For my Mom

My mother is joyful.

Peaceful. 

Exciting. 

Strong-willed. 

Courageous. 

Bold. 

Humble. 

Patient. 

VERY patient. 

She is gentle and kind.

She gives discipline when I don't think I deserve it, and GRACE when I know I don't deserve it. 

She shows me how to be fearless. 

She shows me how to love Jesus above all else. 

She shows me how to love when I don't want to, and forgive when I don't think I have to. 

She cries with me when I'm hurt and laughs with me when I do something silly.

She teaches me to cook and clean so that one day I can do the same for my children.

She wakes up early to work and goes to bed late to make sure everything is ready for the next day. 

She loves with no restrictions and forgives with no regrets. 

My mother is my role model, confidant, stronghold, and friend. 

She is the one I look to for guidance.

She praises me when I do good, and pushes me to do better when I mess up.

She shows me that life is not about winning or being the best, but about loving every second along the way. 

But the greatest thing about her is that she makes me want to love Jesus more. 

Everything she does pushes me to be a better Christian, daughter, servant, sister, and friend.

Today and everyday I am thankful for her. I love you Mom.

Called

He has not called me to be a "missionary". Nor has He called me to save. When did I begin to insert my simple, sinful self into His place? When did I become powerful enough, Holy enough, gracious enough to do either of those? Jesus has simply called me to know Him deeper, to follow Him through dark wilderness and abundant goodness. I am not special or more gifted than the rest because of my geographical location. My flesh doesn't desire to say "yes" to Him and it isn't a natural thing for me to follow Him. But it is only through the constant emptying of myself that I might find more of Him and allow His Spirit to fill me up with something new altogether. New desires, new endurance, a new heart. The emptying hurts, I feel all of my unholy desires slipping through the cracks of my heart, begging to stay a little longer. But my whole being knows that this is best, He is best. Wherever I am in this world, and wherever you are, no matter the location of our physical body or even the location of our emotions, we find our true calling in nothing except knowing Him more. Seeing His glory. Experiencing His goodness. 


I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being. - Ephesians 3:16

Punished Not Punished

Jeremiah 30:11 “For I am with you to save you declares the LORD… I will discipline you in just measure, and I will by no means leave you unpunished.”

The Hebrew for “leave you unpunished” is two-fold. Simply put God is saying they will be “punished not punished” through His salvation. The first part of this verse offers the Hope that leads into the second part which is the Promise. There is no easy means of salvation. The preposterous though of a painless salvation makes light of the immense evil which is sin. We think it is avoidable, this harsh punishment, but God clearly states that judgement is not. His first response to sin in the garden was to kill an animal, to shed blood; so, why should it be any easier after so many generations of sin? There is no easy (or unpunished) way of salvation! Yet, there is grace (30:11a). It is through this grace which we were “punished not punished” by way of the death of His Son. The punishment of Himself was in the most horrific and ghastly way known to mankind at that time in order that our punishment would rest upon His perfect shoulders. The way to salvation was not easy, but the way of grace is! Praise God that he took our punishment! However, we are called to remember our state as “punished not punished” as “sinner yet saved”. We deserve full punishment, BUT He is with us to save us! Praise HIM!

A Grieved God

Jeremiah, known as the weeping prophet, declares through his life the grief of a God that had been forsaken by His own people. How does a human being declare the grief of a perfect God? Through trials, persecution, and constant sorrow in Jeremiah’s life we as readers catch a glimpse of the anguish in God’s heart as He watches the people run away from Him. 

This man, whom God had chosen to be his mouthpiece to a lost and backsliding people of God, was not unlike many of us. His personality was contrary to this task that God had called him to (Jeremiah 11:19) and many times Jeremiah questioned God and even cursed the day of his birth (Jeremiah 20:14). Maybe we haven’t all reached a point of cursing the day we were born, but I have felt the substantial weight of the task that we are called to as Christians and it terrifies me. How am I, a sinful wreck of a girl, supposed to love others unconditionally and fight through the copious amounts of darkness that surround me? Why did God think I was capable for this task and how do I push forward when all that is within me cries to fall back? 

