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The Practice of Prayer Introduction

Introduction This series of morning and evening prayer is liturgical, which may feel unfamiliar to you. The hope in this series of prayers is to hold together order and spontaneity.

We have much to gain by listening to our brothers and sisters of other traditions. Just as liturgical traditions have much to offer us by way of roots, the charismatic and Pentecostals have much to offer us in zeal and passion. Tradition and innovation go together in God’s kingdom. Jesus was Jewish. he went to synagogue “as was his tradition” and celebrated holy days such as Passover. But Jesus also healed on the Sabbath.

Jesus points us to a God who is able to work within institutions and order, a God who is too big to be confined. Love cannot be harnessed. So let us engage in this practice this week, allowing these prayers on the screen to become our own all the while listening for the spontaneous moves of the Spirit.

#prayer #highway community #highwaycommunity #practice of prayer #practiceofprayer

Steph and Sean Loh

Photographed by Michelle Bengtson

Since 2010, the two of us have faced numerous hardships, but amidst everything, God has proven to be faithful and has used many of our struggles to strengthen our relationships with each other, with the people around us, and with Him.

In March of 2010, Steph's repetitive strain injury (RSI) in both of her forearms prevented her from working her job as an associate scientist and led her to realize that God is in control. She considered other career options, and ultimately decided on occupational therapy. Around the same time, her mom was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which God was able to use to mend their previously broken relationship. A year later, Steph's mom recovered almost fully.

Toward the end of 2011, we were both laid off. Sean's upper right arm was injured through repetitive strain injury (RSI), which meant he could no longer use a computer, and it became difficult for him to complete everyday tasks such as driving and cooking.

Over the next few months, we learned more about our pending marriage. We learned that the purpose of marriage is to glorify God—to be a good example of what a marriage should look like in God's eyes—serving one another unconditionally just as Jesus served us. Also, we learned that the Bible never promises happiness in marriage. After pre-engagement and pre-marital classes, we were engaged. The engagement period was especially difficult since neither of us had a job. Ultimately, we decided to move into Sean's parents’ house.

In July of 2012, we were married. With lots of prayer and God's presence in difficult conversations, Steph and her sisters reconciled their broken relationships, and were bridesmaids in our wedding. Through God's grace, Steph was also accepted for health insurance, a miracle considering her pre-existing condition and unemployment.

Just when things were beginning to come together, Steph was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Again, by God’s grace, Steph was able to receive the treatment and care she needed. Steph's mom wanted to visit at this time, but because of Steph’s strained relationship with her in the past, we were worried things would not go well. Through this experience, we witnessed God’s power in transforming people–even over a span of 29 years. Steph's mom is a much more loving and understanding person now, and so are we.

Despite the brokenness in our own family, God showed us how great it is to be in His family. We were blown away by the love and generosity of our friends, who helped prepare two weeks’ worth of meals for Steph's low iodine diet before radiation treatment. She successfully underwent radiation treatment under God’s protection.

In the Spring we decided to move out of Sean’s parents’ house even though we were both still unemployed and the “wiser” decision seemed to be staying with Sean's parents to save money. We are thankful that we get to enjoy living on our own again, and have the freedom to build a new family as a married couple. At the same time, after having prayed incessantly for his parents and sister to know Jesus since finding Jesus himself in 2000, Sean is coming to the realization that he may not be the one to harvest the seeds he has planted.

We are trying to see where God wants us to serve and where He can use us best. Furthermore, we are learning how our marriage can be used for His glory and to help bring others to Him.

One of the biggest lessons Sean has learned through all of this is to seek God first in everything. Previously, he would always go to his friends for initial advice. Now, God has taught Sean to go to God first, to pray, to read the Bible, and to spend time with Him before he "relies" on his friends.

God loves us so so much. He showed His love to Steph through the abundance of help we received through the cancer process—all the prayers, mended relationships with her mother and sisters, and the provision of a wonderful husband. Also she knows now that she does not have to wait to be healed physically to serve God. He made her a beautiful person with flaws and all – and He gave her all that she needs to serve Him well right now– even with limited use of her hands. Sean was able to see the importance of taking care of his health after seeing how Steph struggled, and he is slowly healing. God brought us together for that reason, and for so many more.

