Just wanted to let everyone know that my roommates and I are doing a little 40 day experiment and would love to have you join us for the ride. Check out http://the40daycatalyst.wordpress.com/ for details and follow us there!
It just hadn't been a good week. Straight up. I felt like I had been teetering back and forth between frustration that I couldn't fully put into words and trying to hold it together. Oh, and it was showing. I got pissed when we didn't have pancake mix in the pantry that I desperately wanted (never mind that I very much knew how to make some from scratch if I really wanted them. No. That Bisquick SHOULD have been there.) I tried out a new pizza stone I recently purchased, only to come out with a burnt finger, burnt pizza crust with a doughy middle and an episode where I threw a pot holder across the room in frustration after burning said finger, barely missing my roommates head. Yep. Teetering.
God had seemed pretty distant the past few weeks-not really tangible. Let me tell you, that is torture in a culture like Bethel. It's all about encounter with them. This is an awesome, amazing thing when you are encountering, but when you aren't, worshipping and even just being around people makes you feel like crap-stuck in a pit while every one else is having a party above you. Welcome to my Sunday morning. It was such a joyous time, the morning of graduation for three of my roommates. We were taking them out to celebratory lunch after the early service and they were graduating that night! No time for being in a pit. They deserved for me to be in the best of moods for them. I just wasn't.
Danny Silk, a pastor at Bethel, got up during the service and started talking about the geese (he called them honkers) that happened to be in front of the convention center when he arrived that morning. He talked about how the honkers fly in their V formation with a leader always at the front. When that leader tires it drops back, and one steps up to take its place. And as they are flying, they are honking-and they do this to encourage the one in the lead to keep going. He saw this (and the fact that geese were welcoming us to church that day) as a beautiful prophetic picture of how we are supposed to interact as brothers and sisters in Christ. We are to cheer each other on as we step out in the front to go farther. And we are to know when we are tired and let someone else take the reigns. It's a constant musical chairs of encouragement that makes us go farther together. Bethel also loves to do wacky prophetic acts, so he asked us to put our hands on the people beside us and honk. Yes, honk. We also declared encouragement over them and asked God to help them go farther and deeper. I suppose it was a pretty powerful thing for many people, but I was still down in my pit and just kind of going through the motions. The depth of what it meant didn't hit me until later.
After church, we made it to the restaurant and were eating and chatting, but I was mostly quiet. I felt as if I started talking I would began crying. I was confused and frustrated at why this was and hated that it was hindering what should be a fun day. Finally, one of my roommates asked me what was wrong and if I needed to talk. I didn't, because I didn't want to turn this into a counsel Jessica session during their celebratory lunch. Kristy said, "It won't ruin our day to talk to you about what is going on with you. Actually, it will probably make our day better." And as I shared how I had been feeling all week (and apologizing if any of my episodes affected other people) my roommates began to speak life to me, to shed some light on what they saw happening, to tell me how they saw God using me in their lives and how that was important. As we sat in the booth talking long after we finished eating, it clicked what Danny was saying that morning. I was surrounded by my fellow honkers and they were encouraging me to go further, to not stay stuck in the same pattern I found myself in. Because I voiced what was going on inside my head and allowed others to speak into it, I allowed a stronghold to be exposed and broken off because truth was inserted into it. And that is community. That is what we are supposed to be for one another. That is why we really will go farther together than we would alone.
I am encouraged today (and hope you are too) to be that voice, that honk of encouragement in someone else's life. And if you are the tired one who needs encouragement, let others know and allow them to speak into you. We all need it. We need to be told we can go farther.
This whole illustration reminded me of a song from an old favorite band of mine, Storyhill. They are a folk duo that sing a lot about fun things like mountains and rivers and campfires. It's a message of encouragement to go farther in your dreams and ties it all back into geese and how they fly. It's also the only other time I have heard the word honker, so I thought of it immediately when Danny was talking. Enjoy. And steady on.
