I want to live

"For the glory of God is a living human being; and the life of the human consists in beholding God." - Irenaeus

[skwjournal]

3/2/2020 (wilderness)

Maybe not everyone will like this - a poem in first person about Jesus being tempted in the wilderness. I even think I carry on a bit too much in it to try to emphasis that, yes he’s human but also yes, he’s God - but I tried to stop imagining some church lady going off at me for heresy and instead focus on the Yeshua in the desert and what that would be like. I was inspired by the sermon my pastor gave last Sunday - link here - I had a small vision of Yeshua saying that he went through more than just dying to be close to us and then I just kinda went off from there.

Anyway. Here it is:

///

Forty days is a long time.

For thirty years I have been

Constrained by human days,

I have sweated under the sun I created -

But never more so than now,

Out here in the wilderness.

I both know, and don’t know, why I’m here.

Lucifer is here. I can smell him before I see him.

He is both before the eyes of God

And whispering in the back of this human mind;

Which is my mind. I have known,

Always, of course, what this is like for my children and yet -

I have also not known, I am experiencing everything

Within the limits of humanity and time

So, when he tells me to make bread out of rocks

I don’t brush him aside.

My stomach turns over in hunger.

I am hungry, I am tempted for 

The first time - I do not have

Many first, except in these last thirty years there have been

A lot of them - first scraped knee,

First stubbed toe, first sunburn,

First stomach ache - I have always 

Felt every hurt and tear of my children, but

Never like this. Through my own body, not through knowing theirs.

And nothing, nothing has hurt like this:

This desire to make bread.

Even though I know:

“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Still, I want bread.

The human wants things immediately,

Fully, in one moment summed up and

Finished. Lucifer is both

Squirming in the presence of Holy

And also delighted to watch my agony

As the humanness of me

Wants to see God’s glory revealed

All at once, in a magnificent show

So that all may know! All at once and forever!

That I am God, and He is me.

I know what is ahead of me.

The struggle. The disbelief.

The years of walking and talking and

Not being heard.

I have lived for thirty human years now,

Seperated from Abba, and it never ceases to

Ache; there are so many days filled with the longing to

Go home. Don’t I know what is ahead?

They will look me in the face and

Not know me.

Haven’t I warred with their souls for

Thousands of years? I am used to it

By now, yet the ache takes over my body.

I want the easy and the quick,

The loud and bright and painless -

Even though I know:

“Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

And yet - I want to test Abba, the Spirit, myself.

The Spirit beats inside even as I picture it -

Don’t I know what angels look like?

So, I can picture them catching me.

A heavenly view of all the earth.

I am insulted by his question,

It is impossible for me to break the Godhead,

To join the dark -

But more than this I am angered

At the jolt of my heart.

I am angered that he puts my children through

These feelings, this welling up happening

Inside my flesh - that he has so much power

Over their bodies, that he has so many backdoors

Into their minds - yes, they chose death,

I remember, I was there.

They are the reason the body I’m in 

Wears out, breaks down;

They are the reason the sun I created

Feels to them too hot -

And yet - and yet.

I shout in anger:

“Worship the Lord your God, and him only!”

And that, finally, is too much for him,

And his task is done anyway;

He goes back to where he came from.

But even as the angels gather

I weep with tears my body is too parched

To create, for I have felt

The daily! Strong! Beguiling!

Temptations of the a human

Within a fallible human body and

If I were not also God, I know -

If I had not been filled with the Spirit, I know -

Well. I know what it is like.

To want to say yes.

I have been in the wilderness 

That my children created, eons ago,

For forty days, which is a long time;

And I have suffered in the body

That they cursed, for forty days, 

Which is a long time;

And I have felt the devil in my mind.

I have felt the weakness of the human heart,

The confusion of the human mind,

The doubt of the human soul.

And I weep for the children

That give in, and blame themselves,

Instead of the dark. 

Because they are not the dark.

For all their daily curses, they are only light,

For I am the one that created them, I name them -

I have created them in light,

I have called them by names of light -

Oh child, my child, you are my child and

You are only light.

[skwjournal]

The Unspeakable and Unknowable ways of God

What is God up to, when you get sick two times in a row, and you try to mention to him that you could be serving him a lot better if you were, you know, mobile? Out in the world loving on his people? Spreading his name among those who don’t know him? No miracle comes. You stay sick. You lie on the floor and try to embrace silence and learn whatever lesson you’re supposed to be learning so you can get better and get on with life. The inner dialogue spins the same wheels over and over: is the devil attacking my body so I can’t do the Lord’s work? Has God proclaimed me a busy body and felled me with an illness so I will finally be still, rest, and listen? Is this simply a natural thing that happens to natural human bodies, and I’m attaching meaning where there is only simple science? 

