Not Everything Happens For a Reason

Many people say everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe this one bit; that there is a reason, a purpose, for everything that happens. I think there are reasons things happen (he yelled because he was angry, she tripped because she wasn't looking, etc.) but I don’t believe these things happen for a reason. Instead, I believe that sometimes things just happen- we make bad choices, we make good choices, we are affected by both the good and bad choices of others- but that God can always make good out of whatever choices we, or others around us, make.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

God can make good out of any situation we face, even the most difficult ones. He will not let any of our suffering go to waste. Hold on to that when trying times come- I have been.

… … … ...

A couple of weeks ago I seriously injured my knee. After five days of walking on it hoping it would just “go away,” I conceded to visit a walk-in clinic and the doctor ordered me to stay on crutches for 2-6 weeks. For this independent, active, exercise-loving girl, that seemed like an eternity. Though I was relieved to know I wouldn't need surgery, I was discouraged by the length of time it could take to heal (not including the recovery time it’ll take once I am off the crutches). Physically I was in pain, but my heart was actually what hurt most.

I didn't care much about how terribly my knee felt, except that it reminded me of what I couldn't do. I didn't wince because of a sudden, sharp pain. I winced because in that moment I felt the sharpness of the thought, “I can’t run anymore.” (I know that may sound a little dramatic, but at 23 years old when you think you might be crippled in some fashion, I think it’s justified). I could handle my physical discomfort, but I couldn't bare the affliction of my soul. I couldn't run; I could barely walk. I definitely couldn't walk and talk because I had to think too hard about not tripping with the crutches. I couldn't work. I couldn't do much of anything for myself anymore, though that didn't stop me from trying. What could I do? Sit.

Oh and how I hate sitting.

Sitting felt lazy. It felt boring. It felt exhausting. Sitting felt like my worst nightmare. Maybe if I wasn't so prone to over-thinking every single thing, it might not have been so bad. Still bad, no doubt, but not so bad. Because I do over-think, however, I had to fight myself not to get stuck in the pit of “what ifs?” What if I can never run again?  What if it takes more than six weeks to heal? What if I have this problem the rest of my life? What if…?

These questions viciously antagonized my mind, but the promise of Romans 8:28 came to me and it was as if the “what ifs?” fell to the ground. And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. I was immediately encouraged and confident that God was in this with me and He would use this situation for my good. Instead of continuing to ask the “what if” questions, I simply asked, “what?” What did God want me to learn? What would He work for good in my life? What could I do to make sure this trial wasn't wasted? I was still asking questions, yes, but these were full of hope and promise, not fear and dread.

It wasn't long before God answered me and told me of His plans to work in my heart. Though I asked God for answers, I doubted what He said when I received them and blew it off as a “nice idea, but probably one that came from my own head.” It’s funny how quickly we can write off what God is saying to us, but thankfully He displays His patience and mercy in confirming and re-confirming what He told us, even when we doubt. So God made sure I knew what He said the first time was what He meant, and He was always creative about how it came up.

I couldn't deny any longer what God was saying, and I was assured He was going to use this injury for my good. “Okay God,” I thought. “You've got two weeks. Go for it.” I’m sure He chuckled at the fact that I was trying to give Him a timeline. He was on a mission, and He wasn't going to quit until it was completed.

Time went by as I was on my crutches, and I had much great conversation and revelation from God about a piece of my heart. As we talked, however, in the back of my mind I was counting down the days until the two-week mark, assuming I’d be free from the crutches by then. The day got closer, but unfortunately my knee wasn't getting better. Many friends prayed with me, asking that God would heal my knee, but no change ever came.

Though I wasn't healed on the spot, something happened each time my friends and mentors prayed for me: my entire body felt the “no, not right now,” of God’s response, but it also was filled with an overwhelming, calming peace. Even though I was hearing a “no,” it was comforting just to know He was there, He was listening, and He was with me in this- even if that didn't mean immediate healing.

Later on one night when I was alone I asked God straight up if He was going to heal me. He said yes, but when I asked, “Now?” He said no. He reminded me of what He was going after in my heart, and He assured me that He was persistent and meticulous. I knew He wasn’t going to quit, and I knew I didn’t want Him to.

