Healing plane ride

It was Thursday, August 14th, 2014, and Barry, Shelley, Libby, and I boarded our first of three flights that would take us to Africa.  That first flight was from Amarillo to Houston.  We would have a small layover there before flying to Washington D. C. to stay the night.  The next morning would be the long, long, long flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  

My seat is 1A.  I am in the first row, and there is only one seat in my row.  I have a strange view of the cockpit.  Too bad they have to shut the doors during the flight.  That would have been interesting.

There were so many things to wonder and think over on a flight that was beginning a journey to Ethiopia to serve at orphanages.  I had brought my Amharic flashcards for last minute study.  I had endless amounts of music on my iPod.  I had my Bible of coarse.  There was no end to the questions I had about our trip.  I had no idea what to expect.

But the thing I couldn't quit thinking about was the last time I had flown from Amarillo to Houston.

That day was July 21, 2010.

Early that morning, I had gotten a phone call that changed my life forever.

Phones ringing in the middle of the night was a common occurrence that summer.  Citychurch had just contracted with Allstate for security of the building downtown.  James and I were both on the call list.  Anytime someone came in early and set the alarm off  (which happened so often, I can't count) or a homeless person was acting unusual around our building, our phones would ring.  First James's phone would ring and go to voicemail, then my phone would ring and go to voicemail, as we tried to sleep knowing someone else would answer and handle the non-emergency.

That morning, my phone rang first, then James's phone rang.  I was jarred awake with the thought - that is not Allstate calling.  James answered.

My sleepy brain began to swim through likely scenarios.  It landed on one.  My aunt Edna's heart surgery.  Was that it?  My dad had told me she was recovering well before I went to sleep that night.

I could tell it was serious by James's groggy tone.  He hands me the phone saying, "It's your dad."  His news is unbelievable.  My brain will not let it sink in.

Jeffrey is dead.  My little brother has shot himself.

My dad's despair and heartbreak is flooding through the phone into my ear, but my brain builds a fortress.  I am in shock.

I do such random things that morning.  Pack my bag.  I have to be there for my parents.  How many diapers can I fit in this suitcase for my 2 month old Gabe?  I have to take care of my parents.  I have to take care of this baby.  I cook breakfast.  I never do that, but I feel such a need to make muffins.  I watch the news.  Something else I never do.  James buys me a plane ticket.  I look at Jeffrey's FaceBook page.  What was he thinking?  Is he really gone?  He was only 24.

The thing I do not do is cry.  My fortress is up.  My belief that this is real is still nonexistent.

James takes me to the airport.  Gabe and I get on the plane.

As the plane takes off, the only thought remember thinking is, this plane cannot crash.  My parents cannot lose two children in one day.

I have to take care of my parents.  I have to take care of this baby.

I get off the plane.  I get go to get my bags.  There is my mom, my dad, and their pastor.  It is true.  This is really happening.

We ride in the pastor's car to my parent's house.  It is an hour long drive.  When we pull into the driveway, extended family members are waiting.  They have driven from Ft. Worth to be supportive during this tragedy.  As I hug my cousin, Kathy, and the tears finally come.  She is here for me.  She's here to help and support me.  I can let go of the armor.  I let the fortress fall.

These are the memories that roll through my mind as I fly on my mission trip to Ethiopia last August.  But it wasn't all sad.  I had such a gratitude, a deep thanksgiving to God, that I was flying this flight from Amarillo to Houston to do His work, flying for a good reason.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the life He has given me.  As we fly, I hide my tears of loss and thanksgiving.  I was thankful to be sitting alone in my row of one.

It was healing.

I wondered on that flight why God would start that trip out with such an emotional reminder of that day of loss and brokenness I experienced in the wake of suicide.  But it was really a silly question.  Why wouldn't God want to start me in a place of weakness and sensitivity to His Spirit and remind me of my trust in Him?  Why wouldn't God want me to remember my loss before I went and held children who were marked with loss, marked as orphans?

God used my willingness to serve Him to heal my wounds.  This wasn't the first time that serving the Lord would serve me, and it won't be the last.  God has used my ministry to repair my heart over the last four years and refocus my humanity and compassion to serve others.  And in serving others, God ministers to me.

If you have scars and wounds, pray about serving God in some way.  Ask Him what you can do for others.  You may still have a fortress around those scars and bruises, but God has the remedy for healing.

