Rewritten Script

For three years of college, I was on the school’s drama team. Six to eight students would learn a drama in the fall semester then travel to churches and schools in the spring presenting the play. Each drama taught a lesson about God, faith, and life. One year I took the opportunity to help our coach write and revise our drama. Just like any other writing, the story took different shapes and angles as it was crafted into its final form. It was exciting to get to share creative input that would later be presented to hundreds of people in our ministry.

Just like any unfinished script, it seems like our lives are in a constant state of revision. The direction we are taking one moment is not the direction we end up going. Ideas we hold strongly in one season may change in the next as we learn more about God and life.

In December I finished the work for my bachelor’s degree in youth and family ministry with an emphasis in biblical counseling. (Side note: I can’t help cringing when anyone asks me what my major was. First, because the name is soooooo looooooong. Second, because no one seems to know what on earth it means once I’ve finished saying it.) Basically I’m trained to work with youth at church, and I’ve taken extra classes on counseling people from the Bible.

The counseling aspect of the program held the most interest for me, and as I pushed towards graduation I couldn’t help tiredly thinking of the graduate work I’d need to do to be a professional counselor. I love helping people, but more years of studying and papers and reading and sleep deprivation didn’t sound attractive, and I knew I had no money to pay for more education.

Beyond all that, the thought of a job in counseling felt more like a burden than a joy. I am honored to help carry the burdens of my friends and family and others who need me, but imagining myself in an office day after day opening my heart deeply to the pain of person after person scared me. I didn’t doubt that I could do it.

But I feared it would destroy me.

As I charged toward what felt like a sentence of destruction, missions conference at college put an abrupt halt to everything.

Missions conference at college is wonderful and draining all at once. We get great preaching and incredible access to missionaries and mission agencies. We are also required to spend large amounts of time socializing with the missionaries. This is great. It is also a bit awkward for the non-missions students, as it’s easy to feel like we’re disappointing missionary recruiters. This year, however, I had an interesting encounter with a missionary couple. Rather than trying to pitch their mission group to me, instead they asked me what I was interested in. At the time I was open to basically anything, but especially counseling. My camp involvement also came up, and the man enthusiastically latched onto that idea.

This complete stranger—instead of looking at my plans or his own hopes for his mission group—looked at the gifts and opportunities God had put in my life and recommended a camp internship to me. He gave me a contact and the name of a program, penned on the back of one of his missionary cards, and recommended I look into it. He and his wife also gave me some great advice on counseling ministry, which despite my lack of desire to do professionally I still would love to use in ministry.

I went back to my dorm room that day and immediately found the internship he had recommended. Within a couple hours I had filled out the application and called my parents. The idea of full-time camp ministry—one I had shrugged off in years past—now seemed incredibly right. Camp held the perfect blend of my skills and desires, and in some ways even an unexpected angle of both my youth and counseling training.

That day changed the course of what I had thought would be my future. I again have goals and dreams for ministry, and steps to get there. I’m excited about the future and have a growing sense of being willing to sacrifice anything—the sins and weights that so easily entangle me—for the chance to give my all in this ministry for Christ.

A ministry that combines both my joy and my greatest usefulness. What a blessing, indeed.

This is almost surely not the last revision of the script. I may never have a camp internship (though I’m currently in the process of applying for several—would you pray for me?). I may never get the extra adventure experience and camp training that I’m hoping and praying and striving for. But at the moment this is the goal before me, my means of serving my Maker, and it is my joy to recite these new lines as long as He allows.

Still: 2017

I've hesitated to write a New Year's post until now. I realize that I am about three days late, but until now I didn't feel that I had anything to say. Each attempt to frame a post in my mind came out as a petty imitation of someone else's year-end review. I could say how tough 2016 was. How good it was. Talk about resolutions or not having resolutions. Write something chipper or contemplative. But it felt wrong--deceptive--to try to give you some lofty insight on the changing of years if it were merely to write a post and not to share something of value.

I think I now have something of value to share. But they are not all my words.

Tonight I sit near carefully stacked piles of college memorabilia. Four years, now complete, in pictures and programs and invitations and cards. It's been a stressful day, torn between reliving and rejoicing in the past, mourning over a beautiful chapter closed, and trying stay hopeful that the future may be just as bright. I came to the end of my day scatterbrained and uneasy. Aaaaand ... feeling like I should spend some devo time because I hadn't yet today.