Posted in Just For Fun by Jessica McClure on 3/31/2010
As many of you know, I have four roommates on my little farm here in Cali. Four human ones, that is. Two of my house mates have dogs and they are very much apart of my every day life as well. Sara, who I share a room with right now, has a border collie mix named Anabelle, who, consequently, I share a room with as well. We are all getting along smashingly thus far and Anabelle has become my walking companion in the mornings. This all works out well probably because Anabelle has been apart of the fam as long as any of us. We all go way back to Cairo, where Sara first acquired her from a nomadic drifter passing through town.
As I was moving some of my old documents onto my new computer, I found this blog I wrote way back during my first fall in Cairo (2005). It made me laugh so hard recalling the memory that I thought you might need a laugh, too. Enjoy :)
After
a long, emotionally draining week, I needed some laughter. Ok, I
know what you all are thinking-judging from what I communicate to the
outside world, every week is emotionally draining. But this week,
in the aftermath of one staff member choosing to leave and having to
fire four of my Youth Enterprise teens-my nerves were frayed. I
prayed to God, asking, "Lord, I just want some laughter".
Something that I can just laugh like a maniac about and it just be
ridiculously funny, with no undertones of seriousness or deepness.
Just straight-up superficial funny. Well, my friends, be careful
what you ask for-you just might get it....
It
all started with my cleaning schedule. For a whole month, we have a
section of the community center we are responsible to keep clean.
For this month, I have the kitchen. Yesterday, as I was doing my
respective duties, I noticed most of our dish rags and towels were
dirty. There is a big laundry bag full of them. I don't think we
have washed any since we have been here, but have just now run out
b/c we have a bunch left over from the Youthworks! summer. I noticed
people had tossed some in some plastic bags b/c they were wet and
nasty-having been used to clean the bathrooms and what-not. So, I
decided to take the whole thing to my house and wash them. I grabbed
the laundry bag, and the plastic walmart bags around it that were
full of rags too. I put all this in the back of my blazer. I was
then distracted by other duties and before I knew it, it was time for
Groundzero (our open night for teens on Sat. nights) The rags would
have to wait. So, they chilled outside in my car for about 4 hours.
After Groundzero, my roommate and I got in my car. Immediately, a
funky smell was evident. "Ugh", I said, lets get these in
the washer stat." So, Heather and I raced home. I thought the
smell was from the wet ones souring. There was a slightly different
twang in the air than that of simply soured wet rags, but I saw the
particularly nasty one that Sharon used on the bathroom floors today
and contributed it to that. We drug the bag downstairs and started
dumping them in, rushing b/c we were going to watch a movie at the
other house. I was tearing open the bags of wet ones and dumping
them in quickly, not even really looking at them. After I had dumped
a particularly small bag in (I assumed it had the offense bathroom
one in it), the smell of poop became overwhelming. "DANG", I
said, "these rags smell like crap." Heather looked into the
washer she just began to fill with water. "Jess! It IS CRAP".
I looked down, and lo and behold, a big fatty of a Mr. Hanky was
chilling on top of the rags as laundry water began to splash over it.
Upon closer inspection, I saw that there was more. I quickly
turned the water off. Heather and I commenced to cracking up,
falling on the floor dissolved into uncontrollable laughter,
shrieking. Gary and Sharon, the couple we live with, came down to
see what we were making all the noise about at 11:00 at night.
Sharon saw me laying on the basement floor, laughing and crying. She
said "What is wrong? Why are you rolling around on that
nasty floor?!" I said, "Go over and look in the washer ."
"OH GROSS!" she exclaimed backing way. That made Heather
and I start cracking up again. I then began to put the pieces
together. I remember a couple of days before, Sara's dog Annabelle
had pooped a few times on the kitchen floor. She must have cleaned
it up, put it in a bag and set it off to the side to throw away, but
forgot. The poopy bag was sitting next to some rag bags and I scooped
it all up in my haste, failing to examine it closely. Or at all, to
be honest. So, it being my fault for bringing the surprise home, I
go grab some paper towels to extract the brown kids from the washer.