Worship God with me.  

Can we also praise The Lord for xylophones?  They are marvelous.

When the time is ripe

I've heard it said that there are two types of people in the world, those who love Neil Diamond and those who don't.  But seriously, there are two types of people in the world, those who are morning people, and those of us that are sane.

Morning is not my jam.

My motor has to rev for a while before it really gets running.  I've always known this about myself.  This is not new information.  And for years I beat myself up about not being the type of woman that jumps up, pops my Bible open for study, and then cooks my children a nutritious breakfast.  I tried that once, and it just wasn't happening.  (I hope my kids remember that morning I tried and not just their cereal existence.)

Someone finally set me free when I heard someone say, "Study your Bible everyday.  It doesn't have to be at 6am, but pick a time and do it."  I wish I could remember who that was.  I would give them props here and a virtual high five.

When I heard that I didn't have to study my Bible at 6am to be a godly woman, my heart painted it's face, jumped on a horse, and cried, "FREEDOM!"

So I've been set free, but every once and a while I hear or read a word and it shuts me back into that stifling dungeon of perfectionism, falling short of that idealistic woman in my head.

That word is firstfruits.

I love the picture and concept of firstfruits.  I cherish remembering that everything I have is something that God made and truly belongs to Him, and that I can lay the first of my produce and possessions at His feet in honor, love, and worship to my Creator and Provider.

Now that we aren't all walking behind a till and placing seeds in the ground, thank you industrial revolution!!!, this idea of firstfruits has become even more symbolic to us.  Back in Moses's day, God laid down the laws for His people, he asked them to practice the Sabbath and to celebrate Holy days.  He told them to bring the first of their grains as an offering.

There is so much symbolism and foreshadowing of Christ in all of the institutions God set up in Exodus and Leviticus.  Everything that is asked of Moses, Aaron, and those desert-living Israelites points to God as our Father, Jesus as our high priest and Savior, and the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Handing that sheaf of wheat to the priest was setting up God's system of tithing.  But we have to understand that God doesn't need grain.  He doesn't need sustenance to nourish himself the way that us humans do.

Even now, as we tithe, I hope you know that God doesn't need our money.  God doesn't have a bank account He needs to balance or bills to pay.

God wants our heart.  That grain was precious to those people.  They were living in a desert and trying to feed their children.  Giving that firstfruit to God took self-restraint and acknowledgement that God was providing for them.

God is still in the business of hearts.  Tithing the first of our money still takes self-restraint and acknowledging that God provides everything.

My point is that the firstfruit has and always will be symbolic.  And I swoon over the glorious pictures that God paints for us.

My problem comes when we take the firstfruit idea and try to apply it to time.

Time is mysterious.  Solomon wrote about that in Ecclesiastes 3, "There is an occasion for everything and a time for every activity under heaven:...."  We've all heard this part of scripture thanks to the 60's band The Byrds.  (Personally I prefer their song, "So you wanna' be a rock n' roll star."  It's beyond groovy.)

So we might think that our early morning hours are a firstfruit of our time.  I grasp the concepts that lead to that conclusion, and I've heard some testimonies of people who were touched or encouraged in their walk by this analogy.  I've heard women testify that their morning barns were filled and their vats were bursting with new wine. (Proverbs 3:9-10)  I'm happy for them.

But for me, that dog don't hunt.

Think about time with me for a minute.  Right now it's almost lunch time, but in Addis Abba, our little boy we are waiting to adopt is just going to bed for the night.  What time is on the moon where the zones don't apply?  Are our firstfruits our teenage years?  Our twenties?  I hope not.  I've still got time to live and give back to God.  He gives me each second so graciously and generously.

Let me give you non-morning people some of that "FREEDOM."  Give God your best time.  Give God your time that is ripe and fresh and sweet.  For me that is mid to late afternoon.  Figure out what time that is, and lay it at His feet with prayer and study of His precious word to us.  If 6am is your best time, give it to God.  (And I'll try to be friends with you, but I can't promise anything.)

Can I tell you the moment that I realized that I could finally completely let go of my "morning firstfruit" guilt.  My church started having a night service after a decade of not having one.  We started meeting on Wednesday nights last year for worship and Pastor Donnie Lane, Jr. sharing some teaching from the Word.  A few weeks in, my husband and I had this conversation.

