Little Bird Flies the Coop

Month one in Virginia is nearing it's long anticipated end. To be perfectly honest, I absolutely know I am supposed to be here, and I absolutely have no idea why. There is a surprising liberty in being able to admit that though. When people I have never met and have no inherent need to impress step into an introductory conversation with, "So, what are you studying?" and I reply, "Intercultural Studies," the almost universally accompanying remark is, "Oh, so you're going to be a missionary?" Something about that makes me laugh every time. As if I cannot have an appreciation for culture without being expressly called to live over seas. It is interesting how in the body of Christ we want to classify the plan of God into neatly labeled packages, and we do it without even realizing. I simply respond with something like, "God hasn't told me yet. He just told me to be here. And, scary as it is, here I am." I mean, we are all missionaries right? Where did this idea of life and ministry and mission being separate entities come from anyway?

Nothing reveals how much you have grown or changed like plopping yourself back into the educational environment. I was one of those undergrads who was paranoid about knowing all the details and getting it all right. I was the one who really wanted that good grade but was struggling to be OK with not being a straight A student for the first time ever. Now, I just want to learn. I don't have to be here. For the first time ever I don't care about the grade (of course, I haven't gotten my first one yet, I may have to get back with you on this one ;). There is no scholarship to maintain, no career to acquire. I am here to increase in knowledge, not to receive the commendation of the ability to regurgitate facts and ideas.

Three years of ministry and work in between Belmont and here has brought me to a point of being comfortable in who I am and who I'm not. Growing up in ministry as a pastor's kid and being on a church and ministry staff myself in multiple roles means I have learned something about the risk, the weight, the pain and the struggle and the failure that comes with it. But I also know the reward of watching young people blossom into mature followers of Christ. Of serving along side an elderly saint and drinking in their wisdom. Of holding the hand of the blind, the destitute and the blessed. Of seeing the first light of Christ dawn in the eyes of a new believer. Of the life-change caused by faith, prayer and the exercise of truth. I have fallen and failed and wrestled and surrendered and have come no where close to where I want to be. Every day I realize afresh that I can do absolutely nothing, but I AM can do absolutely everything.

I should have turned away long ago. Without a doubt I would have but for the grace of Christ intervening to hold me steady on this unseen path while I fight with all my might to veer from it. Now it is my purpose to point others to this glorious Jesus I have seen and to encourage them to come to Him, to know Him, and to remain faithful to Him.

The Blackness of White

Blackness permeated the night. It was the kind of blackness that isn't content to hang starless in the sky or weigh heavy on the air, but insists on infiltrating the mood of those who venture out into it. My Sentra's tiny headlights waged war against the darkness, fighting to illuminate the road ahead, even as the whirring of my weedeater engine struggled to inject noise into the silence. Still, they were no match for the opponent and the battle raged thickly in the driver's seat.

"Is it really wise to be walking away from the life I have here, from all my contacts and years of relationships and credibility built? How can that possibly be wisdom speaking?"

I've lived either north, west, or south of Nashville for 19 years, called 8 churches my family (oh the joy of being a pastor's kid), gone to 3 different schools and the best University ever - Belmont, woot! - and I know TONS of people.

I love pretty much everything about Nashville (except the way people drive!). It's small town, big city. People are family here, and the air is alive with the excitement of dreams. Sure, being in the Bible Belt can be frustrating instead of inspiring as a Christ-follower, the commercialism of the music scene can grow tiresome, and the prospect of New Hollywood scares me just a little, but this is home.

Over the past few years I've worked with the best of the best in the industry, and developed close friendships with future A-listers. I realize that can sound a bit vain, but it's just the way things are when you grow up here. It's no uncommon thing to sit beside a Dove award winner in church on Sunday, run into a film celeb at Starbucks on Tuesday, have lunch with a multi-platinum engineer on Thursday, and hang backstage with a soon-to-be-signed band on Saturday. I lost the ability to be starstruck a long time ago, and now I realize that so many of my friends have credentials that make them worthy candidates for name-dropping. But I've never even thought twice about it because we spend our time talking about the merits of Jersey Mike's, the location of my fusebox, the French Revolution, Nacho Libre, and relationship statuses.

So as I'm driving along in the dark realizing that my life puts me in the circle with so many of the "right" people and with some work I could turn those connections into almost any job I want, I'm freaking out and thinking, "Seriously God? Are you absolutely sure it's a good idea to move to Lynchburg, Virginia?! Is it really wise to take my life in an almost completely different direction?"