I am certain God didn't afflict me with this injury, and I am certain He is going to use it for my good. I have already seen the ways in which the crutches force me to listen in ways I wouldn’t have before. Not only this, but they force me to sit when I normally wouldn’t, which provides many more opportunities for conversation between God and me. On the outside to some it can seem like God is withholding healing, which seems unloving and cruel, but I don’t see it that way at all. God didn’t do this for a reason, but He will use it for a reason.

He is not concerned with my comfort right now- He is concerned with something far greater. In my opinion, that’s the most loving thing He could do.

If you’re still tracking with me, this is what I really want to say to you: not everything happens for a reason. We experience painful circumstances God didn’t plan for us, I believe that. But I also believe God is faithful to us, and He will not let such trials go by without using it for our good. If we must suffer, He isn’t going to waste it. It may seem cruel or unjust that He won’t just pull us out of our pain (though sometimes He surely does), but God is most concerned with the eternal, not the temporal. He sees differently than we do, and when He sees an opportunity to bring healing through pain, He will. He is faithful.

God didn’t plan for me to injure my knee, but in His love and wisdom He has targeted a deep wound in my heart that I might have otherwise ignored. He wants me to be healed, but in more ways than one.

God will be faithful to heal my knee, I am sure of it, but along with a renewed knee I will have a renewed heart. That is certainly the goodness and faithfulness of my God.  

I Don't Read Romance Novels ... Except This One.

“Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” –Charles H. Spurgeon

It’s not uncommon for me to pick up a good book and practically cease living the rest of my life until I finish it. From beginning to end I am engrossed by the characters, the plot, the conflicts; and the rest of my life reflects that. If I’m reading a mystery novel, I’ll spend my days lurking around every corner in search of suspicious characters. If I’m reading an action story, I’ll spend my days punching, kicking, and karate-chopping the air as if I were in the midst of a battle myself.  I don’t just read books, you see, but I dive into them head first and live my life in the world of its pages. This past year I have visited a number of great books, but I was captivated most by the Bible.

In April of 2014, I began reading the Bible from page one. I don’t know what inspired me (likely the Holy Spirit), but I was determined to read the entire Bible from cover to cover. I thought it would be a long and arduous task, and I didn’t expect to be enthralled the same way I usually am by books. It turned out, however, that I was more fascinated by the Bible than I could even explain. I was hooked, and with every page I was convinced that it was the best story I had ever read.

By early December I had finished the entire book, and with it I had gained a new perspective and almost, it seemed, a new life. I had learned so much in those eight months that changed me- it was partly because I had begun to know the Bible, but it was mostly because I had begun to know God. Yes, it was beneficial to read the entirety of the story I grew up learning bits and pieces of, but what moved me most was the God I met in those pages. It seems too great of an undertaking to share every way in which God and His character stirred me as I read through the Bible, but I can’t keep myself from sharing just a few.

First things first: When you read the Bible like a book, from the first page to the last, you realize that it truly is a story. It’s not just any story, either- its’ a love story.

Growing up in the church, one becomes familiar with a myriad of different “Christianese” expressions. Phrases like sanctification, backsliding, and the holy trinity seem normal and appropriate in regular conversation. One of the more popular Christian-isms is referring to the Bible as a “love letter” or as God’s “love story.” I heard this one often, but never quite understood it. Never, that is, until I actually read it. The Bible is indeed a story, and each page is covered with God’s love.

Christians see Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross as a manifestation of God’s love for us. We believe, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that everyone who believes in Him would not perish, but would have eternal life” (John 3:16). I grew up hearing this. I grew up believing it. I didn’t grow up truly getting it. I did, in a sense, but I didn’t. I understood that Jesus gave His life to save the world, but I didn’t understand the world that Jesus gave His life for. I didn’t grasp the depravity or the wickedness that consumed the world. I didn’t know how continually God called His people back to Himself and they turned the other way. 

It wasn’t until I understood the iniquity of the world that I understood the love of God.

The crucifixion of Jesus becomes more powerful when you realize that He was coming to save a world of people that wanted to live without Him. They were people who betrayed, disobeyed, and replaced Him. Even His own people, the Israelites, lived their lives apart from Him. This was the world He came to die for.

“But God commends His own love to us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

Knowing such changes the way you view the crucifixion, though it is not only recognizing this truth but studying it for yourself that brings greater impact to the life and death of Christ. Understanding comes as you spend days and months reading the multitude of times God’s people turned away from Him. It comes as you read God’s kind response to His people in those moments, calling them back to Himself in love. It comes as you become disheartened yourself at the unwillingness of the world to change its ways and walk with God.  

