it's who i am

I've had a theme song lately that's been shaping how I see myself.

I finished my last exam today and I did well, but man... These past couple weeks have been *hard*.

Maybe you could tell by my last post... I've been struggling with a cloud of inadequacy hanging over me.

So, this has been on repeat. Drilling into my head that I have a good, good Father.

And I?
I am *loved by Him*.
It's *who I am*.

Not only am I loved by Him, but His love is my *identity*.

How can I be inadequate when loved is who I am?

There's something else I've been chewing on something since starting school and that is - so many people go through life CHOOSING to believe that they just "happened".
Even through all my feelings of inadequacy, I never doubted that I had a purpose. I just felt like maybe I've been missing it or I haven't found it yet. That my purpose wasn't what I thought it was.

But I was never purposeless.

So this morning, I got up before the sun and headed out to my bus stop for the last time this semester.
I got on the bus and plugged in my earphones. The bus, however loud and noisy it is, has been a place where a substantial amount of my "me and Jesus" time has happened over the past few months.

I'm forced to sit still for an hour, sometimes more, each way to and from school.
Earphones in. Eyes shut. "Speak to me, Father."

But today, as this song started playing... I knew that it was who *I* am...

But my mind wandered to the man sitting across from me and the people all around me...

Loved isn't just who I am... Loved is who he is, too.

Does he know who he is? What about the woman behind him? Does she?

Or are they choosing to live purposeless?

In Prince Caspian, Aslan says, "you doubt your value. Do not run from who you are."

The world is running from who they are.
But will any amount of running ever change your identity? Or your value? Or your purpose?
I would say not.

When something *is* who you are down to your very core, you can't do anything to stop it.

That's why so many people live unsatisfied and discontented.
They refuse to find and embrace who they are. They're still running. Doubting.

And that's why you can tell me as many times as you want that I'm crazy or stupid or delusional, or put all your energy into trying to convince me that God doesn't exist and I'll still have a twinkle in my eye and confidence in my heart.

It makes laughter bubble up inside of me because I know who I am. And no matter what you believe, I know who you are, too.

I am loved, and so are you.

It's who I am. It's who you are. It's who we are.

We can choose to take that and run with it, or choose to leave it and run from it.

The choice is simple, isn't it?

Don't doubt your value, don't run from who you are.

You are loved by a good, good Father.

*It's who you are.*

falling short - my strength in life.

At the beginning of the semester, I was confident that I could change the world. 

Now, I'm not so sure. 

I've worked and worked and worked only to be looked over. 
My thoughts don't matter. My opinions don't matter. 

I'm not smart enough, wise enough, generous enough, loving enough, kind enough, charismatic enough, joyful enough, peaceful enough, patient enough, gentle enough.

Good enough.

How could *I* change the world, when I can't get a single person to truly *hear* me. 

When I don't get A+ on my finals. 
When she's the most generous person in the world. 
When he is wiser. 
When everyone likes him, and she's always so friendly and kind. 

I snapped this week. 

I let my heart open up and let in self doubt, jealousy, resentment...

But how can I change the world like that? Obviously I can't.

Teach me, Father.

Teach me to be generous. Teach me to love. Help me be kind. 
If You want me to use my voice, give me a platform so I can shout Your name to the world. 
Give me patience. Give me joy. Show me how to be gentle. Grant me wisdom.

I can't be smart, wise, generous, loving, kind, charismatic, joyful, peaceful, patient or gentle. Not on my own. 

But then I remember. And it's like a weight is lifted off my shoulders and the sun breaks through my storm cloud. 

I am *not* those things. 
But *HE* is. 

My strength in life is that *I am His*. 

He's the one who gives wisdom, joy and peace. He is the perfect example of love, patience and gentleness. 

And my soul delights, because *I am His*. 

"And this is the secret: Christ lives in you. This gives you assurance of sharing his glory."
Colossians 1:27

He lives in me and because of that, I can be wiser. I can love. I can be patient. I can have peace. I can be generous. I can be kind. I can have joy. I can be gentle. 

