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Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages, when the day seems long, From this labor and this heartache I have come. The sky will wear out, but you remain the same--Rock of Ages, I praise Your name.

Rock of Ages, you have brought me near. You have poured our your life-blood, your love, your tears to make this stone heart come alive again--Rock of Ages, forgive my sin.

Rock of Ages, when in want or rest, My desperate need for such a Saviour I confess. Pull these idols out from my heart embrace--Rock of Ages, I need your grace.

Rock of Ages, broken scorned for me. Who am I that you would die to make me free? To give me glory, you took the death and pain--Rock of Ages, my Offering.

Rock of Ages, 'It is done!' you cried. The curtain's torn and I see justice satisfied. Now write your mercy on my heart and hands--Rock of Ages, in faith I stand.

Rock of Ages, my great hope secure. Your promise holds just like an anchor to my soul. Bind your children with cords of love and grace--Rock of Ages, we give you praise.

Bracing for Farewells

This time next week, I will be on a 9-hour flight back to the United States. This time next week, I will have said all my goodbyes to my family and friends here in Holland. This time next week, I will begin the process of wading through, for what feels like the hundredth time, the conflicting muck that is heartache that comes from leaving a new home and anticipation that comes with returning to a familiar one. And okay, the hundredth time does sound dramatic—but what I mean is that even though I’ve come and gone to new places before, it seems to get only marginally easier with time. And as I once again find myself in the farewell stage of an experience, I am once again reminded of why it is a struggle to do goodbyes well in my heart—because we are not made for them. They feel weird and unnatural because they are weird and unnatural. And we feel cheated by time, because there never seems to be enough of it. As Sheldon Vanauken writes, “we are always amazed by it—how fast it goes, how slowly it goes, how much of it is gone. Where, we cry, has the time gone? We aren’t adapted to it, not at home in it.” And that, he says, is an indication that eternity exists and is our home.

Ah, yes, of course. I keep coming back to this. It’s the same feeling I got when I left the Philippines, when I left Boone in May, every time I leave camp at the end of a summer. The unsettling feeling of farewells humbles me by reminding me of my humanness, that nothing is yet in its true form. But it also excites me, because I know that the true form is promised, that it will surely come. And as I was reminded the other night while listening to the last RUF podcast of the semester, there is going to be a day when everything will be made new, and all the sad things will come untrue. Painful parting will be no more, and we as God’s children will worship and play and delight in perfect, unceasing community, with Him as our Light. But until that day, we will keep saying, until next time.

Oh, how glad I am that there is always going to be a next time.

I know I'll probably continue to feel these things as time goes on, as I continue to venture to new places and leave loved, well-worn places. But that is okay, it really is. Christ in me, the hope of glory, enables me to breathe reality in deep and hold fast.

---

Out of separation, into unity,

Out of discord, into harmony.

Out of heartbreak, into healing

Out of sorrow, into singing.

Out of insecurity, into relationship,

Out of loneliness, into fellowship.

Out of mourning, into rejoicing,

Out of the night, and into the morning.

Behold, He who makes everything new.

---

One of the faces & places I will miss most.

A Little Soul R&R

Well, what a week it has been. If any week during my two months here could be given the "roller coaster" title, this certainly would have been it. A combination of sickness, various mental stresses, and an unexpected death in the family had left me with a weary Wednesday morning. Sparing the details, it would be fairly accurate to say that my heart, mind and body felt threadbare.

But in the midst of it, there was specific provision. My extended family I'm living with were so encouraging and loving (as they always are) upon hearing the news, giving hugs and words of comfort that were a salve for my grief. A sweet friend invited me to her house and made a delicious lunch that helped me regain my appetite. Another friend asked me about my grandfather, and I realized afterward how healing it was to be asked that and be able to process verbally through sweet memories I had of him. At the last minute, all the issues that had been happening with school registration were resolved, so I was able to sign up for the classes I need next semester. And last (but not at all least), I just got to spend the most fun and refreshing weekend in beautiful Italy with two of my dearest friends.

