"I'm afraid. Most of the time."

After a bike ride around Sioux Falls yesterday, I can tell you from experience that stretching is important. Exercise is to my muscles what a dryer on ‘high’ is to a 100% cotton shirt (if you don’t do laundry, or haven’t seen a word puzzle like that since the ACT, it means it causes them to shrink). Most of my stretching time is spent trying to restore my hamstrings back from 1/3^rd their regular length. And it hurts. The ‘this-will-eventually-feel-good-but-right-now-it-blows,’ kind of hurt.

Today my heart hurts worse than my hamstrings (which is saying something). I am getting stretched. Today is my last day at Paulsen and tomorrow is my first day at my new job at Embrace. I also move this weekend into a new place and will be bringing my dog with as well (hip hip hooray!). As welcome and exciting as this new change is, I can only sigh knowing all the new things I have to learn. New schedule, new coworkers, new responsibilities, new expectations. It feels like I just wrapped my head around all of things at my current position. I have established my favorite spots to spend lazy days at my current place. Sometimes it just feels good to know what you’re doing. To be comfortable.

If there is one thing I’ve learned in the past two years, it’s that God’s first priority is never my comfort. That’s not to say I haven’t experienced comfort in the past 24 months—His peace has been ever present—but my life has been in constant upheaval. If we grow in those situations, I must have some serious spiritual stretch marks. Worse than my mom’s. And she had 7 kids.

**Mom, if you read this, I love you and your stretch marks. And I apologize for my participation in their existence. :) Please forgive me?

"I doubted things were going to work out."

I cannot comprehend God’s goodness. Sometimes I get so absolutely overwhelmed by it that breathing takes effort. Last week was one of those times.

That said—last Monday was rough. I had been sitting in the throes of a job opportunity for about two months. Not your average ‘run-of-the-mill’ job but, like, an ‘if-i-could-do-anything-right-now-i-would-do-this’, kind of job. That kind makes me nervous to apply for because, if I don’t get it, it will feel like telling a boy I love him and having him stare blankly back at me in response…

*blink, blink*

As of Monday I was also in housing limbo—a 17-day window of time closing quickly before I needed to have a new place to live. Completely exhausted, I mumbled something about a “housing apocalypse” to my small group Monday night as a prayer request and tried to just pry the burden out of my own clenched, sweaty fists.

At the end of group, a woman approached me. Well, God approached me via this young lady. She had randomly joined us (for the first and probably only time) for small group and had an idea for me in light of my prayer request. The next afternoon, after talking with her husband, she called to ask me if I would like to live in her fully furnished condo, with my dog, without a formal lease, for a beautiful price. Her husband was also concerned they let me know right away so I didn’t worry, and also concerned that rent should not “strap me for cash.”

…I cannot make this stuff up.

Two hours later, if my heart wasn’t already in danger of bursting, I got a call offering my dream job.

*He said, “I love you” back! *

….

The position is full-time Small Groups Coordinator at Embrace Church here in Sioux Falls. I will be entrusted with growing group attendance, adding structure and organization to the process of new/existing groups, amassing curriculum and resources, and eventually implementing leadership training for members of the church. I thought 2 years ago, fresh out of college, that I deserved my dream job. Now I sit and tremble at the thought that God allows me to represent His Kingdom at all. It makes me shake. And cry.

My last week followed these stages:

1) Dance around in joy and excitement

2) Wake up at 3 AM bursting with ideas and usually some tears

3) Realize I cannot possibly, ever, do this on my own

4) Fall on my face telling God I can’t do this by myself

5) Feel His presence and promise to go before and ahead of me, and allow Him to help me get back on my feet

6) Fall on my face again in gratitude that He picked me up in the first place

     Return to 1) and REPEAT

Metaphorically speaking, that is.

I bruise like fruit.

"I am a whiner."

I make a big fuss about waiting. Waiting on God. I whine and moan and complain. Pretend like I’m dying. I’m such a mellow dramatic martyr.

It’s mostly for show.

Because at the end of the day I know that in that time of waiting God blesses me in ways I could never understand if I got everything I wanted right when I wanted it.