I'm alive to bring Him glory. His will on earth is all I'm living for. 

All I have to do is let go of myself and let Him work through me. I can change the world.

Because He's good

I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I tried at first. After all, I was leading a group of about forty kids... Looking away from one for a moment shouldn't be too hard.
And then I got to my second last song.

A song about the goodness of God.

I started playing, queuing my brother who was drumming along, laughing at my friends and sisters dancing... and just as I started singing, she caught my eye again.
"I sing because You are good"

Her face broke into the biggest smile you can imagine as she threw her arms in the air, motioning the sound of song being projected from her mouth.
I smiled at her enthusiasm. As a worship leader, I try to create that excitement, and "success" is sweet every time.

"And I dance because You are good"

The smile I thought couldn't get any bigger expands as she spins and stomps her feet waving her hands with abandon.

"I shout because You are good; You are good to me"

Her shout of "yeah!" Is interrupted by the laughter that bubbles up and spills out and I don't try to take my eyes off of her anymore. My fingers are familiar with the chord pattern and the lyrics are ingrained into my mind... so my lyrics and chord sheet sit, unwatched on the music stand as I turn all my attention on her with interest.

When I get to the bridge, my voice chokes as I sing, and she sings with me, "with a cry of praise my heart will proclaim that You are good, You are good. In the sun or rain my life celebrates that You are good."

How many of us truly live our lives as a celebration of Gods goodness?

I saw an article the other day titled, "God may not have a wonderful plan for your life".
And I beg to differ.

God is good. All the time.

And He has a wonderful, yes wonderful, plan for your life.

Even if the wonderful plan doesn't mean a constantly wonderful existence.

We teach in Sunday school nearly every week about a "big picture".

I think we do that because life sucks sometimes, but there's always a wonderful "big picture".

And little P, she has a much less than wonderful existence a lot of the time. I've seen her frustrated because I didn't know what she wanted and she can't communicate with me the way she wants to. Countless doctors appointments...
That's not wonderful.

But still, in that moment, her life was a celebration of His goodness in a way I only hope mine is.

Healing

"Healing is a journey, rather than a destination, and it is a process more than an epiphany. .... characterize healing by contrasting it with wounding. On a quality-of-life continuum, being in a healed state is at a pole marked by an experience of wholeness and personal integrity. Being wounded is situated at the opposite pole and represents an experience of suffering and anguish. Healing is associated with the following perspectives: a sense of connection to self, others, and a phenomenal world (ie, a world experienced through the senses); an ability to derive meaning in the context of suffering; a capacity to find peace in the present moment; a nonadversarial connection to the disease process; and the ability to relinquish the need for control. Wounding is a movement in opposite directions. Suffering is fundamentally a sense of one’s own disintegration, of loss of control to prevent that, and an experience of meaninglessness. By counteracting those perceptions, a person can be helped on a healing trajectory, even as death approaches. Healing interventions are always possible. One can die healed. As a consequence, the phrase, “There is nothing more that I can do for you,” has no place in medicine."
(Boudreau and Somerville, 2014)

The only time I want to be the pessimistic character.

Sometimes I write. 
And other times I realize that someone else has already written, and done a better job than I could have, what my heart feels. 
It's no secret that I love C.S Lewis. 
Enjoy this excerpt that randomly popped into my head and nearly made me cry on the bus this afternoon. (Taken from chapter 12 of The Silver Chair)

I want to be a Puddleglum.

"I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia"
----------------------------------

"Madam," said the Prince sternly, "I have already told your Grace that I am the King's son of Narnia." 

"And shalt be, dear friend," said the Witch in a soothing voice, as if she was humouring a child, "shalt be king of many imagined lands in thy fancies." 

"We've been there, too," snapped Jill. She was very angry because she could feel enchantment getting hold of her every moment. But of course the very fact that she could still feel it, showed that it had not yet fully worked. 

....