There are times when I can see clearly the traces of the Lord's provision in my life, and there are times when I can't see as clearly. Though His provision and mercy, thankfully, do not hinge on my ability to see them--they are always there regardless, while my understanding is so limited--this was definitely a week in which they were extremely clear. He used particular people and particular conversations to refresh my weary soul, even in ways I didn't know I needed. In His amazing grace, God extends Himself in ways that I can understand, and in ways that are specific. Mercies new every morning beckon me, stitching me into the rest that my heart, mind, body, and spirit need so desperately. And again, I am astonished at the difference between my receivings and my deservings.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Streams of mercy, never ceasing.

Today marks a month that I have been in Holland! Wow, how the time does fly.

In terms of “updates”, I’m not the best at making summaries of things. Particularly when it comes to things like this experience, there is so much to tell that it is difficult to pick what to say. With that in mind, I’m going to try to say a couple (or few) things that have been on my mind about my time here so far, and hopefully they will be coherent.

I remember writing during my first week here that I was infatuated with this place. Well, folks, I can certainly call it love now. Holland feels like [yet another] home to me. I hardly expected to feel so welcomed and settled in a place that, just four weeks ago, was completely foreign to me. As I have become settled into this place, I’ve also settled into a schedule and regular days during the week. I continue to find that each day is full of the ordinary and the extraordinary, mostly at the same time. A bike ride through the rain ends with a soothing few minutes watching the drizzle fall at my favorite pond. A regular weekday’s lunch is full of culture and laughter and genuine questions. An afternoon at work is interrupted by a break to go jump in a nearby lake (ears still recovering from the cold). And I am seeing more and more that the truth of the Cross really can and does change everything, and that the truth of the Gospel gives weight to every part of life—whether I am sitting at a desk doing paperwork, or going on an exciting weekend excursion, or singing worship songs in Thursday chapel.

One of the other things that has been occupying my mind space lately is the length of time that I’m here. Before I left for Holland, three months felt like a really long time. And now that I’m in Holland, it feels like it is no time at all. I find myself wishing that I could stay here for six months, or a year. But again, I have to remind myself to put things in perspective and view these three months as what they are: an amazing, unique gift and opportunity. I have been given three months to serve, to invest, to build relationships here, and WOW that is an incredible thing. The Lord is continuing to humble me through showing me how contentment is something I lack in many situations. This’ll be an ongoing one for me.

Oh, that I may not seek any more than what the Father’s hand has so graciously extended. It is much more than enough.

For Thy streams of mercy and grace, they never cease.

Dear homes indeed.

What's a day in the life like?

This question, or some variation of it, is one I have gotten from several people since I arrived in Holland, and I realize I should let people know just what in the world it is I’m doing over here. Before I left the States, I got a lot more questions from people about what I would be doing while I was in Europe. I didn’t know really how to answer those questions well, because I didn’t have a clear idea about it either. But now that I’ve been here for a couple of weeks and have figured things out (for the most part), I thought I could give an update about what I’m doing/how y’all can be praying for me & the ministries with which I am involved.

So what exactly am I doing here?

Well, I am living with extended family who are missionaries here in Holland. The main branch of that ministry that I’m working with is called Tyndale Theological Seminary. It’s a small, very missions-focused seminary, and students from all over the world come to study there. I work here three days a week in the administration office, mostly doing individual projects that need to get done. I have absolutely loved meeting all the staff and students, and the cultural richness here amazes me. Tyndale is an incredible place, and the Lord is working here in beautiful ways, as students are being equipped to go out and share the gospel all over the globe, truly seeking to make disciples of all nations.

The second main branch of my work here is for an evangelism project called Kracht om te Veranderen (KOTV for short), which means Power to Change. The goal of KOTV is to reach the nearby city of Alkmaar with the gospel. Alkmaar is a city of 150,000 people, but very few people in the city have heard the gospel. KOTV will be a ten-year long project and is now currently in its beginning stages, which means most of the work I am doing is logistical, administrative work.

Please be praying for these ministries. Please pray for the students and staff at Tyndale—energy and strength to persevere in the call the Lord has given them. Please pray for the Lord’s provision for the school as a whole. Please pray for wisdom and discernment for the core team of KOTV as they continue to dive in to this huge project and seek to reach the people of Alkmaar. Please pray for provision of leadership and resources as we move forward, and for the gospel to be received in amazing ways.

If anyone has any questions about these ministries or wants to know more, please let me know.