Does my God curse me?

That’s the real question, isn’t it? The theology surrounding the never ending debate of whether or not God was responsible for Job’s downfall, if he made a man blind so Jesus could restore his sight, if he gave Paul his “thorn in the flesh” or simply wouldn’t heal it, the old testament stories of angels of wrath and disease. Does God curse us? Even now, under the covenant of Grace? Yes of course before, there was a covenant of blessings and curses, but what about now? I struggle when someone thanks God for every small positive thing in their life, because to me that means you have to either blame the devil for every small inconvenience in your life, or else proclaim your God a fickle God.

I am not a theologian and I do not have answers to these questions. I only know what the Spirit inside cries out.

When I totaled my car when I was twenty-one, I did not blame God. I knew, with a kind of certainty I rarely have, that it was a human mistake, with only myself to blame, but - God was using it to point something out in my life. He didn’t cause it, but he taught me through it. I had become too comfortable. Left with very little in my savings account and basically having to start from scratch to buy another car, he was reminding me that I can not save myself. I can not make a comfortable life for myself. Everything could come crashing down at any moment - I can not make enough things go right to become my own god. It was a humble pill to swallow, but I swallowed it.

When my transmission on my car gave out last month, I cried to the heavens, “What are you doing, Master of the Universe?” I tried to remind myself that he is a God of blessings, not curses. I tried to remind myself of all the ways he’d shown me I should be here, in Clarkston - he was not trying to send me home. I freaked out about having enough money and I sank so low. I was angry, hurt, scared, confused. I wasn’t even fully fundraised, and here my safety net of my savings account was, stretching to mass capacity, maybe being exhausted, I didn’t know yet, the uncertainty was killing me. 

It was night. I was crying. It took the low whistle of a train to wake me up. His voice was a bit angry, frustrated from knocking on the door so long, when he finally got through to me. My God did not do this to me. He would never do anything to hurt me, but also, isn’t all the money in the world his? Why was I being brought so low by this? Couldn’t I trust him to take care of me? I apologize. I cried big tears and I slept so well, and in the morning I got good news. There was a cheaper option. My savings account would not be depleted.

It feels silly to even write that all out. Trust does not come easily to me, in the physical or spiritual realm. God can show me his love a thousand times over, and still I crack, frail clay jar that I am. Doubt is one of my closest friends, and I wish she’d leave, but whenever I kick her out of one room, she just moves into another.

Does my God curse me?

I lie on my bedroom floor, sick for the second time in a row, and wonder if he is making me rest, or if this is the price of being human, or if I am being attacked by some evil spirit. I never get the answer.

Instead, I try my best not to waste my time. I read through the book of liturgies my friend got me for my birthday. 

“... now surrender your own agendas for this day, and instead be led by the workings of his Spirit.”

Oof. My agendas. My to-do lists, the ways I make sure I feel I’ve done enough for one day, the accomplishments I rehearse in my head in case anyone asks what I’ve been up to. My self-defined worth. Out the window. Doesn’t count. Am i listening to the Spirit? That’s what counts. I take a deep breath. Ok, ok, reminder taken. Tasks do not define my worth. Ok. Can I not be sick now?

I turn from my back to my stomach to read another book. Abba’s Child, by Brennan Manning. “’There can only be two basic loves,’ wrote Augustine, ‘the love of God unto the forgetfulness of self, or the love of self unto the forgetfulness and denial of God.’” I stop reading as that also hits me in my stomach. I read it again out loud to myself. I laugh as it burns. I highlight it with a sticky note, and finish the chapter. 

Somewhere along the way, I come to realize that God did not stick a cough on me, but he’s taking advantage of it to get my attention. To point at my busy-ness and preoccupations. 

I dreaded writing my monthly update, because I didn’t feel I had much to put in it. I fundraised, I made a few visits in the neighborhood, but other than that, what did I do?

I laid on my bedroom floor and experienced the presence of God. I lit candles and curled up in blankets and tried to relearn silence. I accused God and then apologized, I was weak and terribly human, I was emotional and slept a lot and slowly, finger by stiff finger, gave up my agenda.

