In Which I Tell You I Am India Bound

It's been nearly a year now. A year since I've traveled the world and seen God sweep through the mountains of Orissa as His Holy Spirit moves in the hearts and lives of these natives. I can so vividly remember walking through the security gate at the airport in the big city after a five hour drive out of the mountains, all our gear piled high atop the cars as we Americans don't know how to leave the bathroom sink behind. I had several bags across my shoulder and full waterworks streaming down my face, passport in hand. I turned around one last time as I was next to walk through security. I smiled big and motioned one final goodbye.

I remember walking forward, passing through the metal detector and putting my shoes back on. The same ones that were still raw with that glorious red dirt that held my frame those weeks, sweat seeping between my toes. I heard the holy spirit in those moments, as He simply told me This is is just see you later. Trust me now. The plane ride back and months to follow were full of wrestling with much fear and trembling. Wrestling with trust and patience and submission, wrestling with the abundance of stuff invading my life and this American culture luring me away from the gospel, with white picket fence and all. Wrestling with waiting, the feeling stuck, with the culture shock and my salvation too.

Then Pastor Sam came to visit a while back, and I wrestled some more.

These past months have led me into living away from these eleven, learning how to walk confidently in the sufficiency of Christ at work in my life. It's been ups and downs, but the ground is looking more level then ever before and I know the Spirit is at work. Meanwhile, a season of studying my nights and weekends away as the paychecks continue to sustain through the five o' clock hour is coming to a much anticipated close. I have two more classes to go and that is a miracle far beyond my capacity or ability--and yet, here we are!

I was accepted to Thomas Edison University last week where I will transfer all my credit and complete my final two classes to come out with my Bachelors in Social Sciences in June.

In fact, that's only one of the incredible prayers answered in my life through these recent weeks. That final night of these forty days where my friend Sydney and I prayed into the desert instead of fasting, we asked God to provide the money for my tuition, to make India come up unexpectedly through the week if we were supposed to go, and for a job in Arkansas so I didn't have to move to St. Louis. We prayed a lot of other stuff too.

The next day, I witnessed God's miraculous provision of the missing $800 needed to complete my tuition costs, just taped to my car literally the week it was due and after praying it would appear in that exact location the night before. By lunchtime that day, the phone rang from an odd number. I thought it might be a potential job interview, so I picked up. An hour long phone conversation would follow with an American currently living in India, whom I had met there last year, anxious to serve this Pastor and his ministry in greater depth. I hung up the phone completely in awe of how boldly God chose to answer our prayer. Beyond, that He also confirmed India that same afternoon in a clear way to Sydney through a conversation with her dad. Later that week, God also provided a job in Arkansas. 

We met later that night and looked at each other laughing, quite histarically actually, at the unreal realization that God was indeed calling us to India! I know when I pray, I must believe it, but so many of those weeks of prayer had been spent begging Him to help my unbelief. He didn't have to reveal Himself in such tangible ways, and yet in His grace He chose to and I am so thankful and in continual awe. The next step was asking God to provide the right group to send us. There were several options presented to us, and within a week God very clearly confirmed our home church, University Baptist Church, would be sending us.

We will be heading to India for the month of July to teach English to children at this school. Beyond humbling is the fact that simply our American bodies standing in that schoolhouse will bring much creditability and provision to the school, the ministry, and these kiddos futures. We also hope to offer several outreaches to women there, possibly through bible studies, medical clinics and sex-trafficking prevention courses.

For me personally, this month will be spent seeking God and specifically asking Him to show me whether or not I am to return long term to teach and serve within this ministry. Either way, I will be coming back for a year to pay off the remainder of my school debt and continue in international ministry before I can return long term.

We will also have the opportunity to write while in India, sharing stories of what God is doing and will continue to do through our time there, allowing you to see glimpses of our journey and continue praying specifically while we are there and giving to this incredible ministry as you are led.

You know, God's provision these past weeks has been overwhelming. It's like in Hebrews 6 when God promised Abraham blessing and descendants. Abraham waited patiently and then received what God had promised. I have been waiting (though not so patiently) for these requests. And now God provided a new job, the money needed to complete college just in time to go to India, and the path clear for India with a friend to join me.

