Where the Extraordinary Things Are

My freshman year of high school, I started a blog. Its purposes and platforms transformed over the years into what you’re reading now. But one of the first posts I remember writing was especially concerned with the word extraordinary.

In my theological and creative infancy, this word perplexed me. Extraordinary was meant to indicate anything exceeding the ordinary, yet if you separated it at the prefix, it would indicate something especially ordinary. 14-year-old Bekah dissected this single word with the understanding that Christianity calls people to go beyond the ordinary, that living the Gospel meant anything but ordinary. In a not-so-surprising turn of events, I find that 14-year-old Bekah was, in many ways, incredibly mistaken.

One of my dear friends and former writing coaches once told me to “always make the most extraordinary choice that you can in the moment.” I held on to that advice, and did my best to follow it. Extraordinary choices helped me get to where I am today, literally and figuratively.

Grace & Main’s Prayer Book

Today, and for most of this month, I am in Danville, VA. I have a residency here with a ministry called Grace & Main, an intentional and ecumenical Christian community that focuses on sustainable and sincere ministry through practice of radical hospitality & community.

Essentially, they have a network of hospitality houses throughout the downtown area that serve as home bases for the work that they do in the community. It is relationship-based ministry in which they partner with those experiencing homelessness and poverty, working together to sustain, encourage, and empower one another.

The interdependence that this kind of ministry encourages–sharing resources, leveraging various privileges, and rejecting materialism–are certainly out-of-the ordinary when it comes to the capitalist, individualist culture in which we live. But in most cases, ministry here lies in the especially ordinary.

Mother Teresa, while waiting for the permission to begin the order that would later define her ministry, was described as “struggling to restrain her fervor,” as she “had to follow the regular practices of convent life and find other avenues of expressing her ardent love.” While this hospitality house is certainly not a convent, it is true that in community life, fervor looks a lot like regular practices. It’s not glamorous, not even in the “mission trip” kind of way. It’s just living. It’s pulling weeds, sharing meals, even taking regular time to rest and pray. If you’re looking for a grandiose way to express your religiosity, you won’t find it here.

It is, in fact, extra-ordinary. And there is extraordinary power in these ordinary things. Thomas Merton once wrote:

“Eternity is in the present. Eternity is in the palm of the hand. Eternity is a seed of fire, whose sudden roots break barriers that keep my heart from being an abyss…”

Eternity is in the present. Eternity is at the dinner table. Eternity is in shared cups of coffee. Eternity is sitting in the backseat of a van, the corner of a library, the bench of a bus stop. Eternity is peering out at us among the radish beds between the weeds, perhaps giving us a glimpse of Divine Mystery.

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When the curtain calls (and God does too.)

Its been a long time since I’ve fired up the old blog, but I realize if I don’t sit down and type this out now, I never will.

Lately I’ve felt preoccupied with the issue of calling. That’s a tricky word in Christian context, so let me clarify that what I mean here is primarily what to do with grad school and whatever career may follow. What does God want me to do with my life? I tend to be a very future-minded person, which is great in some circumstances, but terrible in others. By this time next year, I will have graduated college. (woah.)

In the fall of last year, God made it clear that I need to pursue seminary instead of theatre school. That has been a much easier decision than I anticipated it to be. As a kid, everyone wants to have their talent, their “thing” that they do and become relatively known for. Every kids TV show seems to have an episode for this dilemma, where the protagonist tries so many things and fails, BUT THEN they find that ONE thing and it’s usually really obscure. It’s like in Elf when they’re trying to convince Buddy he’s a good elf. “You always change the batteries in the smoke detector! You’re the only bass in the elf choir!”

