This one's for the girls....

I'm not a feminist. I do not believe in feminism as it is portrayed in our culture today. But I am angry at the images and expectations that culture has for today's women. Culture says women are sex objects. Culture says that women are something to be used. Culture says women are weak. Culture says women are not good enough. And as a woman in today's culture I am offended. 

I was watching Miss Congeniality and Miss Congeniality 2 this weekend and the end of the movies left me in that all too familiar place of comparing them to my life. Of wondering why my life can't flow smoothly, with all the boring parts cut out and a soundtrack playing in the background. But the movies also left me pondering womanhood. The message of the second movie is basically that women don't need men, and that women don't need to be girly to be a woman.

But I am girly. I like makeup. I like lace, and flowers, and ruffles. I like when guys hold doors open for me or offer to carry something heavy.  I like glitter. I like pink. I like dresses. 

But I also like playing in the mud. I like learning to fix things. I like shooting baskets. I like riding four wheelers. I like shooting guns. 

Well, I was picking out my outfit for church last night and I came across that almost new suit jacket hanging in the back of my closet. I hate wearing that thing. It makes me feel masculine. But in light of the "FBI" movie I had just watched, I decided to give it a go. 

To quote my friend, Sarah, "Isn't it sad that girls feel powerful in a suit, but feminine in a dress?"

I did end up finding the best of both worlds, as seen in the picture below, but I want you to take away the deeper message of this life lesson. You can be both. You can embrace your "and".

Watch this video below. Most women's campaigns started as marketing schemes I scoff at. But this one I think is very biblical. There are so many labels put on us as women, but God created us to be multi-faceted beings. You are human. You and complex. And that is beautiful. Embrace it!

I'm Not Sorry.

Sometimes I just want to go around wearing a disclaimer. I want people to know what they’re getting into before they involve themselves with me. I want to apologize for all the reasons I don’t act and react as culture would expect and I want to warn those who come in contact with me that the cover of this book is very misleading about the pages within.

I get used to hearing phrases that hint at the fact that I’m not quite the cookie cutter American that people are used to.

“You didn’t say much tonight”

“Aren’t you driving yet?”

“When will you be going on-campus for college?”

“Oh, no. Kayla is anything but organized”

It’s not that these comments hurt me. I am fully aware that I don’t quite fit the mold and I’m fine with that. But there seems to be this attitude that there’s something wrong with that. As if I have to have a good defense for all these things.

I was thinking about writing a post to apologize for all these traits. To say “I’m sorry” for being quiet and disorganized. To say “I’m sorry” for not being what you expected. But then I realized that I really don’t have to say I’m sorry about at all. Because:

I’m not sorry for being a great listener. For always knowing when someone is upset even through their smiling facade.

I’m not sorry for adding life to a black and white world through my randomness, creativity, and disorganization.

I’m not sorry that my attention deficit disorder doesn’t quite fit the mold.

I’m not sorry that I have never been to a public school and pressured to do drugs or go too far with a guy I didn’t even like.

I’m not sorry that I’m guarded for all the right reasons.

I’m not sorry that I have had my share of pain and hurt. I’m not sorry that the shattered pieces come together to make a beautiful mosaic.

I’m not sorry for the mistakes I’ve made because they make me who I am today.

I’m not sorry for making illogical decisions. I’m not sorry for following God’s lead even when it’s risky.

I’m not sorry for giving my entire life to a God I can’t even see and leaving the results up to Him. I'm not sorry that I don't have a plan B. 

I’m not sorry for not being a size zero. I’m not sorry for thriving in the body God has given me instead of constantly wishing for a different one.

I’m not sorry for being an 18 year old who’s never dated.

I’m not sorry for feeling emotions deeply and falling apart once in a while.

I’m not sorry for not having it all together.

I’m not sorry for being a broken human being.

I’m not sorry for being unique and different.

I’m not sorry for any trait that God has placed in me.

I am not sorry for being me.

And that’s my challenge to you today. I’ve heard so many people lately that apologize for everything they do. But why are they apologizing? Of course our house doesn’t look like an Ikea ad. Of course our children don’t answer to our every beck and call like the kids on T.V. Of course we don’t look like the airbrushed models and of course we don’t live perfect, sterile lives. So what are we apologizing for?

