From Northern Lights to Southern Stars

Have you ever seen the northern lights?

Northern lights fascinate me to the point of an almost obsession. I've even gotten up in the middle of the night to see if they've come out that night. The mostly green, but ranging in colour from yellow to pink to blue, lights dance across a frozen expanse of sky on an almost nightly basis in the north. Some nights, the lights even sing.

Night is my time. My brain sort of muddles through the day, and as evening approaches, all of the cogs finally settle into place and start spilling out coherent thoughts. When I was much younger I used to write myself to sleep, writing poetry, prose, and wildly imaginative stories and arguments in my head until I drifted off to sleep. No counting sheep here! And many nights, when that didn't work, I'd get up and wander the backyard for hours watching the sky, the stars, the moon, the northern lights. God has spoken to me a lot in those hours, and in many nighttime wanderings since childhood. My closest moments with God, as well as my deepest wrestlings have come after midnight, under a night sky.

When I moved to the South Pacific, my midnight wanderings didn't change. But the sky did. No more northern lights. Rather, the sky grew deeper and closer, stars shone differently, clustered, the sky looked more like diamond-encrusted velvet, and instead of northern lights, I looked for falling stars. I would sit in the sand or swing in the hammock, under palm trees and hear waves pound over the reef. The struggles and moments with God, changed the same way the night sky did. The struggles were deeper and closer to the heart, and the moments of closeness with God were so much more beautiful, more precious even than they had ever been before.

Many nights I sat there, homesick for a Canadian sky, watching the tide go out and feeling like everything I knew to be right and true and real was pulling away with it. The difficulty of making another country home, trying to find place or belonging, struggling to learn the joy of living and learning cross-culturally, having everything you think is normal counteracted, all these things brought me out underneath the night sky. All these things cemented my relationship with God, as I learned to let go, and let God. It started to be home.

And then, one night, God whispered, it's time to leave.

A few months later, broken, still in the middle of full-time ministry, my last night arrived. Emotions were running high and team dynamics were everywhere. The base was in the middle of its yearly trustees meetings and mission builders, staff and community were all going through dramatic times. I put my babies to bed (not actually mine, I just get to loan them sometimes:) ), and I escaped. My bags were packed, and I went to the beach, one last night, one final stand in the ocean, looking at the stars.

It wasn't a long linger, it was short, hurried, me knowing that anything too long would bring on a flood of tears that I wasn't prepared for. That was my last midnight wandering for awhile, and I was angry with God.

I wasn't in a good place when I left. Emotionally and physically, I was worn out. There was very little love left, although I was serving and teaching, my faith in God was at an all time low. Looking back it scares me, a little, I could have kept on going for a long time, just barely making the grade, putting on a cover.

But by God's grace, mercy an infinite wisdom, He pulled me out.

I came back to Canada with the goal of relocating to serve in Asia in 8 months. I arrived in Canada in April and I was positive I was going to leave by January.

It's 4:23am, as I write this, and everyone is sleeping, otherwise I would be laughing out loud. Because it's so ridiculous, writing this and realizing the unrealistic expectations I had.

By July, I started cluing in that God wasn't going to be moving me to Asia as quickly as I'd planned, but that didn't stop me from trying to force His hand.

Apparently God is more stubborn than I am.

Good thing too. It's been hard, emotionally and spiritually recovering. But what's been harder, is realizing the absolute lack of control that I have. I like to be in charge of situations. I like knowing that if I do a, followed by b, naturally c will occur. God, (surprise, surprise) doesn't work like that.
It's more like if I do a, He'll do z, and naturally 8 will occur.

God doesn't think like me. Probably a good thing too.

I've been lying awake thinking of Jeremiah 29:11. Everyone knows this verse: For I know the thoughts I think towards you, says the Lord. It's probably one of the most over-quoted scriptures of all time. Doesn't make it less true though. Even though this is a verse written specifically with Israel in mind, it teaches us something about the character and nature of God: We are on God's heart, and His plans towards us our plans with good intention.

