A Body United.

There’s something beautiful about unity.

About unity amidst diversity.

About a bond that supersedes any disagreement.

There’s something stunning about a body of people who are united.

In Spirit and purpose.

Of the same mind.

And that’s what I’ve seen in the church in China.

It’s amazing to see the church shine under the same head, all heading the same direction, directing their energies and actions toward the same goal.

The goal of redemption, of making broken people whole, holistically healing through the power of G od.

It’s amazing to see the church united, one body, not differentiated by multiple denominations, and denominations within denominations. There’s no quarrels over who’s right and who how to write the bylaws. There’s just unity. In a country where everything is monitored, they are still bolder than we are, growing rapidly, some would even say exponentially.

It’s incredible the power of a body united, not divided, for a house divided against itself cannot stand. But here they seem to stand together, as a people, a people seeking the reconciliation of a nation.

There are no questions of what church-type, what denomination,  what background you come from, but instead the church is bonded together by love. Something that may be absent in the city culture as a whole. We as foreigners must be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves, but they are bold. They are humble and hunger for more, more understanding of who G od is, but already understanding the power in standing together.

Government churches, house churches, family churches, small groups, pra yer meetings, it’s encouraging.

Encouraging yet humbling.

For I fear the church in America is falling apart.  There are so many issues to cause us to divide. We are blessed with deep Bi blical education, but with that comes the possibility of dissension because of different interpretation. We get caught up in so many things, forgetting what we are even arguing about. We attack instead of encourage.

What if we found common ground, grounded in the deep, unchanging Truths of Chri stianity, united as a body, working out our theology humbly seeking always the direction of G od. What if we stood together as a nation, under G od, driven by an overflow of love, reflection the perfect one, as water reflects the sun. What if we realized we won’t get there, we won’t see every detail, we won’t arrive, but instead of giving up, that caused us to strive together as a body that works together in unity.

Each member doing it’s part, but all working toward the same purpose.

What if we realized that we can unite on the core truths, on Mere Chris tianity.

Imagine if we were united in love. How the world would be.

Because, as I’m learning, there’s something so beautiful about unity.

Life Goes On.

Life goes on.

Actually, it rushes on.

When we just want a breather, when we are struggling to find clean air, when we are so exhausted we can hardly breathe, life goes on.

When we find ourselves distracted, late, attacked with the questions of life, life goes on.

No matter how slow I wish it would go, I’ve found that it does not listen to me. It seems to be one speed, and that speed is ever increasing.

Back then a month seemed like forever, and now a year flies by before I can blink my eyes. I can hardly keep up, the wind from the pace bringing tears to my eyes. But life goes on.

When we’re down and out, when we’re out of work, money, or out of town, life goes on.

A hospital visit won’t slow it down. No, checking out mentally, physically, emotionally won’t either. Even when our minds aren’t fully there, life is.

We can run, but we can’t hide. Life is quick. It can catch up wherever we try to escape to.

When our lives are jam packed, with working, personal business, eating, and maybe a bit of sleeping, life doesn’t slow down. Instead it seems to do the opposite, the turbo speed flipping up.

When we take a nap on our motor bikes, in a store or on a bench, life doesn’t sleep with us, but while we’re asleep it may throw in a wrench, catching us off guard, robbing us of precious time, but could we survive without sleep? Without rest? No. But even when we sleep, life goes on.

It goes on and on and we have no way of knowing when it will stop. So why do we always try to escape it? Can we never learn to embrace it? To stop and smell the roses (or stinky tofu)? To hold our children tight? To reflect on the happenings of the day as we say good night?

Can we not find time to slow down? To breathe? To maybe even sit down? Can we face each day with a smile and the decision to follow life, to embrace it, instead of always chasing it, hoping we can catch it and anchor it down? Trying to contain it and make it submit to our terms?

We can’t alter it, we can’t escape it’s speed, but one thing we may be able to do is alter our attitude, our perspective, the way we see.

Because either way,

Life goes on.

So Far.

So many emotions.

So many thoughts.

So many directions.

So many distractions.

Yet I will choose to stop and thank G od.

So far.

So far I have arrived in a new land that I will call home for a year.

So far I have met new people whom I will work with.

So far I have learned along with the students.

About optimism. About forgiveness. About love.

I have been reminded of how far I’ve come from the person I was when I was lucky and free.

I have been reminded that a life of simplicity is all I need.

I have been reminded of how powerful it is to plant a seed.

So far I’ve grown and can feel my heart softening.

I can truly say my love for these people is blossoming.

I’ve explored the streets, smiled at people who stare, seen what it means to truly care.

