In Which We Grieve & See Glory: The Humble Legacy of Miss Patsy

They married when they were babies, fifty-two years back into the days when a marriage licensee often preceded a high school diploma. Miss Patsy delivered her first baby girl before she even reached the adult age of eighteen. A year later, another little girl followed. Raising babies in the remoteness of her husband's ranching years must have been quite a challenging season. One which she approached with abundant patience and joy. All who knew her best, continue to speak of her gentleness and grace.

Such grace she wore, that when her husband received his call to foreign lands, it required she [as his wife] have had two years of college. She had none to speak of, so upon finding this out, he realized the deadline for enrollment in the local college was that exact day. Without having even yet mentioned to her of his call to go or her need for an education, he marched straight to that school to enroll her. When he came home that evening was when he clued her in--that he was called to go overseas as a missionary which also required she start college--today! I can picture this scene in their living room playing out. I see a smirk take over her face as though such a proposition was exactly what she expected him to come home with that day. No surprises, no fear, no hesitation--just great joy in this new way she could continue to serve alongside her beloved and see Christ magnified amidst each new flip of those textbook pages.

Upon Patsy's graduation two years later, this family of four moved to West Africa where they began their missionary journey. The region where they began serving was actually deficient of men with the ability to teach in the church. So Patsy often filled in and shared the Truth of His word with the local body until a suitable man could be trained. She taught sewing for a season but she came alive in the moments she got to story-tell her way through the gospels around the villages. He had created in her such a desire to share and out of her obedience to this call, hundreds are rejoicing with her upon her arrival in heaven this week, knowing their journey to such a paradise was sparked by Christ in Miss Patsy. What a challenging call that should stir in our hearts as we continue to walk as sojourns here, looking to the author and perfecter to use us. 

 The years on that soil also bear the weight of the greatest pain a momma's heart could possibly endure on this earth. The loss of Ray and Patsy's daughter Laura at the premature age of fifteen became the sort of trial James claims will teach steadfastness. This beautiful girl was buried on African soil, and surely a part of Miss Patsy was too. The younger of her daughters continues to raise a family and serve as a missionary on the southern end of this same soil. What a legacy, a testimony of faithfulness.

A journey that would lead to thousands of men and women coming to Christ, hundreds of churches planted which continue to thrive today, and thirty five years spent on two regions of African soil was probably not what Miss Patsy visualized the day God called her to Himself. In fact, such a legacy was probably not something she often thought about. As it was, there was continual needs to be met as wife, mom, friend, speaker of the gospel, daughter and missionary. She just lived life day by day, saturated by He who is more then able, abounding in love. And this just happens to be the lot He called her to in her role of fulfilling this grand story of redemption.

It may seem your role or mine could never "measure up" like Miss Patsy's. These early years of knowing Him have often left me defeated by all the have nots and never coulds and should bes but am nots that hail from comparison. Perhaps this is what I most wish to learn from Miss Patsy--simple faithfulness to what has been given and required, amidst great joy and great sorrow. Her trust never shifted. Just faithfulness to the Christ that lived in her, so that others might know of Him as well.

And isn't that where we all wrestle at some point?

Us twenty somethings, forty somethings, single, in the thick of raising babies or just recently graduated from college asking ourselves...now what? It's like we thrive off of comparison and fulfillment of the latest Christian thing. I don't see that in scripture. Instead, I see this: But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it— the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction:  for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins.  It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. [Romans 3:21-26]

I have never left a funeral so encouraged as I did on Saturday. What a testimony to a simple life of faithfulness lived out by a woman who so desperately recognized the need for the gospel in the ends of the earth--and so faithfully offered it up. She offered up herself too. Her life, her family, her comfort and her heart.

We walked out of that church where I have spent hundreds of Sundays worshipping amidst my family and it was like a glimpse into the whole story, the bigger picture. A month ago I stood beside this pillar of faith as we sang praises to God best we could. And now, her body is empty and her whole self fully bowed at His feet forever and ever and ever singing 'Holy, Holy, Holy...' all of her fully restored to Him and whole.

And here am I, still standing bearing a weight of neediness and brokenness amidst a temple that desires everything of this place way too much in light of His glory and yet HE LOVES ME. He loves us, ya'll.

I mess up a lot and yet does my faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God? By no means! Nor have I spent thirty-five years on the ends of the earth or buried a child. I haven't sacrificed my family or too much of my own comfort. But His love remains all the same and nothing can ever separate me from such a love. In fact, whether in suffering or rejoicing, hope does not put us to shame because His love has been poured out into our hearts through the holy spirit, for all who are in Christ.