"No. I suppose that other world must be all a dream." 

"Yes. It is all a dream," said the Witch, always thrumming. 

"Yes, all a dream," said Jill. 

"There never was such a world," said the Witch. 

"No," said Jill and Scrubb, "never was such a world." 

"There never was any world but mine," said the Witch. 

"There never was any world but yours," said they. 

Puddleglum was still fighting hard. "I don't know rightly what you all mean by a world," he said, talking like a man who hasn't enough air. "But you can play that fiddle till your fingers drop off, and still you won't make me forget Narnia; and the whole Overworld too. We'll never see it again, I shouldn't wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. I've seen the sky full of stars. I've seen the sun coming up out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I've seen him up in the midday sky when I couldn't look at him for brightness." 

Puddleglum's words had a very rousing effect. The other three all breathed again and looked at one another like people newly awaked. 

"Why, there it is!" cried the Prince. "Of course! The blessing of Aslan upon this honest Marsh-wiggle. We have all been dreaming, these last few minutes. How could we have forgotten it? Of course we've all seen the sun." 

"By Jove, so we have!" said Scrubb. "Good for you, Puddleglum! You're the only one of us with any sense, I do believe." 

Then came the Witch's voice, cooing softly like the voice of a wood-pigeon from the high elms in an old garden at three o'clock in the middle of a sleepy, summer afternoon; and it said: 

"What is this sun that you all speak of? Do you mean anything by the word?" 

"Yes, we jolly well do," said Scrubb. 

"Can you tell me what it's like?" asked the Witch (thrum, thrum, thrum, went the strings). 

"Please it your Grace," said the Prince, very coldly and politely. "You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room; and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp, only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky." 

"Hangeth from what, my lord?" asked the Witch; and then, while they were all still thinking how to answer her, she added, with another of her soft, silver laughs: "You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children's story." 

"Yes, I see now," said Jill in a heavy, hopeless tone. "It must be so." And while she said this, it seemed to her to be very good sense. 

Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated, "There is no sun." And they all said nothing. She repeated, in a softer and deeper voice. "There is no sun." After a pause, and after a struggle in their minds, all four of them said together. "You are right. There is no sun." It was such a relief to give in and say it. 

"There never was a sun," said the Witch. 

"No. There never was a sun," said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle, and the children. 

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said: 

"There's Aslan." 

"Aslan?" said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. "What a pretty name! What does it mean?" 

"He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world," said Scrubb, "and sent us into this to find Prince Rilian." 

"What is a lion?" asked the Witch. 

"Oh, hang it all!" said Scrubb. "Don't you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?" 

"Surely," said the Queen. "I love cats." 

"Well, a lion is a little bit - only a little bit, mind you like a huge cat - with a mane. At least, it's not like a horse's mane, you know, it's more like a judge's wig. And it's yellow. And terrifically strong." 

The Witch shook her head. "I see," she said, "that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to be called a lion. Well, 'tis a pretty makebelieve, though, to say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my lord Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But, first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams." 

The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. Then he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn't hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and coldblooded like a duck's. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once. 

First, the sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh- wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone's brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes. 

Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, "What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I'll turn the blood to fire inside your veins." 

Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum's head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic. 

"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a playworld which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say." 

Cleanliness.

I'm a student nurse.

There's a lot of pretty strict rules we have to follow in the lab. One of which being that we can't have any visible tattoos. This rule isn't a problem for me, because I don't have any tattoos. But one girl in my foundations class has a full sleeve.

On the first day of labs, the instructor was going over the rules, "and does anyone here have tattoos?"

The girl shyly raises her hand. "Um, I have a sleeve..."

"And I don't care." The instructor says.

There's a flaw in the "no tattoo" rule that I noticed right away, but I was still a bit surprised when the instructor went over it, too.

If you have ink on your arms, which a ton of people do, when you cover your tattoos with long sleeved shirts, bandages, or whatever... You can't properly wash your hands.

Right?!