When I was a kid, I was that one trying everything, just trying to find somewhere to belong. My parents never let my disability stop me from trying anything. It seems like all the time I had a new hobby I was trying, because I was convinced I had a talent and I just had to find it. I tried out for a solo in church choir, two years in a row–to no avail. At this point I was over age 10 and felt like I was running out of options. Would I ever be good at anything? The next year, instead of trying for a solo, I decided to audition for the drama portion of church choir. I can’t remember if it was the first or second year I auditioned, but I do remember that I made it! And I had a part with lots of lines, too! And that was when I decided theatre was my “thing.”

Lots and lots of acting classes and [mostly unsuccessful] auditions later, I still clung to theatre as my identifier. When I got to high school, I signed up for theatre class, no questions asked. I tried my hardest to be involved regardless of how auditions went. Sophomore year I didn’t get a part, so I stayed hours after school hot-gluing props together. Junior year my role was non-speaking, so I asked to stage manage, too. (I wouldn’t know until I got to college what being stage manager really meant!) Senior year I looked forward to getting a good role. I had to, I was a senior, isn’t that how it goes? Oh, I was senior alright. The play was The Crucible, and my part was that of Rebecca Nurse, a woman in her eighties who gets accused of witchcraft. Me? An old woman? Really? At first I was a little bitter, as many are when a cast list emerges. After a day of moping, I decided that if I was going to be Rebecca Nurse, I was going to be the best damn Rebecca Nurse those folks had ever seen. Truth is, it’s hard to play an elderly person, when you haven’t been through that stage of life before. But I put all of my might and passion and skill into that role. I was the first of the cast to have all his/her lines memorized, I rocked a killer grandma wig, had a formidable old cane that I grew to love, and in my last scene I did my own make-up to make sure that I looked like I’d been in prison for eight months. Looking back on it, I may have looked more like a chimney sweep, but I pulled it off. And I ended up having a blast. I always had a blast doing theatre, but that was when it really became real. When I felt like I could finally say “Here I am, I am a part of this.” I was asked to stage manage for our musical the following spring, but unfortunately had to decline because of course load. But you can bet I found my place, working as a backstage sound tech, studying for my IB/AP courses between mic checks.

Deciding to tack theatre on as another major in college seemed really inconsequential at first. It only seemed natural. I couldn’t not be involved in theatre. My combination of majors in indeed uncouth: Theatre Arts & World Religions. When people ask, I usually have to repeat myself a couple of times. Throughout college, I’ve been proud about the fact I have two majors and that I haven’t changed either of them. I love both of my departments so very much. But by this time last year, I felt like I had come to a crossroads. What was next? Long story short, I had narrowed it down to a divinity degree, or a degree in Stage Management. Fall semester, God used a variety of things to show me that seminary would be the better place for me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. At first, it was really hard. I consulted a lot of my mentors, professors, and people I trust. A lot of times I got similar responses–that I would be good at both things. That’s just it, though.

For my entire college career, I have been divided. My attention, time, and resources have been divided between two excellent passions: Theatre, and Cross-Cultural Ministry. Both are time-consuming, and hard on the heart in different ways. By conventional standards, I am “good at” both things. But over the past year, I’ve become simply exhausted and burnt-out, friends. I have split myself into so many pieces that it’s hard to tell who I am anymore. Of course my identity is in Christ, and will always remain there, but I can’t honestly say I’ve kept good sight of that this school year. Part of what God is showing me is that I can’t keep dividing myself.

Junior year led me to some wonderful things, including rediscovering the joy I find in Biblical and cultural study. But, particularly spring semester, it also forced me to revisit some of my darkest places. I’ve had several “relapses” in regards to my anxiety disorder. I’ve had a lot of life circumstances aggravating my anxiety disorder, making symptoms more severe. I have been overwhelmed the worst degree. In the words of Needtobreathe, the Devil’s been talkin’. There were days I was convinced that I was worthless, or that everyone hated me, or that I would never please anyone. I considered getting a big sign that said “congratulations! You have gone __ days without a nervous breakdown!” I almost always had a roll of toilet paper on or near my bed, because I would cry, and I mean CRY, almost every day. But thanks to the grace of God and a very tolerant roommate, fortunately I can say I never truly hit rock bottom–trust me, rock bottom is much worse.