We don't have a thing to earn ya'll, no check marks ever sufficient to bear the weight of that cross. But that cross better compel us to speak of the only one who saves and by whose love and grace we have been given life--wherever He has us, because the wage of sin is death but the free gift of God is eternal life [Romans 6:23] and two-thousand years later there are still over two billon people who have not even heard of Jesus Christ. We must not be silent or grow complacent.

God wants the world to know Christ, believe in Christ, but also obey Christ. We must "look carefully then how we walk." [Ephesians 5:15] We must "teach them to observe all that I have commanded you." [Matthew 28:19-20] Not that we may earn some righteousness of our own, but that each person created in His image before the foundation of the world may worship Him with the glory that belongs to Him in the first place. I desire desperately to see unreached peoples know Him. But He is so worthy of all of our praises, glory and honor--I desire to see His name magnified among all--simply because of His greatness.

For several years, Miss Patsy has been steadily overcome by dementia as it's effects on her whole person have left her with many needs. Her beloved husband has cared for her day after day in ways that would make you weep with gratitude and awe that such love can still bind. Even amdist the loss of her ability to speak words, the two have continued to share the gospel side by side with the men and women around their assisted living facility these past few years back on Arkansas dirt. Their story has been the quiet, steadfast, persevering type and they wouldn't have it any other way.

These past two years have brought Mr. Ray and Miss Patsy near to my heart as I have been so blessed to get to spend time around them and do life alongside them in various capacities. It was a humbling introduction when I received a graduation card from them noted to their "granddaughter," a claiming of sorts that filled me with honor and gratitude. To look to them as adopted and spiritual grandparents has been and continues to be the greatest of gifts to me, a special legacy I am so humbled to partake in as long as His grace allows! 

These final weeks had left Miss Patsy fighting violently to leave a body that was only a foretaste, a glimpse of something far greater in the first place. Make no mistake, Miss Patsy understood that. She longed for a better country, a heavenly one. And celebrating her life makes me long for all of that too.

May our lives today reflect that better country, the heavenly one. [Hebrews 11]

Oh Lord, hasten the day we get to worship you in glory, fully and forevermore restored. But in the meantime, may you strengthen us to fight to walk in your presence and serve at your feet, cherishing the gospel with boldness as we simply proclaim to each corner and people you place us among. And at the end of it all, if the celebration of our reunion with you were to mirror even a glimpse of Miss Patsy's one day, well that would be a victory of which you receive all glory and honor and praise.

And may we pray with great humility, "Here I am Lord, send me. That to the ends of the earth, all may know, 'Your God reigns!'" 

In Which I Fall in Love [with the church]

Community is a word we throw around quite a bit down here in this bible bubble.

I've heard it used a million ways, I've been sharpened by it, and at times, deeply wounded too. After all, it does involve broken, sinful, flawed people trying to do real life together. It's bound to be messy--and glorious. I think God meant it to be such. For our good but mostly His glory.

From body to body, one life season to another, community has changed.

But as I go into my third year with this body of believers in this little corner of the natural state, I know more then this pretty picture. Ya'll, I get to experience the real deal. And even as these words pour out, the tears follow because God's grace abounds so richly in these brothers and sisters, adopted dads and mommas, grandmas and grandpas with whom He has surrounded me with.

It sounds perfect but it is far from. Just last night I found myself asking God why He has me here, committed to this body when I just keep seeing these flaws. I watch dear friends drift out and eventually  find community elsewhere. And I become frustrated with the routine. There are few in my life season and that can feel lonely too.

And then there are moments where I remember why. Why commitment to community, to a specific body, is so precious and valuable.

First off, it's biblical. God commands it. Check out these brief words from Piper. 

Secondly, we were created to do life together, in relationship yet serving as different parts of the body. Like last night when I was sitting across the table from this precious fifty-seven year old woman who is one of the most faithful I have known. We had my laptop open, hovering in close as we scoured Pinterest, discussing green ties, rustic table decor, and Japanese cakes while sipping hot tea and rejoicing that in just a few short months she is to marry for the first time.  I get to stand beside her.

I saw it two years ago when I was dealing with some tough stuff and a family from church told me to come live with them so we can walk through it together. They taught me how to shoot a gun, love the country, share a room with sisters, and more then I ever wanted to know about snakes. Somewhere in the process they taught me to trust too. Jesus' love had never been more real to me as it was through their sacrificial love for me. They made me want Him more. This adopted mamma gave birth to her tenth baby a few months ago so our latest heart to heart happened sitting in the car, in a parking lot over sonic while nursing this new little one. This is just community, right?

When we gather to corporate worship on Sunday, our voices humming the same tune, despite all of our flesh and failure, I sense it. The desperateness with which we praise Him. The lifting of the weightyness of the week as those words knit us tighter. Someday it will be every tribe and tongue and I cannot imagine. This glimpse is just grace.