It’s a new year and with that milestone often comes a list of resolutions. Now, I’m not against resolutions at all. I actually find them extremely helpful. But take a look down at that list of yours and evaluate it. How many of those things are really, truly for you? Do you want to lose 10 pounds because you want to be healthy, or do you want to do it so you can stop saying “I’m sorry” for your body? Do you want to go to more social gatherings because you truly want to stop and enjoy relationship or because you want to stop having to say “I’m sorry” for your social awkwardness?

God doesn’t make mistakes.

I suggest we stop measuring ourselves by culture’s standards and start measuring by God’s.

Maybe it’s time for you to join with me in saying:

“I’m not sorry”.

Four Plane Tickets and an Apple

We arrived at the airport when it was still dark outside. The chilliness in the air only reminded me how alone I would be mere minutes from now. My eyes were puffy to notify me that I was lacking the sleep I so desired. And my heart was pounding to the beat of Final Countdown. Each step I took brought me closer to Goliath and I so desperately wanted to turn and run away. I knew I could never be David. I felt more like a blade of grass swaying in the breeze as the roar of the lawn mower creeps closer and clos―.

            My dad sets my suitcase on the scale and the woman in uniform sticks a barcode around the handle. We embrace and I try not to look him in the eye. Tears are the last thing I need right now. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” “Be strong.” “Try not to get murdered in the process.” These are all thoughts that race through my mind in the last minute before walking into Goliath’s shadow, sling in hand. “Call me when you get through security. I’ll sit out here for a little while and wait,” my dad says. I’m not sure which one of us is more nervous. It’s time.

            My hands grip my backpack and hoist it to my shoulder as I try not to let my gait reflect how scared I am. My feet march forward and I don’t look back.  I pretend that I’ve done this a million times as I get in line for security. I only have one Father to talk to now, and that conversation is running on faith. (Do I take my belt off now or do I wait until they check my passport? That woman looks nice, but she must be tired. It’s 4am. This must be a horrible shift to have. I wonder how I can make her morning better. No – focus. When do I take my watch off? Do I have any liquids to worry about?)

            The line creeps forward. (Do I look rich? I hope not. I hope a thief would be very disappointed in me. That man up there looks nervous. He must be a terrorist. No. God, you’re protecting me, right? You want me to go to Costa Rica, right? Please keep me safe.)

            “Good morning. How are you?” says the voice in front of me. I hand her my passport. “I’m doing well. How are you?” I ask with a smile. “Good,” she replies, “Have a good flight!” My passport gets stuffed in my pocket as I take off my watch and belt. I clunk my shoes down in a bin and place my laptop in another bin. I walk forward and place my hands above my head as I get scanned. This level of security even makes me question if I am a criminal. I tie my shoelaces as a woman scolds me for leaving my laptop in its sleeve. First mission accomplished and no casualties yet. Thank you, Jesus!  

            The next step requires waiting. Sitting in a seat waiting for a plane to board should be an easy task, but it lets my mind wander with worst case scenarios. I call my dad and hope to distract myself. I talk about everything and nothing, paying no attention to the conversation but being comforted by the steady voice that reminds me I’m safe. The man across from me keeps looking at me. He must be a spy. He is going to kidnap me.

            (It’s nearly 5am. I should eat something.) I get in line at the only restaurant that seems open so early. Last time I flew, I flew on an empty stomach and felt queasy for hours. (I should probably get something more than a muffin. An apple sounds substantial. Airport food is so expensive!) My feet glide back across the hallway to the plastic blue seat. I crunch into the apple and chew. I am not hungry.

A lady’s voice comes on the speaker overhead. She informs us that the flight is overbooked and they are offering tickets and free breakfast for anyone who is willing to switch their flight. The next thirty minutes feel like an infomercial as they raise the value of the incentive and handpick victims to offer first class tickets to. It feels like the game of sharks and minnows I played as a kid. Will I make it to my seat in time, or will I be the shark’s next victim? I hear my name and a flight attendant hands me my seat number. I am safe.

            As we take off, I feel as if a crash landing would be easy compared to what I’ve already been through this morning. For the next three hours, I ride a delicate see-saw. I must drink enough water to stay hydrated but not enough to have to use the airplane bathroom. A delicate balance indeed; tightrope walkers have it easy. We come to the end of our flight, our plane lands and I exit. I’m done with the first flight of four for this trip to Costa Rica.