Me:  "Wow!  Donnie really saves his deeper preaching for these night services.  He really is digging into the word and revealing some truths." 

My husband, James:  "Not really.  You were just awake." 

Me:  "Ohhhh!  You're right!"

So that happened.  Ha!  Thank you God for giving me a husband that knows me.  My dad also knows me too.  Sometimes when I call him, he answers the phone, "How's my little night owl?"  It's true.

Let these verses encourage you and your heart any time of the day you might choose to read this, to draw near to His Word and Him who was the Word.

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water." Hebrews 10:19-22 ESV

Writing this blog has turned into a YouTube session of listing to The Byrds.  So I thought I should share.  Listen to this masterpiece.  The trumpet, the vibraslap percussion, crowd noises, and those lyrics.  Music makes me happy.

How my mom led me to salvation

When I tell my testimony, I always start with a prayer my mother prayed.  That is where it started.

I was twelve, and we had just moved back to the town of Burleson, Texas.  My mom had a deep longing in her heart to have her children in church and to know Christ.  So she prayed this prayer, "Lord, show me where we are suppose to go to church, and I will go."

Before this moment, our family had never been a church going family.  So this was definitely a turning point for my and my whole family.

Now that I am a mom, and I have a daughter that is halfway through her teenage years (Hallelujah!) and a son that is at the cusp of teendom.  I know how desperate that prayer might have felt.

There's worry, then there is worry about your kids worry, and then there is worry about your teenager worry.  It's the most powerless of the three, and the scariest.  You are letting go of all that control you had in those younger years.

Sidenote:  I took a personality quiz and found out I was half control freak and half perfectionist.  The perfectionist part I knew, but I didn't realize I wanted control all the time.  It should have tipped me off that the quiz was right when I wanted to start analyzing the quiz and see if I could rewrite it.  Ummm.  Control?

I've had nights were my worry for my kids has been so intense, I physically hurt all over.  Lord, forgive me.

My mom is not a control person though, she's a peacemaker.  That is why her prayer was so, so brave.  My dad didn't want any part of going to church, and he didn't for years after we started going.  Thank the Lord that my dad's heart was changed eventually.

All of these intense feelings and bravery must be why God loves and answers prayers of mothers.  He can see their hearts.  There are so many examples of God answering mother's prayers.  Hannah, Elizabeth, Mary, Sarah, Rebekah, Naomi, and Hagar all begged God for protection or provision and He delivered in phenominal ways.

God answered my mother's prayer too.  Within a few days, we received a letter from the church just a few blocks away inviting us to attend.

That Saturday my mother came into my room and said, "Tomorrow we are going to church so be ready" is seared into my brain.  It was so unusual and unprecidented.

We started attending South Burleson Baptist Church, and if we haven't, I know my life would not be the same.

When my mom prayed that prayer, she was leading me to Christ.  When my mom bravely took us to church against my dad's wishes, she was leading me to Christ.  When my mom continued to attend church even though it was difficult for her because of her anxiety, she was leading me to Christ.

The night I gave my heart to the Lord, another moment is seared into my memory, and I know it is seared into my mother's memory as well.  It is the memory of standing in front of our neighborhood church and telling my mom that I had asked Jesus into my heart.  God had answered another of my mom's prayers.

What about you?  Are you a mother with prayers for your children?  Are you a child with a praying mother?  Are you a child with prayers for your mother?  Take heart.

Be encouraged by Hannah.  She was praying so passionately to the Lord that the priest Eli thought she was drunk on wine.  Listen to what she told him, and what Eli told her.  The God of Hannah, loves you and wants to answer your prayers.

"'Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation.' Then Eli answered, 'Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him.' And she said, 'Let your servant find favor in your eyes.' Then the woman went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad." 1 Samuel 1:16-18 ESV

Paralyzed and powerless

For the IF:Amarillo gathering coming up in 17 days (Eeeek!?!!?!), we have a website with a blog. Kaylie Hodges is our blog master. One of the things she did on the blog was to post a picture of our leadership team and introduce everyone. We have known each other only a few months and talked a handful of times, but she nailed it. Here's what Kaylie wrote about me:

"This lady will surprise you. She comes off as quiet and meek, but she has a crazy funny sense of humor and her willingness to step out in spite of her sometimes shyness speaks to a faith that truly believes that He has overcome. She works crazy hard to make sure we have the resources we need and doesn't mind handling the tough stuff like money and photoshop."

