verge

Last week, Russ and I went to the Verge conference. It was unreal.  I’ve written some about our year – how it started off with a little more hurt than we anticipated. It’s been evident – even in my ability to see through the tears – that my heart needs healing. That’s what this past weekend was – healing. It’s going to take awhile to process - I’m still not even sure I could put into words what happened Saturday afternoon during one of the most authentic and spontaneous moments of praise and prayer I have ever experienced. I know this, though: there’s something stirring in my heart. I don’t know what the result will be, but I know now after this weekend I don’t want to be anywhere else – even if it means not knowing. Even if it means waiting.

I’m sure as I continue to process, I will remember things that pierced my heart during the weekend. I think right now though, I’m just trying to chew on what’s been left in my heart since Saturday. Communitas. The fellowship of his suffering. Yahweh, Elohim and my Jehovah Jireh. My Healer.

Check out this video Francis Chan showed us on Thursday night. It’s a story he created when considering the church. I thought it was pretty spectacular.  

If you went to Verge, what did you get out of it? How are you living life differently?

kairos pt. 2 – ronel

About a week ago, I posted about Amos, an incredible little boy who needed to be reunited with his family. Since then, I have been introduced to countless precious faces reunited with their forever families. And then I heard of Ronel.

I actually already knew who he was. Jamie Ivey posted a blog about him almost two years ago. Debra and her husband Eddie answered the call to step out in faith and adopt him. This brings us to the present. This brings us to his moment of kairos.

Ronel was supposed to be on the flight home with Amos. Check out this excerpt from a visiting missionary’s blog:

Tara told me today that the boys were flying to the US. One was going to his adoptive family in Houston Texas, the other to a family in Dallas. When I got back from my days work, the boys were all dressed in their very best to meet their new families. They were so excited. I was so excited for them. It was hard to watch them go.

Later in the evening after dinner, the truck returned from the airport where 27 children were flying to meet their new parents. In the front seat of the truck was Ronel, the 6-7 year old that was staying in my room. I asked why he was still here and Tara told me it was because they needed one more paper for him. The other children got to go. She said she hoped they could get the needed paperwork tomorrow. I would never wish for you to see the disappointment on Ronel’s face because it would crush your heart… it did mine. It was dark and the power was off. He went into our room, laid down on the bed, pulled the sheets up and sobbed. It was so sad. Tara came in and talked to him in Kreole… I’m not sure what she said but I know she was trying to comfort him. After a time she got up and left as I sat across the room. I could not leave him by himself. I went over and motioned for him to move over and I laid down next to him. The tears were pouring out of him. He was still in his new clothes as he fell asleep.

Earlier in this post, the man says,

I asked God tonight, how many times can my heart break… cause it’s breaking all the time

You know, there’s this worship song going around churches right now. It’s been popular for about a year and a half. And as I read posts today about Ronel and as my twitter stream started filling up with pleas for the media to take notice, I couldn’t help but think of the lyrics:

Heal my heart and make it clean,
Open up my eyes to the things unseen…
show me how to love like you – have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks yours…
everything I am for Your kingdom come
as I go from earth unto eternity.

Sometimes, God asks us to do things that make us uncomfortable. Sometimes he asks us to step out in faith and believe and trust and reach our hands as far as we can to touch his beauty.

And sometimes, we see pictures of kids like Ronel. We hear his story. We experience his pain. And we know…

God is breaking our hearts for what breaks His.

I believe Ronel’s situation is close to the heart of God.

But you know all about it— the contempt, the abuse. I dare to believe that the luckless will get lucky someday in you. You won’t let them down: orphans won’t be orphans forever – Psalm 10:14

So what can you do? There are many things. Do you twitter? Tweet the heck out of this story. Send tweets to @cnn and @andersoncooper and any other media outlets you know of. UNICEF has shown their mighty bureaucratic muscles and not many people are getting the full story of what’s truly going on with adoptions and orphans. Let’s give them the story. Call as well. Below are some people to contact by e-mail/phone/etc.