But God didn't stop there. He continues in Hebrews to explain that He wanted to make the unchanging nature of His purpose so clear--so He gave an oath, a promise for His heirs to hope in. That's us, ya'll!!

He said we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. 

Do you ever feel as though you need an anchor for your soul? I sure do. Even now as kiddos don't obey and the dishes are piled high and the laundry sits in the washer still. I have a big test this week and am fighting a cold and I just feel like it's all out of my control--I need to be anchored in something! So what are we to anchor our souls in, beyond His immediate provision of things in this world?

Hebrews goes on to tell us that this promise enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our fore rummer Jesus had entered on our behalf. We are to be anchored in the promise of Jesus, the fore runner gone ahead and coming back still.

So as incredibly humbled as I am in God's provision of so much this week, I am realizing I can't hope only in this temporal provision He offers. We rejoice, yes!! But what if God chose to use me in St. Louis rather then Arkansas? What if God did not provide the money for school the next day, but it took several months? He doesn't always answer us the way we choose or expect. So we can't only place our hope in these answered prayers, even when He does chose to answer them in a big way for His glory.

But we CAN hope in the unshifting promise, the provision, still coming--JESUS. And it is with that desire we fly across the world to bring the good news. The news that Jesus is the one to fulfill, the one who allows us to hope in the inner sanctuary. That Christ is anchoring us in Himself until He comes.

In His grace He offers us glimpses--like making a way for us to go to India. But ultimately we hope in the promise that He is coming!!

You can catch up on clips of my India journey last year through this South Asia link. There will be support letters coming soon and we are are so grateful for the way the body of Christ continues to surround us, pray with us, and confirm what God is doing.

              My sister, friend, and the one crazy enough to join me on this journey to India!! 

On Grace & Coming Home

Oh Jesus, your grace astounds me.

Last night I got to preach my testimony at a revival. Usually I take hours to prepare, still doubting my words even as I approach the podium. Last night, I truly encountered the power of the holy spirit working in my heart and mind. I had an idea of what to say, what God had laid upon my heart. The greatest gift was seeing the fruit of a semester of discipline to hide God's Word in my heart.

I shared of growing up in an unbelieving home with alcoholic parents. I spoke of an emptiness and hopelessness which drove me to an attempt to end my life. I shared of God's protection over my body that night. I spoke of life and death, blessing and curse as described in Duet 30:20. I testified to the sweetness of choosing life. And then scripture just began pouring off of my lips, as though it were a new language I had been learning. It was sweet. A precious reminder of the truth that it is not by my words but only His which draw men to Himself.

I pray these people's faith may rest in Christ alone, not in me. The revival was broadcast via speaker systems over a 4 mile radius surrounding the compound, into countless villages. We were told over 1,000 sets of ears were listening.
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This year God has blessed me beyond measure to be discipled by my sweet friend Heather. After being roommates for a year, marriage stole her away from life in our little apartment at the start of last summer. This past winter, God began to burden her heart to truly disciple me—just at the same time He was teaching me a hatred for the sin I continuously have battled, one which birthed in me a desire to know Him more. When Heather presented this idea of "discipleship" to me, I was a bit taken aback. I thought this was what she had been doing for the past year and a half in a sense. She explained me to that with her time in Fayetteville coming to an end as she and her husband make a move to Springfield in July, she didn't want to leave and not see my life look different—radically so—by her move date. 

Starting in February, she took me back to the basics—this hurt my pride a bit, but radically impacted my quiet time and my knowledge of the Word. We studied how to actually study the word. A few different methods. As I began applying these to my life and using them during my quiet times, I realized I could actually understand scripture in a way I thought I could only do through listening to podcasts prior. She also encouraged me to hide His word in my heart. I began memorizing a verse a week—often missing a week or two even. 

When in India, I saw the first fruits of this labor of scripture memorization in a tangible way. God's word continually poured from my tongue—in prayer, in teaching, in sharing testimony to His faithfulness. These were not my words, but His. Words I didn't even know I knew until I said them. He spoke so boldly through my lips—what grace. At that point I realized I had to grow in this discipline—I had to continue hiding away His Word because it was so much more powerful then any words I could think up during these times. 

Without knowing any of this, my first week back when Heather and I met for lunch she said she wanted to challenge me to something. At this point I just don't much care for those words coming off of her lips because it always requires some sort of sacrifice and pain. Seriously. 