As a couple, we have definitely learned that we are not in control, and we still must trust God for everything. We trusted Him while moving into Sean’s parents’ house, through unemployment, Steph’s cancer, and mending family relationships. We continue to trust Him with the faith of Sean’s family, and our continuing quest to enjoy our marriage. God has carried us through all of these experiences and has healed us both in our health, and in our relationships, and we know He will continue to guide and protect us through whatever comes our way in the future.

#Testify

Samuel Mandell

photographed by Liz Song

Snippet from my journal entry on 4/16/13.

4 days before my mother died.

…

There's a rawness to the emotions. The social mask has been washed away by repeated tears. The crying and the laughter come quicker now. The highs and lows blend into each other. There are no "plans" now. There's just today, this hour, and this minute. I'm made to live in this moment by moment. Any attempt to think about the future is confounded by the phone ringing, a guest coming over, a sprint to my mom's room to help her to the bathroom, helping my sister with her taxes, shopping, cleaning... there is no then, there is only now. Now is where God is calling me to be. I was telling my sister it felt like I'm standing outside in the rain, my clothes are soaked, and I'm cold. All I want to do is go inside, take a warm shower, and put on a fresh pair of clothes. I'm being called to stay out in the rain though and wait. Wait in the rain. Be present in the rain. Don't escape to thoughts of comfort, but really feel the cold, try to feel every rain drop as it lands. I know there is a house with a warm shower and clean clothes, I know that awaits me, but not yet. And so I wait. This experience of participating in someone's journey into death has been profound, likely in ways I can't quite totally understand yet. I feel like I am an observer of two worlds. The world of the eternal, of the resurrection promise we as Christians live for and where my mom is journeying towards. The peace that my mom has and the hope that I cling to, the life eternal. The other world is the world of the ancients. A world before we confined death and sickness to the margins of our society. Where the two ends of life regularly kissed in sweet recognition, birth and death, all woven together into the very fabric of who we are. I feel strangely connected to humanity, to bloodlines, to generations who have sat as I do, waiting.

Death is a journey, however short or long it is. I have spent the last 6 months watching my mother die, and I will spend the next several days or weeks watching as she takes the final steps in her race. She's almost to the finish line, and I couldn't be more proud of her.

Brigitte Alice Mandell (1/6/47 – 4/20/13)

#testify

Lisa Corsetto

photographed by Michelle Bengtson

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.’” -Revelation 21:3

I recently returned to the Bay Area after working as a missionary intern in Chinandega, Nicaragua. I worked with a Nicaraguan church that runs vocational training programs for at-risk youth on a farm off the Pan-American Highway. Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, and some say that Chinandega is the poorest region. Conditions on the farm are challenging. It’s blistering hot during the day and cold at night; zancudos – giant mosquitos whose bites feel more like bee stings – attack with no mercy; the drinking water is contaminated; and sometimes there is not enough money to buy food.

Pastor Gonzalo lives at the farm. He is responsible for the up to twenty boys that live at the farm for a welding program. These boys come from rough backgrounds of gangs, drugs, theft, and poverty. Pastor Gonzalo stays at the farm 24/7, keeping the boys safe from each other and providing them spiritual mentorship as they undergo an intense transformation process. He rarely sees his wife and family, who live in a different part of the country. Pastor Gonzalo has a low status even within the ministry, and other leaders often disregard him.

One day I was working at the farm and in a very bad mood. The lack of provisions for those living on the farm, in combination with the general injustices of poverty in Nicaragua, overwhelmed me.

Pastor Gonzalo noticed that I was upset and asked, “You see a lot of things here that you do not like, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied, “It seems like there are a lot of injustices committed against you, and I don’t like that.”

Pastor Gonzalo responded, “Yes, life here is hard. Life is very hard. But we have God here with us, so we are OK.”

Pastor Gonzalo’s simple response struck me. He is OK because God is with him. If life gets harder, God will still be with him, so he will still be OK. Pastor Gonzalo’s OK-ness is dependent on nothing other than God’s presence.

