER look good on me. Everrrrrrr.


ONE SIZE FITS ALL? Liars.


Dermatologists [and beauty magazines] tell us it's really important to use facial moisturizer. I have oily skin, but against my better judgement I decided that those anonymous doctors and editors knew best and used Cetaphil lotion on my face this morning. Made my face so greasy that by 3 pm this afternoon I needed sunglasses to block the glare coming off my cheeks and nose when I looked down at my feet. Case in point: facial moisturizers, like hats, are not for everyone. 


What else? Health gurus [though the advice does change monthly, if not weekly] tell us to eat lots of whole grains for fiber, greek yogurt for healthy digestion, almonds and walnuts for omega-3's (or 6's? I get them confused), and citrus fruits for important vitamins. WELL, for a period of about six years I just so happened to be allergic to ALL of those things. Gluten, wheat, milk, citrus fruits, and tree nuts. Instead of healthy digestion and a well-nourished body, I got rashes, headaches, head colds, sore throats, and a stomach so bloated you'd think I sucked on a helium tank for lunch. Bad health advice for the vast majority of people? No. But what was wonderfully healthy for most  people was death on a plate, for me. 


All these "exceptions to the rule" got me thinking. Can Christianity be like that? 


I think so.


Since God desires relationship [not religion], many facets of the Christian life aren't dictated by universals [think outside the 10 Commandments and anything else strictly labeled in the Bible as sin]. We have choice. Yet, people love rules. We love rules that say "This is OK for everyone." and "No one can do this." Black and white. Rules make us comfortable and we don't have to be in real relationship with God when we have a list of rules.  


Relationships have nuances. They're gray. We don't treat all of our friends or family members the same. My mom and I have a completely different relationship than my brother and mom do. I share and do different things with different friends. I think [in some ways] Christ is like that with us as believers. 


Examples? 


1) I don't drink alcohol anymore. It's not because I think anyone who does drink is going to Hell or because I hate beer [which I do. the smell AND taste]. I have a family history of alcoholism and I feel it's a slippery slope for me. I have many Christian friends who partake in a drink every once in awhile without any conviction. 


2) I have Christian friends who have stopped listening to secular music altogether. They don't think it's necessarily sinful, they have just discerned for themselves that their hearts are taken away from God by certain songs and lyrics. They don't look down on me for my array of Pandora stations. God hasn't told me that's not OK. When/if He does, I will be listening.


3) Well, I'm starting to feel convicted about watching movies...Now, before you think I'm turning all extreme and conservative, let me explain. When I watch movies I get really dissatisfied with my life. I want to look different, to have a different job, hometown, dating situation, personality...whatever. I watched Soul Surfer a few weeks ago--and by the end of the film I halfheartedly wished I only had one arm and lived somewhere tropical with beach hair and an extremely good looking family. Or I even watched the new Disney Tangled and found myself thinking, "I wish I had long hair. Why did I cut my hair? Would I look good as a blonde?" Sounds ridiculous, I know. I would never tell anyone else that it's a sin to watch movies. But for me movies seem bring about discontent...and I think that's not something God wants for me. Will I stop watching them? Who knows. 


There are lots of other "gray" areas I've heard people talk about. People wanting to make absolute rules for Christians about dancing, jewelry, TV shows, vocabulary, Internet sites, dating, tattoos/piercings, clothing choices, careers, etc. I've seen it create huge divisions between believers and churches as a whole.


When it comes to those gray areas--areas God hasn't explicitly said in His Word are sinful--then I think we have to pray about them and trust that the Holy Spirit will convict us individually in His perfect timing. And when He tells us something is not OK for us [even if it's OK for our uncles, best friends, or pastors], we should accept it instead of making it an absolute truth for every other Christian we know. 
²³ “Everything is permissible for me”—but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible”—but I will not be mastered by anything. -1 Cor 10:23

What are your exceptions to *ONE SIZE FITS ALL? 

"I get stuck on stupid details, like college degrees."

I was reading Exodus a few weeks ago. Specifically, I was reading about Moses and the burning bush. It's a story I've heard many times, but this day God breathed some new life into the plot. New life. And some humor.