When I didn't have a job two years ago, a part of my community gave me one. When they had to let me go after a tough year for the company, someone else in this community taught me to counsel clients and serve as they came through the doors or our church's ministry to those in need while I waited on God's provision of a new job. They knew idol time to be a great burden. They protected me, when I didn't even know I needed it. And everyday, they encouraged me in the word and held me in prayer.

Last week I took the little guy I nanny to play with the kiddos of a mamma in my community. We talked real life while they tossed balls and built leggos. That's what this really means, I think.

Community far exceeds the doors of a building or a set apart day of the week.

This community sent my sweet friend and me to India last year. They prayed us over there and back. Much of the funding came from them too. Then they held us while we wrestled upon our return. When God called me to missions several months ago, they laid hands and prayed. Then we met one on one, me and a pastor, as he encouraged me in this calling and they committed to teach me and someday, be a part of my going.

I don't think there has been one international event this year that my "young professionals group" of friends hasn't served at when I present the need. We are the most random group and Jesus unites us. There are challenges and differences, but they teach me so much.

There are generations in this community. A grandpa who spent years in Africa for the sake of the gospel, and still praises Christ in spite of burrying a child overseas and contracting polio as a teen. He cares for his ailing wife with this love so true it could pierce at a glance. He lets me call him a grandfather, he comes over for dinner sometimes. He always tells me about how we're just waiting for the best one [refering to whoever it might be that the Lord has for me to marry], he tells me this man is gearing up, getting ready. Oh, and sometimes he plays the guitar.

There's a ninety-three year old that we all call grandma. She has traveled more countries then I could dream and tells stories like no other. A couple weeks back we gathered at the hospital waiting for her to come out of a surgery when the future was quite unclear. We prayed a lot and reminisced. She lives cancer free. A couple nights ago I changed the dressing on her incision, as her daughter wanted me to "practice being a nurse." I don't think grandma was such a fan of being my guinea pig.

Once a month I watch these kiddos durng big church. They are busy and halarious. I realize they get to grow up in this community. What a covering, what a blessing. It's the generations to come. It's the ones who have been around for quite awhile. It's the ones in the middle. The ones studying at university, the ones from the other side of the world pondering those big questions.

I see pillars, this legacy God has given. I am so underservng. And yet He is so deeply magnified in our weaknesses, as a body simply meeting to know Him and make Him known. He fixates our wondering hearts on Him in asking us to do life together as we wait. It's like a refining fire, a constant reminder. And I always come out with a greater understanding of my dependency upon Him.

I see it again and again. My need for these brothers and sisters continues to humble me. And His glory displayed in me being apart of them too. And I never thought I would love the church like that.

Praise God!! Only He could use such an imperfect and fallible people to make us want Him most.

In Which I Wrestle & Wait

A week ago life started singing outside my window so I slept with it open all night. I don't think I've slept quite like that in months. The sun kissed my face red after a day outside in the country with my adopted fam finishing my little [turned big] chicken house project from last year. It's almost done now and it was a project far to large for my own undertaking, joke's on me evidently!

Today rain and gloom linger and I feel a chill in the air. It's my dad's birthday and I don't quite know what to do with that. Oddly, all I can think about is wanting to hug him tight and for him to tell me it's all gunna be okay. I took a three hour nap and have no motivation to leave this bed. Nonetheless, the grass is gaining color and I am thankful for a resurrection glimpse.

Isn't it good news that the story doesn't end with the crucifixion?

We sang in church today and I wept like a baby. I tried to fight it, but by the time the offering song launched I was a goner. I think it was deep rooted in this weariness I've felt and the way I've depended on the idol too much in this trial. And then there is the trial itself. My applied for job count has topped out in the late twenties this week and my interviews thus far cap out at a whopping zero. It hasn't been the darkness of before, but it's lingered and weeks later I still haven't run the other way.

Why is that sometimes our wounds feel better oozing then they do all stitched up?

These days I look in the mirror and find disappointment in the faded blonde staring back at me. I haven't felt it in months and months but it feeds something of old. I find myself reaching into the back of the closet for the hoodies that cover up a few times too many and I wake up to the hum of relentless failure flowing ear to ear. There is something to be said for getting dressed up for work each day and with that gone--maybe I just need to pretend I have somewhere important to be?

I find myself making excuses to be places and moving my life to the week after next because I am just a little fragile right now and, well I don't even know why. Maybe something will click by then, though. I hope so. Surely I am not bound to a life of sweatpants just yet.

I hear the enemy loud. I open my Bible and the words just look a little blurry. I think it's a season we all know and the timing of it makes sense--tomorrow sums up my forty days of prayer and this last week I've felt the resistance.