Pastor Gonzalo demonstrated to me a Paul-like faith. Paul says in Philippians 4:12-13, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

The lesson I learned through Pastor Gonzalo has continued to encourage me during difficult times. Presently, I am transitioning back to life in the U.S. and looking for a job. I can easily get discouraged and fear what the future has in store. But I know that God is with me. It’s as if John, the writer of Revelation is exclaiming, “Look, Lisa! God is with you. You are OK.”

#testify

Jeong Hyun

photographed by Billy Alexander

My mom loves to tell the story about when my church had a big race when I was six years old. The entire church was watching as I lined up with all the other little kids. As soon as the gun went off, I took two steps, turned around and immediately started crying. Embarrassed, my mom ran to get me and asked me what was wrong, to which I said, “Everyone is making fun of how I run.” Even though I have no memory of this, I believe this to be true because growing up; I was what Koreans call an “Ool-Bo”, which basically means “giant crybaby”. As a kid, I was painfully shy. If I was put in a place where I had to do any sort of public speaking, I flop sweat myself so badly people in the audience grew acutely uncomfortable. After awhile, I just believed that this was who I was and that I would be ok as long as I avoided the spotlight.

That’s why it was a shock to both me and my mom, when a pastor who was close to our family handed me a Bible while I was in high school with Jeremiah 1:4-9 inscribed on the front cover. He told me in his meditations, these were the verses God placed in his heart as my future calling. I only identified with verse 6 when Jeremiah told God, “Ah Sovereign Lord, I do not know how to speak. I am only a child.” Despite how much I respected him, I thought he made a mistake.

God has a sense of humor because shortly afterwards, no matter how much I tried, I found myself standing in front of crowds and microphones over and over again. There were no instant miracles. I was still sweaty and nervous stumbling over my words but in my mind, I started to take believe verse 8, “Do not be afraid of them for I am with you” and I slowly started to get better. Four years later, my mom was in the audience when I walked up to give the commencement address at my college graduation. I wasn’t chosen because I was the best student and clearly not because I had any speaking ability, but because I wrote an essay on what it meant to be a Christian at one of the most secular, liberal colleges in the country and they picked it out of the blue. As I walked up to the stage, I thought about verse 9 – “Now I have put my words in your mouth” and at that moment, I forgot to be afraid and began to trust that this was exactly where I was supposed to be running the race—for God, in front of all to see.

#Testify

Jamie Seeba

photographed by Liz Song

There were truly a lot of wonderful things about my Christian family growing up. I was so well provided for and was given so many opportunities. I remember my parents always having time for me and showing up to all of my junior high basketball games. I really think my parents believed in me. Above all, I am thankful for how they taught me about Jesus and took me to church.

Yet somewhere, somehow, something had gone wrong along the way. It came to a climax in my early twenties. I found myself sitting in my first apartment feeling alone and confused. The parental support and encouragement that had helped me through life seemed to have turned. I once had thought they were proud of me, but now they were regularly telling me how much hurt and disappointment I was causing them. It was as if they were misinterpreting my independence as betrayal and abandonment. How could the same people who sent me to college, helped me find my first apartment, did their best to prepare me for life, misunderstand so badly? Or was something else going on that I just couldn’t see? Was I doing something wrong? Was I defective?

So in my early twenties I found myself in a pretty dark place. The breakdown of these important relationships affected me deeply. I was feeling depressed and unsure of who I really was. There was also quite a bit of fear and guilt. I didn't even know exactly what was going on, so I wasn't sure who to go to for help.

I grew up being told that God hears our cries. I was taught that God is compassionate and trustworthy. So sitting there in my room, I looked up at a piece of artwork with a caption from Psalms 55:17, “He shall hear my voice.” Well, I desperately needed Him to hear me. So, hoping for something solid to hold on to, I reached out to Him.

I remembered that many of the Psalms are prayers asking God for help, so I started reading a chapter each day before work. The Psalms are refreshingly honest. I was comforted knowing that it's okay to express words of suffering and desperation to God. And it was so good for me to see that many of them, even after cries of pain and entreaties for justice, end in worship and hope. They assure me that God is faithful, that God is trustworthy, that God makes things right. I really really needed that.