In the country that I live darkness is every where; yet, it is not seen as darkness. The lost practically accept their lostness with joy and whenever truth is shared they run from it. The people that Jeremiah spoke to did have a concept of the Almighty God and who He was, but these people that I live next to, work with, and laugh with have no notion of the Savior.  It feels like a losing battle. 

When I share, it is rejected. 

When He seems to convict the heart of people, they run from it and ignore His call of salvation. 

My heart is in pieces most days because I feel as if I haven’t done enough, or that I’ve done it all wrong. I question God, not in doubt, but in sincerity seeking to know why He called me to this field. His Son said that the fields were white for harvest, yet this place feels like it is in a perpetual famine. Why? Why Lord? He understands my grief. He grieves himself for the hearts of His beloved creation. The different is that he doesn’t grieve from lacking the ability to save. God is not lacking in might or power. He grieves because of the blatant disobedience of those who have believed in His word and keep quiet. He is grieved because there are so few workers. The grief he feels will never compare to the sorrow we experience. 

A sob story is not what anyone needs, and this is not that. But it is a call for the church to fight. A fight which is fought from our knees, instead of picking up our swords, and beg the Father “who makes things grow” to move in the fields of Japan (1 Corinthians 3:7). 

It is a call to hope, even when hope seems ridiculous. It is a call to praise Him, even after the questions like Jeremiah did (Jeremiah 20:13). 

It is a call to remember that His ways will never be understood by our feeble and temporal minds.
A call to recognize that our grief will never be compared to His as he watches his creation day after day step into an eternity without Him.

But it is also a call to share boldly, love wildly, and trust endlessly in His goodness and grace. 

Jeremiah’s heart was for His King and his King’s heart was grieving for the souls of His creation. And so, when the questions abounded and the response to Jeremiah’s call to repentance was a roaring mockery he plowed on (Jer. 20:1-2). Because He trusted that the one who had called Him would equip and His words which were faithful and true would never fail. 

When I Left: Part 4

4…

My flight was extremely long (about 15 hours) but I slept a little. I just remember thinking, “Focus on right now. Do not think about anything past right now.” When I made it to Japan I remember all the thoughts that tried to enter my mind, such as: 

You have 764 days left...

You can’t do this...

Your luggage is too much...

You’ve hurt your family...

They’ll never be the same... 

You’ll miss so much...

But as soon as any of those thoughts would enter I would just beg the Lord to take them away and I would repeat “don’t worry about tomorrow... only right now. I trust you Jesus, you are worth it.” I don’t know how many times I repeated that in my head... too many to even count, it was constantly flowing through my mind. 

When it came time to grab my luggage, no one helped me (sadly) but I pulled those 50lb. bags off of that thing that goes around and around (not sure of the technical name) and went through customs, still barely able to see over my luggage on the cart. As I came out my Team Leaders (who would quickly become my family) met me and hugged me. Tara said “welcome home sweet girl we love you and are so happy you’re here.” The next few moments consisted of getting my luggage to their car and finally just breathing in the air of this country that was now my home. I was too tired to process anything else... I think I fell asleep in the car but I honestly don’t remember. My team leaders told me that I could stay at their house for that first night if I wanted to, but I knew that if I didn’t go to my apartment and stay alone that first night I would never want to stay alone. And I knew that I would eventually need to have a hard moment of realization that this was my place. And I was here for good. When I pulled up to the apartment it looked so foreign. Nothing felt familiar. I walked into this place that was simply one small room... my leaders showed me how to turn my shower on, flush my toilet, and helped me to unpack my “bed”. All of those seem like things a semi-smart human should be able to figure out... but as I said, EVERYTHING was foreign. Even the bathroom... we realized I didn’t actually have a bed I only had a blanket which I wound up using as my bed for the first two weeks before I gave in and purchased a memory foam mattress cover which I folded up to make a small bed... 