He uses the waiting time to sift through my motives. Check my heart. Test my foundation. To wriggle my utmost desires out of my tight, clenched fist. Sometimes He takes them, shines them up, and places them back in my (reluctantly opened) palm. Sometimes He takes them away and doesn’t give them back.

He’s good to me like that.

"I am a beggar."

I had lunch with a friend earlier this week. She’s a Godsend type of friend…wise and unassuming and quirky and perpetually comforting…the kind you literally thank God for every day. The conversation eventually transitioned from weekend plans to wedding dates and soon found ourselves chuckling at the awkwardness of mixed signals and shaky expectations.

At the end of our chat, I couldn’t help but think that no relationship should ever leave me feeling lacking or disappointed. Of course I don’t live this out. I do in little glimpses—just long enough to show me there’s something missing most of the time. But IDEALLY…I should be whole and content all the time. Right?

I picture myself on a corner begging for change, most days—looking for someone to fill up my ‘love cup.’ Looking in all the wrong places. Collecting the wrong kind of currency. I am such a beggar.

If you ever read Scripture you are aware of the vast number of promises God gives us in Christ. He is our Salvation, our Rock, Redeemer, Refuge and Healer.

When I focus on the promises of God, I am never left lacking or disappointed. With a foundation that secure, all I feel is freedom.

Freedom.

Freedom to care for others, to love, to show up to the party where you know no one, to be yourself, to share your feelings, to be vunerable, to ask hard questions, to forgive others when they fall short. To feel peace and contentment when your friend forgets your birthday, when your dad’s temper is short, when those feelings aren’t returned, or when you get passed over for that job or promotion.

It doesn’t happen instantly. It’s not a result of knowledge. It’s not just positive self-talk. It’s intentionally fighting for faith in the promises of God. Believing that He alone will satisfy my soul.

And when I’m already fully satisfied, everything extra is bonus. Bonus bonus bonus. Bonus joy. Bonus acceptance. Bonus love. 

Love from other people is a beautiful gift when I don’t need it. I can't help but think that's how we're meant to live.

"I don't know if I'll ever feel like an adult."

I think I am forever doomed on this earth to a sort of demi-adulthood. Mature and well-intentioned but always outwitted by naivete. Destined to be a mutant half-adult. It seems the more responsible I try to be, the more my immaturity tries to take center stage, bumbling its way to the spotlight. Or the more I forget that I don't know.


I sort, wash, dry, and fold/hang my laundry each week...but I have three categories of laundry: Clean, Dirty, and Not-Dirty-Enough (come on, everyone knows you can work out in those yoga pants at least 3 times).


I never remember to buy things in advance. Like, I remember I need to buy toilet paper as I'm staring down the empty, brown core of the *final* roll I had.


This week I baked delicious cupcakes that are a family favorite...but then felt compelled to ask my roommate to hide all 24 of them in a secret place and give me one each day for the next month. I feared I would otherwise go into "dog mentality" and eat the proverbial bowl full of kibble until it was gone. Eventually finding myself in a kitchen littered with muffin tins and my shattered self-control. 


Green tea is good for you, so I made some. It took me 30 minutes to realize I had heated the wrong burner. But who really wants to drink green tea? It's disgusting. (That one was a win).


While blowdrying my hair tonight for silky smooth hair at work tomorrow, I got so caught up peeking at the inner workings of the blower head that I effectively dried up my (final) contact in my eye and blinked it out of my eye and into oblivion. (Note to self: order contacts BEFORE I reach my last pair. See?!)




*le sigh*


I recently stumbled upon a quote that is becoming a fast favorite of mine. "I've noticed that those who walk closely to Jesus seem to be older than they are when they're young and younger than they are when they're old."


I can only hope that is true for me, too. (And that all that crap above, counts!)

"Discipleship gets me worked up."

I write because it allows me to take the wispy, intangible thoughts and intuitions of my mind and make them more concrete. More true. More applicable. Thus:

Recently I find myself in a new town complete with a new job, new house, new routine, and new budget. Most bittersweet has been the new church.