I had no desire to stop. Be still. Wait on God. I did it anyway.

Prayed. Read my Bible.

Still very little peace.

A song came to mind. One that often comes to mind when my heart cannot rest. Still, My Soul Be Still by Keith and Kristyn Getty and Stuart Townend (full lyrics here). As I sang the words, a few phrases stuck with me, as they have again and again.

"Still my soul be still
"Do not be moved
"By lesser lights and fleeting shadows "


Lesser lights.

How many of these have I faced in 2016? The desire to please friends, please parents, please teachers, succeed at work, succeed at school, grow stronger physically and mentally. Attractive music, attractive ministry. All lesser compared to the only true Light.

Fleeting shadows.

There were certainly shadows this year. Living further away from friends that mean a lot to me. Loneliness. Failures. Difficult classes. Health problems. For a time each of these did attempt to bring darkness to my soul. But while not all of them have gone away, much of their oppressive weight has passed. They truly have fled.

Every year we will come against the lesser lights that seek to distract from the Light and the fleeting shadows that try to make us believe that the Light is not really there. So in a sense, 2016 was unremarkable. And we know what to expect in 2017. Our choice remains.

Will we, as the Psalmist, face our trials by reminding our souls "Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee" (Psalm 116:7)? Will we say, "Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God" (Psalm 42:11)?

Will we face the things that seem so beautiful--praise, human love, power, acceptance--with a reminder not to be swayed? "But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matthew 6:33).

Will we let our souls follow after anything but God?

Or will we be still in 2017?

The Anatomy of a Hard Semester

This is probably the hardest semester I have experienced in four years of college.

We had bug problems in the dorm that I let stress me out for an embarrassingly long time. I had weird, persistent health issues. I had to totally re-define my social life as several of my closest friends graduated last semester. I relearned how to live without a roommate ... and I remembered how lonely it is. My friends and I had to overcome some issues as we're all changing fast and having to adapt to each other again and again. I had more spare time than most people, and I had to find ways to pass many hours, often alone. Graduation and my future loom ahead, and I've been trying to nail down career/ministry plans.

For a while, I really wished this semester hadn't happened. That I could erase it all, start over. Or at the least, leave this place and never look back. These trials -- though none were particularly acute -- lingered with me, ebbing away at my joy and hope.

But then things changed. Like flowers suddenly bursting open, God did two quiet, marked works in my life that brought me to the place I am now.

First, I was convicted of incredible selfishness. I felt alone, unloved, and misunderstood by even my friends. Then God woke me up to how all of my desires were revolving solely around myself. I was the unloving one. I was isolating myself. When I started caring about others again, my sense of loneliness nearly vanished. I didn't expect it to last more than a few days. "Really, " I thought, "don't most spiritual 'highs' just relapse before long?"

It's been weeks/months. Not every day has been fantastic, but there is still a huge difference in my perspective since I started getting my heart and mind cleansed by God in this area.

Second, God has been re-teaching me His love. I honestly had questioned it--not His salvation or the kindness of His actions, but the affection of His person for me. How many people have told me that love is an action? A verb? So it only seemed logical that God's love was one of action. He chose to save me. He rescued me. But caring about me? I doubted it.

Thankfully, a good conversation with my brother and some simple Scriptures helped me begin to believe again that God loves His children with both His actions and His emotions. I can't grasp that entirely. But it is good.

So. I ask myself ... who have I become this semester? How have I changed? How have these trials reshaped me?

• I'm becoming comfortable with myself again. I know God made me individually to serve Him in a special way. I don't dislike myself the way I used to. I don't have to hide my true self or feel the need to be like my peers. I don't have to fit anyone's mold, but instead let the Potter shape me as I live under His loving gaze and gentle hands.


• I am becoming more balanced in my needs to be with people and be alone. I enjoy the times I spend with friends and acquaintances, but I'm not afraid to be alone with my own thoughts.