We're supposed to wash up to our elbows before touching a patient, yet if you have tattoos, they're supposed to be out of sight. Which restricts your hand washing.

Imagine all the bacteria and grossness your bandages and clothes would be covered in! Gross. I'd much rather have a tattooed doctor than a dirty doctor touching me, wouldn't you?

"I'm more concerned with your cleanliness than I am with your tattoos." My instructor said.

I think it's hilarious how so many people get so upset when people have visible tattoos.

In church, pastors (and congregation members) wear long sleeved shirts to cover tattoos, worried about offending someone. But why does church mean you shouldn't show your tattoos? It shouldn't matter, as long as you love Jesus.

"I'm more concerned with your cleanliness than I am with your tattoos."

Shouldn't that be our attitude?


So what if I said this post wasn't actually about tattoos? Cause its really not.

I don't think tattoos are wrong or sinful or "dirty"...

But pastors and church goers cover up - not just tattoos on their skin, but every sin you can possibly think of.

Why do we feel like we need to hide our dirty, defiled parts as soon as we step into a professional or religious setting?

Don't hide, just because you stepped into a church.

When you're hiding, you can't truly become clean.

Your "cover" gets filthy.

I'd rather have a tattooed doctor than a dirty doctor - I'd rather have a messed up, honest pastor who loves Jesus than a "clean on the surface" pastor who'd hiding his secrets. I'd rather have open friends than friends who hide. Wouldn't you?

I don't care if you have "tattoos". I don't care if you have issues or you're defiled somehow.  Aren't we all?
I'm more concerned with the inside than the surface value.
I'm more concerned with your cleanliness than I am with your tattoos.

I'm for You

Earlier this year before I graduated, I thought God was opening a door for me to go into ministry and pursue it as a vocation.  

At that time, I wasn't sure my biology grade was going to be high enough to get me into the nursing program I had been conditionally accepted to, and it seemed like all the right doors were opening and closing. It was so obvious, I thought.

And then God said no. 

But then my biology mark went up. 

And all the other doors started opening and closing.

Long story short, I'm now a nursing student. And loving every second. It was totally the right thing and everything has worked out so perfectly this far. He is faithful. 

Last night, I was at a worship night at my church and we sang "You are For Me" by Kari Jobe. 

Why is it sometimes so much easier to admit God's love and faithfulness to us than it is for us to say it back? 

I definitely don't think there's anything wrong with reminding ourselves of Him... "Well, of course He loves me despite my failures... He's *God*."

But at some point, we need to return the devotion. 

I came home from the church and left again to go pick up my sister from work. 

I get in the car and turn on the radio and Tobymac* is playing. 

*I would not classify myself as a Tobymac fan, but he does sometimes have really awesome themes and he loves Jesus. Loving Jesus is always a good thing.


"Whatever I've got to be, I'll be for You..."

On the first day of my program orientation, we were asked to make a list of three reasons why we were going into the program we chose. 
"And," the director told us, "hold onto this list. Not just for the next 16 months of your schooling, but for the rest of your life. Chances are, you'll still be a nurse in 30, 40, or even 50 years. Don't forget what made you want to do it when you first started."

And so, my notebook from that day contains my class schedule, my budget for the next season of life and schooling, and a page titled "Why I Want To Be A Nurse". Funny enough, the first one is ministry, the very thing I thought nursing school had taken from me. 

"1. Ministry. Being a nurse gives me the opportunity to speak into the lives of people who are at their weakest most vulnerable moments."

Pastor Tim has been speaking a series about "Divine Guidance" the past few weeks. 

He made one point that, maybe if we focused less on finding "God's will" for our lives and focused more on following His *ways*, we would naturally begin to do His will. 

At one point, I was so convinced that God's plan was for me to go into vocational ministry, I thought maybe there had been a "mess up". And my bio improvement was just because of studying habits and nothing to do with God's plan for me. 

There was no mistake. And if I would have failed biology and went into ministry, there would have been no mistake. And who knows, maybe I'll get my nursing licence and work my way through a couple theology courses. 
But God is God whether I'm a nurse or a pastor or ___.