God showed me something a few years ago. When you look at the context of this verse, Jeremiah is writing a letter to the children of Israel, they've just been carried away captive. Let's put it another way, an army has just come in and forced them out of their homes. There has probably been killing, robbery, abuse, maybe even rape. They've been taken out of their homes and been forced to relocate into another land. At first glance, it doesn't really look like Jeremiah is writing a letter of hope, he's telling the captives to settle in this other land, there's not going to be rescue, no one's coming to save them, not for 70 years! That's more than a lifetime for some of them.

And then Jeremiah inserts the promise that God is thinking good thoughts towards them.

I know for a fact, that I would not have been receptive or believed in that promise. It wouldn't have looked like there was any hope. Stripped of everything, I would have done what I could to regain control over my situation.

But God moves us into places and situations we can't control. It drives us to our knees and it brings us, or at least me, under the night sky, recognizing the vastness of God and His infinite wisdom.

I was broken when I left the South Pacific, but I didn't realize how much. I'm becoming whole again, finding my feet and my personality and new vision and new dreams. I still want to serve. My heart is still to go overseas, to share God's love with people who have never encountered hope.

The journey there might just take longer than expected.

One thing I do know, from northern lights to southern stars, He is still God. His sovereignty does not change. He's got the whole world in His hands.


Note: The photos on this page are not my personal photos, but pulled off of google images. 

The Pink Goop

There's this image floating around in my head of a cartoon character with the top of his head tipped back and a bunch of pinky, sticky goop roiling out, his hands frantically trying to capture the goop and keep it contained.

I feel like that in some of my best moments. Like I'm hard-pressed, trying to keep every thought contained and in one place. But one thought tips over into another thought, and away I go again. Goop everywhere. 

This week, maybe even this past month or two, the thoughts have been mostly centred around one thing. 

....Well, someone did pose the question, "If Jesus lived on earth today, what kind of vehicle would He drive?" That has also taken a good bit of roiling goop, but I think I may have eliminated quite a few of the possibilities. (Message me if you want to follow that train of thought.) But mostly this week, I've been thinking about this: I have a past.

Even sitting here, writing this, I can feel the pink goop exploding across the room, memories and haunts, insane-hysterical laughter and dark-pit times. I have times I want to go back to and moments I'm trying to shove into back recesses of closets, never to see the light of day.

These last few weeks, as I've been looking at a increasingly sad, lacking-in-a-professional-way, resume, I feel like screaming out, I have a past! I have experience. I have so many skills. I just don't know how to put it in a resume.

Making new friends and catching up with old friends, I feel like saying, I have a past. So many moments have changed my heart. To old friends, I want to say, but I'm different than I was. To new friends, I want to say, if only you knew me then. Because so much in the past few years has developed me in the now. Hurts and healing. Old battle wounds and fresh scars. New purpose, old dreams.

Even if you haven't walked with me through it, I have a past.

We all do, I suppose. Everyone has been somewhere, gone through something, to get to where they are today. But since August, it's my past that keeps drawing me back to Psalm 66:8-12.  Paraphrased, it says, "You, Oh God, have tested us, You have tried us as silver is tried. You laid a crushing burden on our backs, You brought us through fire and water, and yet You have brought us into a place of abundance." My past.

Many parts of my past embarrass me. There are so many things I would rather have NO ONE EVER KNOW. From the surprisingly stupid to the depressingly dark, there are a lot of things I would rather have remain hidden. And I won't lie, there are many moments where I thought God had completely abandoned me on some lonely corner of the world, be it Canada, the Cook Islands, Australia, Vanuatu, Thailand, the list could go on.

There have been many degrees of moments, fire, water, and burdens. But read the end of Psalm 66:12: yet you have brought me into a place of abundance...

I often joke about my old age. But I'm really not that old. Only 26 as a matter of fact (for any of you trying to do the math, yep, proud to be an 80s child). Still, I can see how God has brought me through testing into abundance, already, in such a short period of time.
From one corner of the world to the other, I've seen His hand move in many different ways.
And more importantly, I've seen His hand move in my heart, through my past, and I trust, into my future. Whatever country I live in, whatever my life will one day look like, He's the One that's shaped my past in order to bring me into the present, and will walk with me through the rest of my life.