Heather helps by holding up a bag for me to throw them into. I
approach the washer with caution. We luckily stopped the washer from
getting them too wet, but some mushiness had set in. SICK. Heather,
who has the gag reflex of someone with food poisoning, was gagging
and convulsing. I sucked in my breath and dove in for the stuff. I
fished it out as quickly as possible, took the bag to the garbage
outside and washed my hands 4 times. We also washed all the rags on
hot to get the poop remnants out. Done and done. I get the idiot
award for the evening.
We
went to the other house and told the tale. Everyone had a laugh. I
told Annabelle her poop was nasty and I never wanted to handle it
again. She just wagged her tail and jumped on me. I would think of
it once every half hour or so and just start cracking up again. It
was one of the grossest things I think I have ever done. But, hey,
it made me laugh harder than I have in a very long time.
The
moral of the story, kids? Closely examine everything in an obscure
walmart bag. Especially if you are dumping it in a washing machine.
And be sure to fall on the floor laughing every once in awhile. It's
good for the soul.
In the midst of all my moving craziness, I had totally forgotten where exactly on the internet I had this. This is the slide show that we played at my Mom's surprise 60th birthday party Feb. 6th. I had a great time with my family helping put all the party details together and it was a privilege to honor my Mom who has served others her entire life. Animoto.com made my life really easy, too! You pick a song, upload your photos and it creates a slide show with perfect transitions and rhythm. Just the ticket for the video-inept such as myself. I highly recommend it.
I pulled up to my new home at the farm
here in Redding, CA March 1st. It is finally feeling like
I am settled-almost a month later. I found a bed (I heart
craigslist), new sheets and comforter, and have finally put away the
last box into the garage. Learning the ins and outs of our little
farm life here has been such a treat to me. I have now become quite
the successful chicken farmer-even though I thought we had vultures
for baby chicks as they attacked me every time I came into the barn
to feed them. Turns out I wasn't giving them enough food. Oops.
My days have been filled with lots of
walks with the dogs, reading in the hammock and digging in the dirt. I also spent the day yesterday shoveling horse and chicken poop into our veggie garden-we made a pretty big one because we are doing a
little community garden with some BSSM students. Throw in a little
Haiti work for AIM and some job searching (found out yesterday I got
a Crew Leader position with the census-woot!) and you have my life.
I am loving it so far. I see beautiful snow capped mountains every
time I step out the door. I have a great community of people
surrounding me and am hoping to expand that more as I get more
involved here. It HAS been an adjustment from my former life of
"missions" and "ministry". I have absolutely no
obligation-no team to disciple, no children's program to help plan,
no Thai bar/strip club to go hang out in. Honestly, I had gotten
used to the structure of it all. "Bringing the Kingdom" was part
of my job description. Over the last couple of months I have
realized how quickly intentionality can go out the window when life
just starts happening. And my structure is pulled out from
underneath me.
This is a really great place for me to
be in, though. Heck, it is where most of the world is. I think the
real lesson for me in this next season is that whole ordinary radical
thing twenty somethings in Christian circles love to wax on about.
When the trips to impoverished nations cease (at least for a little
bit-NOT forever-please, Jesus), when programs and organizations are
gone. And it's just me and the Holy Spirit and the great big world
out there called my back yard.
As I have been asking Jesus about all
this over the last week, a little life lesson came to me in the form
of a young dude sitting out in front of Walgreens holding a sign. I
was going into Walgreens to use the ATM. Hot on the trail of a patio
set for our backyard, I was hurrying to a moving sale I saw one
posted in. I passed by him and he called out to me. "Hey, could
you help me out? I just want to get home." I stopped and sat down
on the sidewalk to talk to him. I got a bit of his story: name's
Ryan, lives near San Diego, car quit on him and he just needed 20
more dollars for repairs. "I don't drink or do drugs-that's not
why I am asking, promise" he kept saying. "I can do something
for you...uh..maybe wash your car?" I told him I had to go inside,
but I might see him when I came back out. As I headed to the back,
looking for the restroom, I said, "OK God, what's the deal with
this guy? How are you wanting me to respond?" As I finished my
business, I felt like as I got 100 dollars out of the ATM, I was
supposed to give him 20 of it. Now, I NEVER give money to people as
a general rule. Especially young guys. Just not my style. As I
threw up another quick prayer for this, I was reminded of his
offer to do something for me.