God is God, and whatever I've gotta be, I'll be for Him. 

Deserving.

"I need to fall in love with Jesus again. 

The kind of love where nothing else matters. 

The kind of love where, if everyone I loved began to hate me, I could continue dancing because I. Am. Loved. 

I know I'm loved. 

I know know know know it in my very core.

And in the deepest part of me, I know nothing can touch me.

But there are layers above and around that little middle bit of me. 

Layers that make me bitter towards people and layers that make me jealous and layers that make me want... To be perfect.

And layers that are addicted to earning and deserving. 

Sometimes, I think I deserve love - or rather - actions and displays of love. 

Not always by any means, but sometimes, it feels like I do.

When I'm nice, they'll be nice back. Right?

There's a demon inside of me, and the layers are his home. He loves getting what he deserves, so long as he deserves affection. 

This little demon will create and say things to get approval.

And the approval is sweet.

He doesn't know that I'm always approved of. I'm always loved.

And the love that loves me always? Is never deserved.

But this little demon living inside of me doesn't care for the love that's given. 

He craves a love that's earned.

So he works in my mind. Convincing me to try harder, work faster... Earn, earn, earn.

And as long as I earn, we live at peace, my demon and me.

But when I fail...

"Disappointed."

He turns on me with a vengeance.

And, hungry, he begins to devour me. 

I need to fall in love with Jesus again.

The kind of love where nothing else matters.

The kind of love that casts out fear. 

The kind of love I don't need to earn. 

The kind of love that gives me the ability to truly love and be loved in return. "

Graduation Speech

As a homeschooler, my speech is going to be different from every other grad speech you've heard. You're welcome.

To achieve an Alberta diploma, every grade 12 student must graduate with a minimum of 100 credits that they earn throughout high school.

Social 30, English 30, Math 20, CALM, PE 10 and your choice of a 20 level science are mandatory. You make up the remanding credits with optional courses such as foods, languages, apprenticeships, physical education and the other sciences and math you need to pursue your college or university career.

Every graduate has those achievements in common. Whether you glided through every -1 course with a 98% average, or scraped by with 51% in -2, you have achieved Alberta Education's stamp of approval as a young adult ready to face the world with a well rounded education.

That thought terrifies me.

Not because I feel completely unequipped to not only handle, but change the world... but because I don't believe that the work put toward my certificate, is what equipped me.

You see, I believe that Alberta Education has made a mistake in their curriculum.

They go on and on about head knowledge when, in reality, the answer to any math problem, social studies question or biology definition is just a few clicks away.

Can you imagine how the provincial average would skyrocket is we were allowed to take all of our everyday resources into the exam room?

Alberta Ed forgets that the world changers don't have to be the people who can answer the most math facts with the greatest accuracy and, off the top of their heads, they might not know where Iodine is on the periodic table.

The world changers though, I believe, could find Iodine on the periodic table. Because they've been taught to try hard and would look until they found it.

Funny how the ability to find the answer isn't enough for the diploma markers, isn't it?

Now, I'm sure I learned things in school that will be valuable to me in the future, and you're all here to celebrate my graduation, but I can't say that the diploma is my biggest achievement from the past three years.

Because it's not.

Like Alberta Ed, I believe in head knowledge. I believe in knowing things and being able to say things from memory off the top of your head.

But I don't believe that the formulas I had to memorize for my exam yesterday should be our measure of success.

In the words of my great grandma Vance, "There's always Google for that." (You have to admit - that's pretty cool coming from an 86 year old)

But where do I go when my world crashes and my faith is shaken or I need to make a split-second life-altering decision?

Surely math 30 won't come to mind, and surely Google will be of little help. 

Shouldn't that be what I need to know to be deemed "ready to take on the world"? 

If I was to tell you the one thing I learned in my entire high school career?

My best piece of wisdom that I gained and can pass on?

I am loved.

