A Humbling Welcome

Today we finally arrived in H. V. After a five hour drive into the mountainous villages, we winded down that final curve & suddenly I saw the cement wall surrounding the compound. As we maneuvered carefully through the gates, my eyes met nearly a hundred pairs of hope-filled little eyes, white teeth all showing and glimmering in the sunlight.

"Please get out," he offered "the children would like to welcome you, sisters."

We exit the car as my feet meet this mountain dirt for the first time, I know this is a special place immediately. A handful of young girls pull forward from the rest, walking towards us with speechless joy and a bit of trepidation in their unsure eyes. In their hands they each carry a beautiful necklace made of real flowers stung together. As I bend down that this little one might place it over my neck, I have no words—no way of even beginning to replay this moment. As I rose up to my full stature, this little one, she bowed down and kissed my feet, all covered in black dirt. I don't know how else to hold back the tears but to girn. So I look into her innocent eyes and shine my white teeth, locking my eyes upon hers until she finally rises, mutters something quickly and then scurries back to the group.

My heart is humbled. Who am I? Just this selfish, prideful, rich, spoiled, materialistic, needy, comfortable American. Yet here is this little girl kissing my nasty, soiled feet. Oh Jesus, I am so unworthy. Yet still in your great mercy you love me enough to show me through this precious little one.

We continue to walk forward, deeper into the compound in this parade of over-joyed spirits and songs of praise. My eyes glimmering as I struggle to contain myself. Are we really here?? Jesus, is this home for more then a week or two?

The women standing outside the house in the back of the compound greet us with hard handshakes (something culturally unexpected from the women) and desperate joy engrained upon each and every wrinkle on etched upon their faces. As we near the doorway of the house, I see the wife of the home waiting. We greet her warmly and she receives us into her home immediately. She is beautiful and her gentleness indicative of her servant-hearted spirit from the moment we first meet. I long to know her deeply.

These people are radiant. Regardless of the amount of time the Lord allows me to spend here in this happy valley, my life is already messed up because of my time in this place, among these people so in love with you Lord. Thank you Jesus for brining me here.

"Those who look to the Lord are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame." ---Psalm 34:5.

Meeting the Hea{r}t of India

We arrived in Bhubaneswar last night. After a flight which I thought would be the death of me, another drive which I added to my growing list of near death experiences, we arrived at our hotel. For the first time, the fear began to set in as I watch the men follow me with their dark, lifeless eyes. People were everywhere. After sleeping on a quite firm "mattress," I woke up with the sun, the cows, and the constant lull of horns below. The heat woke up this early too.

As I sit in this chair, looking out through the barred windows separating me from the street several stories below, my stomach is rolling around. A possible combination of the new tastes and straight up fear. I look out over this glimpse of the city below me and I pray that this sight, the poverty and darkness, will never become normal to me. My heart hurts today.

I begin to actually laugh (quietly as the others are asleep) out loud a bit. Lack of sleep? Here I am in a foreign land in some ghetto hotel staring out at a cow in the middle of the street eating trash...? Wow, Jesus thank you for grace. I refuse to go back to my easy, comfortable, blessed American life while this sight continues to play out, even upon my return to normal. I do not know my role in all of this, but I have confidence I am not sitting here in this hotel, unable to sleep, captivated by this city for no reason whatsoever.

Oh Jesus, break my heart for what breaks yours.

There is this concrete building in progress next to the hotel. I can see straight down into it from where I sit. Wooden polls are currently all that sustains one story upon the next. Lined across the top are little shirtless figures. Dozens of them. Content to sleep soundly on a little mat, horns blaring, sun blazing, people stirring, completely exposed—they dream away.

The structure with men sleeping is to the left. The cart of bananas coming down the road. The cow eating trash towards the left. The little shack which is one man's shop is directly to the right. This is exactly what I looked out at, taken from my hotel window. The women walking are out of the image at this point. 

Two women walk up and down the streets. One in a rich gold and red sari, the other colored black and green. They are beautiful. They look lost. I wonder—how representative is their physical wondering of their spiritual?

A shirtless figure begins to stir. He disappears deeper into the structure, only to appear down near the street moments later. I watch him intently, as he appears to be gripping a dog bowl filled with water. He places one finger in the bowl and begins to scrub at his teeth. What good will that do? I wonder quietly, what good will that do?