How did she know about how God has given me a faith to overcome my shyness? That girl's got some insight.

Yesterday I ran into an old friend. We had been camp councilors together for Angel Tree Camp in 2009. Before Citychurch had their own children's camp, Camp Hope, Citychurh threw it's staff, volunteers, and resources to help Angel Tree Camp. So many of the children who had family members incarcerated were the same children that Citychurch was reaching. So it seemed like a no brainer to partner up.

Sometimes I really forget how much and how far God has brought me in overcoming my shyness. But thinking about those Angel Tree Camp years, brings back some low points for me. Those were the years I was realizing it wasn't just shyness holding me back, it was social anxiety. Preparing to help for the first time at Angel Tree Camp, it reared it's ugly head.

The season before the 2009 camp, I had finally realized that the way I thought other people viewed me was not healthy or normal. I realized that I was having what I call "wacky thoughts." I was convinced that everyone was constantly judging me or thinking the worst of me. I'm such a people pleaser, so that was my nightmare. The truth is that people are very much wrapped up in their own lives, their own problems. If they think about me, it's a side thought, not "There's Jennifer, let's rip apart her appearance and actions in my brain." That's wacky.

That 2009 winter and spring, my anxiety had lead to a paralyzing depression. To get out of it, my husband, doctor, and I decided a very low dose anti-depressant was a good idea. So I began that medicine in early June. Angel Tree Camp was in that late July. Citychurch had been helping with Angel Tree for a few years, but somehow I had never helped with Angel Tree Camp. I had babies or other reasons that I couldn't help, so this was my first time to be a councilor.

Angel Tree Camp was such an epic thing. It was a huge deal every year. There was so much thought, care, and planning that went into those camps, it was intimidating. Decorations, themed skits, messy games, t-shirts, color coded cabins inspired young people to color their hair crazy colors, and fun activities galore.

Leaving for camp that July, I had agreed to ride out to the camp with another councilor that I didn't know yet. The people in charge had put me in a cabin of councilors and girls that were all strangers. I remember that my purple cabin ladies had told me to buy purple balloons. So that morning James drove me to buy balloons and took me over to the parking lot where I was going to meet my ride.

I was petrified. I was going into social anxiety minefield. How was I going to ride in a car with this lady I don't know for 45 minutes? I'm going to have to get to know all of these people. I didn't know what anyone or anything was going to be like. They are not going to like me. I'm going to be miserable.

I know I sound like a 9 year old before camp. I was a grown woman. James had to pull the car over and convince me that I could do it.

It's embarrassing to admit that it was so hard for me to get in a stranger's car and go help underprivileged kids with incarcerated parents have a fun week. The only reason I am admitting this is: 1. God has brought me so far, and I want to praise Him. 2. I know there are other ladies who have this problem. I want them to know that God can help them overcome their anxiety.

It doesn't happen overnight. It has taken years to heal.

Let me give you a flash forward timeline of what happened next:

I had the best time at camp. I became fast friends with those other ladies. That fall I found out I was pregnant with Gabe and that my father in law Don had leukemia. I gave up the medicine because of my pregnancy. That December, Don went to be with the Lord. January was my mom's hospitalization. May Gabe was born. June we moved to a new house. July my little brother died unexpectedly.

So needless to say, I didn't help at the next Angel Tree camp. I had a newborn and grief.

The next summer, 2011, Gabe was a year old, and James volunteered to watch him so I could help with Angel Tree Camp again. I was on board. I was going to help. I went to the planning meetings. I bought cabin decorations. I even crafted things for the girls in my cabin.

But the night before camp, my social anxiety was there, tearing me down. I completely chickened out of going. I called and convinced my mother-in-law to take my spot.

If having to pull myself together and get a pep talk is embarrassing, completely backing out the night before was downright shameful.

Over these years of grief, changes, and loss, I was beginning to cling to God like I never had before. I was in such need of his healing, grace, comfort, and love. I dove into studying his word, like I never had before. I began to grow in my faith. I began to serve Him in our church again.

The next summer, 2012, was our first year of Camp Hope. We took all the fun of Angel Tree and included all of the kids that Citychurch brings to summer Bible clubs. We named it after one of my father-in-law's favorite words, Hope, as a tribute to him.