Raymond Joseph
Haitian Ambassador to US
embassy@haiti.org
p 202-332-4090
f 202-745-7215

Kenneth H Merten
US Ambassador to Haiti
Tabarre 41, Blvd 15 Octobre
Port-au-Prince, Haiti
Haiti-earthquake@state.gov
P 509 22 29 8000
F 509 22 29 8028

Hilary Clinton/Dept of State
U.S. Department of State
2201 C Street NW
Washington, DC 20520
Main Switchboard:
202-647-4000

Also, blog about it. These people? I’ve never met them. But they are my brother and sister in Christ, and they need my help. When the earthquake first hit, I wrote about my missing pieces still waiting for me to return to Haiti – but I knew if I couldn’t go, I could share through story. And so I am. First Amos – now Ronel.

Let’s pray him home.

world of contradictions pt.1

What I know about Haiti is the rain that produces rivers down the dirt roads and feeds into the huts of the locals. What I know about Haiti is the enigmatic pull of the beautiful wasteland of Jolli Gilbert. The bustling of school children, running down the sidewalk with matching pastel polo shirts and hand-me-down bottoms, captures my attention. Their laughter ricochets off the dilapidated tin-roof homes, and I smile. One of the children stops mid-stride and looks at the dirt. He begins exclaiming something in a language I don’t understand, but the other children turn in haste and run back towards him. Looking closely, you can see what demanded their attention. A small butterfly sits quietly on a lone rock—the brilliant colors of its wings a stark contrast to the dirt surrounding it.

I will find this is what Haiti is full of—contradictions.

I stare out the window of the rusty truck wondering about these children.
How long does it take them to walk the five miles home from school? What do they worry about? Do they have a family? When was the last time they were hugged?

Many of my questions are answered the next day as the children speak to me in their stilted mix of English and Creole about what they do for fun.

One of the girls who is particularly fond of my light skin and blonde hair just sits in my laps and stares. Feeling the intensity of her rich eyes, I look down, smile and she beams with an uncertain familiarity.

Grabbing my face with both of her hands, she whispers, “beyotiful” and wraps me in the tightest hug I’ve received in awhile; our portrait a black and white image of purity and innocence.

I soon find that these children are the most genuine people I have ever met. In their stained T-shirts that have holes from too much wear, the kids find covering—not style. In friendships they possess a solidarity and community that far outweighs Americans’ tendency of keeping each other at arms’ length. When these precious children sing, they sing with the joy of being alive.

They are just that—alive.

Haiti, in all its tragedy and deconstruction, is where I was transformed. When asked to pinpoint a significant turning point in my life, I always reference Haiti. It is here that I believe I lost my innocence. However, it is in this country with rich heritage and beautiful strength that I found myself.

What I remember about Haiti is not the men walking down the street with machine guns, but the women walking with their children—bright smiles echoing off the darkness around them. What I remember about Haiti is not the marketplace full of beggars, but the marketplace full of bright possibilities in the shape of tropical fruit, paintings and jewelry crafted with the hope of a new beginning.

Haiti is more than just the 30-second update the press feeds us. It is a land that has permeated my senses. I still smell the morning dew glistening on the banana leaves. I still feel the coarseness of rocks digging into my skin as I knelt down to talk to the children. I still taste the saltiness of goatskin, a delicacy given for our company. I still hear the sweet sounds of worship coming from the lips of believers who truly define faith in action. But most of all, I still see the eyes of those I came in contact with. Tired. Broken. Waiting. Hoping.