            I walk to my next gate pretending to know where I’m going. I attempt to look like a woman on a mission. No one preys on a woman on a mission. I arrive just as they start boarding. My throat feel like the Sahara from all the walking. I need water. I sit in seat 23A unharmed. I talk to Jesus as we take off. I can’t believe that I’m facing my worst fear and I haven’t died yet. My mind finally is waking up and I realize that I’ve been up for hours. My eye lids grow heavy and I drift off to sleep.

            When I wake up, I look at my watch. I thought we were supposed to land an hour ago. (I never trusted that male flight attendant or his female sidekicks. It must be an inside job. They knew that a bunch of tourists, going to Costa Rica, would bring money for souvenirs. We must actually be flying to Cuba as captives. There is no hope for us!)

            “Hello, this is your captain speaking. The seatbelt sign will go on in just a few minutes, so this is your last chance to get up and walk around the cabin. We will be starting our descent in a few minutes and should be touching down in San José in about twenty minutes. Thank you for flying United.” We’re saved. Thank you, Jesus! I made it to Costa Rica and now I can start the part that made all this trouble worth it to me: being an intern.

            The awaiting faces of my missionary friends in Costa Rica could not have been more welcome. Facing one’s worst fear does make one hope for a friendly face on the other side. I have six weeks before I have to worry about flying again. However, six weeks goes a lot faster than one thinks it does. Five weeks, four weeks, three weeks, two weeks, six days - my panic sets in again - one day, three hours…it’s time.

            I say my goodbyes and my heart feels heavy. I won’t see a friendly face again until the stars shine in the sky. My adventure has ended, but one last hurdle waits for me to jump. My heart still pounds as I place my un-sleeved laptop in the bin, but my mind is at ease because I have done this before.

               I walk through the airport. As I head to retrieve my luggage and meet the smiling faces of my family members, I ask myself why I have so much fear of the people around me. They are just people, in fact. The woman passing me is probably a business woman. She is probably bringing her briefcase full of notes to a room full of business people eager for knowledge. That man up ahead is probably a father to three sweet children. He is probably rushing home, ready to hear a unison chorus of “DADDY!” And what about that couple that was on my plane, and is now walking behind me? They are probably heading to see their first skyscrapers with Spanish/English dictionary in hand.

I slow my pace as I feel the light bulb go on. I’ve just spent six weeks in Costa Rica studying Jesus’ life. My eyes are opened and I start to look at the people around me as Jesus would. He wouldn’t be scared of them. He wouldn’t see the bad in them either. He would love them. I realize that my fear is getting in the way of loving these people as Jesus would. I notice that my heart is beating hard again, but this time it’s to the tune of I Will Survive. I have no fear. It must be true that fear is the opposite of love. I only have room for one. If I really love others as Jesus did, I will have no fear of man. It’s amazing what love can do. When I started this journey I felt as if one mean glance could send a bullet through my heart and claim its casualty, but now I feel as if I am the one with the weapon and my weapon is love. I don’t ask how I can avoid eye contact, I ask how I can make someone’s day a little brighter. I don’t ask who’s going to prey on me, I ask who I can be Jesus to. It took six weeks and conquering one of my worst fears to realize it, but perfect love casts out fear. That may not be the most valuable lesson in the world, but it was a lesson worth four plane tickets and an apple!

The Problem with Mediocre

I know in the States right now it is pretty cold and dreary, but if you will, use your imagination to experience this tropical wonderland with me. Right now I am at a ranch miles away from the nearest town. It's about 75 degrees and moisture in the air feels as if its trying to embrace me. I'm sitting in a hammock listening to the rushing river down the hill. As I rock back and forth, I feel a slight breeze slip past me on its way to more exciting destinations. I hear the rumblings of the sky echoing in the distance as the sky fades to light gray. As the sound of rushing water surrounds me, the roosters are under the impression that it is early morning and sound off accordingly. My eyes rise up from their resting place on this rectangle of artificial light and absorb the sight of lush greenery. The nearsighted view contains myriads of tropical trees growing strong and tall up this mountainside. As my eyes float past the lush palm leaves I notice some birds soaring above the very peak of the tropical mountaintop that I find myself on. They look so free and satisfied soaring on each gust of wind, probably taking in more aerial beauty than I will ever see.