"I am trying to talk to him right
now. Tell him if he wants to do something for you, he can listen to
Me."
I walked back outside and Ryan will
still there. He perked up as I cam back over and sat down beside him
again. I asked him a few more questions: about his life back home,
what he was doing up here. I told him about my recent move here and
what brought me here. I mentioned Bethel and he said "Oh, they
have that meditation house right? I was in there a few days ago."
We chatted about the prayer room for a bit.
"Look, dude," I said. "I never
give money to people. But God told me to give you this" I pulled
out the 20 dollar bill and handed it over. He was elated. "Oh,
man! God told you to give this to me? Did he tell you I was good?"
"No, I replied. Honestly, I don't really care if you are good or
not. He told me to give it to you, so I am. I don't even care what
you do with it. He just wants you to have it." That kind of
quieted him for a minute. "So", I said briskly. " You said you
could do something for me?" "Um, yeah," he said hesitantly,
probably wondering what my catch was. Well, I think God is trying to
talk to you about some things right now. And He is just wanting you
to listen. He really loves you, ya know. So, I just want you
to take some time to listen. You have a long drive ahead of you and I
know it's a beautiful one. He may give you a picture, or a thought
in your head, or use the scenery around you to tell you something.
Just be open to Him." "Let's do it right now!" he said
excitedly, turning to face me. "OK", I said, a little surprised at
his tenacity. I prayed a blessing over him and asked God to come
down and touch him, to open his ears to hear. After a bit, I got up
and wished him the best. He asked for a hug and then I went on about
my day. It was nothing earth-shattering, but I heard God's voice and
was obedient. And that is all He is asking of us. Those kind of
opportunities are in every minute, every breath. No program or title
needed.
I wanted to share this incredibly encouraging video with you. It describes the the national three days of fasting and prayer that was called by President Preval on February 12, 2010. Even though the media attention is fading the farther we get from the day of the quake, there is still much to do in this nation. I am proud to be part of an organization that is committed for the long haul down there. I am helping interview and mobilize leaders to assist with the short term teams we are beginning to send down. You can read a first hand account of the three days here from Seth Barnes, AIM's executive director, here.
Harvest and Papa proceeded through the small garden to
a small dirt path on the other side and began to follow it to where
Papa only knew. Onward they traversed on the dirt trail, passing
gardens on the left and right. Some were overflowing with vibrant
flowers, some priming with luscious fruit, some bursting with amazing
aromas from the herbs nestled within. Papa kept trucking along with
his straw hat and sword slung over His shoulder, Harvest merely tried
to keep up as her eyes wandered to and from trying to take in the
scenery.
At
last, His pace slowed down until Harvest walked up beside Him to see
the view which caused Him to stop. They stood on an unassuming green
hill, but before them for miles stretched a garden. It's
the garden of the God,
Harvest amused. The sight was unique to say the least for even
though the garden appeared quite manicured, it also was clearly
haphazard with tall fruit trees and flower bushes sprouting up amidst
the lines of strawberries and rows of cabbage. Harvest looked up at
Papa. He knew precisely what she was thinking and answered without
missing a beat, "What?" He joked, "Sometimes as I pick green
beans, I must have a delicious orange. I just like stuff where I
like stuff." She laughed, shaking her head.
Dropping the sword down to the ground, Papa whispered;
the anticipation of the moment preceded His words, "Watch closely."
Harvest peered left and right, not sure what she was looking for,
but hoping desperately she would not miss it. Her eyes were drawn to
a large oak tree standing ridiculously tall in the middle of a
pumpkin patch. Squinting, she did notice something interesting.
It's leaves were changing color. Slowly at first...then quickly.