The city is coming to life again. Aside from the two women, the city is dominated by men. Some moseying along, others racing to something more important. I yearn to hear their stories, to know about their lives, their families, their role in this society. I want to know where they have found hope in such a seemingly hopeless place. Some carry backpacks. Several push carts brimming with the most radiant yellow bananas I have ever seen, a literal light in the dirtiness. Others bike along, pulling carts or other civilians. A group far too large pile into a single car.

A man begins the process of opening up his little shanty (a little wood holding up a tarp) of snacks for business just below me. He is another man from the incomplete building. I had been watching him awhile.  He rose up from his sleep with a big stretch, arms extended towards the heavens, heart elsewhere. With great care he began to fold up his little tarp which served as his bed. Perhaps like me, he is a bit OCD? No, he probably doesn't have time to care. He comes down off the top of this building and my gaze follows as he crosses the street, paying no attention to the growing traffic, the dog, or the cow eating trash. He simply walks into his tarp-covered shop and begins his fourteen hour work day after which he will finally get to return to the comfort of his tarp atop the concrete structure.

More bananas pass by. I cannot take my eyes off this place. The palm trees and trash-covered streets, an odd attraction still lingering. Then there's the smothering heat and the luscious colors. The beautiful people in extreme poverty. The captivating peace midst the ceaseless noise. India, you have my heart. Now I will wait and trust the one with the greater plan, the one who created this heart which I continue to give over--again and again. I wonder, in His grace if He will allow my ever-wondering heart to return.

Jesus, bind my wondering heart to thee. I trust you. Yes, even to draw this busy, poverty-striken people back to yourself. Yes, even to remove these 33 million idols from their hearts. Yes, even with my idolatrous heart. I place my ever-wondering, never satisfied, always straying, deceitfully wicked, untrusting, selfish, prideful, burdened heart in your protective arms and I trust you.

Even being home now, I desire continually to give my heart back to this foreign land which I love. Even catching myself thinking (and saying) that I left a piece of my heart there. Jesus, please help me to hold fast to the Truth that you hold this heart of mine and that completely yours is the only place a I truly desire this heart to be--not even a piece of it left anywhere away from you. Only when my heart is fully submitted and surrendered to your perfect will, only in that raw place will I find hope, only there will I serve you.
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After this process time in the morning, we went downstairs to walk around We stopped at a stand to get fresh Chai tea. I was the only one too quicken to drink it off of a street vendor—the water they washed the glass ups in was brown! Anyhow, as a result about 30 seconds later I got pooped on by a bird. Sick. After this, we were taken to a "tourist" park of the state several hours away where there is a beach. It was nearing 120 degrees where we were at this day—insanely hot.

Chai tea stand

Yuck!!! Bird poop. New shirt please!

Eating lunch at a fancy hotel on the beach. Very spicy meal!!

My favorite photo of the trip. 

On Arriving in a Foreign Land

As we race past cars, not stopped even by markings of lanes on the pavement, my eyes dart around. I see trach. Lots and lots of trash. Colors everywhere—even in the darkness, this place is rich in color. As we cruise further and further from the airport and grow closer to our place of resting for the night, I see poverty. Everywhere. People piled atop the medians in the middle of the road, sleeping on a ragged blanket as the cars and bikes whiz by, often honking in conversation. My heart beat increases. It feels as though it could explode from my chest. My eyes try to shut, but the Spirit says no—you must see my people. Be broken, as I am. It's okay.

Oh Jesus, where does the work begin? The need is truly overwhleming, the poverty incomprehensible, the hopelessness paralyzing. God, show me how to be apart of your Kingdom in this place. Lord, show me little ways to start somewhere—anywhere.

I've always thought I'd walk off the plane and just know, just "know" this is where I belong. While this wasn't the reality, stepping out that door I was met with midnight heat, a continual lull of honking horns, a scent so unfamiliar, the most beautiful people I have ever laid eyes on—and an overwhelming peace sustained me. Hungry for knowledge and time in this place, learning from these people, I took my first steps into this foreign land surprisingly fearlessly.

This place is like nothing I have ever seen—like nothing I could even begin to explain.

Walking through the city, even in the middle of the night as it was, it was as though I forget to put my clothes on or something was taped to my forehead as I felt the eyes looking my white skin and blonde curls up and down. Everyone stares. The women—out of curiosity and impatience. The men—out of some curiosity but mostly lust. The children—they stare as though we are both ghosts and movie stars at once. Waving, with big toothless grins, even from the rooftop, bug eyes and huge grin plastered across their faces.