*I used a beach towel that night as my blanket... actually I used that towel for the first 2 months as my blanket. All of those things just kind of happened, not because I wasn’t being taken care of, it just was the way things went for a bit. I didn’t even think twice about it. It was kind of like getting on that plane. I knew I had to do it and so I did... and he helped me through. I laughed about it all mostly because I thought it was kind of funny to sleep on the floor with a beach towel as a blanket.. YOLO. *

I finally took a shower after my team left my apartment... a cold one, because I didn’t have hot water for the first several days. And went to bed. I fell asleep for a few hours and woke up around 1am terrified. The enemy always attacks when we are weak, and for me that’s at nighttime. I woke up and thought “There’s no way I can do this, I can’t even make it through my first night.” So, I called one of my friends who was also about to leave for the field. She told me “Each new second will be easier. This is the hardest part so just remember that you never have to go back to it.” It wasn’t until that moment that I finally let myself cry... really cry. All of the feelings of excitement and fear, turmoil and triumph, I let it all out. And when I closed my eyes I saw my parent’s faces and heard my sister’s words over and over again... The next morning I woke up and began my new life only having two goals for the first several weeks 1) find something positive in the morning and 2) find something positive in the evening. My quiet times with the Lord were what pushed me through each day and the Lord met me there on that futon in the tiny apartment. The place I was so terrified of (being alone) became my altar where I had to deny myself over and over again to experience the filling of His Spirit and the immensity of His peace. 

As I sit here now I’m surrounded by friends, who are now family, as we study and worship together. It’s home now and all of those hard moments were worth it, I wouldn’t trade them for anything because Christ became my all in all. He walked with me and spoke to me and comforted me in ways that I had never experienced before. 

When I Left: Part 3

3…

My flight was very early the next morning and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to sleep... but His grace was sufficient once again and I slept for a couple of hours. When my alarm went off my stomach was in knots but I just begged the Lord to carry me, to literally make my feet move... and He did. I walked out of my house, not thinking about how long it would be before I walked back through that door again, I knew those thoughts weren’t healthy and I didn’t have time for them. I could only handle one second at a time. On the ride down to the airport my family and I didn’t say much. I just kept trying to reassure them that I was ok. There are lots of logistical things that are a part of traveling and my mind just went into “airplane” mode as I tried to make sure I had everything I needed. It’s a little different when you have to pack to literally move your life overseas instead of just a quick trip... I wouldn’t be near a Walmart for quite some time and I knew I needed to make sure I had everything I needed. 

This part is probably the hardest to write... because it’s contains all of my fears bottled up into several moments that I am happy to never have to re-live. Don’t get me wrong, I learned a lot, but I don’t ever want to feel that way again. 

When we arrived at the airport I walked to the counter with my cart of luggage that was literally too big for me to see over the top and checked in... as I grabbed that ticket I realized it was one-way.  

“Destination is Tokyo, correct?” 

“Yes.”

“How long?” 

I turned to look at my dad, as if He could swoop in and fix this fear that I felt and the knot grew bigger in my stomach “Umm... two years. I’m actually moving there.” 

I got my ticket and we sat on some benches for just a bit when I realized I didn’t want to sit there for long... it hurt too much to draw it out. I hadn’t cried... and I wouldn’t. Not until many hours after I arrived to Japan, not until I was alone and I was sure my grief wouldn’t hurt anyone else. But the hardest part about leaving was made real as I hugged my mom goodbye. She could hardly look at me as I walked to give her a hug right before I went through security. Nothing was said except a simple “I love you” and she hugged me and walked away, out of sight. 

There aren’t words to describe the way it feels knowing that my choices, no matter how honorable, are hurting the ones I love. I told her I loved her right before she walked away and I hugged my sister, she was strong as she held me, and told me “you can do this.” Finally, I walked towards security with my dad… he walked with me every step that he could and he hugged me as tight as he always has. I knew that where he had to let go of my hand, my Heavenly Father would have to grab ahold of it and lead me the rest of the way. I still didn’t cry, because I knew that if I started it would hurt my family even more. I looked back one last time to see my dad standing there to ensure that I made it through TSA safely and without any issues. I didn’t see my mom, I knew it was too hard for her to watch me walk away. My team leader told me before I left, “Christ will protect those that are effected by your obedience, you are only called to obey.” I was clinging to the fact that he would protect me as he carried my parents and sister as well. 

 I was always afraid to leave my family... even when I would travel for a week or two I was afraid of taking off. I thought that by leaving them behind I was showing that I didn’t care enough to stay. And now, I wasn’t just going on a short trip, I was asking them to let me go for two years. My fears of hurting them came true... this was painful for them, more than I could probably realize. But it was happening and Christ had asked us, called us, to live through these moments. 