Side note: I like to think that God uses humor with me because I'm His child...who He created...with a healthy appetite for wit. [Before Christ, when I was a *non* recovering perfectionist, I had a particular, raging appetite for sarcasm. Usually the dry, biting kind that tore other people down. The Holy Spirit convicted me about that. Luckily, God's since shown me you can be hilarious and still love Jesus.] 
Side side note: hilarious does not = witty b*****...but that's another blog post entirely.


Anyway.


For a little background, last fall my church's youth pastor encouraged me to consider doing an internship with the youth at our church. I said no. Actually, I said:


"I prayed about it and I don't feel this is right." 


I did pray about it. But when you don't want someone to question your decision about something, you say God told you so. Someone might disagree with your decision, but he/she won't take on God. [Now you know, for next time]. In truth, I was intimidated and felt incompetent and wanted in no way to commit myself to anymore time in Mitchell than absolutely necessary. I had a lot of excuses to say no. Legitimate ones. Lack of experience. Personality flaws. Different areas of interest. My age. An entire: "This-Will-Never-Work-Out-Because-Of-_________ , list."


My pastor let it go, for awhile. But he asked me in March to consider the internship again. If you've read any of my past blog posts, you'll know a lot of life has happened to me since last fall. Namely, Mitchell seems to be much more permanent than I'd hoped. So I started praying about it a little more purposely this time.


Re-enter: the Exodus/Moses story. As I read about Moses standing in front of the burning bush, listing his excuses before God as to why he was not up to the task at hand, I pictured myself in the church office, reciting my "This-Will-Never-Work-Out-Because-Of __________, list" to my pastor. 


Of course I am [or imagine myself to be] much younger, cleaner, and more feminine than Moses...and my pastor wasn't a shrub [nor on fire]...but I trust you can see the parallels nonetheless. 


And that's when God gave me a fresh, humorous Word. Very clearly in my mind's-eye I saw Moses standing before the burning bush...overwhelmed...avoiding eye-contact with the flames...staring down and to the left at a small hill of sand...nervously twisting an un-sandaled heel into the ground...as he stammered, 


"Yahweh, I...uh...well, I didn't really MAJOR in Leading People Out of Egypt."


I think I snorted aloud at this point. And in that one, hilariously divine daydream, I knew God was answering my prayer. 




I started the internship this morning. And I...uh...didn't really MAJOR in Youth Ministry. 

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.  -2 Cor 12:9

Has God ever used your funny bone to teach you a lesson?

"At my core, I am still selfish."

This post has been swirling about in my head for a couple of days now. It's something I'm not particularly proud of, but I think it's worth sharing.


On the outside, the Christian's walk can appear very noble. I feel like "fully-surrendered follower of Christ" (let's abbreviate fsfoC) is a pretty popular catchphrase in the church circles lately. To be considered an "fsfoC" you usually have to do something drastic...quit a job, take a new job, go to a 3rd world country, give a boatload of money to an obscure charity, be a long-term volunteer worker, sell all of your possessions, end a relationship, make sure ALL of your Facebook posts and tweets are about Jesus...that kind of thing. And since I've done some of these things [for the sake of this illustration] let's call me a "fsfoC." 


The definition of an "fsfoC" implies a great deal of unselfishness. Like once you do one of the above-mentioned things, you're in the club. Congratulations! You've arrived. No one will ever again question whether or not you've really surrendered your life to God. Because--on the outside--you obviously have. 


I was kind of living in that place. That complacent "arrived" place where all the other arrived people pat each other on the back for the things they've already done, and occasionally spur one another on to greater and deeper things. But not in a "this-is-what-Christ-called-us-to-do" kind of way, but rather a, "I-guess-you-could-do-that-if-you-want-extra-credit-with-God-but-you-don't-really-need-it" kind of way.


This is going to sound awful...but I'm just going to say it. 