Greater understanding of the hate inevitably brings greater understanding of the love.

I know I will spend the rest of my life uncovering new depths of God’s love (for it is so vast I shall never comprehend it entirely on this side of heaven), but the journey I took through the Bible opened my eyes immensely. Something amazing happened in my heart as I read 1,800 pages of betrayal and depravity and I, shocked and incredulous, could ask, “Even still, God? Still you loved and still you desired to save?” And He would remind me of the promise of Jesus and whisper, “Yes, even still.”   

Second things second: When you read a book like the Bible, from the first page to the last, you realize how abundant God’s patience and mercy must be, because you yourself become frustrated with its characters.

I remember clearly reading the book of Judges (the seventh book of the Bible). I recall where I was (on my living room floor), how long it took me to read it (one sitting), and which emotions the book provoked (anger and impatience).  Judges is a book all about Judges-go figure. Basically, it is written about a 300-year span of time when different judges were appointed to lead Israel. In this time, Israel continually disobeys God and then begs Him for deliverance when things go bad. This book felt to me like a nauseating roller coaster. Ironically, I couldn’t put the Bible down until I finished it, but I felt sick by the time I did.

So, like I said, this book made me feel impatient and angry. Let me summarize it for you: God tells the Israelites to do one thing, and instead they do another. God becomes angry in return, removes His protective hand from them, and they are delivered to their enemies and become slaves. The Israelites aren’t so fond of this new lifestyle, and they cry out to God to be rescued. God indeed saves them, charges them not to do what He commanded at first, and because they apparently didn’t learn their lesson the first time, the cycle starts all over again.

This happens so many times in the book of Judges that I lost count. I did, however, become so angry at one point that I verbally erupted, “Why can’t you just listen?! Seriously, are we going through this again?!” I couldn’t take it anymore, and part of me was irritated that God kept rescuing these people who kept going back to what they just apologized for. Just do what He says, I thought. Was it really that difficult?

And then I was humbled.

As angry as I was with the Israelites, I realize I do the same thing all the time. I lie, I idolize, I disobey, and when things start going badly because of it I cry to God asking for forgiveness and deliverance. Then, sadly, I’ll slip up in the same way a week later. Thankfully, just as God dealt with the Israelites, He deals with me: with incredible patience and mercy. It was in my time of reading this book that I got the greatest revelation of God’s character in regards to patience and mercy. As I reached my limit of patience with the Israelites, God’s seemed limitless. Though they continually stumbled, He continually rescued.

God is patient and full of mercy. Never before has the meaning of that been so evidently true to me.

I don’t know how to describe to you the glorious impact that reading the Bible cover-to-cover had on my life, but I can assure you it changed me tremendously. It even changed the way I thought about Christmas (which you can read about here). I could write for days about the things I learned and the ways in which I met the Lord, but I don’t want to. What I really want is for you to experience it. Don’t take my word for it that God is full of love, patience, and mercy. Open the book and read it for yourself. It’s all in there, I promise.  

I Don't Have What It Takes

“I don’t think I have what it takes,” I thought to myself. My doubts became stronger with each turn of the page as I read the inspiring story about an adventurous, self-sacrificing missionary in Uganda. I picked up the book to encourage and excite myself about the calling I thought was mine (just as I had done with the handful of missionary books I’d read before), yet fear and doubt had been consuming me instead. For years now I had been convinced being a missionary overseas was my future, my purpose, but suddenly I wasn't so sure.

I've always thought of mission work with enthusiasm and passion, eagerly anticipating the places I could go, the places I could work, and the people I could serve. I fantasized about bringing the gospel into villages and remote areas, and dreamt about the transformation Jesus could bring. I suppose I always thought about the good things, the happy things- the things that I loved.

Though they sometimes crossed my mind, the difficult aspects never seemed to penetrate the idealistic picture of mission work I had in my head. Even when I went to the Dominican Republic for three weeks in June, I easily embraced what I assumed to be the most difficult part of living in a third-world country: showering with a bucket and hosting incessantly dirty feet. I didn't care that I slept on the floor or ate plantains for every meal or had electricity only a couple hours out of the day. Heck, I didn't even care that the toilet was many times just a hole in the ground. In my heart was the desire to be a missionary overseas, and I wanted everything that came with it.

I just didn't realize what “everything” is.