I glance back at my screen. One word monopolizes my thoughts: beautiful. This nature is gorgeous. And rocking back and forth in this hammock, listening to the birds chirp and the rushing water below, I finally understand the meaning of the word peaceful. I do not need shallow and meaningless things to occupy my time or monopolize my thoughts. I would be content to lay in this hammock for hours just enjoying it all.

I realize that a thought dwelling at the back of my sub-conscious is knocking on the door. Curiosity wins over and I let it in. "How will I ever be able to go home after this?" I've experienced more God-made beauty in the past month than ever before in my life. It's the kind of beauty that just takes your breath away. And now I'm gonna have to go back to the cut grass, white picket fences, and deliberately placed pine trees at home. Will I ever be able to be content with man-made beauty again?

It makes me ask the question,"Has the industrialization of America done us a disservice?" My architecturally perfect house back home can't compare to this open-air, screened-in porch of a house in the middle of a tropical forest. My house that keeps out every living thing but a few ants is not nearly as perfect as this old house that has welcomed a few lizards already today. A man-made forest preserve at home can't compare to a tropical jungle, and a swim in our mucky man-made lake could never compare to a refreshing dip in the chilly river flowing down from the mountain. I think we strive so much for perfection that we end up suffocating ourselves with the one thing we were trying to attain. We strive so much to be in a clean and controlled environment, that we have imprisoned ourselves in an artificial society. We have everything we could possibly want (realistically), and yet these people who have houses the size of some of our living rooms are more content than us. And because we have strived for such a controlled and sterile environment, we have deprived ourselves in one thing that money can't buy: beauty.

The first few days of being in this country, when we were driving through the beautiful mountains, I marveled at how gorgeous the view was. Now we weren't immersed in a rain forest or casting our eyes on the clear blue oceans. No, we were merely looking at some hills in the distance. That's when a horrible thought hit me: this beauty has become normal to the people that live here. It is merely a part of their lives. This beauty that took my breath away is just average and every day to them. Think about it. Isn't that a horrible thought?

Beauty has power, at least in my life. It has the power to take my breath away; the power to make me utterly in awe of God. It has the power to reveal to me just how small I am and how big God is. It has the power to open my eyes to the creativity of our Creator and to show me how feeble my artistic attempts are to the true Artist's.

It is a dangerous spot to be in when beauty becomes normal to us. When beauty becomes normal to us, we get the sense that we are in control. When beauty becomes normal to us, that tells us that we are more focused on a to-do list than actually taking a look around and enjoying life. Various movies do a great job at portraying the concept of the boring, average American man or woman working in a cubicle all day and coming home to their cookie-cutter house in their cookie-cutter neighborhood. When I say that, you have a picture in your mind of what that means. And you know you've found yourself in that spot before. Maybe you didn't work in a cubicle, but you know the feeling of going through the motions; of living a mediocre life.

Now, I know I've covered two points so far. I never really know what's gonna come out when my fingers start clicking against the keyboard. But here's my point: don't let beauty become normal. Don't let life become average. Don't try to be in control, and don't try to sterilize and perfect your life. You will end up suffocating yourself. That's what happened to Mr. cubicle worker. His life was so sterilized that it became meaningless and void.

God promises us an ABUNDANT life. That means being out of control most of the time. It means doing crazy things when God asks....even with two weeks or two days notice. It means worrying less about the report card or job evaluation than you do about enjoying the little moments with your kids or your siblings.

God didn't make us just to survive. He made us to thrive! He gave us the unique ability to be able to truly enjoy the little things in our lives. But that's a choice we have to make.

I admit, I'm usually more focused on surviving than thriving. Especially as I've started the real big kid stuff like college. I hate to break it to you, but getting straight A's is not thriving - it's just surviving. We've all been there. You're cooped up at your desk for hours and end up getting really great grades, but it's pretty empty when you miss all the little things in life. You miss your mom baking cookies, you miss your brothers getting home from school, and you miss the rainbow that was in the sky - and all because you were working so hard on that paper.