"I think you should memorize a book of the Bible," she said completely nonchalantly. 

Say WHAT?!? 

A book of the Bible—memorize. Heck no. There's no way I could do that—its enough to try to get a verse or two a week. Chapters are meant to be read—not recited. I thought to myself. She is crazier then I gave her credit. Of course by the end of our little lunch, I was {hesitantly} all in. She does that to me—every time. Makes the crazy sound completely attainable—even normal. Why not? 


So part of writing this post is accountability...to actually work at this memorization process. Part of it is to challenge you as I have been challenged. Have you seen fruit of hiding the Word in your heart as well? 
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A bit behind the "whys" of scripture memory:

These verses sanctify us by causing us to hate sin and to determine to fight it vigorously. Through memorization, we are able to stand in the moment of temptation through the “sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.” (Ephesians 6:17) Therefore did the Psalmist say, “How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.” (Psalm 119:9,11)

In addition, the word sanctifies us by transforming our entire worldview from secular to heavenly: “Do not be conformed any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing, and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2) The “renewing of your minds” happens by the flow of Scripture through them like a pure river. As this river flows through your mind constantly, you will see things more and more the way God does, if you are a child of God... for “we have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16) This gives us more and more wisdom to deal with this world.

The Scripture memorizer will be used mightily by God to teach and encourage other Christians, with an apt word from the perfect Word of God: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom...” (Colossians 3:16) How better can you obey Colossians 3:16 than by Scripture memorization? The “word of Christ” will indeed “dwell in you richly” as you memorize it, and then work it over in your mind through meditation. Then you will most certainly be useful to God to “teach and admonish” another brother or sister. Scripture builds the Church to its final doctrinal and practical maturity (Ephesians 4:13-16), and God uses those who memorize it to do this building in a powerful and eternally fruitful way.

Finally, the memorization of Scripture enables us to bless lost people with a powerful and vivid presentation of the gospel of salvation. “Faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.” (Romans 10:17) Those who memorize Scripture obey Peter’s command in this regard: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give a reason for the hope that you have.” (1 Peter 3:15) The “preparation” Peter had in mind is best done by memorizing Scripture. Remember that it is Scripture which is “able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 3:15) The evangelist who stores up Scripture on the life of Christ, for example, can vividly retell the miracle stories to a generation which is biblically illiterate, which knows very little about the life of Christ. That person can also give the theology of salvation from Paul’s epistles, if they have memorized those books. In short, Scripture memorization makes one a much more powerful and effective evangelist.

Memorizing Books Is Better Than Memorizing Individual Verses

Jesus said, “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4) Paul said “All Scripture is God-breathed, and is useful for teaching rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness...” (2 Timothy 3:16) Memorizing individual verses tends to miss intervening verses that the individual does not feel are as significant. Furthermore, most of Scripture is written to make a case... there is a flow of argumentation that is missed if individual verses are memorized. Furthermore, there is also a greater likelihood of taking verses out of context by focusing on individual verses.
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I cannot believe this is my last night in India. I feel like I just got here. I am so scared of going back—going back to the same old selfish, comfortable, busy, distracted, American I am. I'm fearful of many decisions that need to be made. I'm scared of forgetting the truth you've etched into my heart during these weeks. I'm scared no one will understand. I'm scared I'll shut down and return to my old ways of coping. I fear for my sisters in Christ who are coming home with me as well. But GRACE, this I know. Whether on Indian or American soil, I will soak in your Grace through the unknowns and heartaches of this life. This I know. 

On Being Called to Obey

As I lay awake well into the wee hours of the night, my brain will not shut down, not even for a moment of releif. My mind races from one thought to the next, some purposeful others random. Either way, Lord I am begging you to let sleep come soon!


This place is getting to me. The mere thought that I could in fact commit more then 2 weeks of my life to this completely foreign land brings great joy—and great fear. Some of it legitamate, most of it my selfishness and insecurity (pride) roaring its ugly head once again. How will I communicate sufficiently? How will I get through this alone? Can man truly live on rice and rice alone—for months? Will the people trust the girl beneath the blonde curls, the one who knows nothing about their culture, not more then two words of their language? I am by no means qualified, not for this. Does He really equip those He calls? What if I get back and cant handle it? What if I get really sick? What if someone at home dies? Fear enslaves those who allow it to rule over them. Jesus, you rule over me.