But, God is speaking and I am dependent on hearing His voice.

Community around here really has sustained me. From random (rather large) checks taped to my windshield to people meeting me for the fist time only to discover I'm that one their whole family has been praying for these past weeks (which has happened more times then I can count on these fingers). All of my "adopted parents" both local and back home have been a constant flood of grace and wisdom in my life. My bible study friends have loved me well. Sweet ladies from church far more aged and faithful then I have come in close and looked me in the eyes while His words sunk deep. This is the testimony of His bride who have relentlessly pointed me back to He who is able.

And I think I forget it, when I don't see Him doing the abundantly more. I forget He is able. I forget faith is not seeing. I forget His ways are better too. Because let's face it, I have it all figured out stored away, just in case anyhow. 

"...the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead." [Phil. 3:10-11]

I think He is letting some parts of me crumble off. Hammering away.

The fire is thick and blazing these days, and this whole dying thing is a dreadful process. But as I watch this tulip fan open into yellow budded bliss, I remember abundant life such as this requires a cost so great as death itself.

In this case, undeserved death on a cross which burst forth an impossible stone that He who is able might attain resurrection. And here He dwells in the fire with you and me, His spirit sustaining.

I'm not sure what this season is to result in, what He is trying to carve outa me.

So all I can say is such--by any means possible, Lord, by any means possible. 

In Which I am Silent—Again?!

Okay, ya'll.

I just need to rant.

Winter sickness and work weariness in full swing, there are less of us tonight. We gather up in a circle as usual and we chat lightly over some pizza and brownies. I think we're all a little exhausted this week and it shows. There more quiet then normal but not the awkward kind. I feel safe here in this crowd and I know God is at work among us. I see it even in the fact that I tend to run from these kind of things after a week or two, but not this one. In fact, on the weeks we don't meet I find myself wanting.

We're all young adults and generally post-grad. I might be one of the few execptions. But I love that. I love walking with friends who have gone before—what wisdom and grace they offer. We know all the names without tags and we remember to pray during the week. We talk about real life and it's messy sometimes. It's real community, ya'll and there is nothing sweeter.

So here I am sitting in this circle that connects us and the Word lays open on my lap and I lose my voice when it does. Like literally. It's not the thoughts I lose because the Spirit is continually prompting me to share. Over and over and over. It's just the ability to make sounds come off my tongue that suddenly ceases—every single week. Ridiculous I know. In fact I can't even believe I am writing about this, using words on it, but this is my battle and I am so sick of it reigning over me.

Anyone relate?

I label it all sorts of things and toss the blame around afterwards, as I drive home down those windy roads in frustration once again.

-If my dad hadn't messed me up so bad, well then I would trust people better and I would talk more about what I'm really thinking. It's all a trust thing and it's just not my fault. 

-Then there's the people pleaser blame game. Well, I guess I just care too much what everyone thinks. They obviously do fine without my commentary, so why mess up the flow with my awkwardness now? What I could I possibly have to say that they don't already know?

-Next comes the blame it on the personality that doesn't even believe the word extrovert should be in the dictionary. It's just who I am—I'm just a quiet person and it's okay if I don't talk as much as they do.

-I can also live in fear and blame it's masterhood over me for the silence. Fear of man and fear of rejection and fear of things I can't even name. Fear of sounding stupid and under-taught in my knowledge and understanding of scripture. 

I guess sitting in a circle half filled with brilliant seminary grads doesn't help the fear recant much.

After months of this building and no victory in sight, I got in the car last night and wept. Yep, I was pretty pitiful. It's a good thing the Lord is gentle and compassionate when needed. I cried out and begged Him to set me free. From what I don't even know, all of the above and everything underneath?

Then came the okay let's get past the emotions and be real here part of our conversation. That's when I confessed pride. That's the root, right?

Pride smothered in insecurity because that sounds more helpless and less my fault? Yep, I do that. I call it a lack of trust or fear or my personality just so that I don't have to tamper with that ugly "P" word that none of us want to claim and yet I think its a fight we need to engage in more offensivley.

At least I do.

So not wanting to be associated with the ugliness of my pride, not wanted to be a slave to it, I must simply walk obediently to the Lord—and look at things a little more objectively. Sharing my thoughts as the spirit prompts is obedience to the God. Not sharing is disobedience, {not always of course but in this situation for me personally}. Simple.

There is community lost and encouragement drowned in the silence. Not because I'm that great, just because God gives us more grace. That's why it says he opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. I never knew the way my silence among others could separate me from God, but it has. 

Maybe this fellowship time is more about the strength rising up as our dozen comes together to love one another and speak hope in the messiness then it is about me. Surely a cord of that many is not easily broken? It's about loving one another in a way that shows the world we are indeed disciples of Christ.