Jesus, soften their hearts to us white folk. Give us more grace to know them—especially the women. Teach me your ways, Lord. Break my heart for what breaks yours. Speak boldly. Help me to be a doer of your words, not just a hearer. Teach me to hold fast to your promises, for you are good.

"Oh India, you will not be forgotten by me. I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like a mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you." Isaiah 44:21-22

Thoughts From a Proud Little Sister

Before I begin endless rambles about my time in India, I cannot resist this opportunity to brag on my big brother and his beautiful wife (and the most handsome two year old in the world of course).

During my time in St. Louis this weekend, I was privileged to go to Freedom Church, a church plant of dear friends of my siblings. It is always a joy to worship Jesus and receive the Word with all of my siblings and their families when I come to town. I love that they have all committed to be apart of one body and to do life together in this way. Selfishly, I am slightly jealous that I miss out on this fellowship with them each week.

Anyhow, their church is growing and the leadership decided it was indeed time to delegate some of the responsibility for this hungry flock over to another individual—particularly leadership over the youth. So my brother and his wife were officially introduced before the church body as the new youth leaders for Freedom Church. 

Ever since they have come into my life, I have had so much respect for both of my big brothers. I am always in awe of God's faithfulness to redeem the future generations—something I see so tangibly through the way both of my brothers fear the Lord and desire to raise their kiddos to do likewise. They are putting an end to the curse our dad has left us. It is beautiful.

Ryan and Megan in particular were instrumental in my coming to Christ. As a result, talking to them about Jesus has always come naturally, but the past year or two has been really challenging for me as a little sister all the way in Arkansas to really have an intimate relationship with my bro and his wife. We stay in touch—though I am a bit ashamed to confess that if it weren't for Facebook, I would feel much more out of the loop. But we manage. Seasons come and go.

Throughout this season, I have spent much time asking God to move in all of my siblings lives—that we might all know Him more intimately. As a little sister, it is often difficult for me to know how to encourage my older siblings...how to initiate real conversations about the Lord when He is constantly working in all of our lives, though difficult to articulate monthly or every six months when I see them. This sounds odd, but it is something I really battle with.  I long to be apart of all the different seasons He takes them through. And I so desperately desire for them to know my seasons—I look forward to a day we can live this out with fewer miles that separate us, but for now the glimpses are sweeter.

This weekend being present for this moment which God has been preparing them for all along was one of the sweetest moments. It made me forget the distance, my inability to communicate the Spirit that lives in me, it allowed me to see Christ's work in their lives over the past year or two—all in this one moment. As a little sister, I have always looked up to Rye. I have always known God set Him apart for a purpose far greater then anything he would ever dream for himself. We have that in common—thinking we could never step into a role for which only God calls and equips—it takes us a bit longer to be convinced, but eventually our desire to obey and glorify breaks through the fear and doubt.

As Ryan stood before this body of believers on Sunday, his faithful helper and prayer warrior standing at his side (joyful tears upon her cheeks of course), and began to share how nervous but excited he and Meg are to be stepping into this role, the tears just began to fall for me as well. My brother has been through so much. God has always been faithful, but in that moment I saw the Spirit speaking through my brother. I saw Jesus radiating from the inner place. I saw joy that is his strength. I saw hours and hours my sister spent on her knees, interceding on behalf of my brother, for Him to be equip to lead their family, interceding for God's plan in their lives—a faithful wife. I saw days and weeks and months of God's relentless pursuit of him and my sister—to challenge them in their faith and call them to trust Him more. I saw life being restored even in those moments—for Him but also for me. I pray that this is exactly what these youth will see as well. My brother's obedience points me to hope even more in Christ. He makes me want to know Him more, to trust Him, to pray boldly and expect Him to answer, according to His will over my own. To see him and Meg step into this new season, this new role refreshes the reality that He does indeed make all things new...that He is doing a new thing, making a way in the wilderness even (Isa. 43:19).

Big Bro, I am so incredibly excited to see how God is going to allow you and Meg to lead these students, and by his grace alone to point them to Him. I am so proud of you brother, and I am here, your biggest cheerleader in the South! Thank you for going first...for bearing some of the weight our dad is too weak to uphold. Thank you for giving me hope that life with Christ shatters the darkness. Thank you for stepping into the newness and liberating me to follow, despite fear and pride.