That’s quite a lot to give up in a month, actually. And in the end, when I look back at all that wrestling, I can only say that my God has blessed me.

My God is a God of blessings.

[skwjournal]

I really love this song, especially the lines leading into the chorus. So I decided to make some art work for it, and my friend asked me what the lines meant to me. I couldn’t, at the time, find the words to describe it because it was all just feeling and imagery in my head. So I wrote a little story to try to wrap words around it. Here it is:

You can tell the heroes, “Go, hide.” I’m tired of their victories, their songs and poetry. Can’t we hear from someone, for once, who doesn’t win? Where are the uncelebrated, the ragamuffins, the ones who bled without a cause? Is the blood of the hero more worthy because they knew what they were fighting for? Tell me the stories of those who did not ask for pain, who did not seek adventure. Where are the stories of the peasant alongside the road that the hero nodded at in passing; where are the stories of the beggar children, who sang songs for him when he entered the city, only to be left behind again; where are the stories of the old woman he sought wisdom from but never thought to repay her with any favors, because wasn’t she there just to pass wisdom on to him? Isn’t her that role in life - to serve the hero and be grateful for a few lines of the story? I want to ask why the hero gets to control what’s important, why the weary horse he rides or the hardworking father he leaves behind or the monster he takes as his duty to fight, don’t get a say, are called less than, are used as a stepping stone for someone else's glory?

My sense of wonder is just a little tired. I guess, by now, I’ve seen too many trophies. I guess, by now, I’m tired of the anthems. When the rainbows come and go and nothing changes, they start to lose their color. Thunderstorms are no longer symphonies - the first grumble is just a warning to run for cover. Tales of dragons can’t shake you when your house has already been burned down. Threat of pixies don’t concern you when your life is already full of mischief and woe. The songs of birds become just noise. A new baby is just another mouth to feed. Nothing brings you ecstasy when all you want to do is sleep, maybe for eternity.

“But if only you could see yourself in my eyes, you’d see you shine, you shine.” This is what my Maker cries over me, exalts over me, voice from the sky crowing out my name. I’m only a mirror, with none of my own glory, but for some reason, that’s fine by you. You, the Maker of the skies, who breathed life into the horse and told it to run, who cast the fish into the sea and told them to swim, who stretched the whale larger and larger, and laughed and laughed at the thought of our faces when we would first behold it - you, the Master of the Universe, are in love with me. Even when I am blind to wonder, even when I am tired of triumphant songs, you draw out the beauty in me and whisper, “In my image, you are in my image, oh my beloved!” Mover of mountains and shaker of hills - why do you love this small thing? This ragamuffin on the doorsteps of heaven, too afraid of the bright light to step in? You’ve taken my rags and given me your own clothing, you’ve bound up my wounds and named me “Whole, Complete.” Why would you want your glory reflecting off of me? Yet you choose me, over and over. You sing over me, softly then loudly, not able to contain your bursting affection. 

I am a hero in your eyes, overflowing with wonder, because that’s who you are and I am a piece of you. I sit down at the table, eyes lowered, to partake of the feast you lay before me, and you whisper in my ear, “Lift your eyes, oh my Love, behold all of it, for what’s mine is yours.” I lift my eyes, but not to the serving plates - to your face, oh Love, and you shine, you shine.

[skwjournal]

You have all heard this quotation from Irenaeus before. And it is has been popularized and graphically represented in many different ways. A quick internet scan for images related to this phrase r…

I’ve always loved this quote by Irenaeus, and I love this explanation on why it’s actually important, and just as beautiful, without the erroneously added word “fully.”

[skwjournal]

The Long Awaited Update

**copy of email sent to subscribers**

Hey Everybody!

So I finally have some news for you all! Sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, but I wanted to be able to provide you with all the details all at once. So hold on tight, here we go.

I mentioned in my last update that I would be talking to other groups and looking into other refugee programs. I did talk to another group in Athens and though they sound amazing, I was talking to them about things I'd love to do, and realizing that I have no training in those areas. Things such as helping people to find jobs, to learn new skills for jobs, and to start their own businesses. Greece doesn't have the best job market right now. Even for Greeks it's hard to find employment. For refugees, it's even harder. The borders to other countries, where it's easier to find work, are closed, so they end up paying smugglers (who don't even always come through) to sneak them across, and then, even if they do make it, they risk being deported back to their home countries for being there illegally. Finding jobs for them in Greece is much safer. 