I didn't think about the loneliness in being unable to communicate in another language. I didn't think about simple comforts like having twenty different types of bread to choose from or “vegging” out on TV after an exhausting day. I didn't think about missing family holidays. I didn't think. I didn't think. I didn't think.

Now, all of this thinking (or lack thereof) has seemed to cement a single thought in my mind: I’m not so sure I have what it takes.

Now more than ever I understand what it is like to be apart from my family: excruciating. Or what it is like to be amongst entirely new people: lonely. Or what it is like to serve others when the only thing I really want to do is be left alone to read a book: incredibly challenging. I now understand these things that have broken and tested my heart, and I am afraid that I will break under greater pressure- a pressure that inevitably awaits me on the mission field.

As I ponder these things I question my ability to ever be a missionary, and I realize I simply will never have what it takes. But that’s okay. It’s freeing, actually. I will never have the grace, courage, or unconditional love for others that being a missionary requires. I just won’t, I’m certain, but I don’t think that means I’m not meant to be one- it means I need Jesus.

To think I’d ever have what it takes in my own strength is, I believe, to think much too highly of myself and of God much too little. If I truly believe God is my strength and my peace, my grace and my all, then I ought to readily admit without Him I’d be powerless, restless, and graceless. Without Him, I’d be a terrible missionary.

I do believe God has gifted me with character traits that would complement a missionary lifestyle (i.e. the fact that I don’t mind sleeping on the floor or that I enjoy physical labor), but I am certain I could not do it without Him. Why? Because it is only God that can comfort a lonely heart who is apart from everyone they've ever loved. It is only He who can give the strength to wake up and serve another day when it is the last thing you want to do. It is only He who can make the impossible possible.

So no, I don’t believe I’ll ever have what it takes to be a missionary, but I do know I will always have God, and God will always be enough.

“Abide in Me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches. He who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:4-5 (emphasis added). 

God Gives Great Gifts

By now it has become an obvious truth to me: God will surprise you when you least expect it. He has a way of making the ordinary extraordinary. Today as I began my journey home for Christmas, I expected nothing spectacular from my flight. God, however, had other plans.

Passengers were boarding the flight and I had already cozied myself up in seat 7A, trying to make the most of the overly-confined space I was allotted. I had my book out and my currently favorite song set on repeat. I was about to put my headphones in as the woman who occupied the seat next to me walked up. She was with her son and she seemed both surprised and worried to find the seat next to her already taken. 

She spoke aloud to her son about how they were supposed to be seated together. She noted her son's seat was also next to one that was already spoken for, so she couldn't just move up to where he was and claim the other seat. "But we were supposed to be together," she'd say, as if repeating this thought would help her find a solution. She spouted off her concerns in a way which conveyed that their sitting apart wouldn't be a good idea. 

"She's going to ask me to move," I thought.

It was selfish of me, but I hoped she wouldn't. I had no good reason for it either, except that I was already comfortable and I hate the aisle seat. Like I said, not exactly a good reason. Thankfully, the Spirit yanked me out of my self-centeredness, and rather than feel entitled I felt compassion. She was going to ask me to move- I knew it- and if she didn't I was going to offer it. Sure enough, she asked if I would mind switching seats with her son and I kindly obliged her request.

Really, it wasn't a big deal. I figured my routine would still be the same: put in my headphones and sleep during takeoff to avoid motion sickness, and then wake up thirty minutes later to read for the remainder of the flight. I'm not one to socialize much while traveling because I am so prone to motion sickness-it's all I can do to keep from getting sick.

Anyway, I walked over to my new seat and the man next to me offered a friendly "hello" as I got situated. I appreciated that he didn't ignore my existence as many airline passengers tend to do, and he seemed rather nice, so I decided to put off my isolation process for a moment. "Hi," I said. "Are you heading home for Christmas?" (I'm a great conversationalist, aren't I)? 

As it turned out, I never got around to shutting my eyes or putting my headphones in, and I wasn't the least bit disappointed or nauseated. Steve and I talked for the entirety of my nearly three-hour flight, and I was so blessed by it. I think he was, too. My airline friend was a father of three daughters, and he also happened to be a Christian. We spoke of many things such as life, family, school, the book I was reading, and most importantly, God. The conversation inspired me in so many ways, and I really can't do it justice but to say it left me feeling uplifted and rejuvenated. This seat, this conversation, and this man had certainly been a gift from God. 