So, a little desperate, I clung to my Bible and my mustard-seed-sized faith. God used that time to get in touch with me in a new way. And thus began my healing.

God is thorough. My healing has taken a while. God went a little deeper than I had anticipated. He didn't fix my relationships the way I wanted. At least He hasn't yet. But, wow, has He ever been busy working on my character.

God wasn't content to sweep confusion and guilt and fear off the surface of my heart. No, He saw the big picture and knew my problems went beyond my current situation. He had me dig deep to identify and extract lies buried in my heart so they could be replaced with truth. He exposed very old lies that I didn't even know I had believed! He wanted me to stop believing that other people are the ones who tell me who I am, because only He is the source and author of my identity. He wanted me to stop relying on being a “good girl” to feel worthy or important. Instead, He wanted me to have peace and freedom in His grace. He showed me how I had entangled myself in my family's problems and how I believed I could fix them in my own power. The truth is that only God can have that kind of control over how people feel or what they do. God wanted me to stop believing that I was defective, because in Jesus I am new and God lives in me. He wanted me to internalize the truth that He gives me a spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound mind...not a spirit of fear.

Actually, it was pretty hard work. Graciously, God never had me do it alone. Somehow, just the right people would show up at just the right times to help me. Always. And, wow, the results of God's work in my life have brought such freedom! Such peace! God has rewarded me with the real deal. I'm so so grateful. The old ways of thinking still pull at me sometimes and I know God is not finished with me yet. But He's taken me this far and I know that I can trust Him.

Looking back on the past decade, and even my childhood, I'm able to get an even fuller picture of God's work in my life. I can more clearly see how far He's brought me. My life could have turned out so differently! How many others who believe the same lies I did are still trying to find security in the wrong ways, damaging themselves in the process? How could it be that so much of that damage hadn't touched me?

Recently, as I pondered these questions, God answered me with an image of my childhood self and an assurance that told me “It's because I've been there with you from the start. It's because as a little girl you trusted Me and I've protected your heart.” Thou, O Lord, are a shield about me.

So as it turns out, God does hear my voice after all. And the Psalms are right. I waited patiently for the Lord on high and he heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth. Anything good about me, anything right in my life, is a direct result of God's grace and faithfulness.

Praise the Lord, my soul;

all my inmost being, praise His holy name.

Praise the Lord my soul,

and forget not all His benefits--

Who forgives all your sins

and heals all your diseases,

Who redeems your life from the pit

and crowns you with love and compassion,

Who satisfies your desires with good things

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

Psalm 103:1-5

#Testify

Ivan Lee

photographed by Naphy Joiner

"The other day I caught a later commute bus than I normally take, on my way home to San Francisco. Only myself and the driver was on board, which was unusual given the popular route. I sat behind Sara and we small-talked briefly. I was tempted to use the wifi on the bus to finish a few important emails, but then I asked some prodding questions about her challenges in life.

Around the same time I had been going through the 'Experiencing God' book study and was reading the chapter about making myself available for the Spirit to work through me. I was encouraged by the God-center perspective of the book, which focused on how God is always at work around us and that because He loves us and wants to be in a personal relationship with us, He invites us to join Him in what He is doing.

On the bus, I became aware that God was working in the midst, in the same way that God was working when Philip was traveling and ran into the Ethiopian. Sara went on to explain that her boyfriend was not leading her in a Godly way and she doubted the longevity of the relationship. I prayed for God's wisdom in discerning the relationship and we chatted through the rest of the hour long commute.

At one point, I even joked that it would be amazing if when she reached the drop off point in SF, that she would turn around to an empty bus. Then it would have been clear that an angel had spoken to her. She scolded me for frightening her, but we both smiled because it was clear that the Lord had orchestrated that evening.

I haven't taken that same route since, so I haven't seen Sara after that night, though I have been praying for her. Experiencing God on that bus strengthened my faith and He revealed to me the growing importance of relationships. Being present with Sara was called for at that time. No gift or project was more valuable than giving her a listening ear and God-centered advice. The relationship is greater than the accomplishments - God can make things happen without us, but he wants us to be in a relationship with Him, so he wants to work through us.