There was a part of me that was completely convinced {just last week, actually} that I had nobly surrendered my life to God. I mean, look at it! I've volunteered as a missionary for a summer with no pay, given money when it hurt because I felt God calling me to, I stayed behind in the Dominican on a wing and a prayer, I was patient and prayerful in my job search, I co-lead a group of 8th grade girls at church, have a huge Scripture-based tattoo, am starting an internship at my church, and I reference God in everyday conversation. That is one sparkly Christian walk at first glance.

¹⁸ Pride goes before destruction,
   a haughty spirit before a fall.  --Proverbs 16:18


Scripture never lies.


I was talking to my mom the other day about my new job at USBANK. I really feel like I have an opportunity to witness to some women at work; not in a fire-and-brimstone way, but in subtle, day to day, here's-where-I-find-MY-peace, kind of way. As I was telling her about it, my mom said to me,


"Kayla, maybe God has you there for one of those women! To help them find the Lord. Wow, look at what He's doing." *beaming smile*
"Yeah, maybe." I answered. *straight face* That's what I said out loud, anyway. I was really thinking:


God PLEASE don't let that be the only reason you have me there. 


Yep. I really thought that. See, in my heart-of-hearts I was really hoping that God had me at this job to eventually meet someone important--like a future employer for my dream job {what does that mean? I don't even know}. Or a husband. Yeeeeeah, a husband. Or at least a financial miracle that would allow me to pay off my student loans in record time and let me go out on the mission field and REALLY work for Him.


And right in that moment God met me in that secret, ugly, selfish place and challenged me. I felt {and still feel} Him asking me, 


"Kayla, if the only reason I put you on this Earth is to lead one woman to Christ, would it be a waste? Would you be a waste? Is it possible that the work I have for you in the world doesn't include a 3rd world country? That, in my perfect timing and plan, I know you can do more work for me in Mitchell, SD than on an adventure in a 3rd world country? And, if my plan for you doesn't include the things you thought it would...are you still going to follow Me?"


On the outside, I have surrendered my life to God. A certifiable "fsfoC." But on the inside I still have an agenda. An "if-I, then-You" list of what is worth my time in Kingdom work. God doesn't have room for that kind of agenda in His plan.


I know that my answer will eventually be: "Yes, I will still follow You." No worries there.


Still...dying to self. On the inside where no person can see. It's a tricky thing. I'm just trying to convince that secret, ugly, selfish place that it's going to be better this way. 


His way.

"I want happiness and peace to be coexisting, but they're not."

Today is Sunday. I just [LOVE] sundays, don't you? Today is a particularly gloomy one, but I love it the same. I have traded my church clothes for fleece sweats and am curled up in my living room with my pup this afternoon. 


A lot of time has passed since my last blog post. A lot of life. Even more life lessons. The title of this post is really a good summary of the past 3 months. I feel God's peace, but I'm not exactly happy. I'm wrestling with discontentment. Six months ago I would have told you that it wasn't possible to experience peace while feeling discontent. To be JOYFUL yet unhappy. A life with God's is crazy confusing like that, sometimes.


I am coming to terms with the reality that I am not, nor will I be, returning to the Dominican Republic anytime soon [as far as human plans go]. I am not happy about that. I would be lying if I said I found Mitchell, SD more enthralling than the foreign sights and sounds of Hispaniola. But do I feel peace about being back at home right now? ...........fine! yes. dang it. *hmph*


FEELING PEACE.


Then there's the actual, living-AT-home thing. In a town that all of my friends left years ago. In a house with 5 younger siblings. In a financial situation [until recently] that literally doesn't afford me to live anywhere else. Living out days that are eerily similar to my first 18 years of life BEFORE college. Feeling like I must've failed or be broken to be living at home again at 23. 


AND DISCONTENT.


But I love my family and I am getting to really know my siblings. Life is very materially easy at home. I have the opportunity to pour each paycheck into my student loans. There's always something going on. I have a wonderful church family and small group that keeps me spiritually fed. I lead a youth group of 8th grade girls. Life is comfortable. In my times of struggle I grow closer to God than I would have had life just "worked out" for me after graduation.


AND PEACE. 