Sister, this has been a role I have been confident you would be gifted to fill for years now—and am excited to watch Him use you in these young girls' lives. More then anything though, watching you in the dry seasons...hearing you testify to having to trust Him when life made no sense...when He spoke so boldly to you, but you knew you had to be patient. When you wanted to control, but He told you to pray. And you did. Just look at this itty bitty glimpse of His plan that He has revealed—rejoice and get back on your knees and keep praying because this is only the beginning!!!

Oh yeah and to the both of you—you just remember how I always used to tell you that even in my darkest pit that y'all had to help me out of, He was using my mess to prepare you for something far greater...consider that your initiation into life with youth!! I am totally kidding—sort of. God has been preparing you, yes even through all that stuff. It will be messy, but His grace far exceeds the mess. Praise Jesus, this is good news for us all!


"And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God." (1 Corinthians 2:1-5 ESV)


Friends, please pray for this precious family—for protection from attacks of the enemy, for wisdom in counseling youth, for boldness in teaching the Word, for unity as a couple, for enough time in the day to simply be filled with Truth, and so much more as the Spirit leads.

Sincerely,
One Proud Sister in the South

South Asia: A Sneak Peak

Two weeks in South Asia ended in touching American soil last Sunday. After 30 hours of flying, a couple days at a cabin in the country with my adopted family, four days of battling strep throat, officially moving out to the country (while sick), a weekend of traveling to St. Louis and seeing friends and family going non-stop, another 5 hour drive back, here I am...back to "normal" life in Arkansas. This past week has been a blur.

The only abnormal thing lingering still—waking up with the sun. Oh, the joys of jet lag.

I miss India. So much.

I often find myself drifting off, allowing my head to go back to India, only wishing my body could go with it. But I will trust in Jesus—in the perfection of where He has me right now, in the perfection of His plan. I know He is good and He is faithful. He did crazy things during my 2 weeks on the other side of the world. He revealed Himself to me in ways I could have never even begged for because I simply didn't know even my own need—but He did.

The simple summary of this foreign land:  the most dirty, impoverished, colorful place I have ever laid eyes on.

The not so simple summary of India:  to be continued.

I wrote a lot during my two weeks abroad and look forward to sharing more about my time in South Asia in the days and weeks to come.

For all of you supporters and prayer warriors, all I can say is how incredibly thankful I am for you. Keep praying for the beautiful yet broken people of this nation...that they might know the ONE true Lord God.

Pray that they might know His grace above all else. Pray that we might all know it, really.

In a Matter of Hours

Well in about 6 hours I leave to go to the other side of the world. This means another checkmark on the bucketlist, I believe. Another oppurtunity to serve and return refined and broken, most likely. Praise God I know the One who bind the brokenhearted, declares freedom for the captives. I must be in lala land or something, because my brain is not in that place just yet. Nonetheless, I am getting in the car soon.

The past week or two has been completely insane. Just now, I said my final goodbyes to my international friends. Standing on the side of Dickson stree, man passed out drunk in the back of the truck next to me, heart pounding in my chest from the music blaring all around, everyone drinking away the stress of finals and goodbyes, we hugged. We cried. I spoke a few words before the tears overwhlemed again. Cried some more. Drunk guy tumbled out of truck. Tears. Funny how life is sometimes--I could have seen goodbye going a bit differently, and yet it did not surprise me in the least.

This week, up until this very moment really, has been simply survival mode. Busy with my intetnational friends, craziness at work, and spending as much time as possible with my adopted family, the reality of getting on this plane in the morning is slightly overwhelming!! I am trusting Him to re-fill me in my travel time,  because at the moment I am wrung dry.

All the craziness and other things aside, I am going to South Asia in the morning!!! I have been counting down the days for long enough--let's go!! The partners we are going to visit are ready for us (and incredibly excited) which brings much excitement to my heart as well. I cannot wait to smell Asia--to breathe in the air of a people in such desperate need for gospel Truth, a people whom I cannot wait to meet.

Please check for updates about how our team is doing and how you can better pray for us by going to www.lightbearersconnects.com and searching for our blog entries.

For all all you have supported me both financially and prayerfully, my deepest gratitude.

Cannot wait to see all that God does in and through this trip. Will update as much as possible.