I agreed to help. I was determined to redeem myself. Honestly it was so much easier to go and help that year. God had healed me so much, not just by learning more about Him through Bible study, but by leaning on Him through serving Him. I had begun to teach Sunday School for the pre-schoolers and seek out ways to serve Him. Each time I had stepped out of my comfort zone and taught or served, God had helped me do it.

God has truly brought me through so many things. He has handed out measure upon measure of faith every time I was in need of it. He has proven Himself trustworthy to me.

Just like a toddler learning to walk, I held onto God and He helped me along. It was even more than that analogy because with my anxiety, I was paralyzed. I was powerless. I could do nothing myself. God gave me the strength. I know my strength comes from Him.

In my life now, I am very busy with ministry. I am constantly putting myself in situations with new people. I'd love to tell you that it is easy now, but it's not. I just remind myself that God is strengthening me, and just step out in faith and do it. I know I can't do it on my own, but I know He can do it. He's proven Himself to me.

If you have anxiety, He will prove Himself faithful to you too. It takes more than just learning these words. You don't need faith to stay powerless and inactive. Step out and serve Him. Let Him give you the strength.

"Do you not know?
Have you not heard? Yahweh is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the whole earth.
He never grows faint or weary;
there is no limit to His understanding.
He gives strength to the weary
and strengthens the powerless.
Youths may faint and grow weary,
and young men stumble and fall,
but those who trust in the LORD
will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary;
they will walk and not faint."
Isaiah 40:28-31 HCSB      

"I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth."
Psalm 121:1-2 ESV

"This saying is trustworthy:
For if we have died with Him,
we will also live with Him;
if we endure, we will also reign with Him;
if we deny Him, He will also deny us;
if we are faithless, He remains faithful,
for He cannot deny Himself."
2 Timothy 2:11-13 HCSB

My beyond tenfold answered prayer

A few years ago I had a shift in my faith.  Not to the side, not a loss of faith, although most people might lose faith after going through what I went through.  No.  My shift in faith was a stronger faith.  With my strength of belief in the Lord, I also had a deep need to act.

"But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law,the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing." James 1:22-25

I knew the Lord, and I wanted to do something to put my faith to action.  The Lord begin to show me a bigger view of the world and His plan.  I begin to see needs everywhere I looked.  I wanted to go to work for Jesus, meeting spiritual and physical needs around the world as much as humanly possible.

I began jumped on board anything I could be a part of.  I ministered in so many ways.  Before that tough time in my life, I had allowed my anxieties to hold me back from ministering.  I was a part of Citychurch and it's ministry.  But I had slowly backed down from any responsibilities there.  I was stand-offish to the ministry I was in the middle of.

When Gabe was a baby, I decided to change that.  I thought maybe I could just sit in on a Sunday School class and help.  That quickly turned into teaching the preschool class.  It was the best thing I've ever done in the ministry.  Teaching that class was a big turning point in my ministry.

As my fire grew to minister more and more.  I wanted to try crazy things.  I wanted to do ministry that no one was doing that might reach the parents of our CityKids.  I gathered my Bible study ladies and taught monthly classes for low-income adults.  It was a short lived ministry, but I learned a lot from it.  And I haven't given up on the idea.

During the beginning of that "all-in," "ready for crazy ministry" period, I began to feel like I was alone in my fire for the Lord and His hurting world.

I began to pray for a partner in crime, another woman who wanted to actively serve the Lord in crazy ways.

God has answered these prayers, more than tenfold!  It wasn't overnight.  But I get weepy thinking of how deep and wide he answered that prayer.

Let me tell you about my partners in crime:

Shelly Wilson:  I have to talk about Shelly first because we've been to Ethiopia and back, and we are doing it again in August.  I love Shelly because I get Shelly.  She's an accountant turned mom turned adoptive mom turned crusader for Christ just like me.  Shelly's a hard worker.  She's one of those wonderful people who jump in and grab an ore when the boat needs rowing.  She doesn't just say she's going to do something, she does it as if someone is grading it and she's expecting an A++.  I've seen Shelly's heart, in times of disappointment and times of excitement.  Let me tell you, Shelly's got a good one, full of Christ's love.

The IF Ladies:  Right now I'm in the middle of this crazy ride called "planning an IF:Amarillo for the whole city."  It's a ride where they check your faith against the ruler before they strap you in.  It's amazing to get to serve God alongside these women who are so in love with Jesus.  Kaylie Hodges, Jennifer Johnson, Kristen DeRight, McKenzie Autry, April Mason, Shawntae Stout, Emily Wood, and Maribel Sims, I hope you girls know we are partners in crime now.  I'm going to be calling you and emailing you asking when we can get on another roller coaster, serving Jesus mission.