I so enjoyed that God took what would've been a perfunctory flight and made it into a glorious, delightful present for His daughter. I couldn't help but notice, however, that He asked me to give first.

God does this, doesn't He? He asks us to give and to sacrifice, but He surely has joy to give in return. God asks of us, but always with a plan to give to us. If, though, in those moments we are stuck in our own world of selfishness, we can miss out on such beautiful gifts because we are too consumed with what we are asked to give up. 

I know this story is a silly illustration for this, but I believe the principle is still there. Sometimes God asks us to give up something much greater than the window seat on an airplane, but I believe He always has a purpose and that "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him," (Romans 8:28).

God will ask, but He will also give. He has wonderful opportunities and gifts for us, if only we are first willing to give. 

And let me tell you, God gives amazing gifts. 

Rejoice, People. He Has Come

This Christmas season, though still young, has been vastly different than any I've experienced before. There are a handful of reasons for it, I’m sure; one of which is the fact that it’s the first I've spent truly away from home. It’s also the first without experiencing freezing temperatures or any sort of snowfall. It is a season of firsts, that is certain, but what I've noticed most about this particular Christmas season is the great difference in my attitude.

Now, my mom always taught my siblings and me that Christ was the true meaning of Christmas, so I don’t mean to say that I've had a sudden revelation regarding the reason for the season. This year, however, I've been unable to get through a single rendition of Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel without shedding tears of thanksgiving and joy. I haven’t stumbled upon a new realization of what Christmas is all about, but I have found, I believe, a deeper understanding and gratitude.

This probably has something to do with the fact that for the past eight months I've been devouring the Old Testament, reading every day about the history between God and His people, the Israelites. For eight months I have read about how the Israelites continually turned their backs on God, and how God treated them with mercy, love, and compassion in return. I have read numerous stories about how devastatingly wicked these people had become, but how God was always calling them back to Himself through discipline in the midst of it. I have read chapter after chapter proclaiming it was too late for these people whose hearts were too hard, and that God had no choice but to destroy and scatter His people.

“Behold, the eyes of the Lord God are on the sinful kingdom, and I will destroy it from off the face of the earth …” Amos 9:8a.

Yet even in God’s act of destruction, I read of His mercy.

“…yet I will not utterly destroy the house of Jacob, declares the Lord. For surely I will command and will sift the house of Israel among all nations, as grain is sifted in a sieve; yet not the smallest grain shall fall to the ground,” Amos 9:8b-9.

Even throughout the entirety of Israel’s betrayal and wickedness, I read of promises about how God had a plan to restore His people.  

“Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will reveal to them abundant peace and truth. I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity and will rebuild them as they were before. I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me. Then this city will bring me renown, joy, praise and honor before all nations on the earth that hear of all the good things I do for it; and they will be in awe and will tremble at the abundant prosperity and peace I provide for it,” Jeremiah 33:6-9.

Yes, He would scatter His people and desolate the land because of their wickedness, but He would also give a promise of hope and redemption.

“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, When I will raise up to David a Shoot of righteousness; and He will reign as King and act prudently, and will execute justice and righteousness in the land. In His days Judah will be saved and Israel will dwell securely; and this is His name by which He will be called, The Lord our Righteousness,” Jeremiah 23:5-6.

If all the verses and symbolism have you asking, “Wait, who is Jacob and where is his house? And what in the world is a sieve?” then let me put it simply for you. God’s people, the Israelites, became so wicked and sinful that God could no longer withhold His anger from them (“I am full of the wrath of the Lord; I am weary of holding it in,” Jeremiah 6:11). He was going to pour it out on His people, thus afflicting and scattering them across the world to be slaves in other lands.  However, because God is full of love and mercy, He refrained from completely annihilating them. Though He still punished them, He promised them a day of healing, restoration, and redemption. He promised to them Jesus.

The Israelites became a people who didn't want God. They hardened their hearts against Him, disgusted Him with their sinful practices, and chose to live in a way that wasn't listening to, seeking out, or loving to God. They refused to repent or turn from their ways, further solidifying their distance from Him. They were so deep in depravity, yet God still entreated them not to be afraid, for He was with them to save them.

They said no to God, and He still said yes.

So He sent to the world His Son, Jesus, to live a perfect and holy life and die in the place of all the transgressions that were committed against Him. He offered Himself up to be punished in the place of the betrayal and the wickedness that once grieved and angered His own heart. Jesus came for His people. God so loved us that He sent us His Son, that once again He could be our God and we could be His people.