Perfect love casts out all fear. So I must hope greater in this guarantees and lesser in the possibilities I fear.


Fearlessness in me says GO—it says dont even bother going back. What do you know of suffering for me? Nothing. What does my Word require of you? To go and preach the gospel to the nations. As the Spirit rises up within me, I fall to peices all over again.


Sometimes, I think we overcomplicate the spiritual things in life. There is a need. Could it be this simple? There is a need and I can meet it so why not? Is this not my calling as one of the redeemed? I think I am a victim of over-spiritualizing things, over-complicating them. The Truth, in all reality, is far less complicated then we often view it. His Word commands us to go and make disciples of all nations. To care for the widow and the orphan, to defend the fatherless. To proclaim freedom for the captives. To forsake all else for His name. To serve Him. To suffer joyfully. To preach His Word and testify to His grace. To be a lavisher of that grace. To glorify Him. To know Him more. To make Him known.

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. --James 1:27

“The price is certainly high for people who don’t know Christ and who live in a world where Christians shrink back from self-denying faith and settle into self-indulging faith. While Christians choose to spend their lives fulfilling the American dream instead of giving their lives to proclaiming the kingdom of God, literally billions in need of the Gospel remain in the dark” -David Platt

These people—they have messed me up. The thought of returning to my comfortable life in America, returning to my selfish lifestyle causes a battle to well up inside—one I don't know how to fight well. I long to know Him like I do here—to place my DEPENDENCY in Him in such a way which is hindered in the US. I just want to see His kingdom come here on earth as it is in Heaven.

The modern-day gospel says, 'God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life. Therefore, follow these steps, and you can be saved.' Meanwhile, the biblical gospel says, 'You are an enemy of God, dead in your sin, & in your present state of rebellion, you are not even able to see that you need life, much less to cause yourself to come to life. Therefore, you are radically dependent on God to do something in your life that you could never do.” -Platt


The idea that this Truth flowing from my white lips could possibly be richer, more spiritual, wiser then that which flows from brown ones is absolutely insane. Yet part of meeting a need, I suppose, is coming to a point where GRACE alone anchors my soul. While the only seperation between the white and the brown are a whole lot of miles and suffering beyond my comprehension, in His grace unknown to me, He gave me life over there covered with white skin and these people, life over here in covered in brown. Grace. Thus, this idea of white (me) leaving there (America) to come here (South Asia) is not by any merit or wisdom or works or earning, but His grace alone. I pray if it is His will, all brown on this mountain will see my white skin and see only the access faith in Christ alone has given me into this grace in which we all must have to stand, that we might rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. (Rom. 5:2)


What is my life but a vapor? My time on this earth but the blink of an eye? In His grace, He STILL chose to redeem me from darkness and deliver me into His glorious light. He STILL chose to call me, to set me apart, to be a revealer of Christ. (Galatians 1) But why?


In order that I might preach Him among the gentiles, that I might be a proclaimer of GRACE to the nations!!


I often wonder what it sounds like, what it feels like to be "called to serve Christ,"particularly in an overseas context. But from what I can see in scripture, ALL of us are called simply because we profess faith in Christ.

Learn to do good, seek justice, correct oppression, defend the fatherless, plead for the widow. —Isaiah 1: 17

I don't think it's being called that we doubt. At the end of it all, I think it's accepting the weight of what we have been called to. It's obedience we wrestle with—our calling and election are sure. 

Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to make your calling and election sure, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall.   −2 Peter 1:10

“My biggest fear, even now, is that I will hear Jesus' words and walk away, content to settle for less than radical obedience to Him. ” -David Platt

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.              -Luke 14

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)

On Meeting Jesus in South Aisa

I will never forget the first time I met you. Probably because you scared me to death. We were meeting Heather to sign our leases—I saw you coming, perfect blonde hair blowing in the breeze, stylish and all put together, those big white sunglasses covering your face, leaving me plenty curious about the girl behind them. Yes, you frightened me a bit.