I made it through security and bought a bagel as I sat there by the window and watched the sun rise. Which is usually one of my favorite things to do. I would wake up before the sun most mornings back home just so I could enjoy that quiet moment with Jesus before the world woke up. But I remember thinking I didn’t want the sun to rise on this day, it was one that I just wanted to skip altogether. I didn’t actually eat, it was just something natural for me to do, something to make this weird moment feel “normal.” I text my parents as soon as I made it through security to check on them. They told me that Christ was comforting them just as he was me. But His comfort doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, his comfort just became bigger than the fear. The panic and turmoil in my spirit simply brought me deeper into His peace. These moments revealed to me where my hope was and now it could be in nothing except Him because He was all I had. As the flight boarded my feet just kept moving, I expected at any moment for them to simply stop, but miraculously the Lord carried me through. He knew I needed some humor in my day and so in the Atlanta airport my carry-on luggage was accidentally knocked down an escalator and rolled the entire way down ultimately almost hitting a man at the bottom... I laughed, something I didn’t think would happen that day! But I’m thankful for that which brought a little bit of “funny” into this horribly long and tiring day. 

When I left: Part 2

2…
After the 7 weeks I came home for two weeks to pack, prepare, and soak up every second with my family. What I didn’t know is that for the first week of my “break” at home my family was planning a surprise party and so lots of times it seemed as if they were too busy to just spend time with me. But I’m thankful for that special gift they gave me because I was able to tell everyone I loved “goodbye.”

Many people say “This isn’t goodbye, this is just see you soon!” And while that may be comforting to say... I felt the weight of each goodbye as it came out of my mouth. Every time I said it, my heart broke just a little bit more. Yet, even in those hard goodbyes, I felt Christ’s peace. He didn’t “stitch up” my broken heart... because the pain I felt with each time I said that hard word showed me how many people God gave me the opportunity to love. Instead He simply held me in His arms... broken heart and all.

After that event was over I was able to spend more time with my family and those closest to me. I had lunch with my mom while running errands, spent time with my dad as we talked on the back porch, and enjoyed every moment with my sister that I possibly could. I soaked in every last sunset and all of the green grass that surrounded me... because I knew those two things would be harder to find in my new city.

My last Wednesday at church hurt more than I imagined and as I said goodbye to the people that literally changed the course of my life I felt like God was asking too much. I hugged a lady who I felt cared about me as much as her own daughter, Mrs. Karen Matthews.. and I cried into her shoulder saying over and over again “This is too hard. It hurts too much.” And she just hugged me even tighter as I spoke the words I hadn’t been willing to say. I felt like if I said “I can’t do this” it would mean that I wouldn’t do it... but that wasn’t true. I honestly could not do this... Christ would HAVE to do it for me. I had no faith in myself but only in Him. I was not sufficient for this job but He would prove Himself true and equip me to do the work that He had called me to do. As I walked away from that church and tears rolled down my face, Taylor (my pastor’s wife), Brittany (my closest friend), and two kids from my kid’s ministry followed me out. They stopped me before I got into my car and prayed over me... it gave me the courage I needed to get into my car and drive home from the Matthews community of Laurel, Mississippi one last time. I cried the whole way home, praising God for all that he had given me through serving at that church and questioning why I had to leave. I realized that faith and fear weren’t necessarily enemies. My fear was growing my faith, I just had to choose which would rule in my mind and heart.

The next day was my last day at home. I finished packing with each movement feeling robotic as I was checking things off of my to-do list and packing my life away for the next two years. It felt as if someone was forcing me to keep going. Now I know that Christ was protecting my mind from thinking too much and instead He just helped me to function as normal as possible that last day at home. I expected to totally freak out and end up locking myself in my room refusing to leave my home... but that never happened. It was only by His grace. As I looked at those two duffel bags, a backpack, and two pieces of luggage I just remember thinking “How on earth will I get this through security all by myself?” But Christ would prove sufficient even in that. The last night at home my dad and I made fried shrimp (my favorite) and we had dinner with my pastor and his wife... it was calm, quiet, and just what my heart needed.