I haven't the slightest idea how to go about those things though, so that's when I started looking into Clarkston, GA, which is just outside of Atlanta and is one of the locations the government places refugees when they come here. It's been called "the most diverse square mile in America" by the TIME magazine, and about 60 languages are spoken there. There are several different organizations that work in Clarkston, and they provide the kind of services I want to learn more about, as well as other ministry opportunities, including a school for missionaries. 

Global Frontier Missions (GFM) 's Missionary Training School (MTS) is a five month long program that "purposely focuses on integral ministry training: head (formal, classroom, theory), heart (informal, community, spiritual), and hands (non-formal, on-the-job, practical). Studies show that this type of training helps missionaries stay on the field longer and see more spiritual fruit in their lives and ministries." Classroom subjects include Intercessory Prayer, Spiritual Warfare, Evangelism, Discipleship, Church Planting, Language Learning strategies, Cultural Adaptation, Anthropology, Knowing God’s Will, Being Led by the Spirit, Fundraising, Business as Mission... to list a few. A different topic is visited every week, and discussion is encouraged, over direct teaching. I was able to visit for a day last week and sit in on a class, and it was refreshing to be in an atmosphere where thinking, studying, and being challenged, was the main focus, instead of a "here are the answers now write a report" kind of thing.

Besides classes, you also read a book every week, and have 12-15 hours of volunteer work per week. The volunteer work is among the local refugee communities, and you can split that time between various ministries.

While I was touring Clarkston, it was crazy to see storefronts that looked straight out of another country, to see kids of so many different ethnicities walking home from school... you know that scene in The Grinch, the original one, where his heart grows several times larger? That's what I could feel my heart doing. Like it was going to burst straight out of my chest. I don't have to go across the ocean to be with refugees; this community has been an hour's drive away from me this whole time, and I never even knew!

On my drive home, I was talking to God, saying, "Look, if this isn't it, tell me so, but it just feels So. Right. I felt so happy just being there!" It felt way more right, way more happy, than this last trip to Greece did. So I feel like this is where God is pointing, and redirecting. I think this training will benefit me in so many ways, and in very lasting ways. I think it will equip me to go into the mission field with some preparation and knowledge.

I applied to and was accepted into the school. School starts in August and will run through December. I will live in an apartment with other students, in an apartment complex with refugees. I will have neighbors from around the world! I'm so excited for the relationships I'll be able to build and the mentorships I'll be able to learn from, from people who have been doing this and running programs like I want to run, for years.

I will need your help to get there though! I will still be raising funds through One Collective, as they have a partnership with GFM, so no changes there! (it is so, so nice that I won't have to go through any organizational changes; that's a huge bonus!) We've worked out a budget of about $1,400 a month for the five months (about 4.5 months actually), with a grand total of $4,353 that I'll need to raise. That covers school, living expenses, gas, phone bills... everything. 

The other part of this is, though I will be considered "short term" by One Collective while in school, the hope is to go straight from school to more vision trips, and then to my final destination, wherever that may be (and it may still be Athens because I'm still super interested in the group I was talking to, I just can't know for sure yet). That means that, though all donations are loved and appreciated, setting up monthly donations is SUPER helpful, as I am hoping to not have to go back to work at all once I finish school. Basically, Clarkston will be my big leap into the missionary world. Becoming a monthly partner with me means that I can count on you to be there for me no matter where I go next! Having a set monthly budget coming in will be a huge help as I go on other trips, and will be easier to build on when I have a destination country and have to build that budget.

You can set up monthly giving at any point in time, either now or closer to when I go to school. You may be thinking, but why set up monthly giving now? You're not in school yet! It's true, I won't touch that money until I get to Clarkston. The thing is, not everyone is going to set up monthly giving. If you give, say, $30 a month (it can be any amount that's just an example), that's stacking up over the next eight months, so that's $240 out of my overall expense. Plus, $30 a month is often easier for people to give than $240 all at once. And then, once I'm in school, and even once I graduate, I can count that $30 out of my budget every month.

Basically, one time donations help me reach that $4,353 goal for school, and monthly donations help me beyond that, in becoming a full time missionary.

So, big or small, monthly or one time, all the donations go towards the same goal and help me reach it. You can give at https://give.onecollective.org/ and paste “Ministry of Wells, Samantha [30US3256]” in the line that says “In Behalf of”. Or you can mail checks made out to One Collective (not me!) to One Collective 2155 Point Boulevard, Suite 200 Elgin, IL 60123. These gifts are tax deductible!