Within moments, the leaves had fallen off the tree and new buds were
already sprouting. The new leaves grew large and green only to begin
to dry out and turn orange and yellow. Harvest was amazed. She saw
this oak tree experience all four seasons in a matter of moments,
right before her eyes. But the pumpkins below seemed comfortably
settled into autumn the entire time. As she turned to face Papa and
inquire of this sight, she saw Him with the sword drawn towards the
oak tree.
"Keep watching," He whispered again as he began to
move the point of the sword towards other trees, bushes and vines.
She watched as He waved the sword about how the seasons would change
around specific plants or groupings of plants. He might as well have
been conducting a seasonal orchestra. "Now," He handed the sword
to Harvest, "it's your turn."
Harvest
tentatively took the sword in both hands and looked around the
garden. Where
should I point it? I haven't a clue how to do what Papa just did.
As she looked down at the abundance of plants, something strange
began to happen. There was a sense inside her, an undeniable
feeling, that the apple tree beside the blueberry bushes was craving
winter. Drawing her sword with both hands, Harvest pointed at the
tree and at once, winter came to the apple tree. It was soon
followed by spring. Soon she felt undeniably sure that the field of
daisies were hungry for summer. Pointing her sword again, she saw
the daisies perk up and the ground become more dry. With bewildered
joy, Harvest began to wield the sword over the whole garden as the
plants ebbed and flowed with the seasons. With her arms at last
growing weary, she put the sword down.
"In this garden, Harvest, the seasons don't just
happen, you see? Something inside the plants craves them. They
hunger for winter and thirst for spring. The seasons enable the
plants to grow, and I have placed destiny in their roots, that they
may have an insatiable appetite to be fully grown." He looked down
at Harvest and lovingly patted her hands around the sword. "You are
a season shifter, my Harvest. You were created to shift things for
my Kingdom. Shifting seasons. It's not about arbitrary change, it's
about ushering in maturity. As you wield my Word, you will usher in
maturity for my bride. Your life, your declarations, your presence
will bring forth new seasons for others to mature in. You see, in
the Kingdom, seasons are like paint brushes, stroking refinement,
color, and vision."
Harvest just stared at Him thinking of all the
implications of her life being one that initiated change and maturity
in others. "But what if I bring about the winter season? How
dreary!"
"In the Kingdom it is not that winter means bad times
and summer means good. The seasons aren't empirically good or bad,
they are divine transitions that lead to maturity, more so if one's
eyes are on me. This is the transformation power of Truth, when it
is wielded 'in season', as it were." Papa winked.
Just
as Harvest drew the sword near her to think more on what Papa had
said, she began to hear drums.
"A new song has awoken, My Harvest." Papa wrapped
His arms around her, "from your heart. Sounds a bit like an army."
Without hesitation, He took both her hands and thrust the sword into
the nearby grass. Their feet caught the rhythm of the drums as they
danced in a circle both dreaming of a day when the bride would be
fully awake, fully mature, and fully on the move.
if this story touched you or God spoke to you through it, please leave a comment. I will make sure Sara sees them!
I am going to use the next two blogs to do some hardcore bragging on my amazingly talented sister, friend, fellow contender in the faith and (just recently) bunkmate, Sara Rust. Sarah and I first met as interns with Youthworks way back in 2003. I only remembered her back then as the cute quiet gal with the guitar and video camera always handy. We then both came on staff with Two Rivers, and were forever cemented into the same spiritual family as we prayed, worshipped and contended together for a little town in southern IL. During this time I began to understand how much depth and creativity was bouncing around in that mysterious brain of hers. Sara is a powerful worship leader, has written and recorded music, and has incredible talent in editing video (she was a film major in college). A gift that I believe God is going to use to rock the world in the knowledge of His Kingdom, though is her writing. Her stories are mostly short fiction pieces displaying the Father's heart for His children. Last year, Sara went to a writing conference here at Bethel Church and her short story won first prize! She has since wrote a collection of short stories, most she has given to friends and family as gifts, that have a common theme of invitation, which she hopes to have published by the end of 2010. She also has a couple children's books in the works, too. She wrote me one for my birthday just a few weeks ago, and my first night home here in Redding, she read it to me out loud. Talk about a welcome home gift! A powerful, prophetic picture of the Father's heart. And I want to share it with you:
Seasonal
Copyright 2010 Sara Rust
Oddly
enough as she stood before the little garden tool shed, Harvest could
hear the lulling cadence of a fiddle somewhere in the distance. It
was a beautiful garden, albeit small. The beds were meticulously
kept. No weed in sight, just the quaint image of perfect rows of
perfectly ripe fruit and vegetables. The aroma was delicious as
around the small garden grew a hedge of blossoming rose bushes.