The In His Hands Ladies:  If you want a surefire way to soften a women's heart, tell them their son or daughter is on the other side of the planet.  I've caught onto you, God.  Good plan.  You got all of us with that one.  Melissa Albright is our instigator.  She's got a vision of Amarillo Christians coming together to serve the orphans of our city and our world.  I'm so happy to know the Albright's because I want to see that vision become reality.  Andi Veazy has quickly become a faith hero of mine.  She has three sons who are legally her children "stuck" in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.  (If you don't know what "stuck" is, watch the documentary by that name.  If you do know what "stuck" is, pray with me.  Help us pray those boys home.)  Christina Prater is just cool.  She makes me feel cool that I get to be in this group with her.  She's got style and grace.  But she also has love, compassion, and a willingness to serve.  I've got to mention two ladies who aren't even adopting, but have their hearts open wide to serve orphans.  They are on fire with their love for Jesus, Stacey Pybus and Eileen Merriman.  We need more women like this in our group.  The longer I am a part of In His Hands, the more women I meet that are ready to do crazy things for Jesus.  Lori Scott is knee deep in orphan care running an international and domestic adoption agency AND a non-profit that cares for orphans.  Cayla Cato is a new mom to the cutest little guy that she just adopted from Uganda.  Obviously her heart is in it.  I can't wait to see who else God leads to our group as it grows and grows.  He has already used our group in awe inspiring ways.  He let us be a part of raising enough money to purchase land for an orphanage in Uganda.  The money came together in a matter of hours, and we were all dumbstruck.  We shouldn't have been surprised.  God is God.

Citychurch people:  I have to confess something here.  I was praying for something I already had.  I was blinded with discouragement from the devil.  I was sitting among the biggest group of crazy-ministry folks in my city.  I'm not exaggerating or bragging when I say that my church is the most dynamic, unusual, willing to try new things, all inclusive, ministry focused, outreach oriented church I know of.  I honestly believe it is true.  We do crazy-ministry things like riding our bikes out into low-income neighborhoods to serve children lunches in the summer, take a hundred children and almost a hundred pre-teens to a free camp every summer, specifically children who's families could never afford a summer camp on their own.  We take young people to a free camp in the mountains and on mission trips to let them serve.  We pick up vans full of children every Sunday, feed them and tell them about Christ.  Then we do something even crazier.  We let them sit in our church service without their parents there to watch them, while we set up cameras to record the service.  We teach Bible clubs across from elementary schools.  It's the most impactful work we do, but honestly the least flashy.  It is the front lines with Jesus important.  We serve a congregation of South Sudanese Christians in every way we can.  We teach a English as a Second Language -ESL- class.  We reach children and families in the "forgotten" part of Amarillo.   We spot their needs, and meet them.  This includes everything from Christmas presents and groceries, to shoes and underwear.  We have dreams and plans to minister in even more exciting and crazy ways in our city.  It doesn't even come close to reality when I say I love Citychurch.  The reason I can say that we do all of these wonderful things is because of our people.  If I started listing names, I'm afraid I might miss one.  If you have helped with any of these things listed, I mean you.  You're one of my partners in crime.

My husband James:  My best partner in crime ever.  He has always supported any ministry I wanted to get my hands dirty with.  I put him to work helping me every time, and he does it with a cheerful heart.  He's the best, and I tell him all the time.

It is amazing to me that I was surrounded by the kind of people I wanted to be surrounded by and I wasn't seeing it.  I think that happens to all of us at some point in our life.  We realize we already have the thing we are hoping and dreaming for.

Here's a good example.  If you live in America and you hope to be rich.  Open your eyes.  You already are.  Just check out http://www.globalrichlist.com/   (I'm richer than 89% of the world.  I bet you're up their too.)

Well, I was rich in crazy-sold-out Christ followers.  I was struck oil rich.  I should have been dancing in it, but I was looking around like a lost kid in the mall.

Thank you Lord for answering my prayer and for opening my eyes.

"Say to those who have an anxious heart, 'Be strong; fear not!  Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God.  He will come and save you.' Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then shall the lame man leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute sing for joy." Isaiah 35:4-6

Lice and wasps. Oh my!