And he often works through us by putting us in situations where our most common human relationships are tested."

CHRISTINA LEE

photographed by Lisa Higaki Ng

In the summer of 2009 my mother was diagnosed with her second cancer. Our family had just celebrated 5 years of her official “cancer free / cured of ovarian cancer” status. That time around, her illness was as straightforward and simple as a cancer battle could be. It had been caught at an early stage. There were no relapses or major complications. But for some reason, from the beginning, I knew this cancer would be different. She battled through complication after complication and her chemo treatments were repeatedly delayed for various reasons.

I watched my mother suffer through depression, pain and weakness as her body was slowly overtaken by disease. But that wasn’t it. What made my heart break was watching my mother struggle with her faith, questioning why God put her through this again. What did I do to deserve this? “Where are you God?” she would ask. I would sit at her side as she lay in bed with fear in her eyes, not ready to die, not able to accept that this was her fate.

As my mother wrestled with God, I struggled with my own faith. I had spent the last few years without a church community in spite of my best efforts to find one. My mother’s illness was the last straw on a list of disappointments and unrealized desires. I felt abandoned by God, confused and angry. In my darkness moments I lost the one thing I had always been able to hold onto – hope.

Yet despite this, something drew me to church every Sunday. Although I would cry during every service and it hurt to sing praise, I kept going back. Then one autumn Sunday morning, for the first time in a really long time, I heard God. He spoke straight to my soul and gently asked me to trust Him. And from that moment I noticed Him more and more by my side. I heard Him during worship, through friends, in prayer. Then one glorious day my mother told me that she felt at peace. She said she had no regrets. In the last week of her life, she was able to say goodbye to my siblings, me, and my father. And miraculously I felt ready for what I never thought I could be ready for.

Seven months after her diagnosis, my mom passed away comfortably at home. It was as perfect as a death could be – exactly as she wanted, with her family by her side and full of peace. In the months that followed, God never left my side as I mourned and grieved. He began healing my heart and making me more whole than I ever thought I could be as I lived out the words in this song:

Oh joy that seeks me through the pain

I cannot close my heart to thee

I chase the rainbow through the rain

And know the promise is not vain

That morn shall tearless be

Rejoice my heart, rejoice my soul, my savior God has come to thee

Rejoice my heart, you’ve been made whole, by a love that will not let me go

#Testify

Cherri Saccone

photographed by Sarah Gerber

My husband, Steve, is a naturally even-keel kind of guy. He, very unlike me, tends to see the cup half full and has what our grandparents used to call, a sunnier disposition. But every once in a while, he gets hit with a weird pain in the back of his neck that doesn’t let up, often for days. When this unwelcome guest takes up residence in his neck, the whole atmosphere is forced to live with it. Let’s just say, Steve has a hard time experiencing anything but pain when his neck hurts. And even the most joyful elements of life are difficult for him to take pleasure in, simply because every time he turns his face toward the thing he loves, he is stabbed with pain.

I feel for him. To me, it reminds me of the inherent burden we carry in this life. No matter how much we try to take pleasure in the gifts God has given us, there is an aching reminder that pain, although not always mercilessly at our heels, is nonetheless an irremovable component of life.

I’ve had this particular strain when it comes to my son, Holden. For the last year, it has been slowly and methodically made clear to us that something is not right. It started at 18 months, when I noticed that he all of a sudden lost abilities that he had up to that point, that he stopped smiling and laughing, that he didn’t want to look at or touch any other person besides me. As the months continued to unfold, the developmental delays seemed to increase rather than decrease, and even more disheartening, Holden seemed to be disappearing inside of himself, locked up inside and unable to come out.