As dark as it was on the road and in my mind, not thirty seconds after throwing this question out into the night, my headlights pierce the black for a moment and fall on a church sign (normally one of the crummiest of the crummy when it comes to stupid sayings) that reads "I GUIDE YOU IN THE WAY OF WISDOM."

How many times have I joked about God just putting up a billboard to tell me what to do, and BAM! There it is. It's a little humbling to take advice from a tiny Free Will Baptist church in nowheresville, but I guess that's more of the irony of God's upside down economy where the least is the greatest. 

I am reminded once again that the Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, that we may make plans, but the unfolding of the future lies in His hands. God wastes nothing in our lives, and just because I don't see how He can take the sum of my experiences and connections and use them in an entirely new way for the Kingdom doesn't mean He can't. If I am seeking Him, waiting on Him, and walking in the path He lays before me, even when it may seem foolish in the eyes of the world, the light of wisdom is shining brightly. 

Driving Lessons and Greener Grass

Rounding the corner to my parents house I passed a silver two-door saturn with a particularly fuzzy faced driver. Or so I thought at first glance. Turns out instead it was a young dad with his daughter in his lap. Her tiny hands grasped the steering wheel and brown curls bounced up and down excitedly as he strained to look around her for approaching vehicles. We shared a wave as we passed. I couldn't help but laugh at her delight, and his obvious entertainment in it. Seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my daddy's lap behind the wheel of our blue station wagon. We'd drive around that Michigan parking lot, waiting for mom to finish her errands. It was so hard for my little hands to turn that steering wheel, but I remember the sheer joy of "driving" and wishing only that I could be big enough to push the pedals myself too.

This long lost memory jilted the cache of my memory file and brought a flood of childhood memories to mind. My first pony ride, first motorcycle ride, the agonizing process of trying to learn to ride a bike, building forts, trying to start a fire, pulling the legs off crickets, flushing my live goldfish, bossing other kids around on the playground...

I always remember being pretty imaginative as a child. When Lindsay was just a baby, Justyn and I would play outside in our front yard in Swartz Creek, Michigan for hours tossing a ball, trying to perfect cartwheels (a feat I have yet to accomplish to this day) riding tricycles with the neighborhood kids and whatever other randomness we came up with. 

One thing we NEVER did was cross behind our house into the neighbor's yard. Apparently there was something super special about their grass. It was luscious, soft, and brilliantly green - I mean, really nice for grass, but grass nonetheless - their pride and joy. We had specific instructions relayed through our mother not to lay a foot on it. Which is sad you know, because our grass was dry and scratchy (this, of course, had nothing to do with our down and dirty playtimes) and I always imagined that grass would be like playing in Eden.  

Anyway, one day we were playing a rousing game of kickball when our ball inevitably went into the forbidden Eden. Naive logic said, well, you gotta get the ball. I mean, if it just sits there, it really will turn the grass brown, plus, they'll probably be MORE mad that we let the ball land in their precious yard. Being the oldest, I got nominated to brave the invisible boundary, dash in, snatch the ball and get out without being seen. Windows were closed, blinds were down. We figured we'd be safe, and it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, I went for it. Gingerly, I ran on my tiptoes into the softest grass my feet had ever touched, grabbed the ball, and turned to make my triumphal exit. All of a sudden, behind me I hear the screen door slam and incoherent shouts come from my neighbor who is chasing me through the yard with a BROOM! Call me crazy, but I was four, pretty sure I was doing a lot less damage to his precious grass than Mr. 250 Pounds was as he plowed through it wielding that broom and screaming like a banshee.

Good times man, good times. With a million more stories like that from my childhood, I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how I managed to be such a crazy mess at 25!

Lead of Love

Though Rascal Flatts latest hit Here bears suspicious thematic similarities to their smash single Broken Road, it's still good music. And I confess, I can't get it out of my head. Sometimes the lyrics of a song just resonate, you know? The chorus in particular:

I wouldn't change a thing
I'd walk right back through the rain
Back to every broken heart
On the day that it was breakin
And I'd relive all the years
And be thankful for the tears
I've cried with every stumbled step
That led to you and got me here

I feel something quite like that these days. There is nothing perfect about this life. Nobody has it easy. Everyone gets their heart broken in one way or another. Even the rare moments of bliss are tainted with little bits of regret and humanity. But I just have to say that some of the most bitter experiences have produced some of the sweetest results. Wrestling with the angel in the valley may leave you with a dislocated hip, but at least there's a blessing attached, eh?