Through all of this difficulty and more, the Lord has been faithful and will always be. He brought me through that valley called junior year. And as the cliché goes, we learn more lessons in the valley than on the mountaintop. And one of the biggest lessons I’ve carried out of this is that I can’t remain divided anymore. During my internship last summer, God made it clear that ministry includes putting yourself in a place where you can thrive in order to minister most effectively. I am not thriving by dividing myself into dozens of pieces: some for the mission field, some for the theatre, some for my friends, etc. I have put myself in physical, mental, emotional, and most importantly spiritual distress. And so God says, “time for some pruning, kid.” And I, unable to run anymore, submit to the great Gardener.

Now this doesn’t mean I’m quitting theatre cold turkey; It will always be in my blood. The skills I have gained and experiences I’ve had will influence me for the rest of my life. This next season of GWU theatre is going to be so much sweeter, because I know it will be my last. My last season at GWU. My last season of division. (for a while, at least.) It’s going to be a great season too, including auditioning for my dream role, which I think is a way of God giving me permission to go out with a bang. After I finish both majors, there is no doubt theatre will “haunt” me forever. I will dabble, and I might even use it to make money while I’m trying to earn my seminary degree. But theatre is not my lifeblood. Theatre is not my identity. Theatre will not always be “my thing,” and I’m learning to be okay with that.

Yesterday, I was journaling about my calling. Because quite frankly, I’m looking at ministry job postings and realizing even with the degrees that I am looking at, I still might not be qualified for any of them. Unless I get a dual degree. But Bekah, isn’t that kind of like double majoring again? Yes, yes it is. So all I know about my calling is this:

The common thread that I see in the things I am passionate about is: people are worth something. None has more worth than another. God sees us all as worthy enough to sacrifice His only Son. That is all the worth we need, and more than we deserve. How can I use my life to most effectively help people understand that they are worthwhile because of Jesus?

Letting Grace Prevail: Why I’m letting 2015 off the hook

In writing this year in review, I am tempted to say that 2015 did not treat me well, and that it shorted me, and it owes me a soda and quite possibly a better year. But my resources indicate a need for positive self-talk, which basically means that according to the findings of cognitive behavioral therapy, a bad attitude gets you nowhere in life. That includes demanding that marks on a calendar collectively pitch in to purchase your pity prize, even if a Pepsi only averages $1.50.

The running theme this year, which I imagine will remain prevalent the rest of my life, is grace. As with most years, days, lives, and elaborate films, the theme doesn’t become noticeable until close to the end. Until you’re shouting and throwing popcorn and demanding that things go your way.

Last January, I thought things were going my way. I’d only gotten a 30% on my “things to do in 2014” list, so for 2015 I made myself a shorter list–only 75 items–and was already mentally and financially packing for a summer in Cambodia. A dream internship that couldn’t possibly go wrong, because it was a missions internship, for Jesus and everything! Church-family funded and God-approved, what more could I need?

Meanwhile I was striving to fix some of the gaping holes in my life emotionally and socially. Some episodes in that comedy included the First Pleasant Valentine’s Day since 1st grade, as well as my personal favorite ShiPOOPi: when a musical is thrown in your lap. (That one turned out surprisingly well.) There were some shining moments among the plates I was spinning, like that time I stumbled across a piece of Disney World in Shelby, NC and a new friend to go with it. Friends were a recurring motif, as I’m great at making them but not great at keeping them, because people scare me. Thus, God has to continually remind me that not everyone will ruin my life, and I am indeed liked by some people.

2015 could be called the year nothing is what you think it is. The “is” could be turned into a 15 to make it trendy, even though that would be a long hashtag. I threw myself deeper into the professional theatre scene, attending conferences with some of the coolest cats I know in order to make it with the big-wigs–even classes on how to take care of those big wigs. Then, there was that time I made a campaign speech to the tune of TSwift’s Blank Space, which made me Yik-Yak famous for at least an hour, I think. So basically, by this point in 2015, I thought I could have taken over the world as long as I had a headset, the right words, and some glow tape.