I was still holding on to an ember of hope. He was young. I told myself, ‘Wait until he turns 3 to grieve, maybe he will come through this.’ I couldn’t wait to grieve. This whole year has been one long, endless, ache. It was like that strain in the neck. I felt this aching burden. How do I be the mom he needs me to be? How can we help him learn? Where is the hiding key that can unlock the door blocking him from the outside world? What if I mess up? What if I fail him? The questions rung through my mind not only daily, but countless times in an hour

The most difficult part of the past year is that the joy and gratitude I felt were weighed down. There is so much to love about Holden, so much to take joy in, so much to be thankful for. Like the way he cuddles his little body into my own when he just wants to be near me. Like the way his imagination comes to life when he is playing with his favorite jungle animals. Like the way he pushes past his fears, anxieties, and even disabilities, all in order to please us. Like his crazy, supernatural, cuteness. His eyelashes curl above his chestnut brown eyes in a way that stops your breath for a moment. But there was that strain. Every time I looked over at him to enjoy his cuteness, the strain. Every time I felt pride well up in my heart as he overcame a challenge, the strain. Every time he nestled his head in my neck, the strain was there. I wanted to just feel the pleasure in who he is. But the burden wouldn’t let me.

For the past year, I felt more anguish than hopefulness, which led me to fear his 3rd birthday. In my irrational mind, I was afraid that 3 meant permanent disability, which meant permanent pain. I wanted him to grow up, but I didn’t want to accept not being able to know him…truly know him.

March 7th came. Holden turned 3. It was just Holden and I on his birthday. Steve and Hudson were on a trip. Holden doesn’t understand what a birthday is, nor does he understand what presents are. So I knew there was not going to be a traditional celebration. So it was him and I, on the day that all mothers long for but only some mothers suffer through as well. I wasn’t sure how I would feel. All I know is that each moment of strain has been a moment that I have committed to being honest about, and to grieve on God’s timeline, not my own. I thought after a thousand grieving moments that his 3rd birthday would culminate into one catastrophic one.

I was so wrong.

A miracle happened. Holden didn’t wake up on his 3rd birthday and find healing. But I did. As I was sitting with him, cuddling, watching his favorite movie, I closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed a breath prayer that I recite many times a day. “Abba, I belong to You.” As I breathed in His presence, I tried to be present in the pain that I feared would be greater than my ability to cope with on this day. I braced myself as I tore myself away from denial and dug my heels into honesty. But what came next gave me no reason to fear, just the opposite. I turned my head, waiting for the strain to pull the joy away with it, and in a moment, I realized…the strain was gone. The invisible burden, the joy-choking pain, the distracting yoke….gone. I wondered, is this a temporary moment of relief? But I knew that it was a removal. It was as if Jesus literally took the burden off of my back and put it on his own.

Because in that moment, all I felt was joy. I knew the burden didn’t dissolve. It was willingly taken by another. I thought it was my burden to carry as a mother. But I have never been so grateful to be wrong. I am still sad that Holden isn’t in a way…free. But the sadness no longer stabs me with pain. I can look over at him as he runs in the sunlight, chasing water drops spraying from the sprinkler, and simply smile. I can see him struggle to use a fork as he eats, and I can hold his hand and guide it with joy. I can watch his tears fall as he cries over his inability to communicate, and I can hold him through it with patience. The strain has been lifted. The work remains.

But now, I can finally rest in the sweet knowledge that…

It is all as it should be.

#testify

Josh Gomez

photographed by Naphy Joiner

Well, I have no idea what to write, so here it goes…

I was Born at El Camino hospital as the 7th generation on my father’s side to live in the Bay Area. I have a younger sister (15), an older brother (23), and an older sister (26). I’m 16 and going into my junior year of High School.

My parents became Christians 3 years before I was born, so I was raised in a Christian house. When I was 9 my parents came to my sister and me and told us they were getting a divorce. I kinda saw it coming though, since my dad had started coming home later and later at night and sometimes wouldn't come home at all.

About three months later my dad introduced me to his girlfriend, who I later learned was the reason for my parents’ divorce. Through this whole process I sort of fell away from Christ. Although, when I think about it, my Christianity was never really my own, it was more my parents’ thing and I just kind of went along with it.

In middle school it got worse. I would sneak out, hang out with the wrong kinds of people and do things that I knew were self destructive, but I didn't care. It was fun so I did it. During freshman year my parents forced me to go on Highway’s student winter retreat. Thank God, because that was the best thing that ever happened to me. I rediscovered my faith and the love and beauty of Christ. It was the most amazing thing that’s happened in my life. It’s hard to describe, almost like I was opening my eyes for the first time. I saw things in a different way. I didn't want to put myself first anymore. My life was amazing.