Are you getting this? Because simply writing this brings tears to my eyes as I attempt to find words to explain how awesome this is.

Before my eight-month stint in the Old Testament, I would've said Christmas is about celebrating the birth of a Savior who came to die for our sins, and that would have been a fair answer. Now, however, I find such glorious beauty in the first half of that sentence, I could celebrate all season on that simple truth alone: the birth of a Savior who came. It is about the birth of God who came for us. It is the birth of God. It is to celebrate the love of our God who was determined to have us as His own; they will be my people, and I will be their God.

God came for us, you see, and that is what Christmas is all about. God, despite being disregarded, disobeyed, and disrespected, ran after His people who forsook Him. He came to us because He loved us. God came for us, to us. This truth is blowing my mind this Christmas season.

Unintentionally I spent eight months preparing my heart for the coming of Jesus. I metaphorically lived in the world of the Old Testament that was unrepentant and far from the God who loved it. I lived in the longing for a Savior. And now, as I sing the Christmas lyrics, “Rejoice, rejoice. Emmanuel shall come to thee, Oh Israel,” I can’t help but be overcome by tears of thanksgiving and joy, and I rejoice. I rejoice, for it is true: He has come.

Thank you, Jesus, that you have come for us.

And to all of you out there reading this: Merry Christmas.  

“For a child is born to us, a Son is given to us; and all dominion is upon His shoulder; and His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. To the increase of His dominion and to His peace there is no end …” Isaiah 9:6-7a.

We Need Him Like Water

I want to be honest with you: I didn't want to write this post. I was so discouraged, in fact, I wasn't sure I’d ever write another blog post again. I didn't think it mattered. Even as God prompted me to write this morning, I told Him I didn't want to anymore. Not like this, anyway.

I explained to Him how I felt it wasn't making any difference to anyone, yet it was emotionally draining and risky for me because I write with such vulnerability. I questioned why I should open my heart so much if it didn't even matter, and the answer I gave myself was that I shouldn't.

God patiently responded to me, but He didn't try to convince me that my writing mattered, that people were reading my blog, or remind me of the great importance of impacting even a single soul. Instead, He said to me, “Be faithful with little, and I will give you much.”

I wish I could tell you right now that I believe in my writing. I wish I could say that I believe what I’m about to write is important and it’ll change you. I wish I could say that I believe it is worth it. I can’t.  All I can say is that I believe in the God who speaks to me, God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, and I believe that He can (and will) speak to you as you read this, regardless of whatever words I choose to put on this page.

Maybe that’s all I need to believe, anyway, for my writing to make a difference.

So here I am writing when it’s the last thing I’d like to do, just to be faithful to the God I believe in, because I trust that He will move and speak and touch hearts even through my simple words. That is my prayer for you, friend. I hope and pray this matters.

............

God spoke to me this morning about my great need for Him, and He did so through my friend Fred. For this to make sense to you, I must let you know Fred isn't exactly my friend in the typical sense: he is my water bottle. Originally he carried a brand of water named Fred, and so I've jokingly called him such ever since. This bottle is super cool because it carries an entire liter of water, which means I only have to drink the whole thing twice to get my daily amount. I appreciate this, because Fred has been faithful in keeping me hydrated throughout a long week of work during which I’d usually become dehydrated. Plus, it’s a slim bottle, so it’s not awkward to carry around.  

Okay, back to my story: God using Fred to speak to me. So, I walked into the break room at work today consumed by great sadness. I was so full of hurt, anger, insecurity and discouragement that I didn't think I’d be able to make it through the day without crying out on the show floor. I knew I desperately needed to hear the voice of my Father if I were going to function at all today.  I sobbed as I sat at an empty table, repeating the same four words over and over again. “I need you, God. I need you. God, I need you.” I needed His light to break through the darkness that was surrounding me, and assuredly enough, God was faithful. He gave me the strength, comfort, and peace I needed in that moment.

My eyes started to dry and my burdens began to lift, and I praised God for His goodness. I sat back feeling better, yet still as if I weren't ready to face the day. Then God said to me, “It’s not enough.”

Huh?

“It’s not enough to come to me when you’re thirsty. That will not satisfy you. You must drink of me, of my life-giving water, continually every day. If you don’t hear my voice or feel my presence in the little things, the big things will never be enough.”