I started a job at US Bank about 3 weeks ago tomorrow. After a random phone call/tip from a friend's dad {how did he know my short-term job was ending?}, 44 other applicants, and an interview, I was hired as a teller at the Mitchell branch. Am I using my social work, Spanish, or missions background? Not directly. Do I feel it's what I was made to do? haha. BUT do the events leading up to my eventual employment make ANY logical sense? heck-to-the-no. So my eyes and ears are open to whatever God has for me where I'm at right now. It is an amazing blessing to be pouring extra money into my loans each paycheck. I am excited to see where life takes me because of this job. 


FEELING JOYFUL.


And when I lose that wonderful perspective {a bi-weekly occurrence} I am defeated by thoughts like, "How did this happen? Is this really my life?"


BUT UNHAPPY.


Yet I know that my God has plans to prosper me and not to harm me. To give me a hope and a future. So I am calling to Him and praying, and I will seek Him and find Him because I am seeking Him with all my heart. And I KNOW He can do immeasurably more than I could ever ask or imagine! So what's He going to do with this new job? 


BUT JOYFUL.




You see? 


[PEACE.DISCONTENT.JOY.UNHAPPINESS.]


Life with God is just crazy confusing like that sometimes.

"This blog readership thing is kind of offensive."

Before I air the grievance behind this blog post, I did want to give a quick [and by quick I mean, "bulleted-list-quick"] update on life since getting back.

• I still love being home.
• I have a short-term, full-time job that started 3 days after I got home. Praise God. 
• The Lord has provided money for my student loans for the 2 months since getting home. Praise God again.
• I am very sick [but finally on the upswing after a month back in the US]. Turns out I came home with parasites and a staph infection on my face. The bugs are out of my stomach but staph is a stubborn thing and still isn't cleared up yet. "OOOh, what does it look like?" you ask? Like zits. Like a gonna-be-23 year old with acne. Awesome, right?
• I got an allergic reaction to my IV antibiotic used to clear up said staph infection. Stopped digesting my food. EW. Flattened my immune system. Also caught a regular bug that has turned into a full-blown, miss-four-days-of-work, chest cold, leaving me easily winded and sounding like a smoker of 60+ years.
• I've stopped asking, "Why me, God?" and realized, "Why not me, God?" is a better approach, after wise counsel from a friend.
• It's getting better.

So, that life lately. Ok. Now back to my point.

Yesterday I ran into someone I haven't seen in months, and as I excitedly began telling her about how I don't have food allergies anymore, she said, "OH yes I know!--I read your blog."

And I felt almost...sad. Disappointed? Yes. Disappointed. 

When my youngest sister, Challie, was born [I was 10] I called all of my friends to tell them the exciting news. Except it turned out that the friend I called first somehow managed to call ALL of my other friends to tell them my exciting news before I did. So, every friend I subsequently talked to told me, in one form or another, "Oh yeah, Ashley told me."

So, it kind of felt like that when my friend said she knew already because she'd read my blog.

What's my point? Well, blogspot.com gives it's bloggers "Stats"--how many page views they've had today, yesterday, ever, comments left, etc. It seems my numbers are way out of proportion: like thousands of blog views and 5 comments. Specifically, 5 comments by the same 3 people. I guess it's possible that the other hundred or so people just had absolutely nothing to say. It's possible.

This isn't meant to be a selfish, narcissistic rant. Some days it excites me that someone [other than my mom and obligatory friends] read this blog...other days it horrifies me. Sometimes blogging is liberating. Sometimes it feels like purposefully leaving my diary open in the middle of a crowded room. I understand that it's my choice to put these things out "on the web." And that's how a blog works---someone posts their personal thoughts publicly, signs their name on it, gives it a title, and even leave an About Me page to go along with it. And in exchange their readers get to sneak in and out of the blog, anonymous and unseen, digesting the thoughts and dreams of the writer, and... that's it. That's the tradeoff. 

It is the equivalent of someone inviting you over to see their new house---but instead of setting up a time to visit, you sneak into the house unannounced, sneak a peek at all the rooms, use the bathroom [don't flush], and sneak out before telling the owner you ever came over in the first place. 