Over the past few weeks I've had some tough decisions to face. More than once I've felt like turning around and walking away, doing absolutely nothing to "change the status quo." I don't know if it's curiosity, a sense of adventure, insanity or serious divine grace, but for whatever reason I've turned to face new opportunities and challenges head on.

The lavish outpouring of God's reinforcement that I am indeed following Him has been simply stunning. New school opportunities, new job experiences, new contacts; the past week alone has been crazy! Add one fantastic snow day and an amazing sunrise over snowtopped hills this morning and I can feel Him wrapping His arms around me with delight as He whispers in my ear, "Taste and see that I AM GOOD!"

Tomorrow it could get really hard. It could be time to come down from the mountain. Inevitably the trials will come back with a vengence. I am on a road of resistance because it's the road of using my life for something that counts eternally. For now I'm basking in the affirmation, but the joy and peace of my spirit will last much longer than the high.

I leave you with these words from an old Caedmon's Call song, Lead of Love, which I think could just be my theme song:

Looking back at the road so far
The journey's left it's share of scars
Mostly from leaving the narrow and straight
Looking back it is clear to me
A man is more than the sum of his deeds
How you've made good of this mess I've made
Is a profound mystery

Looking back you know you had to bring me through
All that I was so afraid of
Though I questioned the sky
Now I see why
I had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view
Looking back I see the lead of love

Trust

I call this part of my life "Trusting."

Somewhere in the past six months the voice of God ceased whispering "Wait. Rest. Heal." into my heart and began to whisper "Trust. Believe. Follow." instead. The problem and beauty of the whisper is that you don't hear it unless you're listening. I tend to set myself upon a path and cling to it like a bulldog with his bone. Tenacity is my greatest strength and toughest weakness. I'm really great at big decisions. Where to go to college? What degree? Quit my job? Start a business? Mission trip? Go to seminary? Man, I can rock those out, and it's not that I have some special insight...it's that I have time. Time to question and search, to wonder and wrestle, to research and receive counsel. So when I make a big decision, I know that I know that I know it's right, and though it may be hard I'm ready to act on it, I can find the faith to follow through (wow, I'm so alliterative today).

But small decisions, things that should be simple, minor, not life-altering? Those are the hardest thing for me to settle on. Maybe it's because I believe there is nothing small, everything has significance, and you never know what small action will change your life in a big way. I don't want to do something small that ends up being hugely wrong down the road. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those that walks about regretting every poor decision. You make mistakes, you learn the lessons, you embrace the past and move on. But I can't help but want the absolute best for my life, God's absolute best. 

I believe in communion, walking with God every step along the way, acknowledging that our decisions, great or small, reflect on Him, and trying to live righteously, but with reckless abandon. Righteous in integrity, reckless with regard to the cares of this world. But I am such a doubting Thomas. I find it easy-ish to believe in God Almighty's bigness, His absolute ability to be all that He is. I am not troubled by the identity of Jesus, that He was God, loved me, died and rose again (though I absolutely do not pretend to have God figured out, don't misunderstand me). But I am totally puzzled and mystified by the Holy Spirit. It is immensely difficult for me to trust His working in my life, because I so easily confuse His voice with my own, or that of the enemy.

So, right now God is teaching me to trust Him in the little things. If I am walking with Him, daily in His word, constantly in prayer, and I take a moment to pause and ask His will in the little moments and problems of my life (as well as in the big ones) can I not trust that He answers? That the voice I hear gently whispering is His? That He is indeed not a God of confusion but of peace, one who's name is Near, who is found by us when we seek?

The Adventure of Becoming

All because of one encounter. One question. One e-mail. 

Even though I feel like God has so clearly directed me into the next step of seminary for an MA in Intercultural Studies and Global Apologetics (it would make me feel better if that acceptance letter would come!), I've felt ridiculously unclear about how I'm supposed to use that for the Kingdom.

Here is what I know about myself:

I am NOT and never will be a musician. 

But some of my dearest friends are.

I am NOT extremely or overtly creative. 

But I get along well with dramatic, artistic people.

I do NOT have fantastic business sense. 

But I know great people who do.

I am NOT really a techie. 

But I absolutely love my group of friends who are great at this.

I am NOT cut out to work day in, day out in "church world." 

But I've grown up in it and truly appreciate those who are there.

I am NOT a super-extrovert. 

But I am really good at blending in to almost any environment.

(Are you sensing a theme yet?)

I AM the person most people like, but rarely understand. 