I really don't recall our first week or so as roommates, the conversations we might have had, the thoughts I had as I got to know you. I do remember, however, the countless times you let me blab and blab about my crazy life, just listening because you knew I needed to blab. I remember when I made you go to the hospital because you couldn't admit your black leg needed help. I remember the pounds I gained as a result of your love for baking. I remember laughing at your—lack—of a filter...constantly? I remember when you and K stayed up all night stringing soda tabs together for me. I remember the many silent house meetings in which I could only laugh at your stubbornness. I remember 6am classes we just struggled to stay awake through. I also remember the Spirit that I believe has been at work within you these past two years—I remember seeing glimpses along the way. I remember the battle being so evident.

We have walked through a whole lot of life these past two years, you and me. A lot of hurt, confusion, and doubt. We have both wondered around with shackles dragging the ground, enslaved. We have cried together—yes even YOU. We have prayed and begged God to move in one another's lives. We have opened His Word together and let it fill us. We have learned Truth and forgotten. We have learned to work through conflict and forgive. We have tasted dying to ourselves. We have messed up, failed miserably at loving gracefuly. But still, two years later, by His grace He plopped us both on a plane and took us across the world. And the whole time I wondered why??

Each week leading up to departure, I was dumbfounded again and again when I asked and you said that you were still committed—and excited. I'll be honest, it shocked me that you got onto that plane. It confused me. It frustrated me even—not because I didn't want you to come, but because it made no sense that you would. But I was grateful for the opportunity to spend time with you, to find closure of sorts to our two years of doing life together. At least, that's what I thought.

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Day 11


Well, I can't say I ever expected this day to come—though I have spent hours praying for it for several years now, I still doubted I'd ever see it. Tonight was part two of our revival in the mountains. Last night A and I shared our testimonies. Tonight it was the other two girls' time to share. All morning R was on edge, zoned out and very stoic. I had sort of been just waiting for this day to come, knowing that it would—the day it was her turn to testify to His goodness. Mainly because I wanted to hear what exactly she would share, quite curious of what God was doing in her heart recently. 


The morning came and went quickly, as we were busy with a medical clinic and meeting nationals. After lunch the girls took refuge in our room to rest. That was the first time I asked her how she was doing. I just remember she wouldn't even look up at me but simply replied, "Not good. I have nothing to say." I was quiet for a minute, slightly taken aback. Our conversation drew in the others' attention as well. I suggested a few places in scripture that she could use that I thought related pretty well to where she was at. She was silent. 


After talking well into the afternoon, at a loss for words we prayed for her. I begged God to make Himself known to her in a way that she could articulate, relate, to these people. I carefully asked Him to reveal if the frustration was coming from a lack of words or perhaps a lack of a testimony to begin with. Even as I spoke the words in front of her, I feared her reaction. Surprisingly, at the conclusion of our prayers, she said nothing but looked so defeated. We had to leave to go to the next thing. I walked downstairs and turned to J and told her that I give up—I don't know what else I can say, how much more bold I can be, how I could possibly break through her walls. I felt defeated and sad. After two years, I had hoped for a different ending. Being in South Asia period, I had been praying for months for a different ending. So had a whole army back home.


We got home from visiting some nationals, with just minutes until the revival began. I was in the kitchen attempting to make spagehtti—yes in the middle of no where India. It failed miserably, but that's besides the point. Someone came and told me that R was pretty upset. I knew this already—I mean I would be too if I knew I had to deliver a message in minutes and had nothing to say. Eventually, I made it upstairs to check on her. I found her in our room, face to face with my adopted dad and J, deep in conversation and tears flowing. 


I quickly plopped down beside her, knowing immediately what was going down, but unable to actually comprehend it. It was as though I was in a really, really sweet dream. Kevin had just finished laying out the gospel and salvation, explaining some truth to her, leaving the decision out there. She swept up the gift immediately, confessing her sin to the Lord before us and telling Him of her need for a Savior because she just couldn't bear the weight of life in a fallen world apart from Him any longer. She told Him that she no longer wanted to be in control of her life, that she needed Him. She told Him that she was all in—committed to the weight of following Him for the remainder of her time on this earth. Arms around her, I wailed like a baby the whole time, out of control. 