However, such personal strides were interspersed with breakdowns, featuring me sobbing on the dorm floor. My roommate at the time responded accordingly, by making me pop-tarts and then letting me cry, like a goat put in time-out for head-butting things who just needs to sit in his or her own remorse for a while. In return, I did my best not to be angry with her for getting engaged and being more put-together than me.

By April I couldn’t seem to get my head above water, so summer was looking to be 2015’s redeeming feature. But when you’re drowning, it’s hard to see, not to mention that nothing 15 what you think it 15. Intern training camp in May was promising, finding I wasn’t the only crazy dreamer with a global vision of God’s Kingdom. Maybe people weren’t so bad after all.

And then I crossed an ocean, although part of me is still convinced that the world just turned upside-down underneath me. Asia is remarkable; but it is not all Buddhas and lotus flowers, and if you feel so called to its blood-stained but beautiful Southeast region (a wonderful picture of redemption,) I suggest you invest in thicker skin and thinner pants, because it’s pretty roasty-toasty.

Two weeks in and supervisors, ableism, my own body, and God decided that Cambodia didn’t need me, but Cherokee, NC did. Which at that point felt like getting picked last for the kickball team, and even though I should be used to that by this age I lamented heavily, David-style, and accepted my placement while vowing never to expect anything ever again. Expectations are fragile, but we keep them around anyway, and the more we play with them the more likely they are to break.

So I took my suitcase of shattered expectations with me to the reservation, where all I had were bits and pieces, but at least life felt a little simpler. Mornings were cool, days were hot, and most of the time I felt useful, which was refreshing. Little kids reminded me what life was about, and other folks reminded me that there are problems to solve in the world, so we’d best get over ourselves and be the hands and feet of Jesus. Oh, and God said, “missionaries need Jesus, too” and “oh by the way, that includes you.”

And this Dr. Suess-sounding God gave me lots of new friends that I sure hope I can keep. There are a lot of places I could visit where I know there will be brothers and sisters to welcome me, whether its nestled in the suburbs of Peachtree, GA, or Korean church in Memphis, or folks in my own backyard(s) of NC and east Tennessee. Cherokee took shattered ‘ol me and used me anyway, and for that I am extremely grateful.

God then provided me with a way back to Knoxville early, so that I could comfort a friend in the wake of death. Consequently, I realized the significance of death to life and added GWU’s seminar class about death and dying to my schedule for fall, my toughest semester yet. The rest of 2015 has been God turning my world right side up again, which has basically been a lot of God saying “I have something else in mind,” kind of like what he said to Samuel when Jesse brought forth all of his important sons and God chose the shepherd instead. I’ve had to wrestle humility and confidence, sucking it up and returning to physical therapy because there are better things to do than surgery, like saving the world. Also, I’ve learned more theological humility after my summer with the Presbyterians, and decided the life of a church-hopping college student was not worth perfection I wouldn’t find.

God even took all of that professionalism and business I was so proud of and said “that’s not life.” And he pointed out the theatre’s environment of competition and said “that’s not grace,” and then he pointed to seminary and said “this needs you,” and next thing I know I’m over here googling the pre-requisites for a dual degree in Divinity and social work, where rubber meets the road.

My list of things to do in 2016 has only 14 items, the last being to let grace prevail. So I started by giving myself grace and stopping at 14 things. And in accordance with this world’s need for grace, I guess I can let 2015 off the hook too.

The Reality of Grace

“Through the Spirit, Christ offered himself as an unblemished sacrifice, freeing us from all those dead-end efforts to make ourselves respectable, so that we can live all out for God.” ~ Hebrews 9:14-15 (The Message)

With only 11 days left in Cherokee, I’ve already started getting all sorts of questions about my internship experience. Upon hearing that I am interested in ministry, oftentimes people automatically–and unintentionally–begin to consider me some sort of superhuman or martyr. One look at my life will remind others and myself that is certainly not the case, and this brings me to something I have noticed during this season of full-time ministry.