I’ve tasted incredible new food, as well as food that’s not so good.

I’ve seen the stark contrast between lifestyle in the same neighborhood.

I’ve been discouraged and intimidated, yet hopeful in healing.

I’ve seen students change, a 180, a flip from floor to ceiling.

So far I’ve stepped out and in front of a class of people who are older than me with a stash of wisdom I can’t even fathom.

I’ve seen flowers, green trees, and even black swans.

I’ve run the streets, breathed the pollution and even seen people sweeping dirt lawns.

I’ve enjoyed Mongolian milk tea and cheese; I’ve heard stories of the grassland and even heard strong Mongolians sing.
So far I've been amazed at the trust built in just a few short weeks, resulting in life-giving conversations that happen as G od speaks.

I’ve gone into alley, into stores, and fumbled my way around, attempting to communicate with the little I know, but determined to grow in my Chinese.

I’ve watched and I’ve taught, I’ve gotten very hot, and every day I’ve noticed I get stared at a lot.

I’m learning that failure doesn’t mean stop, but keep on giving a try.

And I was even welcomed with several days of clear blue skies.

So far I’ve been spoiled by grandparents who have taken me under their wing,

I haven’t gotten trapped in my mind, getting crippled by the way I think,

And I’ve even gotten to hear Nancy sing.

So far I’ve had some time with a roommate who loved to talk, I’ve felt the thunder and rain, and I’ve had to find solitude in a very short walk.

So far I’ve eaten mangos with yogurt for breakfast sever times, I’ve stumbled and fallen, but I think I may be learning to fly.

I’m not sure what’s going on inside, and I’m not sure why, but for some reason redemption seems more possible, life more alive.

It’s been a very eventful few weeks as I go along for the ride.

Last Month's struggle

Stumbled upon this. Wrote it a month ago. Real and raw. Ups and downs. Is life a roller coaster? Or does it ever level off? I'm not sure which would be better...

Who am I. Who am I anymore.
As soon as I thought I knew, every crutch is slowly broken, every layer peeled off revealing a raw and bloody core. It was busyness I hid behind, doing and producing and performing. I was defined by what and how much I produced in very little time . And accomplishment. I achieved many things and was known for it. I was a high achiever, top of everything. Then sports, fast and encouraging. A compassionate heart. An optimist. And one with big dreams. With great potential. One who could get paid to go to school. Who had an inheritance. As one who never faced rejection, who could do whatever she wanted. One who had great intelligence. 
And now look at me. Stripped of sports ability. Stripped of busyness and responsibility. Stripped of performance and academic achievement. Faced with rejection after rejection of things I wanted to do. With no knowledge of history, current events, geography. Not well versed in pop culture or any specialty. What do I know. I don't even have common sense. My compassion is selective and my patience non existent. The self has replaced the selfless. I feel unworthy and unwanted. Stripped of intelligence, options, stability. No money, no performance, no ministry.
What do I have. What is there left to strip me of. I don't even have full health anymore. Not even a fully healthy body. Yet listen to me. Complaining and whining about me. Can't I see how trivial all of this is relatively? My troubles are a drop of water in the sea of pain. Yet it's big to me because it's my identity. Who am I. When all this is stripped away, what's left of me. 
I fear I don't know. I fear I question my very core. I know what I should say, but it sure doesn't feel like it today. Maybe it's lack of sleep or scales of sin on my eyes so I can't see, but here I am. Raw and vulnerable. All my crutches gone, all my masks and covers off. My naked soul feels broken and unwanted. Worthless and ugly. Confusion and chaos wrapped in a body. 
Who am I. Who am I when its all said and done. When every support I've been standing on has been ripped from under me. I'm tempted to think it's just down from here, a spiral into the abyss. But I know that's not the case. There is a foundation. One who defines me. Who gives me a new identity. Devoid of all the titles and masks I've come to see as me. I could be the stupidest, coldest, brokest, everything bad-ist in the world and would he still look at me and say I am beauty? I am worthy? I am just who he wants me to be and is growing me to be? I am loved and whole and redeemed? Fully seen, fully known, fully and unconditionally loved even in my insufficiency. He does and he has. I can rest in the shadow of his wings. My soul clings to him and his right hand upholds me. He is my strong fortress, my refuge, and I will not be shaken. May that be what I truly believe. May my identity come from who he is and who he's made me. Jesus sees me. And he loves me. Even when all my striving ceases and I lay void of productivity. Now I just need that to sink from mind to heart and start living as if that's what I truly believe. The cross has clothed my bloody core with an intense beauty and irrevocable identity.