Courtney

On Saying Good Bye

As many of you know, I have had the privilege of playing "Mummy" to my two beautiful daughters this year. Each are from other ends of the earth, both cultures far different from mine, each with their own opposite personalities, various beliefs, unique passions and dreams, differing friend groups, etc yet in the midst of it all, we bonded as only a Mummy and daughter could.
I cannot begin to formulate the right words to describe the impact these two have had in my life this year. All I know is that He is faithful to provide--friends, daughters, and teachers through their lives.
As the year winds down, I wrestle in the bittersweetness of the pending goodbyes. I know my life has been changed by realtionship with these two. Much of my time outside of work or the classroom dedicated to pursuit of their hearts, a place which has brought me great joy in doing life intimately with them both. I feel as though a piece of my heart is being ripped out as I say goodbye.
Lately I stare at the ceiling at night, just wondering what will they do without me? How will they ever make it when they get back home? Prideful much...ummm yes.

The better question I avoid like a plague being, how in world will my life look without them?? What will it be like to no longer hear them shout "Mummy" as they jump into my car? As one mentioned in tears last night, Mummy, I call you everyday...I cannot imagine you just not being there. It is hard for me to imagine as well.

I have learned so much about dying to myself through them. About putting the needs of another above my own. About effectively (and NOT so effectively) being light in the darkness. About proclaiming with boldness the Truth in which I place my hope and trust. About boundaries. About walking with someone through the joys and the heartaches of life in a fallen world, nonetheless. That I cannot be the Holy Spirit, not even in my daughters' lives. They have taught me about grace--the need for it in their own lives and my own growing dependency upon it. About balance. About loving--the kind of love which has no bounds.

I hope and pray these girls know they are loved. By friends and family, by their "Mummy," but most of all by a God who loved them so deeply He sent His one and only Son to the cross to pay a price they could never pay to make a way for them to know a Holy God, a God who desires to pursue their hearts intimately not out of anything they could do to be good enough--just because He loves them, a God whose forgiveness and redemption I cannot imagine my life apart from.

So often, I desire to be the Holy Spirit. To convict, to judge the intentions of the heart, to convict some more. With my daughters that has been no exception. Still unaware of the exact proportions of meeting them in that place (wherever that may be) verses calling them out of it, speaking with gentleness verses boldness, encouraging them with Truth or challenging them with it.
Then there's the battle of my time. Boundaries really. I see the fruit begin to bud as they are distanced from the weekend parties, the stress of studies, the drama with friends. When they are imerrsed, even challenged by, quality time with myself, friends, believing community, my family. I see glimpses of light for one-- thoughts which consider the possibility of something far greater. Maybe "Mummy" is not just religious and moralistic. Maybe, just maybe. For the other our time breeds encouragement, hard questions, radical convictions. A practical guide to biblical roles as a woman, sister, daughter, future wife and mom. A weighty call to know Him and make Him known, on the other side of the world that is lost.

As I say a final goodbye to my daughters next week, we all three board planes to the ends of the earth, I pray that our lives may bear fruit which furthers the Kingdom as a result of doing life together this year.

I pray that one may boldly proclaim the gospel among unbelivers. That she would honor her family and love her friends in way which honors the Lord. That God would provide her with a community of other belivers, to challenge and encourage, hold accountable and worship alongside her. The she would not be lonely, but stand in awe of God's provision through His Bride, even on the other side of the world, trusting Him to provide again as she returns home. I ask that He would protect her from lies and discouragement. I pray for boldness that she may continue in her pursuit of Him for His name's sake alone.

For the other, I trust God is at work. I believe it is only by His Spirit at work in us that we may know Him---that we may even know our need for Him. I pray she might know her need for Him. I pray that lies would be exposed for what they are--that they would have no authority in her life. In faith, I await fruit with patience and joy for what is to come. I ask God would continue to place His followers around her. That He would captivate her heart in a way man never could. That should she find herself alone in brokenness, no where to look but up, in that moment she might look into His loving and righteous eyes, that He might pierce through the years of toil and heartache like only He can, redeeming the years the locusts have stolen.
Intrigued and hungry to bring the words of Life to a world bigger then my own, I know my life is forever changed as a result of these two women (both of whom are older then me) yet whom I am so incredibly blessed to call Daughter. He is faithful to set the solitary in families...even families across the seas.