A world of contradictions bottled up into a tiny gaze.

a year ago…

this time last year Russ & I were going through a rough time. God was calling us to a deeper, more intimate relationship with Him – one that required trust and faith. this is what I wrote one night and it’s so similar to what we’re facing today  - I thought I’d share.

i don’t claim to have it all figured out.
in fact, the past couple of weeks have been testament to me knowing absolutely nothing about the mind of God and His purpose. no…i don’t have it all figured out.
but i have been shattered with the truth of “draw near to me, and i will draw near to you.”

when russ and i first got married, we lived in this dilapidated apartment with a ten degree slant. i tripped going to the restroom in the morning and all of my cakes came out of the oven strangely reminiscent to those of the mad hatter genre – tilted and crooked and so completely lopsided. we held on for dear life walking down the stairs to our car because the slant was so severe. we were happy, though. life was simple.
my last paycheck from working at new braunfels christian came the week after our wedding – and with it a realization that i needed to find a job. and fast. russ worked full time at circuit city and made a decent amount – but we weren’t sure it would hold us over without any other form of income supporting us.
we went three months on just his income.
i landed a job in august – a few days shy of the “new teacher orientation” – and so immediately my life changed from relaxed to hurried. professional development, lesson plans, new faces and new regulations – a lot to swallow with only a few days preparation before kids arrived. i worked most of august and all of september until i saw my first paycheck. i remember that day – i remember the huge sigh of relief russ and i breathed now that we had added income to help cushion us. i remember the Lord’s provision. in moments where we should have been concerned about what was going to happen…we were taken care of by His faithfulness.
a couple weeks ago, i began praying earnestly for the Lord to really reveal where He was leading russ and me. it’s no secret that this past summer did something to us, like some shift in perspective has landed us in a world where we can’t go back to how we were before. it’s come with consequences: lost relationships and misunderstandings. but it has also come with great reward: deeper relationships with each other and unparalleled support from our community of friends we have found through the process of pruning. one thing is for sure: the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. blessed be his name.
everything came crashing down around us last week. my day began with a prayer: “Father – we can’t do this anymore. show us Your will. make it so blatant we cannot ignore.” i prayed this in the morning – asking for peace and opened doors and dangerous faith.
russ lost his job that afternoon.
it was…heartbreaking. sudden and swift and harsh – we were left with a fraction of a life we had before. i’m not just talking about income here…there’s something psychological that occurs within you when something is stripped away without warning. grief took over – but not completely. there was no way we could shake the feeling of peace that God was doing something within us and through us. there was no other possible explanation – no other reasonable excuse – to understand what happened. i had prayed to see His hand that morning, and by nightfall, His fingerprints were revealing themselves everywhere.
it’s been tough. there have been moments of discouragement and moments of worry. for the first time in four years, we are questioning where we go and what we spend – knowing that the future is so unknown for so many people right now, ourselves included. but…we have hope.
we’ve been given dreams. big dreams. dreams of living a life less ordinary and more bent on trust and belief that God is bigger than any injustice in the world…and now, we have freedom to pursue those dreams.
this past summer, russ and i came across a verse that spoke deeply to our desires of walking like giants: “And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him! Who then can understand the thunder of his power?” Job 26:14
if you think about it, most of us live our lives content with his whispers. we pray for his guidance in big decisions but never really ask for him to mediate for us in a big way. why do we need a God who will show himself? we have everything we need…our life of complacency and comfort leaves us dry and stagnant. we never understand there can be so much more…there IS so much more…
we prayed and begged and waited to experience the thunder of his power – knowing he was whispering big dreams we had never anticipated.
we waited.
and
waited.
and
waited.
and begin to wonder what His purpose was in giving us such big dreams when it didn’t seem as though we were getting anywhere…
looking back at these past six months, i am beginning to wonder…
perhaps all of the tears shed has watered the ground beneath us for new growth.
perhaps the doors slammed shut in our faces have given room for others to open.
perhaps our ears have been so clogged with busy-ness his thunder has been muted by our persistent ignorance…
God is bigger.
He’s bigger than all of our circumstances and all of our trials we go through. He carries us. in moments of despair – He is there, wiping our tears and cultivating new growth.
i sense a beginning taking shape in russ and me. somewhere in the distance, a faint rumble sounds…the recent storm has passed; a rainbow glistens in the rain.
i close my eyes and listen.
his thunder is here.

standing on hope’s shoulders

Much could be said of this generation. As a teacher, I hear a lot of judgments and assumptions about what teenagers are thinking and what makes them tick…

but all they need is purpose.