And then in September of 2012, my stepmother, Erica, was killed in a car accident. I had loved and grown up with this wonderful woman, who was like a second mother to me, for seven years. The pain was indescribable. After a few months, my father eventually became himself again as well as my stepbrother. Sometimes we talk about her, and miss her.

This summer I'm going with a small team of six people to Honduras for 10 days to help out at The Garden of Love and Hope Orphanage. Since God opened my eyes, I’m always excited to see what comes next.

#testify

Rodd Hastain

photographed by Amy Wong

Despite growing up in a Christian home and accepting Christ at an early age, I did not understand what it all meant. It took many years and hardships for me to know Christ.

For years there was a hole inside my heart that I tried to fill with empty and meaningless things. But of course these things were only evanescent and made my depression and anxiety worsen. Eventually a war erupted inside my head and I was left emotionally drained.

Around the time I was 30 I decided to see what this Christian thing was all about. I began to read books and talked to my parents about what it meant to live a Christ centered life. I began to realize that the hole inside me was where Jesus was waiting with open arms. I was constantly covering Him up and neglected to listen for His calls.

One late night when I was at the end of my rope I reached out to God and stripped myself of the things that kept me away from His loving embrace. I asked Him to come into my life. I cried right there and He wrapped His comforting arms around me. For the first time, I truly felt His presence. Unlike when I was young, I had made a choice to accept God’s gift of eternal life. It is a moment I will never forget and as true as His word, He has never left my side.

#testify

Michael Toy

photographed by Chad Myers

I have two shifts to narrate. Before the first shift, there was no God, just stories of Gods: Olympus, Asgaard, Gotham. I had some idea of the Christian story, but it was from Linus who believed in the Great Pumpkin, reading the Gospel of Luke. Very heartwarming, but a heartwarming myth. Truth was something that scientists dealt in.

Then I was a 19 year old fantasy and science fiction geek flailing away at life at UC Santa Cruz. I have a vivid memory of walking out of the Crown College coffee shop as it closed late one night and having a mystical sensation that the stars over head were the same stars shining over Middle Earth, two realities existing in the same instant, and a soul searing ache. I felt I was in the wrong reality. I stood there for a long time, waiting to see if the ache was the warning that some sort of portal was about to open, that impossible hope being the closest thing to a hope for belonging that I had ever felt.

19 years old, apparently trapped on an Earth without elves. I encountered Christ twice. Once I was trapped in the lounge with Dan, the InterVarsity guy, who wanted me to know that Jesus had a plan for my life, a map for me to follow. I still shudder when I think of that conversation, I felt violated.

The other encounter was the life changing one. I was a geek, which meant I was uncool. Which meant when you found some friends, you didn't let them out of your sight. So after a while it wasn't OK that my friends disappeared on Tuesday nights to go do stuff without me. What my friends were doing was sitting in a room lit with candles and praying in tongues for the Holy Spirit to come in power and bring revival to UC Santa Cruz. So I became a Christian the way some people start drinking or smoking, because my friends were doing it, and I wanted to be with them.

This was a backwards conversion though, since it started with prayer meetings, and then goes to church, and then eventually leads to reading the stories about Jesus, which for a flailing 19 year old, suddenly made sense. I was lying to everyone, about everything, every day. I was overwhelmed with the task of navigating life and I didn't want anyone to know. I knew I was lost, it didn't take any fire and brimstone to scare me into caring about Christ. What was riveting was a God who knew everything, things that I would never tell anyone, and that relationship with Him could help me find a self who didn't have to lie in order to make it from Monday to Tuesday.

Coming to the faith backwards meant having to learn things that other people took for granted.

I remember not wanting to tell anyone that I wasn't baptized and praying as I dove into a swimming pool that God himself would baptize me and I would come out of the water full of the Holy Ghost.

I remember discovering that there was a battle going on between Truth and Lie, between God and Satan. Every single choice you made was choosing one or the other. Truth was still a scientific truth, but only a person of faith could read rightly the results of an experiment in Truth.