We have all heard that the devil likes to attack just before the Lord moves or uses us to further His kingdom.  Most of us have felt those attacks just before a mission trip or even just on Sunday morning.

I want to tell you about my first full fledged attack of Satan, and the first time I felt God used me in His ministry at Citychurch.  This story lives in my mind as a milestone in my ministry at Citychurch.  It was the first time I stuck through the rough stuff and came out the other side to see God move.  It was the first time God let me be a big part of what He had done.

August of 2000, Citychurch was still a new church, a new ministry.  It was summer, and we took a few of the youth aged kids to a youth camp, our second youth camp as a church.

James's family had started Citychurch just four years earlier.  The ministry was still very much a family affair.  So the camp staff was just our family: me, James, his sister Anna, their brother Donnie, and his wife Shanda.  And we took our two year olds along.  We had our daughter Lucy, and Donnie and Shanda had their daughter Alexis.

I don't think I've ever shared this, and James's family might even be surprised to hear the whole story.

If you've ever been to camp or worked at a camp, their is this pattern that emerges.  I worked at a Girl Scout camp the summer after high school, and I started calling the pattern the Wednesday blues.

How camp always goes: 

Early in the week, the campers arrive, they are happy to be there, they are making new friends.  It's all good. 

Wednesday afternoon, rumbling starts.  All the new friends are beginning to get on each other's nerves.  The campers realize camp is half over, and they are either mad it is going so quickly or devastated because it feels like forever before they will get to go home. 

Wednesday night is sure to have some crying and a few fights. 

Thursday everyone is depressed.  They miss their mom, they miss their bed, they miss their dog.  They are sick of spiders.  They're scared of the dark.  Get the Kleenex out, crying is going to happen and happen hard. 

Friday everyone loves everyone again.  They've just survived the most traumatic night of their life together.  Group photos ensue.  They are going to miss everyone when they go home.  Everyone swears to pen pal it up. 

And goodbye.

So I was aware of this pattern, and when I was feeling the blues Wednesday morning, I thought I was just feeling the Wednesday blues.   Then the hits started coming.  I realized that my two year old Lucy had lice.

Now days at Citychurch, if you are involved in a Citychurch camp, lice is part of the plan.  It's in the camp budget.  Lice checks are done before we load them into a van.  It's just a fact of life in inner-city mission work.  We have a saying at our church.  It is one of our ten truths that my father in law Don Lane wrote when we started the church.  "It will all wash off or we will find something to kill it."

Back at camp, I didn't know what to do about Lucy's lice.  Lucy and I had been sleeping together.  So I checked my head.  I had lice.

I'm itching just writing this.

I don't know if you've ever had lice before, but it gets you mentally.  You feel violated.  Parasites are living on you, and you didn't even know it.  You feel like all your fears of what a white-trash, slob you are are finally confirmed.  It's depressing man.

I wanted to go home.  The reason I didn't get in my car and leave was two things.  One, my husband said,  "We only have one more day left of camp.  Just stay; we can deal with it when we get home."  Reason two was Donnie had asked me to share my testimony with the group the next night.  I didn't want to not do the one thing he had asked me to contribute to the camp.

So I stayed.  I let the parasites occupy my head and my daughters head for one more night.

I was feeling pretty crummy the next morning.  It was our last day of camp.  I was trying to hang in there that last day, but I was feeling attacked.  Mentally I was pretty kaput.  It was lunch time, and I was lingering around the cabins feeling sorry for my lice-having self.

My husband James came and found me to give me one of his world-famous pep talks.  (He's a pro at let's get out of the dumps chats.  If you ever need one, I can give you his number.)  He convinced me to go get some lunch.

As we were walking across the bridge to the cafeteria, I was stung by a wasp.  I broke down.  I balled my eyes out.  It didn't actually hurt that bad, but everything hit me with that sting.

I told God that I was mad he was letting this happen.  I just wanted to be there to help ministry to the kids, and everything was just not fair.  I don't know why you feel better after a good cry, maybe it's a brain chemical thing, but I did.  I had hit rock bottom, and I was ready to see that youth camp to the end.

That night I shared my testimony.  It was the first time I had shared it in front of a group.  Group speaking isn't my thing, but God used my weakness.  A teenage girl came forward to pray and give her life to the Lord.  This teenage girl and I had nothing in common, but God used my story to reach her heart.