Now I'm not condoning procrastinating. If you are putting your work off so that you can scroll through your Newfeed or troll videos on YouTube, that's definitely not thriving either. But sometimes you have to chose to do it later.

I made a choice like this on Friday. I had a five page paper to write that I had barely gotten a sentence in to. When the kids got home from school it was my job to watch them until their mom got back from the store. My plan was to put on a movie for them and get crackin' on that five page paper I needed to get done. Instead, I made the choice to thrive.

We ended up taking a walk in the 70 degree and sunny day. It was beautiful! We walked down to the soccer field. Ellie* and I found some beautiful pink and purple flowers that we enjoyed looking at. She asked me to grab her hands and swing her around and I did. We swung and twirled as she delighted in being a four-year-old little girl. Then we joined Joel* at the soccer field and assisted him in his goalkeeping endeavors. Every time I shot a goal, Ellie* ran to celebrate by being spun around. We raced across the soccer field over and over again until we were all red from exhaustion. When we returned home, I turned on some classic dance music and the kids choreographed to their every whim. As I sat there watching their adorable selves twirl and hop to the music, I was very happy of my decision to put the paper off till later. A five page paper will never make the same kinds of memories as dancing to Cotton Eye Joe will. I was thriving instead of surviving.

Sometimes the cheesy figures of speech that we have actually contain quite a bit of truth in them. The one I want to end with today is my challenge to you.

Take a moment today to stop and smell the roses!

*Names changed to protect privacy.

Do you trust him?

Sometimes life is crazy.

That much is true. 

Sometimes you end up in a whirlwind of events that changes everything.

Sometimes you end up facing one of your biggest fears that you never thought you'd face - at least not this soon.

Sometimes you find yourself living a life that you would not have recognized a few months ago.

Sometimes you find yourself picked up and plopped down into another country. 

That is how life finds me this fine evening. 

God does have a way of doing that, doesn't he? He changes everything on us, and sometimes that leaves us wondering what happened. 

You pray, "Lord grow me!", and he says "okay!" He stretches you until you feel like you're gonna tear apart. You say, "Why are you doing this, Lord! This hurts! Make it stop." He replies, "I am growing you...

Do you trust me?"

You pray, "Jesus make me more like you!" He says "okay!" He brings all kinds of trials and sufferings into your life. You say, "No, Jesus. I can't do this. Make it stop." To which he replies, "I suffered much. I am making you more like myself...

Do you trust me?"

You pray, "God, use me for your kingdom!" He says, "okay!" Then all kinds of people come to you for advice. You feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulders and you don't know how to help them. You are being spread thin. You say, "God, this is not what I meant! I can't do this. I can't help these people." He replies, "Of course YOU can't. You asked me to USE you. That is what I am doing...

Do you trust me?"

You pray, "Father, make me humble. Make me a servant leader like your son was." He replies, "okay!" He brings situations into your life that break you. You feel crushed, shattered, broken. "What was that?" you ask, "That was NOT what I meant! This is not okay." He replies, "Since when do I work by your standards? I LOVE you. I always have a better way...

Do you trust me?"

Do you? Do you trust him? He is GOOD. He has a GOOD plan. But it is not

easy,

or comfortable,

or fun,

or convenient.

But it IS good. 

I encourage you to check out a blog post I wrote several months ago. You can find it here.

We have a really messed up view of good. Just think: when someone asks you if you had a good day, what is your definition of good? I bet it doesn't include being stretched until you feel like you're about to tear apart. But what is God's view of good? Yep, it's okay to pull the Sunday school answer out here. Jesus. 

Jesus was good. 

But was his life easy, or comfortable, or fun, or convenient? Not really. It was pretty much the opposite. He was mocked and ridiculed by many. He had no place to lay his head. He had no riches or glory. But his life was GOOD. 

So what is the goal for us, as Christ-followers? The goal is to be more and more like Jesus, right? That's usually not gonna be the most fun thing we've experienced. It leaves us with this question:

Are you gonna change your definition of good, or your definition of God?

"Do you trust me?"

The Post that was more Important to Write than Getting Sleep.