I remember the day my head got spun in circles by the Young Christian Women, informing me that my views on womanhood and femininity were evil, that they were made to be a help to men, and it was wrong to think of them as equals.

I remember being told that there were beds of fossilized mud with both human and dinosaur footprints in the same strata, so maybe evolution didn't have a lock on Truth.

I remember doing and believing all kinds of crazy things because that is what Jesus people did, and the one thing I knew, is that I was a Jesus person. And not a "drop the tithe in the plate, go to Sunday school and play on the church softball team" Jesus person. I was all in, a "sold out, fool for Christ" Jesus person. I didn't know much about Jesus, but I knew enough to know that I was good with whatever stories there were that ended up at Jesus.

So I get dumped off of the wild roller coaster ride that is college and post-college with this strange twist. I am still a computer nerd, and a nerd at the right time at the right place. There were jobs to do, incredible fun jobs, at companies filled with interesting fun nerdy people. However, I am also a crazy Christian Person, and therefore a double geek. Geeky to the world for being a computer nerd, and geeky to the nerds because of my faith.

Integration and wholeness, completely impossible. People and things that were not "of God" were at best lost and redeemable, but mostly were Satanic snares, distractions leading to destruction. For my nerd self, faith was at best an inspiration to kindness, but mostly a waste of an educated person's life.

My calling was to think of the office as my mission field, to be ready to tell the story of the hope within me when people asked. So I went to church, walked back and forth through the Bible, and learned about the certainty we get from the hundreds of prophecies fulfilled by Jesus. Faithful and waiting for that magic moment when I would be asked how to be saved, and I would have the answer. It was in this act of rescuing my fallen co-workers that I would find the place where faith became integrated into all aspects of my life.

Only after 20 years of faithful prayer and study and training, I was still waiting for that magical moment of integration. No matter how honest, trustworthy, together and perfect I tried to be, I was never going to have someone to stare at me in shock, and wonder "What does Michael Toy have that I don't". The longer I was at this, the more I was manifesting a split personality. A "Sunday Michael", who sees angelic activity everywhere and will acknowledge the goodness of God out loud when the toast falls buttered side up, and the "Monday Michael", who is a gifted software engineer with a dark secret of faith that no one is interested in.

To quote David Byrne, I found myself behind the wheel of a large automobile, asking "How did I get here?" I began to re-ask questions, no longer patient with being told not to worry, that all answers pointed to Jesus. I had not lost my faith in God. That, it turned out, I could not get rid of no matter how hard I tried. I had not lost my desire to live a biblical faith, informed by careful reading of scripture. What I lost was the faith that the Christianity I was living was the end product of a careful reading.

The second shift, the one I can't explain to you because I am still in the middle of, starts with the idea that if you run towards Truth, you cannot run away from God. I have hung on to the idea of God, whoever that is, and to the idea of Truth, whatever that is, and stepped on the gas of my large automobile.

I discovered that careful reading has to include a scientific understanding of knowledge and language and the human brain.

I discovered that even science is not simply a description of what is, but is actually an act of collective progressive faith, with its own way of dealing with a "faith crisis".

These were supposed to be un-truths, which took me away from the solid Truth of God, but I found the opposite thing happening. Even when I learned the hidden secret that the theo-logic that makes all the words in the Bible mean a single thing was mostly a self sustaining spiral, it didn't throw me. That fact simply became another part of my conversation with God as I travelled on the road revealed by that Truth.

It can be a more difficult journey. My health as a spiritual person is now something which requires creativity and initiative to maintain, like someone struggling to eat responsibly. Where once I could simply drive through and get what I needed, now I need to know what I am eating and where it comes from.

It is good though. "I am what I am", says my mystic guide Popeye, which sounds silly, but is very meaningful to me, it is the end of the quest for wholeness. I am a nerd and a person of faith, and while it might seem impossible, it is integrated because here I am with my brain and my beating heart, deal with it. If there are contradictions, that is OK, because I learned from mathematics that any sufficiently powerful theoretical system must necessarily contain paradox.

Weirdly though, it is this me, the one who has no answers, only experiences of wrestling with questions, that is already integrated though not complete, that finally has people asking him to tell the story hope.

#testify

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