It's about Him and all for His glory because someday that will be enough. Someday we won't grow tired of worship. Someday we won't be able to do anything but fall on our face before Him in awe.

My pride creates opposition, it blinds me from standing in awe of Christ like that. 

And in this messed up world I need more of that that, not less. These brothers and sisters remind me of the more that is to come as we talk out the word in love every week and part of the worshipping is the talking and I want to be apart of that because it's not about me.

Oh grace how sweet the sound. 

On Why I Want{ed} to See My Dad & Belonging

I spent the morning on the treadmill chasing my own feet for several miles and talking to myself {not out-loud of course because that would just be weird}.

This weekend I guarded and I tried so hard to keep it quiet. Life's pace has been as fast as you can these days and reprieve called. I've needed this time just to remember how to breathe slow and stay in bed after the sun comes up. It is good for all of us I think, to just bask in the natural rays as they glare through the crack in the curtains. It warms something in me that the heater just can't reach beneath this winter chill.

A Saturday night spent alone had been a dream in the chaos but sitting there in the quiet and hearing the girls beneath me laughing made it all seem lonely. My grandma had made me this little album and snuck it into my bag when I was home visiting. I've glanced through it with friends a couple times since coming back, but as I cleaned my room to the sound of my own voice I stumbled upon it again.

Grandma always tells me of the day I was born, how the nurses said I was the most beautiful baby they'd ever seen. I'm sure they say that a lot {like everyday}—but no use bursting her bubble. Ya'll, I really was a cute kid {see below}. And as the album nears the end a few more faces come into play—mom and dad. It's funny to see them together, her resting in his arms with flowers and mushy eyes that fool even me.

I gaze at him holding me close and playing with me by the pool and I really have to work to convince myself that is me in those images because none of those memories exist no matter how hard I think back. And I wish they did. I long for just some sense of claiming him as mine and that being something to rejoice in. I remember wishing I could wear him on my arm to the daddy-daughter dances, showing all my friends how great. And now, now I wish I had tears to cry when he walks me down the aisle into the the arms of my husband, I wish I had a loss to grieve in leaving my father's house and yet reality makes it not so. A grandfather to love and spoil my babies lost yet here.

He is still in rehab an hour north and his year there is more then half way up now. I don't know what is keeping him there this time as opposed to the hundreds before, but I don't ask much anymore I just give thanks.

I decided a month ago I was ready to see him and then I changed my mind. Daily for a week.

The truth is, I feel ready to see him. Some days, I actually want to see him. Like something in the actual meeting of my eyes with his will cause the divine. Okay, I don't even know what that means. But I know the root is I want his love even still. I want to claim him as my dad and beneath his protection I want to belong.

Sometimes I can feel my creation imperfect by sin groaning to be whole again. 

My brother took dad his car a couple weeks ago. It sounds like he is the big shot on campus now, the popular jock, homecoming king and all. His big Saturday night out, driving his friends to Blockbuster and ice cream has left him bragging on the phone to my brother and that is hilarious! He's re-building a life long devastated and it is slow but he is enduring. He has been there longer then most, beat the odds against him. He's watched his friends wimp out of their commitment, watched them go back to the chains. I hope he is learning perspective. I sure am. He is still sober and the newbies look up to him. He belongs. 

Maybe that's why he stays...

I flip through the album and I see my parents and I remember the first "whos" to whom I belonged and I want to rest there safe between them again. To feel whole again, even if I'm not. I want them to belong to each other too, I want to stop the searching and the empty answers that have left them hurting over the years. Life with a dozen made me belong as the twelfth and in life without them so close I've wavered some too, just trying to remember my place set apart.

I've made some friends at church and they are in the same life-stage as me—the waiting for the next grown-up step and secretly longing for a glimpse of the whole plan. When we study the Word together I see the church differently and I need it so much more. I love the body right through her sin and I don't think I ever have until now.

She {the church} teaches me about belonging and I feel whole inside of her and I think it's just a foretaste of what's coming, a sweet gift to hold near in the waiting. 

As I finish my three miles and settle into a steady strut, I decide I just really want to fit into the puzzle somewhere and I have no idea where I go. Waiting is painful sometimes and eventually tiresome, kind of like running. Oh, and seeing my dad can wait.

I gaze off ahead looking across the same scene as every other morning. I don't know if I was blind before or they did a quick paint job in the middle of the night, but I never noticed these big yellow letters plastered on the wall ahead and they jump off and read...