Hey guys,
Honesty,I have to tell you, I've been putting this post off. Why? Well, that's a question I've had to ask myself. I think part of it has to do with the fact that this post will be about a very heavy topic.  Another part has to do with the fact that I'm afraid. Afraid of what? I'm afraid that I won't be able to communicate what I want to. That the post won't be what it needs to be. I feel inadequate. But I think the biggest reason that this post is being written so many days after I decided to write it is frankly, because the devil doesn't want it to be written and has done everything in his power to disrupt the writing of it.

Now I'm sure I've peaked your interest a little bit. What on earth could be so heavy and so important?

I am here today to inform you of what is going on with the Christians in Iraq. 

Many of you may have heard about it in detail. For others, this may be the first news you've had about it. But I've been realizing more and more in the past weeks, that as a Christian, it is my responsibility to be an advocate. To give a voice to those that don't have one. And raising awareness, while it can seem small and insignificant, is one way I can be a voice for them.

In one sentence, the Christ followers in Iraq are being severely persecuted for their faith by a terrorist group called the ISIS. 

It's one of those news stories we see as we scroll through Facebook or be pass by as we do a Google search. One of the news stories we don't give much thought to. Like I said in my last post, we are desensitized. Its just one more news story about people being mistreated. So we don't  give it much more thought than that and we keep scrolling. 

Do you believe in the objectification of people? I would hope you would say no. But in a sense, that is exactly what we are doing when we scroll past these stories. We are de-peopleing the people in the story. 

So I am going to ask you to do something revolutionary. We are going to go through an exercise together to re-people these people. 

I'm going to ask you to look at these pictures not as news stories or as just pictures on a screen, but as people. Who are these people? What are they thinking? What are they feeling? What are they going through? 

Look at this man. Is he just a news story? Or is he your brother in Christ? Think of the trials he is going through! This man is living for Jesus, knowing that it will probably cost him his life. Knowing that he may have to endure torture. Knowing that his family might be taken from him, or worse, that he might have to watch them suffer. Look at his face. Why is he crying? Has his wife just been taken? Have they cut his little daughter's head off? Does he know that this is his last day on earth? 

Church, this is your brother in Christ.

Now look at these faces. Can you imagine being a mother at a time like this? Having to remain strong even when you are more terrified than you have ever been? Knowing that this child that you hold might be killed and there's nothing you can do to protect her? Look at the child's face. That is fear. That is terror. You know how you felt as a kid when you saw a scary movie and were sure there were monsters under your bed? Well what if you saw screaming families being separated by brute force? What if you saw people fleeing for their lived only to drop dead with a bullet through their head? What if you saw dead, mutilated bodies lining the streets? People you knew. People that you had talked to yesterday, people that were your neighbors. And all this because these people loved Jesus. Can you imagine the terror this child felt when she realized that her family loved Jesus too?That these bad people that belonged in nightmares were coming for her family? What can this terrified mother say to comfort her child? What can she say to comfort herself? She could pay a fee and say that Allah is the only God and her family would be safe. I'm sure it is a tempting thought as she sees the terror in her child's face.Then she could tell her child that mommy will make it all better. But instead she must choose Jesus. She must go against every motherly instinct, against every frightened cell in her body.She must make this decision knowing that it will only get worse from here.Knowing that all her worst fears will become a reality. Knowing that these people will do anything and everything horrible to her and her family. Knowing that the only hope past this point is just finally being in heaven. But knowing that to get there, she will first have to go through the closest thing to hell that she will ever experience. 

Church, these are your sisters in Christ.

Have you ever felt empty? Have you ever felt alone? Have you ever felt desperate? Have you ever felt like you have nowhere to go? Well what about these people? They have fled their homes hoping to stay alive. They have nothing. No food. No house. No certainty of the future. No place to go. No certainty that they are safe.  Can you imagine being in a situation where there were so many people out to kill you that no matter where you went, you were in danger? You couldn't go to the next town for safety. You couldn't try to flee the country in any normal sense of the word because you were trying to get out alive. And no matter where you go, you are alone. You have no voice. You have no advocate. No one will fight for you. So your best bet is to flee to the middle of nowhere and not be noticed. You don't know where you next meal will come from. But maybe starvation would be better than being murdered.

Church, these are your brothers and sisters in Christ.