Which is a huge part of me being the sponsor for Club ICU at my school. We’ve supported Invisible Children for four years. And while we are technically a “club” from the beginning we have believed that to be a misnomer. Justice has no elite membership. While our focus is n. Uganda, we understand social justice spans far wider than a tiny speck on the globe. Issues surface in our own backyard. Earthquakes bend the ground and waves crash against shaken poles. We never wanted to be the group who focused so much on one area we ignored all the rest.

So, when the earthquake hit Haiti, my students immediately began to question what we could do to help. We realized we had about 350 dollars in cash from fundraising the previous semester and it was just sitting in our cabinet – waiting for the next round of Schools for Schools. The students began to wonder – why wait? Why not give what we have now – all of it. So they did. And it wasn’t very hard for them to decide to send it to Real Hope for Haiti and Heartline. I had been telling them stories from the Livesay blog and RHFH and they wanted to help. They had faces, names and situations. The perfect storm in giving.

Here’s what they said:

After seeing the pain and suffering brought forth by the recent earthquake, giving to Real Hope for Haiti and Heartline was an easy decision. We as Americans are so privileged in every day life. Our ability to not only give but give generously to those in need is incredible.  It breaks my heart to see the Haitian people in this chaotic time, especially now that I’m a new aunt. The preciousness of a child is so much more personal to me, the well-being of a Haitian child is just as important as any other. Anything that is needed to help the people of Haiti should be done.

- Alex Leininger, 12th grader

A shockwave can be more than physical. It can be emotionally devastating, just like an earthquake destroys physical things. I remember hearing about the earthquake. My heart breaking I fell on to the couch, mouth agape as I watched the devastation and death. I wanted to help. Thankfully, our ICU Club came across Real Hope for Haiti. Not long after hearing about them I heard about Amos Ivey, Aaron Ivey’s son. He is still in Haiti. What broke my heart even more, what really opened my eyes to the devastation the quake had on the kids was when Amos asked Aaron, “papa you comin’?” So many of the children in Haiti are orphans now. They have nothing and need everything. Real Hope for Haiti gives them the most important and valuable thing: Hope. Hope for a new life, hope for love. My heart goes out to all those who have experienced loss. I pray God’s love and grace floods your life. Job lost all he had. He suffered great loss, just like those in Haiti, but in the end was blessed greatly. I am incredibly glad to be helping in some way. I am hoping and praying these kids have a brighter tomorrow.
“I have told you these things that you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

- Dane Kemp, 12th grader

**Note: Amos is actually on American soil. Dane wrote this just a few hours before Aaron and Jamie Ivey found out Amos was on his way to Florida. When I texted Dane to let him know, he replied: “Powerful emotions Aaron must be feeling. Only a daddy could feel that way. Papa found a way. Both did. Amos should be happy.”

Much could be said of this generation. But I know what’s true: this generation is not relying on standing on the shoulders of those who came before them. They understand change is not only desired, it’s a necessity. They realize that in order to make a difference, they are going to have to blaze new trails and give generously. Risk will be involved. Adventure is a priority. Most believe this generation would rather sit in front of Mtv and daydream about starring in a reality show, but I know that most of these kids are discontent with the amount of excess they see in society and entertainment. Call it simple living, call it revolutionary thinking…call it what you will.

I know it’s just them standing on hope’s shoulders, her justice flag waving in the breeze. They will not be content with living normal lives. Not these guys. You watch. It’s addicting, this whole “changing the world” thing. Once you get hope in your veins, you can’t get her out.