I know that's how MySpace and Facebook and other internet sites have trained us to behave: to creep on anyone and everyone, knowing what they did last weekend and his/her latest haircut despite not having seen him/her in years. 

But it's kind of rude and that's not real life. 

So, next time you stop by my "house" would you let me know what you think? Love the kitchen? Hate what I did to the master bedroom? Wish I'd change the carpet?

Do you think cyberworld is getting a little impersonal too? Or maybe you can't believe that God can heal like I said I've experienced...

Most of the fun of blogging is the sharing part. Dialogue-ing. So, Welcome. Let me know you've stopped by. Hope to hear from some of you soon :)

week.[6.six.and.a.half.1/2].and.THEN.some.

Well, I'm learning that it's not always a good thing to share a play-by-play of everything God is showing me, with everyone, all the time. I think sometimes the most beautiful parts of our relationship with the Lord are those private conversations between just Him and oneself. Some of the most beautiful [and trying] times in our relationship with Him are those times when we must wrestle with a decision alone...in front of Him...without outside opinion. {Yes, even without the good, Christian counsel of our loved ones} And then finally God asks us to make a choice before Him alone...before we know for sure if anyone will stand behind us in our decision. Those are the best times.


Plus, that way when you change your mind about something---or God reveals NEW, wonderful revelation to you---you haven't put yourself in a situation where you then have to explain your "change of heart" to 35 of your closest friends via email. oops.


The past two months of my life have been an adventure: a Dominican adventure and a new chapter in my relationship with the Lord. Yet, recounting my final week in the DR, I am realizing, isn't really accomplishing anything other than my deep [and misguided] need to share my 'accomplishments' and experiences that make me feel like an 'exciting' and [consequently] worthwhile, Christian. That is striving and spiritual immaturity on my part, but I'm learning. In all reality, telling you about the prisons, and translating, and plantains, and the friends I made, and the freezing cold showers...I know it makes for great reading. For the past 2 months even I would get a little excited on "Update Days" as I typed out the week's happenings and waited eagerly for the email replies I would receive from you all. But for the 6 days in between "Update Day" every week, I was on my own--living a strange, unfamiliar, and relatively lonely life. And [regardless of how much you care about me and how I'm doing] you all have your own lives here at home to think about, and probably thought about me for 20 minutes a week as you sat down to read my weekly email, and forgot about me until the next Thursday. I want to add: that is perfectly alright and understandable! 


And it made me think, "If I wasn't sharing my experiences with people back at home, if no one witnessed what I'm doing in the DR, if they didn't encourage me and praise me every week, would it be enough? If the only one who saw and cared about what I'm doing is God, do I still want to do it?" 


At this moment, I don't know if I would.


The day before I arrived in SD, I received an email asking me if I would be willing to accept a job opportunity at the Chiropractic Center for Healthy Living in Mitchell, upon coming home. It is a temporary, 4-8 week, full-time receptionist job with some employee perks. I took it! After 17 turned down job applications in the fall, the Lord's hand was undoubtedly in this. I arrived back to the US on a Thursday, and went into work on Monday. It's providing financial resources I desperately need. It's a huge answer to prayer. {Remember when I said I would NOT be looking for a job? Well...I didn't!}


The Lord also gave me another gift upon coming home: A NEW HEART. 


I'll be honest: when I decided to stay in the DR after 9 days in November, it was as much to run away from something as it was to go toward something new. There has always been a part of me that resented the fact that I was born in small-town South Dakota. There's nothing extraordinary about Mitchell. Living in your parents' basement doesn't exactly qualify as an adventure. I didn't brag to everyone I met that I have held down the same job at the pool every summer since I graduated high school. And I was NOT going to find a local boyfriend and eventually become a farmer's wife! It was a far too humble life for my taste.


Then I got home last week. 