• I laugh less ... but I smile more deeply. The many trials of this semester have dimmed my happiness in some ways. The pressures I'm under are keeping me more reserved, focused, and serious. I'll hear someone laughing in the dorm hall sometimes and wonder how long it's been since I really laughed. This is hard sometimes. And sad. But before I sound too mopey ... don't worry! There truly is a smile deep down in my heart. I am in a relationship with the living God. That is enough. And the happy moments are coming back!


• It feels like many broken pieces of me--from this semester and past years--are being healed into something stronger and better by God's grace. Pain has pushed me closer to His presence, and it is entirely worth it.

So I praise Him for this semester. I thank Him that fall 2016 was a crazy, weird, hard semester. Because He is working, and He has been kind enough to let me see a bit of what He is doing. I cannot help but "declare ... [His] works."

"But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy works" (Psalm 73:28).

Mountaintop views ... in my adventures and in my soul.

Tell Me if I'm Alone.

Eyes closed. Brow furrowed. Trying to find words past the haze of exhaustion, fear, and confusion that obscure my thoughts, even from myself.

Do you ever feel like you've been distracted from what you believe? Do you feel the need to re-learn everything, study every word of Scripture, pray deepest prayers to remember exactly what it is you're doing in life?

It's like a good friend you haven't talked to in a long time. You knew her once. You know you're still friends, and you still like her.  But maybe you've forgotten how to talk freely to her. Forgotten her favorite foods and which movies she hates.

That's how I feel about my faith. I believe it. I love God. I talk to Him. I read my Bible and try to serve and obey Him. Genuinely.

But ... I've been distracted lately. Divided in heart. I've forgotten how much he hates some sins and how much He loves His children.

Eww. Sin is ugly. Including my own. My lack of devotion of late is not a pretty sight.

So ... I hope I'm alone. That you haven't let life distract you from what matters most. Have you?

Please pray for me; pray with me.

Am I alone? Or is someone else here too? Maybe not in any "huge" sin ... Just focused on self more than God? Can I pray for you? Will you pray for me?

Consistent growth doesn't happen when we're alone.

Not Exactly Political

It's the day after a United States election, and the nation is reeling. I sit dumbfounded as my Facebook newsfeed fills and even among my Christian friends there is a strongly divided reaction.

I read posts filled with anger and even hatred towards Trump supporters by those afraid of what he will do. While I cannot agree with the hatred, their voices help me as I continue to grow in my understanding of the very real fears of minority groups. As I understand, I empathize, and in my mind questions stir, wondering what can be done in this country to protect them. I speak to you, the fearful, my friends--please don't let hatred win. But keep speaking. If others don't understand your side, your needs, your fears, keep speaking. Tell them.

Then there are the rejoicing posts, acting like there has been some sort of victory. Maybe even a special victory for Christians.

(Parenthetical comment time: I'm afraid to even post the above sentence because I fear it reveals the self-centeredness of Christians. Are we to seek righteousness? Yes. Are we to seek God's will and His way? Yes. Are we to put all our concerns on our own comfort and on avoiding persecution? NO. What even? Why do we make our political decisions based on "hmm, what will be good for the temporal creature-comforts of Christians?" Why don't we ask ourselves "what is God's will?" Not saying the two have to collide ... but WHY is our human comfort our main concern? And WHY do we act like our personal ease is God's greatest concern????? It. Is. Not.)

So back to talking about all the happy, "yay we won!" Facebook posts. I fear these people have put blinders over their eyes, seeing only opinions aligning with their own. To you, I say--listen to those who are unhappy about the election's outcome. Consider the fears of those who "lost" at the polls. Some fears may be comforted in the coming years, and some fears may be realized. Be a part of the comfort. Be a protector. Love beyond disagreements. And don't think that just because you won, that means you are right. Or all will be well.

Okay, here comes my ONE super political comment. Here's what happened at the election: We had two bad candidates, and one of them was chosen.

Personally, I do not think this is a day anyone should rejoice. I am afraid that in this election ... everyone lost.

I don't know how or if the pieces of this country will ever be put back together. I'm a patriotic person, but I would be a fool to say that America is in a good place. All I ask is that we pray. Together. Not attacking those we disagree with (what's with all the hatred?). Listening to each other. While circumstances differ ... we're all in a bad place right now. Let's help each other. No gloating, no vicious words. Pray.

God reigns. But whether He will now judge or show more mercy to our nation, we cannot say.

So I must pray.