A Sample of Costa-Rica-Inspired Thoughts

Airports:

Such an interesting concept.

So many people all crammed into the same place, yet none acknowledging a single stranger.

So many people moving. Going. Leaving.

So many people in transit.

Far transit, otherwise they’d drive.

It’s crazy how close the proximity, yet how great the distance.

Each in their own worlds, focused on the world in their palms, totally withdrawn from any human interaction.

Unless of course they travel in groups.

Then their attention is split between the world at their fingertips and the nucleus of humanity that is their travel group.

And I’m just as guilty as the next person.

Is it that I’m simply exhausted? Or introverted? Or just not open for a new conversation?

So do I take my headphones out and risk spending the time and energy to actually participate in the world around me?

I guess we shall see.

Hip hop:

This culture. It’s so different. Unique. Tightly knit

It’s so interesting how different things draw and unite people together.

Some seem to from stronger bonds than others.

I wonder why that is.

Is it based on the level of commitment to that thing?

On the degree of identity placed in it?

What is it that causes us to forget our differences and draw so deeply on that one thing that we have in common.

It’s quaint.

Gay pride. Christ’s body. The music or dance or drama scene.

All examples of that bond played out.

Lived out.

Yet they stand for such different things.

What causes people to do the unthinkable, spend unimaginable amounts of money, travel unreasonable distances. Catholic or Muslim devotion.

The worship of material things. The visiting of ancestry homelands.

How humanity works.

It fascinates me.

Causes me to wonder why we are the way we are.

Which could drive me to psychology, history or divine mystery.

So I don’t have an answer, but it’s interesting to think about.

To toss around my mind.

Why are we so connected to where we came from? Why is the connection and commitment to family this unbreakable love, even against all reason?

Streets:

They’re everywhere.

People on the streets.

Disfigured, crippled, or without work.

Asking, begging for money.

Some selling trinkets and candies.

Others just shaking their nearly empty cups.

Of course, some making up stories and scamming up and down the street, but others are truly and gravely in need.

So what do we do? Is possible greed a justification to ignore them all?

Does it matter where their story falls on the Truth spectrum?

But what’s enabling and maybe even hurting in the long run and what’s lending a hand and an offering of love.

Back then they shared everything in common. Does that mean just within the church? Or to all?

What our call to stewardship of money and  stopping and sharing in someone’s story of affirmation and redemption?

Giving gift cards?

A conversation?

A meal?

Cash?

Nothing?

How do we love and affirm humanity.

How do we love selflessly as Christ loved me.

The sheer number in the streets is overwhelming.

I want to love well. To live well. With my life as a telling testament of the gospel.

So what do we do now?

Words

After watching people paint pictures of their hearts with words:

I don’t understand.

I don’t understand the power words have over me.

The way they can elicit tears by just being arranged in the right way.

The effect they have on my emotions, one who can simply say the right things.

With passion and rhythm, with heart and soul that beats like the tympani drums.

That just flows naturally in a way that I can’t explain. 

A way that flows through my veins. Pumps through the marrow of my bones, filling both sides of my heart and then being exported into my very being, my core.

While some are moved by music and melody, the melody that moves me is the tune of words. Deep and powerful. Just spoken real and raw, with honesty and love that I can’t move on from.

I can’t get over the fence of these words without truly taking a step back and realizing their vastness, their length, their depth.

This fence stretches from east to west and reaches the depth of my numb heart buried deep inside my sunken chest.

And when I collide with this wall, I’m forced to step back and realize how great the awe it elicits, how deep the fall into feeling again.

Into being moved again.

The beauty of words said in the right way.

I thank God for those with the gift of rhetoric. The gift of rhythm. The gift of linking words together in a way that punches my numbness and wakes up my solemn heart.

I can’t explain it.

But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe there’s nothing to explain, nothing to tell.

So I’ll let the tears running down my cheeks speak for themselves.

Lost and Found

I think I may have found it. 
Hidden deep down, covered in exhaustion, under layers of weariness and stacks of reservation.
Half suffocates yet struggling to reach the surface once again, to breathe deep from the well of good clean air.
It's muscles strained from the weight of pessimism and atrophied by lack of exercise, it must be strong or it wouldn't have survived. 
Yet it's alive and in the quiet I heard its faint whisper, gasping for breath, pleading for mercy to see once again. To breathe once again.
And after struggling to shove aside all he weight threatening its suffocation, I think I've found it.
I'm not sure if it's weak because that's what is is by nature of Id lack of use has brought this change, but I guess time will tell. I'm not sure of its true, naked nature. But I think I've found it.
My sense of adventure.