Want to know something extraordinary about Mitchell? I can't go ANYWHERE in town without running into someone I know. And we make small-talk...in English. It's a town full of people I love and who care about me. I have a car in Mitchell and people follow traffic laws, it only takes 15 minutes to cross town, and I've never have to ride side-saddle on a moped in a skirt on Foster Ave. I can wear earrings, pants, or mascara at work with a clear conscience before God and men and without anyone questioning my faith. Also, my parents' adventure-less basement is also free, comes with hot water, memories, laundry machine, my puppy, and a family I'm absolutely crazy about. Oh yeah--I got that old, familiar summer job back with a 2 sentence email because I have a great relationship with my old boss. And, well, I haven't gotten very far with the boyfriend-thing.


I've never felt peace like this. I never could have anticipated I would feel like this upon coming back to SD. I have fallen in love with home, for the first time. And it's not because I'm afraid of life on the mission field. God's just showing me that He already put me in a mission field...[at least for now]...where I already know the culture and language. Where I look like everyone else, I see the world in the same way, and I have a history with the people. Where I can walk confidently with my Lord and Savior without having to be half way around the world, in the midst of an adventure "on the mission field." Where life is blessed but I don't have to feel guilty about it. Where I don't have to prove how Christian I am by moving to a foreign country and disowning my blessed, privileged life in the US. 


I didn't know how much He had changed my heart, until I went back home--and though everything was different--nothing had changed but me. 


In the meantime, I am on the mission field. And I'm at peace with the 'boring', 'ordinary' life I'm leading.


Thanks for walking with me. It is so good to be back.

week.[{SIES}]

Week 6! Soon I will be in my parent’s house, cuddling with my puppy, avoiding the cold, and once again partaking in hot showers. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, to be honest.

This week flew by with a ton of activities and obligations. Last Thursday night was Wascar’s 29^th birthday—so we got to go to a surprise party for him which was really fun!  Actually, that night Wascar thought he was walking Kristin and I to a friend’s house because it was late at night (which I’m sure really annoyed him, as it was his birthday…haha!) and when we arrived he was met with a loud, “Surprise!!” and a bunch of confetti… that also managed to find a semi-permanent home in my hair and scalp for the rest of the week. Can you say—‘really awkward dandruff’??? Other than that, it was a really fun chance for me to get to spend time outside of church with the young adults in Hato Mayor. Kristin and I were really excited to eat some birthday cake, but to our dismay, when the women came out of the kitchen with the plates, they were full of yucca, spaghetti with corn, and some boiled plantains. I politely (and disappointedly) declined. When it comes to birthday party food, I think I could teach the people here a lot. I’m afraid my mom generally set the bar for birthdays way too high.

Friday passed pretty uneventfully. It was laundry day, but laundry has gotten easier for me since arriving here—partly because my little wrists are getting stronger…and partly because my definition of “acceptably-clean-enough-to-wear-again” clothes has become a lot less strict. Like, a lot less strict.

On Saturday the madness began! A large number of Pastor Carlos’ church loaded into the two big trucks and set off for the first prayer march around the prison in El Seibo. The prayer walk itself was incredible. It truly feels like living out a Bible story…the whole time I was thinking about how Joshua’s followers at Jericho must have felt as they walked around the city walls. We had a group of around 60-75 people and first we marched around the entire city block that circles the prison. We prayed both silently and aloud for God to break the spiritual barriers and walls that have set themselves up against His presence in the prison. We prayed for the hearts of the prisoners, the guards, and of anyone we might come in contact with over the course of this restoration, to be receptive to God’s message of salvation and love for them. After we circled the block, we went inside the outer walls of the prison to circle the building itself. On each side of the rectangular building, we stopped and laid hands against the walls of which the men sleep every night. Every once in a while, when I would open my eyes, I could see men struggling to see through the grated windows of their sleeping area, trying to see what all the commotion outside was about. Little did they know we are praying for their souls!!! God is so big. To end, we all formed a prayer circle outside the front doors of the prison and prayed again. Near the end, one of the men from the prison—the “jefe” or boss, as we were told, of the prisoners—was allowed to be released from the prison to ask for prayer from our group. How could a thing like that happen without the power of the living God?! I can’t wait to go back tomorrow for round 2 around the prison. The plan is to march 7 times around the walls just like the Israelites did at Jericho. Can’t wait to tell you all how it goes!