A family photo that I'm sure this family never planned to have. Can you imagine this beautiful family of eight. Brothers and sisters that loved each other. Parents that cared for and provided for their six wonderful children. Picture in your mind this family sitting together on the sofa in the background reading their bibles. Talking to each other about God's power and love. One child has a story to share from his own life. Another has a verse to add that she had just found yesterday. The family sits down for dinner. They talk about their days. They insert funny stories from their lives. Can you see the laughter, the love, the joy in their faces as they sit together around the table? Even as they knew of the persecution, can you imagine them bringing their fears to the Lord together. Gathering together as a family and praying for strength. Then it happens.Members of the ISIS storm in their house. They give them a choice: convert to Islam or die. Then you hear it. The shots of the men's guns as each member of the beautiful family crumples to the ground.

Church, this is your family in Christ.

A cute child to be sure! Maybe you can imagine, in another lifetime, him playing legos with your sons. Maybe you can imagine him giggling as his dad pushes him on a swing. But his dad probably isn't who you imagined. His dad believes in Allah. His dad believes that the world should be rid of those that don't. This little boy has grown up hearing those messages. So now, just as your son would proudly pose with a trophy from the science fair, this little boy proudly holds up the bloody head of a Christian  and smiles for the camera. That Christian is your brother in Christ, and now his head is being held up as a child's trophy.

Church, Christ calls us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

This is your sister. She has lived in this persecution. She has seen women get raped and tortured. She has seen the ISIS members beheading helpless children. She has seen the fleeing families. She has seen it all. And yet she shows up to church. And yet she stands strong in her faith. She knows that ISIS members could barge through the doors of that church at any moment and kill them all. Her faith is a real thing. It is worth it. She is forced to ask, "Can I believe in a God that calls me to die for him? Can I believe in a God who sees what is happening and gets glory through it?" And her answer is yes. She knows that God sees her suffering. She knows He does not find joy in watching His people being mistreated. She knows He cries with her. She comes to church, after all she has seen during the week, and she praises God. She worships Him. She prays for her enemies. She is a broken woman. A woman wholly surrendered to Christ. She is scared, she is grieving the loss of so many around her, she is terrified, she is angry, she is weak. But she clings to Christ with everything that she has.

Church, this is your sister in Christ.

Church, this is more than just another news stories. These are your brothers and sisters in Christ. Do you see them as people now? Do you see their pain? Do you feel their fear and their suffering? Does the injustice that they face make you angry?

Does this post make you ask what you can do?

I hope it does. 

I hope you shed tears for these precious brothers and sisters facing all their nightmares becoming realities.

I hope you stay up at night thinking about them.

I hope you can't get them out of your mind..

And I hope you pray. Pray for them with everything in your being. Pray for the mothers, the fathers, the sisters, the brothers, the children. Pray while you eat breakfast, pray while you shower, pray while you sing worship songs at church, pray while you heat up leftovers, pray while you wash dishes, pray constantly. 

PRAY.

You may want to know what else you can do. One thing I ask is that you do the same as I did: raise awareness. Post something to Facebook. Change your profile picture. Share this blog post. Research the story for yourself. (Only look up pictures if you can stomach looking at mangled, bloody bodies.) Spread the word. Get every Christian you can to pray for their brothers and sister in Iraq. 

Other things you can do are to give money to organisations that are helping the refugees. You can contact your politicians to make them aware of the situation. You can sign petitions that raise awareness and push others to act. 

Here is a blog post that gives you more ideas for what you can do: http://www.christiantoday.com/article/crisis.in.iraq.six.things.you.can.actually.do.to.help/39094.htm

Here is a petition that you can sign:  http://wh.gov/lM2As

But more than anything, I just urge you to pray. We so often underestimate the power of prayer and/or get too busy to take moments to converse with God throughout our day. But remember the God we serve. He is a just God. He is a loving God. And He is the King of Kings-the all-powerful Lord. The ISIS members do not intimidate Him. So bring these Iraqi Christians to Jesus in prayer. He's got it from there!

One of Those Weeks

It is another normal summer day. Once again I find myself logging onto Facebook to browse the ever-interesting newsfeed. Only to find that it is "one of those weeks" again.

Now I know saying it like that sounds derogatory - but it is not. It is merely a statement of fact. I do not moan or complain that it is "one of those weeks". Instead, I feel.