I began to cry (ironically, because I had just finished crying) as I understood how true God’s words to me were.

“I do God, you’re right! I need you all the time. Every day. In every moment! Not just the difficult ones. I need you like… like …”

“Like water.”

“Yes!” As He said it I knew He meant more than the mere similarity of survival. No, I was sure He meant the way in which I need water is also the way in which I need Him: constantly. 

If you’re not trailing with me at this point, let me explain. You see, we humans need a lot of water. The consensus is about 64 ounces of required water per day, which is equivalent to drinking a two-liter bottle of pop each day (but filled with water, of course). Plus, that amount is only the basic minimum. If you drink coffee daily, you need more water. If you exercise, you need more water. If you work outside, you need more water. Our lifestyles and the choices we make affect our necessary amount of water intake.

So that’s a lot of water, right? I mean, a two-liter of water is pretty hefty. How are you going to drink all of that in one day? It’s simple, really. You’re going to carry around a water bottle with you everywhere you go and drink it one sip at a time. Maybe you’ll take a few big gulps in the morning to get you started, but if you do it throughout the day you’ll end up drinking more water than you even thought possible.

Do you see what I’m trying to say here? This is how we need the Lord!

Just as we wouldn't quench our thirst for the entire day by drinking a glass of water in the morning, neither can we quench our thirst for God by a mere hour of “quiet time” or bible study after we wake. We need Him as we need water: constantly. Maybe that looks like a day consisting of five-minute prayers here and a few short worship songs there, with a few intermittent chunks of bible reading. Maybe it looks like a simple, continual conversation with God throughout the day. I’m sure it could look like a lot of different things, to be honest, yet they all will look like carrying a water bottle around so you can drink from it perpetually.

This is what God was explaining to me today; that I desperately need Him, and I need Him continually. I need Him even when I don’t feel thirsty, just as we need water. (Side note: when you feel thirsty for water, technically you are already dehydrated). I need to hear His voice all the time, and not just when I need the affirmation. I need to feel His presence all the time, and not just when I need the strength.

It is the constant relationship with God that keeps me spiritually hydrated, not just the monumental moments.

The grand experiences with God are great and I don’t deny their significance, but I will always run dry if I don’t drink all the time. God isn't someone I need solely when I’m upset or hurt or afraid. He is faithful to me and present with me in those times, of course, but if I only seek Him in those certain times, it will never be enough. 

Indeed, it is true. I need God like I need water: constantly. 

A Stranger in a Foreign Land: This is Not My Home

"For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come." Hebrews 13:14

I once heard it said that attitude is the difference between an adventure and an ordeal. I've loved the saying ever since, and have even quoted it to myself when tempted to entertain a poor attitude about circumstances, places, or life. I probably like it so much because it makes me feel like I can turn anything into an adventure with the right perspective- and I love adventure- but I also think it makes a good point about how greatly the right attitude can affect everything. 

I know, I know, you've heard this before. "Have a good attitude, blah blah blah." I get it. I'm sure it seems like I'm about to "beat a dead horse," as my mom would say, but I'm merely interested in telling a story; I only hope it's importance won't be lost on you. You see, my outlook has changed regarding a handful of things this year, and I've realized how vital perspective is. It's so powerful, in fact, that the other day I cried tears of joy over what I once scoffed. Perspective changes everything.

One of my many passions in life is traveling. I'm almost certain I've taken some sort of road trip every single year of my entire life, and I'm not talking about a "let's drive two hours to the beach or up north to our cabin" type of vacation. These trips were the real deal. I grew up traveling because my mom and dad loved it too, and once I was old enough to travel on my own, I did. One of the things I appreciate so much about going to new places is the change in perspective they always bring. Maybe it's because I think a whole lot, but new sights never fail to bring me new understanding. 

As you can probably guess, my outlook has notably changed in many ways since moving to California ten months ago. For example, I have a different understanding of what hot means. Yes, 115 degree cloudless, windless, moisture-less weather set quite a new standard for me. I now understand previously unfamiliar things like what it means to have a Michigan accent and what it feels like to be lonely. I also have an unprecedented appreciation for freshwater Great Lakes and the perpetual change of seasons. 

This is what different places, cultures, and people will do- they can change the way you view the world if you let them. 

I have gained many fresh perspectives throughout this year, but the one that has had the biggest impact on me has been the way I look at home. Home: even the word itself is much sweeter to me now. 

