This is what encouragement looks like (sometimes).

I woke up to a level two snow emergency which meant that church was cancelled, both my usual gathering and the one I was going to go to in case mine was cancelled.

I found my roommate L in the kitchen and I asked if we could have church at the Ridge House today because Jesus followers all over the world are killed because the refuse to stop meeting, and I love having people over for that sort of thing.

Here are all of the wonderful things that happened.

We sent the word out on facebook. My friend J messaged me offering his help. He came over early and brought extra bibles, tea, a coffee pot, and pomegranates.

We lit a candle, K made cinnamon rolls, we turned on all the lights.

We moved the couch up against the wall/my bedroom door so that the room was more open.

We all sat/stood around in a circle. L lead worship and then J taught/led a discussion on Ephesians 2:1-10. Then we split into small groups and prayed for the persecuted church. Then we sang more.

Some people shared about grace, about their own experiences with it.

It was good, raw, honest, bold.

We sang more. Amber got excited, made us all stand up, and made us SHOUT when the lyrics said SHOUT. 

We had tea, cinnamon rolls, oranges, donuts, coffee, and pomegranates. People contributed, unasked.

The invitation went out in facebook posts and text messages. People were encouraged to walk, and they did. They bundled up, and came. They squished into small spaces on the couches. R gave up his seat in a nice chair- and she took the offer. That was beautiful to me, that she would take his offer. So he stood in the kitchen.

Two of the men shoveled our steps and the driveway, unasked. Service.

We passed around the pomegranate in bowls and picked out individual seeds.

Everyone had a role. There were twenty-five of us at our fullest moment, and each of us had a role. It went beyond who sang, and who shared. We each lifted our voices or our hearts to God in prayer for our sisters and brothers. Some brought food, some brought their open hands, some brought prayer, some brought enthusiasm, honesty, and some brought simply their souls. But everyone was useful. We piled coats on the stairs and boots by the doors and the temperature in our small house rose to seventy-one degrees!

We met together and it was encouraging. We met together and prayed and sang and listened. We met together like our brothers and sisters all around the world. I didn’t have to traipse through the snow to get to my house, but I imagine it was worth it. I hope it was worth it.

And I have to say, having men in the house was really refreshing. They brought wisdom and a different perspective, affirmation and strengthening encouragement. 

The church is supposed to strengthen and build each other up and oh golly I feel so built up today. And I feel like  my gifts were used, and others gifts were used. 

Today was a beautiful taste of what the Church is made to be. 

I'm coming.

Put me in the fight.

I’ll staple papers, lick stamps,

teach, bring food and tea,

whatever you need, Jesus.

Put me in the fight. Set a spot for me.

Save me a seat.
I’m coming.

(The last line is somehow always disconnected even though I don't mean it to be.)

Jesus Calling: For Reals

Tonight, Jesus called. We ran out of this house, literally. We left all the lights on, left New Girl playing on the TV. Usually (always) I make sure to turn off the lights. But not tonight. We were so excited. We literally jumped up, grabbed our boots, and ran out to the car.

I like that. I wonder if that’s a millionth of a fraction of the way the first disciples felt when Jesus told them to follow him. Leave everything, and go. Because you’re so excited about what God is doing, because you get to join Him, because He’s invited you! um, woah.

Tonight was a crazy-happenstance-God-thing, super exciting and very encouraging!

Pressure

You forced your fingers into crevices

where young words struggled to breathe

on their own.

They held worlds in their lungs,

beginning to stand, to set loose new stars

in each exhale.

You should not have been there,

prying meaning out of these blossoming forms,

searching their darling galaxies

for something to fill your appetite,

instead of gathering up the dust

like the rest of us.

You should not have been there.
The stars weren’t yours to harvest.

(The last line shouldn't be separated. Formatting, out of my control.)

On Being A Woman

Everything must be measured.
Every breath.
Every breath must be strong.
Every response.

You must be vulnerable, but strong.
Vulnerable, but aware of who you are.


You must be strong.

Response

My sister tells me you find yourself feeling guilty about how your life is turning out different than ours. Brother, one of the things I love most about my friends is how everyone is doing such different things. For me, moving overseas is my only option. I admire people who can stay in the American culture, as of now, I can’t. I actually worry that God will make me stay. I suppose I am willing, but that is more terrifying to me than moving overseas.

I had my life planned out, then it changed. I planned it out again, then it changed again. Then I found myself in a refugee camp. Literally and figuratively, I found myself in a refugee camp. Working with refugees lets my soul breathe in a way it had never experienced before. So I’m chasing that. God might take that away from me, and I give him permission (not that he needs my approval) to do that. But for now, I’m pursuing overseas refugee ministry because it is what I love, and because for me it makes sense. It lines up.

You, I don’t know what your passion is. I thought mine was rescuing girls from sex trafficking, but then I discovered my passion is about making people know their value, and showing them Jesus, and, as strange as it is going to sound, the hearts of men. But I don’t know what your passion is. And you might not either. The point is, right now it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about what you are going to do. Don’t worry that it’s different from me. It will be different from me, because God has a different plan for you.

I don’t know what God has planned for you, but brother, I am so excited for it. But don’t rush. Don’t worry. It was actually not until my senior year of college that I even got an inkling of what I might actually be able to do with this soul breathing I had just discovered the summer before. And now I’m graduated and unemployed. So don’t worry. Don’t compare. If you’re willing, and walking, He’lll use you just the way He wants to. And it will be different from how He’ll use me. And it will be great.

Pop Pop Pop!

Fireworks. I used to hate them. I was never much for loud noises, and I didn't really get the appeal of the lights. But now, not for the noise or the designs, I like them a lot.

NYE 2012/2013. I went to bed before midnight but woke up to fireworks outside, and the people we shared the hotel with shouting and singing "Born in the USA" (I was in Austria.) I wondered what the lights looked like from the Immigration Building Floor Four in Debrecen, and in all the countries all over the world with less stringent rules for fireworks as we have here in the US of A. I like the feeling of celebration shared by everyone in the world. And then I imagined the party in the sky when Jesus restores the world. WOAH. And ever since then, that's what I think of. Fireworks. A glimpse.