I AM the one with the split personality, stuck right in between introvert and extrovert, thinker and feeler, driven and easy going.

I AM the one with the spiritual gifts of prophecy, exhortation and compassion (talk about an oxymoron!)

I AM a free spirit who has a hard time with being classified and harder still with being tied down to one course, but I AM also fiercely loyal to those I love and what I know is right. 

Yep, I'm the walking contradiction, the one who can do a little of a lot just well enough to make people think I could go far in it, but without the true joy in doing it that actually makes me want to go far. And that's always been frustrating. I mean, I can't tell you how many times I've wished I could be good at just ONE thing so that I'd know THAT was what I was supposed to be doing. Instead I've been stuck trying to force myself into a course of action that makes good, logical sense, but denies the essence of who God created me to be.

I think God has let me dabble in a lot of things, walk through a lot of ministry situations, live in and visit many places, and know many types of people so that I can have a broader base of understanding from which to operate, not grow more confused on what I'm supposed to be doing.

What I realized today is that it is more than OK to be who I am, to be great at intangibles and only good at other things. It's more than OK to not be good at fitting the molds so many people want me to fill of artist, businesswoman, wife (my poor husband, whoever he is). What I've needed was not simply the direction to head in, but the courage to accept who I am and move forward into the adventure of becoming. 

In tough economic and spiritual times what comes next is the least logical course of action. But I feel strangely unafraid. In fact, I really don't care what anyone thinks of me at this point. I don't want to waste my life. And I will do whatever I have to in order to share the hope of Jesus with the world that desperately needs it, in the way that I, and only I have been gifted to do. 

THERE IS NOTHING ELSE THAT MATTERS. 

Philippians 3:7-14

The Sweetest Moments

Some of the most cherished moments in my life are the unexpectedly tender ones.

This weekend I'm staying with my "big brother," Brett, dear friend, Becca, and my "psuedo-niece," Juliana. Since Brett and Becca had a leadership training session to attend at church, Cricket and I have spent the evening babysitting Juliana. This involved lots of Cricket's slimy squeaky toy, making pancakes in her play kitchen, and dancing along with the Teletubbies (oh yes). 

When it was time to be tucked in for bed tonight Juliana said her prayers, most of which I couldn't quite understand (although I did catch, "and for Cricket to be healthy" which made me giggle a little because it is perfectly logical for a three-year-old. I mean, everyone else around here seems to be coming down with this or that bug, and Cricket is her self-proclaimed "bes fwend," so it follows she would be concerned for her health), and asked me to sing Tender Shepherd. I barely know this song, but I've picked up enough from previous visits to be able to follow along with her. Next she asked me to snuggle. I mean, who can resist "Anna, wiwl you snuggle with me?" I'm quite the snuggler anyways.

We're snuggling away and as I play with her long, baby fine hair and stroke her little hands I couldn't help but think back to the day she was born. I remember holding her and just thinking God must have something so big in mind for her. Every baby is a miracle, but Juliana's birth was particularly special. She was welcomed to the world by emergency c-section a mere six minutes after a placental abruption (basically, the placenta is detached and the baby is no longer receiving oxygen from the mother's blood stream). Even a minute later and she could have suffered severe brain damage, a couple minutes and she would have died. In fact, every last detail about the entire situation was so clearly ordered by God that we were all in awe of His grace that day. 

All of this is going through my mind when I hear a sweet little whisper, "I love you Anna. Can we sing Oh How I Love Jesus?" 

A month ago today Juliana accepted Jesus as her Savior. I know not everyone thinks this is possible for a three-year-old, but I was only four and I absolutely know how real and true it was for me. So after hearing the whole story my soul was dizzy with joy. As precious as the miracle of her birth was, the miracle of her second birth is more wonderful still. 

I lay there beside her with tears in my eyes, the two of us singing: There is a name I love to hear, I love to sing it's worth. It sounds like music in my ear, the sweetest name on earth. Oh, how I love Jesus! Oh, how I love Jesus! Oh, how I love Jesus! Because He first loved me" over and over. Each time I sang the words it felt like the warmth of the sun pouring over my heart. 

He first loved me! There is no chasing with God. No wondering. No ifs, ands, buts or maybes. There is only absolute, endless, unconditional love. It is simple. It is passionate. It is sweet. It is eternal. Even little Juliana can understand and accept this without reservation. That moment was so innocent and pure. Those words were so wonderful and true. I don't know that I've ever had a more beautiful, precious moment of worship than I had tonight.