Regardless of our spiritual condition, our passion, our skill sets, our gifts, and even the comfort we have in Christ, ministry is difficult. The air is thick with spiritual warfare, and our finite human condition prevents us from really becoming the flawless saint that we feel pressured to be. And a lot of times, the good news of the Gospel becomes lost as we scramble for some sense of progress, of having it all together. The mission field has a funny way of quickly exposing all of our flaws, sins, and frustrations. It’s easy to get lost in our own imperfection as exhaustion takes over even though we surround ourselves with religious routines. We become frustrated, because all the praying, bible reading, and disciple-making suddenly doesn’t seem like enough for us lame humans.

And you know what? That’s true. The only thing that “qualifies” broken humans like you and me is the grace of Christ. Whether we are new Christians or experienced, missionaries or homebodies, we have an innate desire and outward pressure to “make ourselves respectable.” And when we can’t accomplish that–which, spoiler alert, we can’t–we often think there is some spiritual deficiency to blame. We’re calling people to repent of their sins, to be forgiven, and yet our own life still seems like filthy rags. But isn’t that where the good news comes in?

We have a Savior! And yes, salvation tastes even sweeter once we have realized the depth of our sin. I spent years sitting in my shame, I’m still guilty of that sometimes. My call to ministry started with the realization that I want no one to be in the darkness where I once was. I have been in places of shame, places of regret, places of self-loathing, the list goes on. We must constantly remind ourselves and each other that the beauty of the Gospel is that it doesn’t end there. God doesn’t say “Come to me so that I can make you a better person. Come to me, and become respectable.” It is for freedom that we have been set free! Ministry and missions doesn’t begin with “You have sinned. You have done wrong. Live a different life.” Our mission begins with “See this wonderful light I have found! There is more worth living for, there is redemption for us all!”

Christ has freed us from the need to make ourselves respectable. The salvation we are given begins to seep into all that we do, all that we are. And that is when we can’t help but share it. We are all in need of salvation. That need is evident in the brokenness of this world, and the imperfections of our lives. In the face of our mess, grace abounds. God does not ask us to become saints, He calls us to abide in His love. It is there that we can truly thrive, missionary or not.

My sacrifice of one summer does not imply God’s favor. I can share my story as a broken person made new in Christ. I can truly live, not for myself but all out for God, because of grace, because of freedom, because it’s good news, and that’s something to celebrate!

Pieces of Eden

“For the Lord comforts Zion; he comforts all her waste places and makes her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song” ~Isaiah 51:3 (ESV)

Our first full week in Cherokee is done, and even though its been a crazy journey, I am glad this is where God put me for the rest of the summer. We are surrounded by beautiful mountains, creeks, creatures, and trees. The leadership team here has embraced us wholeheartedly, and I have already been learning so very much over the past week and a half.

The campground hosts different short-term teams that do various mission projects around the reservation. Every Saturday, old teams go home, and new ones come in. The quick team turn-over is difficult for my sentimental soul, but I’ve really enjoyed soaking up the knowledge and company provided by such diverse fellowship.

This past week, a team came in that has been coming to Cherokee for almost 20 years. They have established some relationships with the Cherokee people and have their ministry down to a pretty consistent routine. There was another team that came in as well that did more outreach work. I really enjoyed bonding with members of both teams and serving with them. I primarily worked with the more experienced team as they hosted “Sonshine Bible Days” at the campground. This consisted of VBS for the younger kids, sewing and crafts for the older girls, and construction ministry for the older guys. I got to be a part of VBS, which is always one of my favorite things! Many of the kids look forward to this week every year, so they are enthusiastic participants and make the week a whole lot of fun. I loved my job as a crafts assistant for the week, and I am now a pro at using a hot glue gun! It was wonderful to have a chance to spend time with the Cherokee kids, many of whom come from broken families and other tough circumstances.