Sometimes, we don't think that things can get better as they go on. How can something get more beautiful? But God grows us in richness and colour and depth. The more colourful our past, the more beautiful He can make our future.

At breakfast with friends one morning this past week, someone pointed out Paul the apostle. We think of Paul as this crazy hero of the Bible. Which he is. But he was also human. And he had a past. Like a super messed-up past. He was responsible for the death of many Christians, and God used him to build the church. But he had to live with his past. He wrote so beautifully about grace, because he had to experience greater depths of God's grace.

It gives me hope. A dirty, stained past does not need to equal no future. God's hand is continually making a path for me into an abundance of life.

He has my moments. All of them. And furthermore, I don't need to be ashamed of them. Without them, I would't be the me I am today.

So, today, I'm reigning in that pink goop. I'm cleaning up the mess and taking control of the fear that reigns when I think of how other people see me. Because, I am a child of God. He's simply, not finished with me yet. 

Authenti-Say What?!?!?

Authenticity is defined by my dictionary as:
1. Being of undisputed origin
2. Being reliable or trustworthy

Brene Brown has said that choosing authenticity means cultivating the courage to be emotionally honest, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable; exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made of strength and struggle and connected to each other through a loving and resilient human spirit; nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we let go of what we are supposed to be and embrace who we are.  

To me, being authentic simply translates into being real. 

I was going to scrap this post. Just leave it, think of something different to write. I couldn't think of anything, and to be honest, I still haven't really thought of anything to write, but after this week, I'll accept the challenge and see what happens on the other side. 

It's Friday, very early morning, and I've been up almost all night. (And it's not because I've had too much coffee, I only had 1 1/2 cups yesterday, for all of you who are sitting and smirking and telling me in your minds that I drink too much coffee.) I'm in limbo. I don't have a job and I think this is what you call delayed jet lag, I'm not sure it's a thing, but I'm on my way to making it a thing. 

And right about here is where you go, I thought at the beginning of this she was defining, what was the word? Oh yeah, authenticity. 

I was, and I still am. 

Please, take a little journey with me into history. 2 Kings 2 is the story of Elijah being taken into heaven (side note: how cool would not dying be?) and Elisha being blessed with a double portion of his spirit. I read this story earlier in the week and it struck me in a fully new light. I also didn't know what this week would be like for me personally, so I kinda just archived it away in the brain and moved on, but I'm seeing now, how much deeper God wants to pull me into this story.

Elisha, bless his heart, wants a double portion of the spirit Elijah had. Essentially, he's asking for a double amount of God.  Elijah says, "If you see me taken into heaven, your request will be granted." Elisha, stubbornly persistent, stays with Elijah and sees him being swept away in a whirlwind of chariots and fire. The double portion of the spirit seems to immediately rest on him, as he takes Elijah's cloak, rolls it up, and hits the water with it, crossing the Jordan River back into Jericho. (A Bible teacher once mentioned, and I've never looked into it, so if it's wrong forgive me, that Elisha has double the amount of miracles recorded in the Bible than Elijah had, but if it's true, request granted and fulfilled.)

Up to this point, in my Bible reading, I'm going, "God, make me more like Elisha, look how much he wanted You. I want You that way." And then I read the rest of the chapter. 

Elisha crosses the Jordan River and is met by the sons of the prophets who are all amazed that Elisha has been given Elijah's spirit and immediately petition him to send people to go see if God has just dropped Elijah off in the mountains somewhere. Elisha says no, but after being approached repeatedly, he gives in, the ESV says, feeling ashamed, and sends men into the mountains to see if Elijah has fallen out of God's chariot into a mountain or valley somewhere. The strong men search for 3 days and return empty-handed. Elisha says to them, "See, told you not to go."