On Being Known

I've never been able to nail down my "personality type." I've tried many a test, but nothing seems to accurately read who I am.

There are two things I can tell you, though. I am what most people would call an introvert. I am also fairly self-aware. If I behave in a certain way I can usually figure out the good, bad, or ugly of why I did it.

That being said, I've been convicted as of late. I don't think introversion is wrong, but I think it can hide subtle sins ....

When I meet you at church and don't say more than "hi," I'm afraid I might say the wrong thing and then you'll think I'm dumb.

Pride masquerades as introversion.

If I don't initiate a friendship, maybe I just don't know if you want to be friends. So I let you try it. I make you take all the risk of extending yourself to get to know me.

Selfishness hides under a veneer of introversion.

Why don't I open up more and share about myself? Because I think you'd be disinterested. You wouldn't care, clearly ....

Judgment and believing the worst about people puts on the acceptable title of "introvert."

Let me repeat. I do not think that being an introvert is wrong. God made some people to need more alone time than others, and that can be used for His will.

But I do know that I cannot justify all my actions by a subjective personality label. It's time for me to be honest about my behavior. Own up to the bad, change some things, embrace the good.

So here's me. Being open. Knowable. And desiring to change and love others more like Christ.

The Sky Is Clearing

Remember last time when I sounded a little bit confused about how all the pieces of life fit together?

Yeah, I still don't get it all.

At the same time, like clouds parting to reveal a beautiful starry night, some of my confusion has blown away and I may have caught a glimpse of the big picture.

For those of you who don't know me well, I'm a girl from a small mid-west town who grew up in a little Baptist church. I was homeschooled, spent many an hour painstakingly practicing piano and harp (Dear Dad and Mom ... thank you for all the patience you had with my musical frustrations!), and from a very young age I was a storyteller.

When I was a little kid, my dad graciously typed as I dictated a play script that I now see is laughably bad. I made up stories for my friends and brother as we carpooled to AWANA. When I learned how to use the computer for myself I wrote a "book" about my friends that my dad edited, printed, and bound. At the age of twelve I convinced friends to join me in writing a magazine ... an effort that extended through the end of high school and involved not only a magazine but also a blog and a website of our own.

Books happened too. I plotted stories that illustrated, in the fiction realm, the grace of God as I knew it from my own life.

Then college happened. I went to a well-reputed Christian college far, far away from everyone I knew. Suddenly my life was busier and more demanding than I'd ever known. As I looked around at all the confident, unfamiliar faces that surrounded me, it seemed that I would never be able to survive that place. I couldn't handle college as calmly as them. I couldn't coordinate all the demands on my time. It felt like I couldn't even pray. My pleas to God seemed to bounce of the unfeeling walls of that impersonal place and come right back at me.

I didn't stay long enough to find out if it would get better.

That's about the time I stopped writing. My confusion and sense of failure sapped all the energy that had gone into my stories. If I wrote about my poor, disillusioned character Jordan, I was afraid that I would become mired down in her pain and mine. So I put her aside, and tried to take care of myself.

I'm now in my last semester of college in a different place, a different major. I'm surrounded by amazing people and I've had incredible friends and adventures. But I still hesitate to sit back down and fill blank pages with the stories that used to be so vivid in my imagination.

What ever happened to my sense that writing was God's will for my life, part of His purpose? It once seemed that He had built it into me as an integral part of who I was. After four years without it, I began to doubt everything I knew about what God had for me.

Maybe writing was just a season ... my desires have shifted to serving God on rivers and mountains. Rather than spending my time sitting on a chair and staring at a screen, I'd rather hike to a cliff and watch stars.

But ... God doesn't waste things.

People, experiences, moments, seasons ... they have a purpose in His plan.

So as the fog clears in my mind, I am beginning to wonder ... what if my new desires and joys are not an attack on who I used to be but rather a complement to it?

The adventures that call me could feed and fuel the words I write. In the same way, the time I spend in reflection as I write can stretch and grow my heart to further enjoy life and serve God in all I do.

I don't know if I'll write books again. Probably. But whether God has books or blogs or whatever for me, I know that He has purposes in Who He is making me.

And while I can't see the whole picture, it's a beautiful view, and I am growing in my love of the One Who created it.