Harvest reached inside her invitation to pull out some fresh rose
petals. Her nose took a deep drink of them, then leaned over to
smell the roses on the bushes. "This is it," she thought.
Seeing a chair on the small patio by the shed, Harvest
made her way to it to rest for a moment, all the while hearing the
fiddle reels closing in. It wasn't a few moments after she sat down
that she heard the fiddle just behind her, and turning around found a
jovial Papa, complete with straw hat, offering her his hand. "Let's
show them how it's done, my Harvest." Papa grinned.
Harvest smiled, and then took a few moments to search
for the fiddle which seemed like it should be right next to her.
"You won't find it, dear one," Papa affirmed, "the music is
stirring from inside you."
Harvest eyed Him with confusion, "But it got louder
the closer you were."
Papa nodded, "Think of it this way, my presence is a
sounding board for the inner workings of your heart. The closer I
get, the louder it resounds." With that, He looked down at His hand
again and eagerly looked back up at Harvest. Harvest willingly
reached out her hand and in a whirl, she and Papa took to the patio
transforming it into a wee Irish dance floor. Fiddle reels and
giggles filled the small garden until suddenly the music stopped.
Harvest put her hands on hear heart, "Oh no! I'm so
sorry, Papa, the music is gone. I'm not sure what I did."
Papa drew near to Harvest and embraced her as only Papa
could. "No, no my Harvest. It seems the song has only come to an
end, to make way for a new song. Rest assured, the music only gets
better and better. Now we can eagerly await the melodies to come."
Harvest let out a sigh of relief and both the weary dancers took a
seat on the patio.
"What do you think of my little garden, here,
Harvest?"
"It's rather beautiful, Papa, though, honestly I
expected any garden of Yours to be a bit larger." Papa smiled
knowingly at Harvest then turned to look over his small garden, "This
is one of the smaller varieties. I thought it would be a fitting
place to begin, before I show you one of the larger varieties."
Papa stood up and walked to the tool shed. "We will need some
tools to work in the other garden," he said opening up the door.
"Pick one."
"Pick one?" Harvest rose from her chair and peered
into the shed. Her eyes widened. Inside was a curious collection of
typical garden tools and some not so typical ones. On the floor she
spotted ballet slippers, on the shelf she noted a can of paint
brushes and hanging on the wall was a simple fishing pole.
"But you can only pick one." Papa repeated.
Harvest
entered the shed looking over the range of tools. What
should she pick? Was this a test? How could ballet slippers prove
productive for a gardening task?
Scouring the shelves, the walls, and the floor, she finally came
across an object that, though seemingly unfit for a day in the
garden, was in her mind the only perfect item to be found. She
carefully pulled it out from behind the shovels and hoes and dragged
it outside to Papa, whose eyes spoke, confirming of His delight in
her choice.
"Now that, dear Harvest, is a perfect gardening
tool." He picked up the tall silver sword and draped it over His
shoulder. "Follow me, Harvest."
After a great few days in Cairo, I hopped
back in my packed to the gills Honda and made the 9.5 hour trek down to Dallas,
TX. There I visited with my friend Valerie, her husband Jer and their beautiful
new baby, Lily. Val and I lived together in West Virgina , working as interns
for Youthworks. We were apart of the only all girls team, and the four of us
had an ease and love amongst us that was, and still continues to be, a rare and
precious thing. I have not seen Val in over two years, since we were all reunited
again for Emily's, another of our foursome, wedding. Time and busyness and
geography have taken us on different paths, but it is always a blast when we
reunite. And obviously, this one was a whole different kind of fun as I
met her three month old daughter Lily. What a gorgeous little gal!