After the march at Seibo, Kristin and I made our way back home with Chappy and his wife Sandee (Chappy is the founder and leader of MOTE, the prison ministry here in the DR, and they are from San Diego). They live in a city called Boca Chica in a beautiful house with the cutest little poodle mix, Gabriel, and the most high-tech security system I have seen in the DR (they were robbed at gunpoint a few months ago). Despite being in a new place again, I was so blessed by the rest that we got to have at their house. You know the best part? We got to make our own food. And it was the best kind—wraps and smoothies and sandwiches. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, the way Carlos and Teresa have taken care of me here in Hato Mayor is incredible, but it has left me very dependent and without a lot of freedom. I eat three times a day, but I don’t pick “what” and I don’t pick “when.” And there have definitely been no midnight Doritos runs.

Staying with them, apart from the food and hot showers, provided such a time of reflection and direction and Christian community. You’d be amazed how spiritually hungry you can still be, going to church four times a week! Sandee and Chappy’s encouragement, love, mentorship, advice, and laughter was exactly what I needed this weekend. I have asked Chappy to pray about the possibility of taking me on as an ‘intern’ of sorts with MOTE (the prison ministry) starting this spring. We are waiting to see if the Holy Spirit leads. That’s all I can do with that.

On Sunday night, Chappy dropped Kristin and I off at a ministry called SCORE in Juan Dolio. SCORE has a compound that takes short-term mission groups and sets them up with work here in the Dominican Republic. They cater mostly to sports teams and medical mission teams, and have long-term missionaries living at their compound as well. Kristin was asked to be a coordinator for translators (finding and bringing them to SCORE) and I went along to help her. Little did I know, for the next three days I would be translating for the medical team as well in the communities and prisons! I worked with the pharmacy and physical therapy teams, and I am officially a translator. And I met some of the best people, that I am now happy to call my friends. My experiences this week are spurring me on to study like crazy when I get back to the US.

I truly can’t explain how amazing it felt to feel useful after spending nearly 2 months in Hator Mayor, never being asked to do anything. This week has turned a new (and much-awaited) chapter in my work here in the Dominican and the potential ministry I can see myself having here. When I come back (yep, she just said ‘when’ folks) I know that I will not be staying with Pastor Carlos—and I believe, being the good leader that he is, he would not allow me to either. I have gotten a taste of independence and freedom this week, and it is almost painful being back up in my bunk bed today. It’s growth and change and sometimes it doesn’t feel good! And though I don’t know for certain what lies ahead for me, I do know what doesn’t.

As I wrap up this update, I feel uneasy. I know the feelings I have in my heart—the promptings of the Holy Spirit and the awareness I now have of God’s hand in my circumstances—but I am hesitant to put them in writing. Too hesitant to claim them. Too prideful and afraid of being wrong. I think, “Kayla, what if you tell everyone and it doesn’t work out and you look like an idiot? A dreamer? A naïve, little do-gooder?” “What if the money doesn’t come? You can’t explain your ministry?”  

God’s word tells me that He gives me a spirit of power and self-control, not of timidity or fear. “For God has not given us a spirit of fear or timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7. So I’m just going to say it: I feel like I’m going to be back in the DR already this spring, working with Kristin, Chappy, and Carlos, finding opportunities to translate, and fumbling my way through life here. I am not going to look for a job when I get home, so please don’t ask me how my job hunt is coming along. The thought of raising support and refinancing my loans makes me want to throw up. The most valuable items I own to my name and can sell for cash are my laptop and a P90X video series. Lord that is depressing. I don’t know how it’s all going to work out. But I know I can’t go back home, get a job, and forget how I have felt for the last two months. I say this because I need to be held accountable. Because when I am home and comfortable and settling back into life I need you to come along side me and say, “Kayla…remember when you said ____?”

Because I know my own heart and its capacity to forget God’s voice.

Thanks, you guys. God bless you all.

kayla