My thoughts keep drifting back to the womens' Bible study I left in Mitchell. We met on Tuesdays and went through Scripture, chapter by chapter, starting in Hebrews through Jude and skipping back to Romans. I was the baby of the group by 20 solid years. But it was a group full of wisdom, love, encouragement, laughter, and adoptive aunts. There are things I know now as a 23 year old woman that I could only have gleaned from those women with so much more life experience and biblical knowledge than me.

A mentor can be a beautiful thing; the church invented mentoring. Actually, it was called discipleship before the secular world got their hands on the idea and added seminars, internships, trainings, and succession plans to the mix. (In fact, in my own personal experience I've found the secular world to have embraced the idea and taken it further than the church, though I don't think that's universally true. Just my experience).

As a young Christian--in both years and experience--I've taken a few risks. Basically I had a lot of curiosity, free time, and zeal. I've volunteered and lived in different countries and states, taking opportunities as they presented themselves. However, many times when I stepped out on the proverbial limb...I found myself teetering and alone.

I sometimes observed people so busy applauding and patting individuals on the back for stepping out into leadership that they were too occupied to simply take the hands of those willing people and help them in the day-to-day realities of leadership. Personally this showed itself through instances like: "Kayla, that is so great you're doing a youth internship! You're going to be a great leader!," but when I walked into the classroom for Sunday School I was alone. My first times in Sunday School (I wasn't a Christian growing up) was as the teacher! "Unprepared" is a gross understatement. OR: "I can't believe you're moving to Minneapolis for an unpaid internship! God is going to use you!" But I found myself 4 hours from home with so little personal and professional direction that it left me in a significant 4 month depression.

There seems to be an assumption (especially in ministry) that zeal for the Lord is a acceptable replacement for Bible knowledge in itself.  That a profound conversion experience makes up for developed character or Scripture memorization. That if your intention is to do "good," that it will all work out--even for lack of training. I know I've volunteered like that. Feeling that since I was so eager and genuinely trying to serve God,  my lack of Scripture knowledge, feeble discernment, or inexperience wouldn't really matter. But it does. Zeal could only take me so far. The willingness to step out into leadership didn't automatically make me an effective leader. I wasn't aware of my need to spend the time under the guidance of a mentor--under my Christian elders.

Mostly I've seen my 'teetering' experiences as a result of an urgent need for volunteers and leaders. Sometimes churches and ministries and organizations are so in need of warm bodies that people are thrown into roles without adequate training. I don't think it should be like this, but I understand why it happens. When I liken it to the job market, the idea is ludicrous. When I worked for US bank for example, my manager (even though they were short-handed for a week while I sat in an office and studied my training binders) would never have said, "Hey Kayla--why don't you just skip the basic training part? See, we really need a teller now. And I can tell you REALLY want to be a teller, so doesn't matter if you make some pretty big mistakes. You'll get the hang of it."

This would NEVER be acceptable! Yet I've seen it happen in churches. Often.

On the flip side, I've received great mentoring in the church, as well. For the past year and a half I co-led a group of 8th/9th grade girls in a Wednesday night youth group under the supervision and partnership of my beloved friend, Ramona. A woman with enough experience and Bible knowledge to sit me with my nose in the corner and lead the group herself each week--but instead, she asked for my opinion, input, perspective, and ideas. She would allow me to steer the group and took the reins when I went off-track without belittling or discouraging me. She is a woman diligently leaving a legacy of faith and leadership.

I write all of the this to say that I have a holy discontent with the lack of discipleship I have experienced in the church. It's fueled by a majority of my experiences as a young adult. Because of the times of great mentorship I've been a part of, it spurs me on to see that my lackluster leadership experiences aren't repeated for someone else.

I am so thankful for time spent steeping in the wisdom and experience that can only come from a group of seasoned believers. In this new season I'm hoping to find some more adoptive aunts and uncles. I'm hoping that time spent as the 'mentee/protegé' will gradually transition into 'mentor' status in whatever place I land.

"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.