It was so great to see Val in this new role and her, Jer, and Lily's life
together in Dallas. We cooked dinner, took pics of the babe, watched the
Olympics, and talked about the ridiculous situations we used to find ourselves
in back in the Youthworks days (involving things like a 15 passenger van loaded
down with bad paint tipping over as we drove through the mountains). It
was a joy to see her again and have a glimpse of the new life and role God has
given her.
Thursday
morning (after Val sent me off with a packed lunch-such a mom;) I hopped on I20
heading west to El Paso. What can I say about driving in Texas? flat.
brown. fantastically high speed limits. I learned that tumble weeds are
not just in western cartoons and they do indeed tumble across the dusty plain.
Not a whole ton to occupy your senses, but I found that I do indeed enjoy the
open road-good tunes, lots of time to sit in the Presence. Driving was a
very joyful time for me.
Brittany and
I went to YHC and UGA together. Our freshman year at YHC we were both on
a spring break trip to Juarez , MX with an organization called Casas Por
Cristo. This was my first mission trip ever, and where I was awakened to
my love for missions. Brittany and I both took two more trips during
college. Britt then came on staff with Casas after graduation and has
been with them ever since (going on 7 years). Ironically enough, I passed
through El Paso almost exactly 10 years to the day of our first mission trip down
there as freshman. It was great to reflect with her about those trips and
where life has taken us and many other dear folk from college. Brittany's
relentless pursuit of God's heart is so encouraging to see, and she is an
example of commitment and perserverance in one of the hardest places in North
America to live and minister. I got to sit in on a Casas staff/prayer
meeting and it was awesome to be able to see them in action-an organization
that had such an impact on my early journey. It was an honor to be able
to pray with them and encourage them in the place God has them.
My
cross-country trek began last Friday and my first stop was Cairo, IL-where I
currently still am until Wed. morning. I have written about Cairo on this
blog numerous times. I called this place home for 2.5 years, and I found my covenant
family here as we struggled, contended and grew in a place together that most
of the time felt like it was straight out of Isaiah-barren, desolate, no sign
of livestock,(tangent:I have never seen a single squirrel the entire four years
I have been around this place-weird huh?) the whole bit. A town where
every kid lives below the poverty line, most people don't have jobs, and racial
tension and strife leftover from the civil rights movement exists to this
day. Let's just say, this was great training ground for me to understand
spiritual warfare, standing in the gap, and the power of God's promises-and
declaring them over places, regions, and nations. Coming back is always a
unique feeling-like coming home, but sort of like when your home is war torn
Sudan or Iraq. I forget what reality here can mean sometimes.
Yesterday, I was reminded.
I
joined two of my former staff mates as they did their weekly prayer/ministry
time at the projects. There are two housing projects in Cairo, and they
switch off between the two on Monday afternoons. There is no set plan:
just whatever God wants them to do each time: intercede, talk to people, pray
with people, etc. As we pulled up to the place, one of the girls shared a
story from earlier that day at one of the elementary schools. Without going
into detail, the discovery of inappropriate sexual behavior was found happening
at a school function. This is happening and being dealt with at
ELEMENTARY school age. I probably worked with some of these kids as sweet
2nd graders during my time here. We sat in subdued silence for a long
time in the car, words being few and prayers hard to formulate. I gazed out the window, at the
trash littering the ground, the concrete of the buildings and the screechy bass
of the cars passing by outside blaring music that promotes and glorifies the
exact thing we sat there reeling from. My next thought was: Of course. Where else do these kids have to turn?
Look what surrounds them: Filth-not just in the form of the trash no one cares
enough to pick up, but in words that are said, in actions, in what they watch
on T.V., in how they see their parents (some who are basically teenagers
themselves) interact and respond to those around them. I just sat there looking down
at my bible, asking God for His reality and what He thinks there needs to be a
release of here.