Please pray for all of the families that we ministered to over the week, and especially that the missionaries will be able to create and maintain relationships with them. Pray for us as we get ready for new teams to come in, that we would take time to rest. Pray for the Cherokee nation as we continue to come alongside them, wherever in life they may be.

Today, new teams are about to arrive to minister in a variety of ways around the Qualla boundary. Every day my heart for these people gets a little bigger, and I’m looking forward to what they have to teach me. I think that this journal entry from last Saturday provides a nice picture of the home I’m finding here:

Cherokee, 6/20/15. It’s a new week here in Cherokee. We’re cleaning out the cabins and basically hitting the reset button. The night’s rain has left everything in a fresh coat of dew, as though the campground itself is preparing for the newest team arrivals. I like the mountains in the morning, while the air is still cool and fresh…Soon the sun will make its robust appearance, drying things out and kicking nature into high gear, which is too bad, because I enjoy this moment to breathe, with leftover raindrops for my company. If this is the garden the Lord makes from my wilderness, I sure do feel an itty-bit closer to Eden.

Cambodia to Campground: Big Changes Coming Soon!

Important Internship Announcement!

I sought out this journey to the other side of the world in hopes of an immersive and challenging cross-cultural experience. I had been looking and waiting for this opportunity for God to show me what it looks like to wholly depend on Him, while also desiring a clearer picture of what my future in ministry may hold. During my time in Cambodia, the Lord has certainly challenged me to abide in His love, telling me as He told Martha in John 11: “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

And I continue to take the lessons Cambodia has taught me and ponder them in my heart. Yet as with many others before me, God continually whispers that this life to the full is more than I could plan for on my own. Esther never knew she would be a queen; Mary never knew she would be mother of a Savior; Joseph never imagined he’d be more than a carpenter; and Martha never thought she’d see men rise from the dead. And if you’d asked me, I never would have guessed that God would invite me to spend the remainder of my summer serving in Cherokee, NC.

He turned my two months in Cambodia to two weeks, but I am confident that with faith I will catch glimpses of His glory. The rest of my internship time will be spent serving on a Native American reservation right by the border between those two states I call home (TN and NC.) I will be assisting in ministry and meeting various campground needs at one of MTW’s most popular sites for short-term teams. I will have the chance to encourage and build relationships with the staff and mission teams, as well as the Cherokee people. I will also be met with a wide variety of ministry opportunities around the reservation, including everything from retirement homes to children’s ministry.

Thank you for your support and prayers as I make this transition. As you pray, please pray for the Cherokee people and those of us who will be serving them this summer. I am so excited to share these experiences with you! I am looking forward to what this new adventure will bring as I surrender my plans.

In the words of Mary in Luke 1, “Behold, I am a servant of the Lord, let it be to me according to your word.”

Step by Step

“Work, for I am with you, declares the Lord of hosts, according to the covenant I made with you when you came out of Egypt. My Spirit remains in your midst. Fear not.” ~ Haggai 2:4-5

Well my friends, it’s day 6 of my time in Cambodia. I asked the Lord to get me out of my comfort zone, and He sure has provided. Firstly, I wish you all could at some point experience this beautiful country and its merciful people. There is nothing quite like flying over the Mekong River, with surrounding rice fields that create a pattern almost like a hardwood floor. There is nothing quite like fresh papaya newly in season, or the remarkable gecko call sounding you to sleep. The Cambodians are indeed merciful and gracious. They are patient with us as we learn their language, quickly share their fans and umbrellas in the face of extreme heat, and often simply exude kindness.