1 Corinthians says that Love never fails, but where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 

I am loved with by a Love that is greater than life itself.

And if this is the case - then what of the question that high schoolers are so often faced with, "So what do YOU want to do with your life?"

Here's the deal: I want to go to college. I want to gain practical skills that I can use to support myself.

But I wouldn't go so far as to say that nursing is "what I want to do with my life."

Because - I have found a Love GREATER than life.

And anything I could "do with my life" pales in comparison.

So, what will I do, now that I have a certificate that could grant me acceptance into colleges and universities and into the "real world"?

Maybe I will go to college.

Maybe I'll start a career.

Maybe I'll speak and people will listen.

Maybe I'll teach.

But without love?

I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

So, yes. I'll do those things.

But what I'm planning on doing with my life is simple:

To be the salt and light Matthew 5 talks about and to be humble, patient, gentle and bearing with others in love.

And to anyone who's worried about me not being a homeschooler any more next year,

I just want to assure you – you can graduate the girl out of homeschool, but you can’t take the homeschooler out of the girl. 

Un-dumb

I shared this with my pastor the other week...
Maybe I'm brave enough to post it here now. haha
Also - I wasn't at YC this year... This is a session from last year. Yes, this post has been sitting waiting to be shared for a really long time. hahaha

-------------------------------------

When I looked through the session schedule for YC and saw, "Leading un-dumbed down worship for un-dumb teens", I felt like it was a session for me. So I went.

I believe in people - all people. And I don't think I went to this session to justify myself as a teen wanting more. I went to see if there was anything to apply to the next group down. Grades K-4 ish kinda people.

I hate the concept of kids being the "church of tomorrow". Does not the kingdom of God belong to them? Are they not the church of TODAY?

When I was in grade 6, a pastor looked me in the eye and said, "Youth are not just the church of tomorrow. You're the church of today." I've never forgotten that.

So, if this is the case. And kids (even young teens) are the church of today... Shouldn't we treat them as such?

Can you imagine if your pastor got up next Sunday and said, "Today, instead of me preaching and the band playing... Lets watch a movie with a good moral that kinda-sorta lines up with one of the ten commandments!"

Really?
That would be ridiculous.
Yet, how often is Sunday school simply that?

A couple months ago, I taught a lesson for Sunday school. I followed the script I was given fairly closely, adding a few little comments here and there...

I talked for almost 25 minutes and the script barely mentioned Jesus.

I wanted to scrap the lesson and sit down and talk from my heart. I could have even used the same theme! I could have found many scripture verses and practical stories to tell. I could have, and I'm sure many of the other Sunday school volunteers could have, too. So... Why the story about the marshmallow factory?

Are we really dumbing it down so much that the Sunday school lesson is barely a scratch on the surface of a Bible story? Because I think that's a pretty big problem. They're not bad stories, of course. There's always a good moral behind it... But shouldn't church challenge depth?

I know kids want more. Deserve so much more. I know because eight years ago, I was the kid who hated Sunday school. Well, I hated Sunday school until I got to Miss Rita's class. Miss Rita taught straight from the Bible and I learned in her class.

But to the Sunday school volunteer who tried to bribe me into class with the promise that, "We're watching a movie today! Won't that be fun?" Don't you understand that the movie is the very reason I didn't want to attend?

I was hungry. Kids are hungry.

One quote from that YC session stands out to me is,  "short attention span isn't always because of immaturity. Sometimes its because we're lacking in giving them anything to focus on."

True, a six year old might not benefit a whole bunch from an hour long sermon including long passages read from the pastor's KJV...

But I'm pretty sure we could do better than marshmallow factories.

From the Rooftops

Sometimes I wonder what in the world I'm doing with my social media.

See, I write on here, and then I share on facebook and I keep a link in my instagram bio. So... That leaves it up to my friends to choose to actually *read* anything I say. I'm not forcing anyone.

"Hey, I wrote this! Read... Or not... Up to you..."
I'm not aggressive.