Today R accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior. I must say that while I have prayed and prayed and waiting for this day, I really did not beleive or trust He was able. Yet who am I? Jesus, you are so faithful. You alone redeem. You alone draw men to yourself. Lord, please forgive me for ever thinking I could do anything apart from you, for ever doubting that you could—that you would! 


R, after two years of doing life together, lots of rejoicing, lots of hurts, lots of tough conversations, I praise God that covered in the dirt and stickiness of India, He would choose in His grace alone to draw you to Himself. What a privalage it was to witness it. Thank you for being willing to allow Him to rule over your life. Thank you for being humbled, broken enough to finally surrender. It will be hard but He is faithful and ever patient. He is worth it, R. I am so proud of you. Your faith humbled me today, reminded me of my need for His grace just as much as yours...I don't have it all together like I convince myself I do so often. I am here always, sister. This is just day one of the rest of your life! You need not go at it alone. Rejoicing in His faithfulness on display through you today.
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Two days after coming to Christ, Rach stood up with me to preach the word to teenagers at a church in Dehli. Two weeks after coming home, it is not easy to transition back to the "real world"for any of us, but I am completely confident that her decision to follow Christ is evident in her life back home already. I am looking forward to weekly lunches and digging into the book of James together this summer. More then anything I am so incredibly excited at what God is doing in her heart, the freedom she is only tasting, the weight lifted, the trails and suffering that are coming which will produce a harvest of righteousness, the purpose to which He has called her being revealed by the Spirit who lives in her. Oh, mylanta I am so excited to do life with this sister—and STILL so in awe and humbled by the faithfulness of our God. His grace is enough to save. His power is perfected in our weaknesses.

On Needing the Word of God in South Asia

As we pull off the cement road, several minutes from the compound, the car fumbles onto the rock as the engine quiets. The driver jumps out to open the white gate enclosing this place, like safe arms around a child. As my feet come down to meet the dirt, my eyes meet this place for the first time.

Perhaps because the poverty is becoming more normal then I would like to admit, this place radiates God's goodness and testifies to His provision immediately. It's dusted white stucco covering voices a welcome to all who approach its gate. Though inside the building you will find no comforts of the typical Western school, the presence of the holy spirit sustains.

Up to this point on the trip, I have undoubtedly fallen in love with this mountain and the people who call it home. The compound is an incredible refuge for hundreds in need. God is undoubtedly at work here—and it is all for His glory. Yet, I have not heard Him speak, not experienced the movement of His Spirit uttering beneath the breeze—not until stepping foot into this schoolhouse.

Though nothing about it seems natural or reminiscent of anything I would call comfortable, God is present and there is a need. As I toured the empty classrooms, plastered with barren walls aside from a simple chalkboard in the front, I began to ask and pray. Lord, do you really think you have prepared me sufficiently for this role in the future...me...really are you sure? What does that even mean really—how could I ever feel prepared for this? Yet your Spirit testifies—not me, not my strength.

The two or three rows of wooden benches suffice as seating for the sixty children enrolled upon conclusion of the this summer break. The five native teachers, all somewhat proficient in English, work to teach science, math, social studies, and English to these students. With vision for expansion, the introduction of a few new teachers is a must, particularly an English-speaking one.

As I wonder through the second floor of the school building accompanied by one the teachers, the question continue to flow from my tongue. All of these windows (open to the ground below)—how does it stay warm in winter? "It is very, very cold," she replies simply. The more I look around, the quicker the list in my head continues to grow, as I imagine all of the needs I see here. Some windows, real ones that protect from the great outdoors. Books, markers, DESKS, notebooks, color on the walls, a playground perhaps, even some rugs on the cement.

List fresh in my mind, I ask this teacher to share several practical needs she places at tip priority for me to make note of as well. Before I could even glance her direction she replies, "We need the Word of God."

Silence.

How does my selfish, materialistic, comfort-dirven, distracted, prideful American heart respond to such revelation? I quiet and get lost in myself as I attempt to acknowledge God's grace in my life, that I would find myself here, standing in the dirt of India, little children bowing to kiss my feet, men bowing in reverence, women who stare and smile.

In a place where I am made to be a celebrity, simply a result of my skin color and place of birth, that right here in this place of pride and fame, God would enable me to cry out for Him, "Abba Father...I do not know you. Not like these people do. Lord Jesus, I believe help my unbelief."

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.