The
words of a Rick Pino song came to my mind: innocence is restored, when I'm with
my daddy. The song goes on to
prophetically declare the restoration of the innocent ones, for confusion to
end, and for fear to cease. I
began to ask for God to release the realization of himself as Daddy over that
housing project. For kids who have
never known the true love of an earthly father to encounter the heart of the
One who weeps over their sin, but waits in eager expectation for their
realization as heirs-sons and daughters of the living God, to be revealed
(Romans 8:15-16). That is it. Not by any human effort, or control,
or behavior modification, but by an encounter with the heart of the
Father. It's a joyful realization,
even as I look at my dear family that is still here in the thick of it: Not by
power or might, but by His Spirit.
What
can I say? Cairo, I love ya. It's always good to be back. :) If this is any indication, the rest of
my across the nation jaunt should be pretty awesome. I'll keep you updated!
to listen to the full track of Zerubbabel (Rick Pino) click here. It's good stuff.
*the pic in the top right corner (of the main drag in Cairo) was photographed by James Drake.-to give credit where it is due. :)
My days have been filled with lots of
walks with the dogs, reading in the hammock and digging in the dirt. I also spent the day yesterday shoveling horse and chicken poop into our veggie garden-we made a pretty big one because we are doing a
little community garden with some BSSM students. Throw in a little
Haiti work for AIM and some job searching (found out yesterday I got
a Crew Leader position with the census-woot!) and you have my life.
I am loving it so far. I see beautiful snow capped mountains every
time I step out the door. I have a great community of people
surrounding me and am hoping to expand that more as I get more
involved here. It HAS been an adjustment from my former life of
"missions" and "ministry". I have absolutely no
obligation-no team to disciple, no children's program to help plan,
no Thai bar/strip club to go hang out in. Honestly, I had gotten
used to the structure of it all. "Bringing the Kingdom" was part
of my job description. Over the last couple of months I have
realized how quickly intentionality can go out the window when life
just starts happening. And my structure is pulled out from
underneath me.
"In this garden, Harvest, the seasons don't just
happen, you see? Something inside the plants craves them. They
hunger for winter and thirst for spring. The seasons enable the
plants to grow, and I have placed destiny in their roots, that they
may have an insatiable appetite to be fully grown." He looked down
at Harvest and lovingly patted her hands around the sword. "You are
a season shifter, my Harvest. You were created to shift things for
my Kingdom. Shifting seasons. It's not about arbitrary change, it's
about ushering in maturity. As you wield my Word, you will usher in
maturity for my bride. Your life, your declarations, your presence
will bring forth new seasons for others to mature in. You see, in
the Kingdom, seasons are like paint brushes, stroking refinement,
color, and vision."
Thursday
morning (after Val sent me off with a packed lunch-such a mom;) I hopped on I20
heading west to El Paso. What can I say about driving in Texas? flat.
brown. fantastically high speed limits. I learned that tumble weeds are
not just in western cartoons and they do indeed tumble across the dusty plain.
Not a whole ton to occupy your senses, but I found that I do indeed enjoy the
open road-good tunes, lots of time to sit in the Presence. Driving was a
very joyful time for me.
My
cross-country trek began last Friday and my first stop was Cairo, IL-where I
currently still am until Wed. morning. I have written about Cairo on this
blog numerous times. I called this place home for 2.5 years, and I found my covenant
family here as we struggled, contended and grew in a place together that most
of the time felt like it was straight out of Isaiah-barren, desolate, no sign
The
words of a Rick Pino song came to my mind: innocence is restored, when I'm with
my daddy. The song goes on to
prophetically declare the restoration of the innocent ones, for confusion to
end, and for fear to cease. I
began to ask for God to release the realization of himself as Daddy over that
housing project. For kids who have
never known the true love of an earthly father to encounter the heart of the
One who weeps over their sin, but waits in eager expectation for their
realization as heirs-sons and daughters of the living God, to be revealed
(Romans 8:15-16). That is it. Not by any human effort, or control,
or behavior modification, but by an encounter with the heart of the
Father. It's a joyful realization,
even as I look at my dear family that is still here in the thick of it: Not by
power or might, but by His Spirit.