Second story: Elisha leaves Jericho and heads to Bethel. As he's leaving, boys come out and mock him, calling him a bald-head. Elisha turns and pronounces a curse on them and 2 bears come out of the woods and maul 42 boys, I'm assuming to death, but the Bible doesn't actually say. 

And you're probably still thinking, so authenticity???

Elisha is gung-ho, totally pumped up and completely hungry for God. He has been mentored by Elijah, seen miracles, gleaned wisdom, and now watched the man he admires disappear into God's care without physically dying. How incredibly radical?!?! But I wonder, how long does it take for him to realize that now people will be looking to him to be the man of God that Elijah was? When does the insecurity start to step in?

I'm thinking, not very long, if the first people he meets, try to get him to doubt that God's ability and His care of His children. Let me just put it this way, how likely is it that God would allow someone to fall out of His chariot? But the men shame Elisha into sending men to go and look for Elijah. Elisha is feeling the pressure to please others more than pleasing God. His insecurity in his new role translates into doubt of God. 

The second story just proves to illustrate a further insecurity. So I haven't studied it, and there may be some cultural connotation to this story, and if there is, please let me know. But from plain reading, it seems like Elisha is just insecure about his looks. Not fully whole in who God has created him to be.

I'm bringing this up, because I'm beginning to believe that it is impossible to be authentic when we allow our insecurities to rule our lives. We begin to produce facades, projecting images to others of who we'd like to be perceived as, not of who we actually are. We try to continually project to society that we're okay, we have this all together. 

We don't. We're all hopelessly flawed and life is just super hard. 

I understand that there is some performance-based action that is good and also that we still have to live up to some societal norms. It's not necessarily good to tell people every single little issue happening in your life. But I want to challenge us to be real. Find those people in your life that you can talk to if you're struggling or connect to if God has brought you through something hard and they're going through the same thing.

Life sucks sometimes, there are cancer scares, pregnancy scares, suicide scares. People are hurting. So deeply. People are being challenged by life every day and they're feeling like they're walking this journey alone. 

I've been through things that I don't want to go through ever again. Many days, I don't even want to be reminded of the past. I want to close the lid and pretend it never happened. I think we all have those things. But we need to realize that we've come through things for a reason, and it's generally so that we can walk through it with someone else. 

God created us for community. Community is real and it's hard and it's beautiful. But the best way to do it, is by being authentic with the people that God has placed around you. 

Who can you connect with today? Who is going to be part of your life-journey?

Silent

I've been silent for a little while. Well, not me exactly. The blog has been silent.

My life has been anything but silent. I've been adventuring. And it's been awesome. I left La Crete on the 17th of August and I arrived in Rarotonga on the 21st of August, after delayed flights and lost luggage, in the middle of a tropical deluge.

My time in Rarotonga was alternately wet and sunny, cold and hot, happy and sad, but one thing it was not was silent.

I made new friends, built deeper relationships, babysat, pretty much wiped out my creativity, jogged on the beach, practiced my non-existent swimming and dancing skills, laughed much too hard, and spent more hours at the playground than most children, but it wasn't silent.

Since returning to Canada, I've taken a few road trips, laughed too much, mourned the passing of summer, caught up with friends, made plans with more friends, wrestled with my siblings, and started an Alberta-wide job hunt. But I haven't been silent.

Today, after a run, a few hours in town, and visiting with my grandparents, I came home to an empty house, grand, big and silent, with a warm fire and silence. Complete and utter silence.

No people, no music, no laughing. It was weird. It was scary. So I turned on Netflix. I justified it, because I hadn't watched anything on Netflix for 2 months.

But now I'm sitting here, realizing, that I don't do silence. I'm always connected, someway, to something or someone.

Where is the Be still and know that I am God? It's not. I'm beginning to realize that I can't be quiet with God, and that means that there is no depth of character, no substance to my soul.

This is something to practice. This is something to teach my soul. It's time to unplug and plug into God. Corny, I know, kinda lame, but I think it's time to face the fear, and see what God has in store for me.