After a week of orientation, today each of us on the intern team begins our ministry work. There are 5 of us: 2 medical interns that will be traveling, an intern in An’kjeay village, and two of us here in Phnom Penh. Though I am looking forward to beginning ministry, transitioning into a new lifestyle presents challenges, especially seeing as I am set with the task of redefining accessibility everywhere that I go. Here in Cambodia,  accessibility means using my handy-dandy crutches to get around. In the past, I’ve never been a fan of the crutches. I admit I don’t use them as often as I should. I did try to train with them a bit in preparation for this internship by getting a pedometer on my phone and making myself walk a mile when I had the time, but life and finals and papers got in the way. Now that I’m here, I have to be extra intentional about taking care of myself,  even when that means challenging myself physically for the good of these legs that I’ve fought with all my life.

It’s really good for me, but not always easy. Tile floors, inclines, and puddles abound creating one heck of an obstacle course that tests my life motto of “Challenge Accepted!” Earlier this morning, I decided to use my crutches to walk across the street to breakfast, as practice for the greater treks God will give me strength to tackle. The Khmer people that run the guesthouse here are very welcoming and hospitable. And just like every other time I’ve awkwardly shuffled out the door, the guards were ready to carry me anywhere if necessary. Today, motioned with my crutches and told them “No thank you. I am alright.” And one of them using his limited English replied, “Ah. Step by step?” I smiled and said “Yes, step by step!” With that, I kind of realized what this transition thing is all about.

Step by step. Breathe. Fear not. Each step, literally and figuratively, is a victory. And God by his Spirit, takes me step by step. Just keep walking, for I am with you. And as ministry time begins today, I am reminded that the way I will accomplish anything is just that. Step by step.

One Week to Go

Well friends, I have one week until I leave for training, and then Cambodia shortly thereafter. I will be doing my best to update this blog as frequently as possible during my internship, so stay tuned!

Even though I’ve been preparing for this for months, with one week to go it’s just now hitting me how incredibly unprepared I actually am. I’m so unqualified–practically unable. A couple of days ago, after a Skype call with my internship team, this massive feeling of insufficiency hit me in the gut. What am I doing? What makes me think I can do this? Can I do this?

And it dawned on me that this is what I asked for. I asked God for the opportunity to practice radical dependence on Him. And boy, is that what I’ve got here. I just don’t think I ever fully grasped what that means, even though I thought I did. I thought I, of all people, knew what it meant to truly depend on God. I thought all I had to do was fly across the globe without fear, and then it’d seem simple from there. Well, cue the game show buzzer sound, because that is incorrect.

I signed up for more than a flight and a spiritual lift. This isn’t just for my resume, this is going to change my life and cut to the center of my very soul. I’m going to have no choice but to go in fighting from the start; fighting my own will, my own body, fighting for myself and laying it at the feet of those I’m going to serve. And that is what I wanted. That is what I asked for. But I’m only beginning to get a taste of what that really means.

I call myself a “wannabe type-A” person. I have the picture in my mind of how everything needs to go, how it should look, how organized it should be, and how it’s up to me to make it that way. Obviously, I can’t always execute my picture-perfect plans, and especially not on my own. And from time to time God rips up my pretty little pictures and makes something beautiful out of them. This time, I have the feeling its not just a few little pictures. He’s about to rock my world. I’m not certain of much at this point, but I know in one week a journey will begin–a journey at the end of which, I will never be the same.

Don’t Get Comfortable.

I have 5 weeks and 6 days until I leave for my biggest Spirit-led adventure yet. And I haven’t blogged in much longer than that…woops. Life’s getting real, really fast. To be honest, I haven’t posted in so long because no matter what I type, it doesn’t seem like enough to justly describe exactly what God is doing in my life–because half of the time, I don’t have that figured out myself.

But I don’t have to have it all figured out, and that is a humongous relief. When it comes to my Cambodia internship, I still cry every time I realize that it’s real. Not the sad kind of tears, but more like the I-still-can’t-believe-this-is-finally-happening tears that have been welling up inside for years at a time, waiting for the moment to be set free. This is the cross-cultural ministry opportunity I have been praying for. It’s exhilarating and also terrifying.