Have you ever logged onto Facebook and noticed that it is one of those weeks? No, not the weeks where little annoying issues arise in people's lives. Not the #firstworldproblems kind of weeks. The kind of week where you log onto Facebook expecting some statements of the obvious, some interesting updates on peoples lives, and a few witty lines here and there. But instead, Facebook slaps you across the face with the painful reality that this world is filled with hurting people.

One glimpse at your newsfeed and your misconceptions about how all your friends are happy, they have it all together, they are in a good spot right now--those misconceptions go right down the drain. You are faced again with the horrible fact that you try so often to ignore or forget: everyone is hurting about something. This world is filled with pain, heartache, loss, and emptiness. Times when your life shatters before your eyes. Times when not even the most encouraging note can convince you that it will be okay again. Times when the masks come off. When we see the real, raw, gritty, hurting person instead of the porcelain-faced doll they tried to be.

Isn't it funny how one glimpse at our newsfeed can bring us back to reality? How one glimpse can remind us that bad, horrible, horrific things happen in this world...to people we love. How one glance can instantly have us questioning our faith. How one glance can show us the multitude of individuals that find themselves bombarded by different crisis' in their lives. One glance of this hurting world--one tiny itty bitty glance--and we feel the weight. Our hearts are heavy. We lift our hearts to the King of Kings knowing that he has a reason and a plan, but having to accept the fact that His plan incudes pain.

It is one of those weeks.

 

Now here is the point in the blog post where I turn it back around. Where I tell you that you don't need to have heavy hearts. How we have a God who is in control. How we have a God who has a plan. A God who is the Comforter, the Healer, the King of Kings.

 

And while that is the God we serve, tonight I am refusing to tell you those things. Too often we hear people telling us, "Here's the facts....but it's okay, don't worry, don't trouble yourselves, it will all be okay.."Because, frankly, we don't like to have heavy hearts. We don't like to feel the tension of a hurting world. We don't like reality.

 

So we desensitize instead of empathize.

 

God made us to be empathetic people. He says to laugh with those who laugh and weep with those who weep. We are supposed to feel others pain with them. But we train ourselves not to feel. But that is not how God meant us to be! We try to put all these safeguard up so that we don't get hurt and so that we never feel pain. We find tricks to help us ignore or forget or dismiss the news stories. We invent this "out of sight, out of mind" philosophy for the hurting people in our lives. We want to be happy, right? But each layer of walls and safeguards we set in place makes our life further and further from the abundant lives Christ has called us to live. He created the church to do life together. And yet we don't do that why? Because we don't want to feel pain. Because we want to be happy; even if it is a superficial kind of happy.

 

 

Well, I want to challenge you today. Not the general "you" of the general audience reading this. No, I want to challenge YOU. See? You're already trying to desensitize yourself and I haven't even asked you to act yet. Do you feel the weight of this issue? I'm challenging you to feel more. To empathize. To act. To live as the hands and feet of Christ like He has called you to. And that is a great challenge, right? But a challenge doesn't tend to have much weight unless the participant understands the true weight of the issue involved. I'm getting the drift that you don't fully understand it.

 

No, don't you dare get all defensive on me! I see those walls going up. "I get it!" you say, "Please stop writing. I will do your stupid challenge (albeit halfheartedly), and there's no need for your to explain further."

 

Okay, okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you get it. Maybe you even allow yourself to FEEL more than the general public does. So  then tell me, when was the last time you couldn't sleep because of an issue you saw in the news? When was the last time you cried yourself to sleep because of the pain and hurt your friend was going through?  When was the last time you prayed to God with every cell in your body for someone else? When was the last time you felt someone else's hurt as if it were your own and you prayed from the deepest part of your being for them?

 

I bet you can't answer those questions. And I get it. Because, honestly, I have trouble answering them too!

 

But today I am standing up and saying that we are doing it wrong. I am calling you as a Christian, to stand up with me to be ambassadors for Christ in a broken and hurting world. To bring Christ's love to others through empathy, heavy hearts, prayer, and service. I am calling you to start living in Christ-centered community as it was meant to be. I am calling you to not only laugh with those who laugh, but to also weep with those who weep. Can you do that?

 



Then please join me!