I think in time He will bring me into some tangible, physical belonging too. Maybe it's within His Bride here or on the other side of the world. Maybe it's in my dream of wifehood and discple-maker of my babies. Maybe it's in restoration with my dad one day and maybe he will always be a memory I just can't find. Pray with me, won't you?

We all wrestle here, right? All of us desperate to fit somewhere, to be known and loved?

In the groaning and the wanting to belong in his arms, I have to remember I really groan for more then he can satisfy—and surely those arms can't hold all twenty-two years of me for long. 

Even if my dad failed to protect and the generations before have searched for it and come up empty and chained, even if I never 'belong' to another earthly man for the rest of my life, and I have no clue where my puzzle piece meshes in, I do indeed belong to one—and that belonging triumphs all.

"But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world." -1 John4:4

On Seeing the Church Around My Kitchen Table

In this college town, the nations have arrived by plane and train and automobile. I love the mess out of them and find something among them, a taste of heaven maybe, right here in these rolling hills and saturday night lights. I am home. This summer was spent planning a new program at the University called Campus Cousins, after last years life-chainging relationship with my international friends.

This year any American college student/family can connect with international students through the I-Friend program and I love making the connections and seeing the fruit. If you live in NW Arkansas, come out to meet some international friends this Saturday--details here. 

Today I had a lunch with international friends and American friends and American friends who smell food across the way and sit down at my table and eat. There is plenty to go around it tastes too good. I laugh too loud and talk too much but we all do and I love the church a little bit more, right here as we are gathered around this table and laugh hope into our doubts, talk joy into our mundane because it is all sweeter when we meet like this, when we are more then ourselves and it matters becuase there are ears to hear and eyes to see, ears and eyes that have never heard or seen but we don't put on a show.

We are just the church and it is real and it is home. See this, He whispers. Take a deep breath of the joy, exhale the hope because this is my bride whom I am coming for. Remember her clothed like this, sitting at your table.

One next to me, her brown skin, she speaks of the church with fear and frustration and her eyes get small and her lips beg of a new subject. I push a little more as the Spirit prompts and she tells me in her country, if she doesn't go the building to worship and doesn't memorize the bible and if she doesn't do these things, she will go to this very bad place, or so those people tell her. The ones behind the walls of the building called church, they tell her. So she pushes it all away--the building and the bad place and the bible and the relief floods sight to her eyes again and she smiles and speaks and her words pierce.

"And that's why I don't go the church." She concludes and asks me about cooking the meat. 

I drive home from dropping them off and inhale these breaths of fall and I pray that He would give these new friends, friends from Korea and India and Japan and Indonesia, eyes to see and ears to hear. That our words would penetrate and the fear of the church and the religion and the hell and the works would all pass away as loving Jesus breathes death to life right here around this kitchen table. Isn't that the hope to which we have been called? The love for our neighbor we are commanded?

It feels a little hopeless, a little overwhelming—the need greater then the workers. Some days, it feels lonely, time wasted. But today it was right and I smell heaven right here because the church showed up and I needed to know it just as much as they do.

Like this morning we were studying the church at Ephesus and I think of them as I hear her talk about this church at Korea and I just hear Jesus words. "I have this against you--that you have abandoned the love you had at first."

It is all important of course, the the church and the works and the hell and the theology and such. But today I realized it is too important to me sometimes.

Don't abandon the love you had at first, Courtney. 

The church around my kitchen table--that's important too. A simple apology to my friend who hates the church, an apology because we are the bride and He is coming.

Our Lunch Crew

And when the nations come here, right here to this little college town and call it home for a year, I hope they see the church without ever setting foot inside a building that reeks too much of hell and their eyes that can't yet see and the nose just too sensitive to discern the sweet aroma just yet—so we make more.

I hope that we reeked of sweetness today. 

Love them and train their nostrils to smell in the process. Make sweet smells in the kitchen and gather around close and tell stories and talk gospel as much as you live it in the cooking and eating and cleaning and maybe, maybe then the church door won't seem like a really bad place and the working to earn something will cease with the work of Christ that is already complete.

I hope the bride clothed in righteousness can be identified here in this town—at Walmart, on campus, at the park, and around my kitchen table. I hope the church will flood these hearts from abroad with grace, as they preach of the way, the truth and the life because these hearts are so deceived, so cold to the building and the hell it stands for. Good thing He is about redemption, even so in His Bride. 

I don't know the proper ratio of love and wrath, heaven and hell, works and service, sinfulness and redemption. I don't know.

I learn new ways to evangelize and prepare for an afternoon of sports and a night of speaking gospel stories over the fire while eating hotdogs in the buns...I still doubt and wonder and mess up and say too much too fast or not enough fast enough and then she is gone or she pulls away and I still just don't know the right answers sometimes.