I had not expected anyone to respond to my testimony.  I will never forget the feeling when I realized that if I had went home when I wanted to, that camp might have turned out differently.

God had moved.  And I had learned how to stick it out through the devil's attacks to get to that moment when God uses our weakness to accomplish His strength.

This is a lesson I've leaned on so many times in the ministry I've been a part of between then and now.  God showed me that He was faithful to do His work and no matter what the devil throws at me, I can stick it out because God will get me through it.

Unity in the church

"Sorry I'm late.  I was fasting," the young, dark boy says as he rushes into the Read and Feed center.  I am taken aback by this excuse for tardiness from such a young Ethiopian boy.

He drops what he's carrying and joins the other boys and girls in a row, greeting the American visitors.

"Today is an Orthodox holiday," explains the center worker.  "Everyone has been fasting until 3pm."  I try to relate the story in my mind to anything familiar and come back empty.  American Christian children don't fast, at least not in the Bible belt of Texas they don't.

I feel uneasiness in my stomach.  Uneasiness from unfamiliarity.  I am a foreigner.  "For-in-j," as the Ethiopians call us.

Why is this uneasiness over a young boy's religious practices different from the uneasiness of unfamiliarity of a roll of injera bread?

Why is it deeply startling and not interesting and enjoyable to discover?

There is one thing in my life that I can hold true, my anchor of my faith, my forerunner Jesus.  I've grown in Him since turning my life over to Him at 12 years old.  He's grown familiar to me.  I recognize my Shepherd's voice.

When I am faced with other denominations of Christianity.  I feel uncomfortable.  They do and say and worship and think about my Jesus a little differently than I do.

And the truth is, I hate this feeling.  Because it doesn't feel like unity, and I long for unity.

I read Psalms 133.  Sometimes we even sing it in worship, and it feels like the promise of such a beautiful peace among his believers.  It brings out my hippy-dippy side.  I get the warm fuzzies.  I want to make a t-shirt and become one of those "free hugs" crazies.

"Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!  It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes!  It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion!  For there the Lord has commanded the blessing, life forevermore." Psalm 133 ESV

Yet I can't hold onto this feeling.  I didn't have to go to Ethiopia to experience this uneasiness.  I've felt it around friends, even my best friends.   A whole range of things can bring it on.  I've even felt it in my own church.

Last week I was teaching the high school girls Sunday school, and I told them that their dead grandmothers were not watching them and watching out for them every second of everyday.  I told them that Heaven is made aware of when victories for Christ were made (Luke 15:7), but that dead grandmothers were not omnipresent.  And when something happens in their life and they are protected from something, it is the Lord who had protected them, not their dead grandmother (Psalm 121:7.)

I got some evil stares.  They were not stares that weren't good, pleasant, or unifying.

Why I am blogging about unity in the first place?

I'm helping plan a IF:Local, a IF:Amarillo gathering in my town.  The IF organization was started in Austin, TX to gather, equip, and unleash the next generation of women to live out their purpose.  The reasoning behind the name IF is, if God is real, then more than anything, we want to live like it.  This gathering that is happening for the second time this year, is a inner-denominational gathering.  The founder Jennie Allen is very passionate about bringing unity to the body of Christ.

So being knee deep in the planning of bringing hundreds of women in my city together, women from all kinds of denominational backgrounds, I'm looking at my own heart.  I'm searching out where I've brought disunity, and I'm repenting of it.

My suspicion is that we all have feelings of uneasiness when the thing we value most, our faith, looks different for another one of His sheep.

But what if we all set down those uneasy feelings and picked up unity.  What if we poured it over our heads until it ran past the thoughts in our brains and past the feelings under our shirt collars?

What if we glorified God together the way that Romans asks us to do?

"Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God." Romans 15:7 ESV

What if we examined this verse, as not just a pattern for our local church (I do the bulletins, he sings, she teaches,) but a pattern for all believers - the whole church (I teach in Amarillo, TX, he fasts in Addis Abba, Ethiopia.)

"For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgement, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.  For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another."  Romans 12:3-5 ESV

I'm hopeful that unity is growing stronger among Christ believers, and I look forward to the day when it will be perfected in Heaven (Rev. 7:9-17)

What about you?  Do you have things that make you uneasy?  Are you willing to set down those feelings and pick up unity?