Awhile ago, someone challenged me on singing a song claiming to "shout from the rooftops".

And I thought hard about it...

Here's the thing... I'm sitting next to my open window. I could push the screen out and sit on the roof and yell my little heart out. There - from the rooftops. Does that earn me the right to sing that song?

I don't think it would really do anything. I don't think anyone would think anything other than of my insanity.

But if you don't take it quite so literally...

Facebook is a rooftop.

It might be the most visible rooftop in the world.

"So, I shout out Your name, from the rooftops I proclaim that I am Yours."

I am Yours.

And maybe my little voice from my little rooftop gets drowned out by all the bigger, better voices coming from all the taller, flashier rooftops out there.

I'm continually thankful, especially these past couple weeks, that He, my King, uses what the world sees as foolish to shame the wise.

And He'll use my little voice and my little rooftop, too - somehow. :)

Open Seas.

"I love the ocean. The water seems alive - its always moving... Going somewhere."

I always took the words, "when the oceans rage" to be negative. I've wrote about those words even. 

I always imagined being in a boat in the middle of the ocean when a storm stirs. 

It would be terrifying. You'd wonder if you would live, or if you would die in the water.

"I don't have to be afraid."

And then the other night, I listened to the worship team practice and a memory came to my mind.

I stood on a beach with my dad. We looked out over miles of sea, and he jokingly said that if I started swimming, my next stop would be Japan. Its not true, and he wasn't serious. But... There's not a ton of landmass between where we were and Japan. And I could - eventually - hit Japan. (Ha. Not swimming.)

How different the shores of British Columbia are from the shores of Japan. 

Different climate, different languages, different people...

I won't say which is nicer because I've never been to Japan - but I think they'd both be nice. 

So, imagine: 

You're in the middle of the ocean. And the wind blows and you're being carried somewhere. 

But then.

The tides and the winds change. And great, big, powerful waves are pulling you a different direction than you were going before. 

I don't have to be afraid... But I don't know where I'm going. 

It could be Japan and it could be British Columbia (not literally. At least - that I know of.) - and if I have a preference, I don't know what it is. I don't know where I'll end up... 

But no matter what direction I go - its new and unknown.

And when I realize that I'm not alone and that I don't have to be afraid... The raging seas and mystery of the winds and waters turn into an adventure rather than something to stress over.

I'm drawn to the song Shepherd my Amanda Cook. I feel like I could have written it.

"You will lift my head above the mighty waves,

You are able to keep me from stumbling,

and in my weakness, You are the strength that comes from within,

Good Shepherd of my soul, take my hand and lead me on..."

"You make my footsteps and my path secure so walking on water is just the beginning.

You are calling me to greater things."

Graduating is like being thrown into the middle of a raging sea - a raging sea that does not bring fear, only adventure and beautiful possibilities. Bring it on, world. I'm ready for you.

(39 days)

Questions for Jesus.

It's one of the classic Sunday School ice breaker questions.

"If you could ask God ONE THING and have it answered, what would it be?"

And we have a bunch of things we'd like answered.
From things like, "what makes the sky blue?" to,
"Why doesn't my voice sound like Kristine DiMarco's?" (Oh, I'm the only one?) to,
"Why did he have to die so young?"
"Why does she live her life in such constant pain?"
"Why did he hurt her (or me) like that?"
"Why didn't You speak to me when I felt lost?"

And they're all real questions that can only be answered by Him.
(Well, except the blue sky one. If you need some info, this website looked neat: http://www.sciencemadesimple.com/sky_blue.html)

I went to a hymn sing last week. Cute, right? I sat by myself and I think the next youngest person in the room was pastor Michael, but I was totally in my element. I was with my people. Just like my people are not divided by denomination, my people are also not divided by age.

Pastor Ken said this one thing that really stuck with me.

"People always say that when they get to Heaven they're going to have so many things to ask God. I don't want to pick any fights, but personally I don't think we'll have any questions on our minds when we get there. But we'll still be singing praises to Jesus."