But the more time I spend in the company of these internationals, the more I just realize that God is so much bigger then I credit Him and the more I find strength in the church, in my brothers and sisters linked up in heart and vision and then it just seems right, not knowing all the answers I mean.

This morning we worshipped inside the building as one and it was more authentic and heavenly then ever before and it carried right over into lunch and the smell drew in some hungry hearts and I wish I could see it more and more because Jesus, he cast out demons and he healed and he bound up the broken. When the disciples tried this and failed they came to him asking why they couldn't do it and he called them a "faithless and twisted generation" and he cast out the demon and told them they only needed more faith.

I think if John wrote to the church at America, he might just say "Don't abandon the faith you had at first."

So bride, the groom is coming. Let us learn faith to move mountains with a grain of mustard seed, or move hearts with a meal shared around the kitchen table.

Just a single seed, church--then let faith move the nations. 

Part of our lunch crew

new friends!

I made two dishes in the crockpot and tons of rice...turned out so good! Will share recipes soon :)

Cake Balls....delish

Yang Hye and me, my new friendship family student

My boss Mary and her student with me and my student!

Like a Tree Planted by Streams of Water

This morning, I was encouraged by the body, the bride of the One who is to come. Soon, I hope.

As I sit in the pew and look up, I can't help but smile and listen a little more intently. I am humbled. I am blessed. I am humbled to look to my left and to my right and to know I belong somewhere. I am humbled to look up and know that man preaching before this body is the same man that has welcomed me as one of his own. I have always wondered what the man behind the pulpit is really like in various bodies--does his life measure up? How does he treat his wife? How does he handle the stress of life? Today, I was blessed to hear the Word preached from a man whose life is the pursuit of Christ that He might have all the glory--I know He measures up. I am blessed to live under his authority and so proud of him.

We are spending the next month or so in Psalms. Today, K taught on Psalm 1.


Blessed is the man
who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
for the LORD knows the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.


Through His words, I realized how much of my time and energy I have invested in allowing the counsel of the wicked to fill me. In this place, I forget His goodness. Life apart from being rooted in Christ is no life at all. My delight has been in many other things--control, feeding my flesh, working to be good enough. I have truly delighted in the counsel of the wicked. But this Truth says the one who delights in the law of the Lord is blessed.

What does it mean to really DELIGHT in the law of the Lord, to not receive the counsel of the wicked?

Kevin said, "Anything that drives us towards independence of Christ is of the world." He told a story of when he was in India several years ago. He was trying to blend in more--to look more the like the nationals they were trying to minister to. The men of these particular tribes wore long skirts and carried axes. K and the men with him decided maybe they could fit in better by matching the dress code of their fellow villagers. Skirts on, minus the ax they made the attempt. It failed, to say the least. They even proceeded to go into a river which even the nationals feared because of its large snake population--they didn't know any better. They were not of this "Indian world." In fact, I imagine they looked even more out of place, white skin and all. We are called to be aliens, strangers, sojourners.

"Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul." 1 Pet. 2:11

Thus, just as K's white skin stood out among the brown, our lives also, must look different from the world we live in. So, how does this apply to me, when I wear the same clothes and speak the same language as everyone around me? How do I look different from this world I live in? I think the only way my life will look different is indeed to abstain from the passions of my flesh--to walk in the victory which His blood already achieved. This means I don't allow my eyes to watch just anything. It means I speak differently and act differently--even when I don't feel like it. It means I put others' lives above my own. It means that I am not a slave to anything in the world--money, appearance, technology, man, lust, approval of man, etc. It means I am honest and respect authority. It means that when the times get hard, when the trials come--I STILL delight in the law of the Lord day and night. It means I am rooted and steadfast upon the unshakable rock and foundation of Christ.

He goes on to talk about the tree being PLANTED by streams of water. The tree wasn't just wondering, it wasn't just laying there, it wasn't useless. The tree was PLANTED. The tree had purpose--but only because it was planted, on purpose, by the Lord. God planted the tree--do you see His sovereignty? His grace? I want to be like the tree--planted wheresoever the Lord chooses because the place He chooses will fulfill His purpose for me in a greater way then anything I could come up with. He planted the tree by water that it might yield fruit, not whither, but prosper.

The text goes on to say that the Lord knows the way of the righteous. This really stood out to me because this means that even in m most desperate attempts to gain control over the circumstances and daily activities of my life that seem so very out of my control, HE ALREADY KNOWS MY WAY!!! What a weight lifted. I really think this is Truth I have never seen quite so clearly before. Since HE knows my way, there is no longer a need for me to seek control. I mean, obviously I have seen time and time again that His ways are always greater and perfect compared to mine. I am blessed, that even in the suffering and temptation, He doesn't give me over. His GRACE.