What has been really tough to master is my state of mind in between the present and my departure. I love telling people about Cambodia and what I’m going to do there and sharing my joy and excitement; but at the same time, I don’t want to underestimate the 5 weeks and 6 days left until then. I don’t want this season to become all about Cambodia. After all, I’ll have a whole season there soon enough!

Why is it so much harder to appreciate the in-between moments? In fact, I hate calling them in-between. They aren’t in-between anything, they’re life as we’re living it. These 5 weeks and 6 days don’t deserve any less than the entire summer I’m spending overseas. One song that has been on my mind a lot lately is Brandon Heath’s Don’t Get Comfortable, and the chorus says:

“I am gonna show you what I mean. I am gonna love like you’ve never seen. You are gonna live like you used to dream, this is your new song.” And that’s just it. Living like I used to dream doesn’t have to wait until when I get on that plane and head into the great unknown. My favorite part of the song, though, is the very beginning. (That’s right. Not in between.) :

“Comfortable? Don’t get comfortable. I am gonna move this mountain, then I’m gonna move you in.”

This season of anticipation is hard to handle. But I was never meant to be comfortable, I was meant for life and life to the full. And there’s no way to be in-between on that one.

Forsaking the American Dream

The transition time from one semester to another is an interesting stage full of nostalgia, yet ripe with the tidings of opportunity. This semester as I prepare myself for my internship, I’m trying to also appreciate the days between now and then. Even though I have an adventure to look forward to, I don’t want to waste away the days by living ahead of myself. I am doing what I can to live in “the now,” but it’s funny that when you look around, it seems like everyone is living for the future. Theatre/philosophy nerds like me might say it’s like Beckett’s Waiting For Gadot. We all seem to be waiting on something, though some of us don’t even know what that may be.

All around me, people are advancing in life and creating these vast futures for themselves that look nothing like my own. Does that bother me? Not necessarily, but while I’ve been attempting a steady pace to make sure the minutes don’t escape me, I’m noticing how everyone else seems to be running a marathon. It’s like one of Jason Bateman’s movie characters speculates,  “running around, always rushed, always late. I guess that’s why they call it the human race.”

Don’t get me wrong. I love my life, and I love where I am in life. The days might seem mundane, full of classes and meetings and the occasional migraine, and they are. But God is preparing me for a future that is better than I could ask for or imagine. I’m a single college student with a full course load, a job that I love, and a campus community that I love even more. It may sound cliche, but now is a time in life where I have very few attachments. I’m pursuing my calling in life, a calling that makes me feel more alive than a boy or a mansion or a picket fence ever could. Others my age and generation running this vast human race are getting married, settling down, preparing for careers or grad school or life in general. And I’m darn beaming proud of all of them and they’re going to be great wives, husbands, professionals, CEOs, scientists, ministers, teachers, or whatever the case may be.

In my case, it has really been dawning on me how “abnormal” my dream for my life is. Yes, I’d love to get married someday. I’d love to be a mother and wife, and I know somewhere deep within me is the capability to do so; I really hope sometime the opportunity presents itself. But honestly, I’m ready to adventure. I want to go to places I’ve never been and take in the beauty of all that is this world and share the hope that I have and just….live. It’s not that I don’t want a house or a dog or a 2 door garage or a husband to go with it, but in so many ways my call to the mission field is also a call to forsake the American dream. I am not on the path of the Pinterest worthy life. I’m pursuing a lifestyle that is calling me to surrender comfort and routine, to surrender a sense of normalcy.

I’m starting to realize that not every college kid takes 6 weeks of their summer to go to Asia. I’m realizing that what I’m doing is not typical. And in some ways it stings a little and I feel like I’m walking while everyone else is running, or that I’m running the opposite direction. In other ways it is freeing and fantastic and I can’t wait to venture into the great unknown with just God and my not-so-American dreams.