As I said, before I came to Holland, I really did not know at all what to expect. Yet here I am, volunteering in different ways, experiencing refreshment and joy along the way, and again finding that settling into a pretty consistent routine is fruitful and good for the mind and heart.

And then, among other little mercies, I get to come home from a full day of work to sweet smiling faces of my second cousin’s little girls and a table of hot, delicious food prepared by loving hands.

My cup, it overflows.

-----

Giver of all, another day is ended….

I thank thee for the temporal blessings of this world—

the refreshing air, the light of the sun,

the food that renews strength, the raiment that clothes,

the dwelling that shelters, the sleep that gives rest,

the starry canopy of night, the summer breeze,

the flowers’ sweetness, the music of flowing streams,

the happy endearments of family, kindred, friends.

Things animate, things inanimate, minister to my comfort.

My cup runs over.

Suffer me not to be insensible to these daily mercies.

-Evening Praise, The Valley of Vision

#Holland venture

A Brief Dutch Lesson

There’s a word in Dutch I really love—gezellig. Don’t worry, I won’t try to explain how it’s pronounced, because it uses the back-of-the-throat sounds that are hard for us Americans. Anyway, this is a word I grew up hearing every once in a while in my own home (thanks, Daddy), but only now that I’m here have I understood it better.

Gezellig is one of those words that is known for it’s “untranslatability”—there is no word in English that matches its meaning. But in essence, this adjective is cozy, quaint, warm, homey, familiar, and sense of community all rolled into one. So, no surprise why I like it.

In coming to Holland, I was particularly nervous about not finding this—a sense of home or belonging or community. But from the moment that I got picked up at the airport, every person—whether it’s my extended family with whom I’m living, staff and students at Tyndale (more on that later)—has made me feel so welcome. It has been so lovely, and I am both incredibly grateful for it and incredibly excited for relationships to continue growing.

In this home, I feel very much at home. And as I was sitting in the living room the other night with everyone, this word kept coming to my mind.

In a country that is completely new and a town full of zigzagging, unfamiliar roads that I can easily get lost on, it is such a gift to be able to come home to a home. To drink tea, eat around a table, play in the backyard, laugh over board games, share daily stories.

Gezellig.

Twinkle lights in vases against the walls,

Warming up the room;

Bare feet and sock feet against the soft carpet

And nightly tea—strong, warm and true.

The men talk of politics, the women of family,

As I rest further into my seat,

Observing, engaging, and observing again,

My senses are set on repeat.

The hours, they pass, and so do words

As the crescent moon comes out to play,

And I find that my mind is no longer so restless,

My reality no longer so gray.

From heartfelt to playful and back again,

The conversation feels like home,

Memories, debriefs, plans, shared hopes—

Familial comfort in the loved and known.

Slow nights like this may give way to some busy

While the green leaves begin to color,

But meals and hearts will still be shared

As we learn in circles to move slower.

Caffeine wears off from the 9 to 5 day,

My eyelids begin to weigh heavy;

But tomorrow brings mercies all over again,

And for that, I know I’ll be ready.

#Holland venture

Three Days In & Pinching Myself

I am convinced that this place was made up in a fairytale.

The streets are narrow and brick, many lined with a green canopy of trees. Every few seconds, a few friends or an elderly couple pass by on their bicycles, baskets in front and little bells chiming. The small houses are all in rows down the streets, all close together, but each unique in its design. There are many trails going through the woods, to water, to old estates that look like they were dropped right out of Jane Austen’s mind. Small ponds covered with water lilies, streets named after Dutch Renaissance painters, field after field full of cows and sheep and old windmills, little motorboats and canoes scattered along a canal. The sun beginning to shed the late summer heat and don the touch of brisk early fall.

Little Heiloo and the neighboring city of Alkmaar. Maybe I can’t say I’m in love yet, but I’m certainly infatuated.

And I keep pinching myself because it feels like I’m just here for a little while, maybe a week or two, only to go back to North Carolina again. It doesn’t quite feel like reality yet—reality that I have time to learn to love this place, both for its natural beauty and for its people. I have time to get lost for five hours exploring an old city. I have time to read slowly, breathe slowly, take it in slowly. Because this isn’t a vacation—it’s home for a little while. A home where I will drink too much caffeine, share many meals, serve people, do paperwork, stumble over a new language, make friends, explore, babysit children, practice hospitality, be humbled, and continue to learn more about the unsearchable riches of a merciful Savior. That’s what happens, no matter what side of the ocean I’m on.