Job 23:10 says "But He knows the way that I take and when He has tried me, I shall come out as gold."

I have failed the test many times. I pray that I might indeed count it all joy when I face trials of various kinds, that the testing of my faith might produce steadfastness, that steadfastness might make me perfect and complete. That I might come out as gold.

K and M--thank you for modeling what it looks like to delight in the law of the Lord, to meditate on it day and night, even in the hard times, even in the trials. 

When God Uses Tigers and Elephants

Jesus, it is hard to believe we have been here almost a week—the days have sped past yet the moments continue to linger, breaking my heart for the things that break yours.


Today I am tired and weary. Sleep is nearly impossible to come by at night, though mid-afternoon naps continue to sustain me. Add the digestive issues and ceaseless sweating, sometimes I just wonder when the build up will prove too much—waiting for the explosion? Oh Jesus, please teach me to suffer well for your namesake. Whatever that means? Suffering—I don't know the first thing about it. Yet in these moments I am so convinced I have tasted and seen it. But I do not know suffering as these people do.


Tonight our host began telling us stories. Stories which testify to the almighty power of a sovereign, loving God--in the very midst of suffering. Aside from the beautiful beleivers on this mountain also reside those who persecute. Even during our time, our plans were thwarted a bit as a result of those who persecute.

A few years ago, the Christians in the state of Orissa endured horrific persecution. The Christians were blamed for the death of a Hindi leader, Swami Lakshmanananda. More than 18,000 were injured and 50,000 displaced. Around 11,000 people were still in relief camps months later. Many tribals fled to neighboring states during this time. 310 villages were affected, 4,640 homes destroyed, 252 churches fell to ruble, and 13 educational institutions demolished. 

Please check out this link for more information of the persecution of the Christians in Orissa in 2008.


Many Christians lost their homes, their livelihoods, their lives—lives they had the power to save if only they denied the Lordship of Christ Jesus. In His grace, they knew that only God has the power to save, even as the truth of death with Christ exceeding life apart from Him became a reality.


After this persecution, about 80% of the Christians on the mountain fled to the city. The compound where our hosts live became a refuge for hundreds in need. Even the government officials and police force used it as a base point. The gospel was preached to all, even in the very midst of the persecution.

Following the attack, the Christians fled into the jungle, trekking a path which is a five hour drive to the nearest city. Because of those out to destroy them, it was only safe to travel at night. So during the day while they hid and rested. We were told this story of how God protected them through this time. During the day, a herd of tigers surrounded them, never attacking but literally encircling them on all sides, forming a shield of protection while they waited for the sun to fall, leaving it safe to travel. Are you kidding me?? Why are we so shocked by such accounts of His faithfulness--why don't pray with such boldness?


He is our refuge and strength in time of need takes on a whole new meaning here.

Several months after the persecution had quieted, in early spring, a heard of elephants stampeded into a town on this mountain. The elephants trampled through the town, destroying every home, hut, structure, and business they crossed. At the conclusion of this stampede, there were several houses still standing. As the entire village soon came to realize, the only homes which remained standing were those belonging to Christians. Many unbelievers came to faith in Christ this day.


So tonight as I wrestle to fall asleep, wet by my own sweat, I will pray for these people who know what it means to endure suffering for your namesake. I will remember these accounts of your faithfulness, Jesus, yes right in the midst of it all. I will not settle for watered down, complacent faith. I will fight to know you like this. To trust you--with my life. To trust that even in the middle of a jungle as I run for my life, you could in your GRACE send a herd of tigers to protect me. To trust that in a broken and fallen world where bad things happen that I cannot comprehend--that you alone bring JUSTICE, even if that means destroying the livelihood of the enemy through a herd of elephants while your faithful few remain safe.


His Promises to us, even in the midst of persecution:
Do not say, “I will recompense evil;” Wait for the Lord, and He will save you.” (Proverbs 20:22)


And in your steadfast love you will cut off my enemies, and you will destroy all the adversaries of my soul, for I am your servant .Ps. 143:12


I will send my terror before you and will throw into confusion all the people against whom you shall come, and I will make all your enemies turn their backs to you. Exodus 23:27


For you shall not go out with haste, nor go by flight; for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12)


“The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” (Exodus 14:14)


“Plead my cause, O Lord, with those who strive with me; fight against those who fight against me. Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for my help. Also draw out the spear, and stop those who pursue me. Say to my soul, “I am your salvation.” (Psalm 35:1)

“When my enemies turn back, they shall fall and perish at your presence. For You have maintained my right and my cause; You sat on the throne judging in righteousness.” (Psalm 9:3)

“Do not be afraid of their faces, for I am with you to deliver you,” says the Lord. (Jeremiah 1:8)

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