Isn't that beautiful?

My heart longs for that - for all questions to be silenced.

Sometimes I have big questions. And sometimes they get answered. But sometimes they don't. And yeah, that's hard and confusing. But I'm learning to seek The Answer and not just "an answer."

What other answer would suffice?

Wave after Wave...

Its been a rough couple weeks. There's nothing big going on, so there's no reason for it to be especially rough.

You Make Me Brave by Amanda Cook has been on repeat, and the line that sticks out to me goes, 

"As Your love, wave after wave, crashes over me, crashes over me..."
And all I can do is pray for the next wave to hit.

See, ever since my personal revival (What you might know as "the summer/fall of 2012" haha) the deserts have been short and far in between... I've spent most of the past two years in some tropical rain forest where tsunamis are a regular occurrence and it rains nearly 24/7. His love, wave after wave of it... CRASHES over me.

I saw Noah the other week, and while it definitely wasn't very accurate, there were a few parts I liked.
I loved when Methuselah met the flood waters with open arms.

I've been waiting for the next wave to hit me with the force of flood waters.

My mentor described it as, "one of those times where God just seems to hide His face." I suppose its a faith builder, right? Since its impossible to please God without faith, I guess He can't be in our faces constantly.

Last Monday, I voiced some of my hearts desires and longings to one of my best friends. Things I wanted for my life and things I wanted to be able to do for others... Things I wanted to be, and things I wanted to accomplish...

And approximately 5 hours later, pastor Clay prophesied, prayed and spoke over me... Directly to some of the desires and longings I had voiced. But also... a direct echo of another prayer I received a year and a half ago. I want to say that I didn't need such an obvious confirmation... But I did. 

I emailed my mentor about is as soon as I got home and she said, 
"What a huge blessing and God affirmation....I love that He did this right during a time when you were having a harder time feeling Him. In light of what we talked about last discipleship....how tender and kind of our Father!! Sounds just like Him."


"It sounds just like Him." Doesn't it, though?

And His love, wave after wave... came crashing over me.

It was like God's voice was coming out of pastor Clay's mouth and He kept saying, "I see you. I know you. I love you."

"As Your love, in wave after wave, crashes over me, crashes over me...
You are for us, You are not against us.
Champion of Heaven, You made a way for all to enter in.
You make me brave.
You make me brave.
You call me out beyond the shore into the waves.
You make me brave.
You make me brave.
No fear can hinder now the promises You made." 

I think Amanda Cook is a kindred spirit. Her lyrics are always so... What I feel. 

Matthew chapter 5:14-16
14 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.

My People.

I'll admit, I've struggled with where exactly to put this term in the past. 

I attend a Baptist church on Sundays and a Pentecostal church on Mondays... And for awhile, I would have easily told you that my people were the people of MTC. But those crazy people at Tehillah have become to close to my heart to be left out when I answer the question of where my home is. 

My people are the people who meet in the little white church a mere 10 minute walk (2.5 minute drive - seriously) from my house. 

But my people are also the charismatic congregation I find myself a part of every Monday. 

"To our God we lift up one voice, to our God we lift up one song... Alleluia."

These are my people. 

My people are not a denomination.

My people are people who just want to be like Jesus. 

My people sing of Grace.
My people love and are loved. 
My people are passionate, whether they raise their hands in worship or not.

I know a lot of people have weird feelings about other denominations... but we're all going after the same thing, even if a little differently, aren't we?

I am drawn to the passage in Matthew 6 about serving two masters.

I feel that, if everything was wrong except one denomination...

How could I attend both and love both?

Either Tehillah would repel me and I'd love Mckenzie Towne Church... Or Tehillah would draw me away from MTC.
If one was wrong, wouldn't one of these two things happen?

1 Corinthians 1:12-13

"One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[b]”; still another, “I follow Christ.”

13 Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?"

Jesus is my denomination, Jesus is perfect theology, and His people... All of them... Are my people.

These are my people.