Yes, it’s certainly a lovely bonus that this place looks as magical as it does.

Still—it’s life, and it’s the boring and beautiful, the old and new, and all is grace.

“O Lord, I am astonished at the difference between my receivings and my deservings.”

(More to come...both pictures and rambling.)

#Holland venture

And Still My Soul Would Cleave to Thee

My high school history teacher was a woman of expressions. She taught our world history class to sing the order of the Chinese dynasties, referred to every kind of food as “snacky cakes”, and frequently reminded our classes that trying to get high schoolers to listen was like “trying to herd cats.” I sat in her classroom 90 minutes a day for two years, and I found that one of her favorite points to make through each story we heard, each person we studied, was: “Life is hard, and change is difficult.” A good ol’ cliché to throw around, huh? It works when you’re talking about political strife in 18th-century America and it works when you want to shut up a classroom of 16-year-olds by giving them a this-is-only-going-to-get-harder-in-college reality check. And, honestly, my lovely and fantastically spunky teacher did both of these well, along with pretty much everything in between.

So why talk about this random memory from high school days? Well, in recent weeks, I have found myself recalling this expression quite a bit. And I’m not about to go into the details of the events that have brought that on, but suffice it to say that it feels as if there has been more change happening in my life in the past few months than there has ever been before. Changes that are necessary, and changes that are good (Lord help me), but yes, changes that feel hard. And in the midst of changes and transitions and the implications of them, I begin to see more clearly that this is not simply about the changes themselves. Really, it is much more about the fact that changes are happening, not what changes are happening.

Wait, what? Insert crashing-wailing-fire-and-brimstone into the frame of my dramatic, self-pitying heart. Because if I’m getting it straight now, I say to myself, this means that I can no longer point my finger at my circumstances as the sources of my resistance and discontent. It all very quickly becomes (though, in truth, it has always been) a matter of my heart. My dislocated, self-centered heart. My human nature screams in protest against changes that are happening, because my human nature would just love for things to be easy, for things to be comfortable, for things to be under my control. And it doesn’t take much for that little world of mine to get jostled around, because—news flash, Rachel—life is not easy, or comfortable, or under my control. Should be easy truths to take in stride, right? I would think so. But my heart, left to its own devices, desires so strongly and consistently for me to have my own way, that even things that seem or should be simple, are not.

Of course, the story doesn’t end there, and I have never been more glad for that. As much as I have been reminded lately that, yes, life is hard and change is difficult, I have never found myself asking this question more: “Lord, to whom shall I go?” Because Almighty God, in His infinite grace, is continuing to show me that He is the One and Only to whom I may turn, that He is my only trust. My frail flesh continues to search for an answer of contentment that involves me, but I keep drawing blanks. My thirst for peace may only be quenched in the light of the Father’s mercy and love, given to me in Christ. In that mercy, He shows me that the Cross is the only thing that cuts through my selfishness and binds my wandering heart to Him. Naught but grace, for I would never choose Him otherwise.

As I prepare and continue to trek through this good-weird-hard season of change—leaving friends and family, moving to a different country, doing strangely adult-y things—I have never understood more clearly that the Lord truly is my only constant. And even writing that out, I laugh to myself, because I know my understanding of that truth is still so small. But again, Grace is granting me more understanding each day. Grace is gently pulling me out of my self-pity. Grace is teaching my weary soul to rejoice and trust in His control rather than my own. And oh, for grace to trust Him more.

Dear refuge of my weary soul / On thee when sorrows rise

On thee when waves of trouble roll / My fainting hope relies

To Thee I tell each rising grief / For Thou alone canst heal

Thy Word can bring a sweet relief / For every pain I feel

But oh, when gloomy doubts prevail / I fear to call Thee mine

The spring of comfort seem to fail / And all my hopes decline

Yet gracious God, where shall I flee? / Thou art my only trust

And still my soul would cleave to Thee / Though prostrate in the dust

#Holland venture

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