Before I moved across the country, I suppose I was more indifferent towards my home. I didn't cherish it like I do now. It wasn't that I disliked my family, my community, or my state- I deeply loved them all- but it was all I had ever known, and I guess I wanted something different. I looked forward to the day when I'd move away, and though I was sad to leave, mostly I was excited to move on. Back then, home was just where I had come from, but it wasn't where I wanted to stay. 

The longer I stayed in California, however, the more I wanted only to be home. It got bad, and consequently it got quite sad. I would become so homesick at times that I'd spend hours snuggled in my Michigan clothing as I flipped through pictures of my family and friends while the worship CD from my old church played in the background. I indulged in everything that had anything to do with my home, desperately wishing I was actually there. It's even embarrassing to type that out- I was certainly (home)sick. 

I once told my roommate I felt I didn't belong here in California. I was partly joking, yet mostly serious as I said to her, "I want to feel about this world as I do about the Central Valley- this place is not my home." She laughed, but my own words struck me hard. I felt a sort of desperation to say, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" It was as if I knew of this place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and where I was certainly wasn't it. Though in my mind I was thinking about my home in Michigan, I wanted my heart to be thinking that way about heaven. I really do want to feel this way about the world, I thought. Just as the Central Valley pales in comparison to my home back East (no offense), I want this world to do compared to heaven.   

This world is not my home. 

Last week I boarded a flight to visit home for eleven days. I could feel my heart beating quickly as I thought about my family and friends I'd soon be seeing, and the glorious weather I would soon be experiencing. I would catch myself smiling subconsciously, wondering if strangers had noticed my peculiarity, grinning at what seemed to them to be nothing. I couldn't wait to be home, and I spent the entirety of my flight in eager anticipation. I thought back to the times I had felt this way about traveling to California, and I thought it funny how much my heart and mind had shifted. 

After six hours and one layover, the plane finally began its descent into Detroit as the pilot announced the 56 degree, mostly cloudy day. I wish I would've timed how long it took us to fly through the clouds- I'm sure it was a good five minutes. We finally broke through and I cried as soon as I laid eyes on the flat-landed metropolis that lay under the thick blanket of cumulonimbus. It was far different than the exquisite mountains or canyons I had flown above on the way over, but it was better. It was plain- gray, almost- in the most beautiful way. It was home. As we neared landing I began to see the beloved features of Autumn as amazing hues of green, yellow, orange, red, and brown covered the landscape. There was nowhere else I wanted to be in that moment (except, maybe, on the ground).

I want to feel this way about the world. I want to be so overwhelmed with the thought of going to my heavenly home that I am brought to tears. If that afternoon was even a fraction of what I will experience on the day when I get to go home to be with my God, I can't begin to fathom how incredible it will be. It will be so awesome, I can't even comprehend it now. I want to feel the same excitement and joy about heaven, and I wonder: do I really feel that? 

This is a difficult question for me sometimes, because I think this world is beautiful. Physically speaking, that is. I love traveling, remember? Many times I can get caught up in that. I say, "But God, what if I don't get to go here and there and everywhere before I die? You know I really want to see this and that," and I begin worrying about whether or not I'll see the sights I want to before I move on from this world to the next. In those moments, I forget where I'm going and, more importantly, who I'm going to see once I get there. I think it's similar to how I felt before I ever came to California: like nothing was as beautiful as what I'd see there. 

Being here has brought me new understanding, though, and it has shattered that illusion. California is beautiful, of course, but in a "this is nice but it's not my home" way. Wherever I may go in my travels will be beautiful, too, I'm sure, but those places will not be my home either. In the same way, I want to live in the knowledge that this world is not my home, and I want that to excite me. I want the very thought of going home to bring me to tears. I want to be so badly homesick that I spend hours indulging in everything that has anything to do with God and His kingdom. I want to live with a desperation for the Lord, for eternity, for heaven, and I want that yearning to propel me to actually say to others, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" 

...

I'm telling you, friends, this isn't all there is. Oh, there is so much more- I barely have the words to describe it. I do know of a place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and I can assure you it isn't this world. I've only seen glimpses of this place with no weeping, pain, or death, but even those small tastes are astonishing. It is a world unlike anything we've ever seen or experienced, and it is our home. 

And home... well, home is automatically a beautiful place.

"But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ." -Philippians 3:20