I am so excited for what's ahead of me, and would be so happy to answer any questions you have! Thank you all for waiting and praying through this journey with me, and I hope that you will continue to keep myself and my journey in you prayers.

Much Love

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Unfortunate News

Copy of email sent to supporters:

Hey everyone!

I have some disappointing news. I was not accepted onto the Helping Hands team. They said that they didn't feel I was a good fit- that they didn't feel like I connecting with the team or the ministry very well.

This of course inspires a lot of emotions: disappointment and sadness and even some defensiveness. However, when I first got the news, these emotions were also mixed with relief. It felt like a weight off my shoulders. And the more I thought about it and talked to other people about it and prayed about it, I realized that in the end, God knows what he's doing. I didn't connect very well while I was there, it's true. I connected with people when I visited them in their homes, but overall, day to day at the center, there wasn't much connection going on. As I mentioned in my other updates, that first week was really hard. Then, the second week, I feel like I worked through a lot of stuff and God gave me some new perspectives, so it was also very confusing to get this news. Now I have to sort out what God was saying "yes" to while I was there, and what he's saying "no" to.

I am still with One Collective of course, and together we are looking at other places for me to go. I'm actually had a chat with the leader of another team in Athens that works with One Collective today, and there are other places in Europe and even the US that work with refugees, that I could visit and look into joining.

Being in a team that feels like home is very important in this kind of work, so I'm trying to look at it less as a rejection, and more of a redirection. Sometimes getting a visa in Greece is rather hard and I'd heard of people being redirected to other ministries at that point, but I told God while I was there, "Hey, if this isn't where I'm supposed to be, let me know NOW. Not when it comes to getting a visa. Don't let me get that far, please, I don't think I can handle that. Please make it clear NOW." So he did. He answered my prayer and now it's just a matter of poking around other options until I hear him say "yes."

So that's what you can pray for right now; for me to know what and where to look into, to sense which direction he's now steering me in, and to hear the "yes"s and the "no"s very clearly as I go along.

I am also still receiving donations for the expenses of my trip. Thank you so so much to everyone who has given so far! You can give at give.onecollective.org and paste "Ministry of Wells, Samantha [30US3256]" is in the line that says, "In Behalf of". Or mail checks made out to One Collective (not me!) to One Collective 2155 Point Boulevard, Suite 200 Elgin, IL 60123. These gifts are tax deductible! 

Thank you so much for standing with me and going on this (sometimes unpredictable!) adventure with me. Your support and your prayers mean a lot to this girl trying to figure it out.

Love always

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Week Two In Athens

Copy of email sent to supporters:

Hey everybody!I was locked out of my One Collective email when I wrote my last update, but this time I get to send it from this address and look all official haha.

I've been back a week now, and I have not stopped moving since I hit the ground. Today and yesterday I finally got some time to relax and not be at work, and remembered that I needed to figure out what sort of email I wanted to write. After all, I went over the entire weekly schedule with you last time, and the second week I was there looked much the same. I did visit with more of the staff members though, and it was good to talk about my fears and concerns as well as my hopes and dreams with all of them. I got to go on a beach trip on Saturday with another couple that was there on a vision trip, and on Thursday we visited a refugee family in their home, and played Uno with them. I settled into my schedule. I got to know people better. I began to be able to picture myself living there and becoming a part of things, and then suddenly it was time to leave. Saturday night, I finally didn't have to look at the directions in my text messages to figure out which escalator to go up when I got off the metro, and of course that was the last time I rode it. 

I saw some difficult stuff while I was there. I heard some stories that were hard to hear. I had a good look at and a good reminder of how hard it can be sometimes to live in a foreign place and within a foreign culture (or in this case, constantly transitioning between two: Greek and Afgan). So now I'm going to give you a bit of what I wrote down in my journal on the last Thursday that I was there:

"...I decided, standing there in the metro. I decided, sitting in a cafe drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice and finding it in my capacity to forgive the sun for being so hot. I decided, as I walked home today with my groceries, with the cool ocean breeze somehow managing to cut through Athens to find me.    Living here is awful and wonderful at the same time. What I do here is both amazing and mundane. But even if all I could do was unlock a door, even if all I did in a day was turn on a light, I can not say no to being a part of empowering a ministry like this.    I have wanted my whole life to be able to sit where it hurts. Not half a world away reading about it on the news; no, here. Right here. I am sitting, sitting down hard, and if sometimes it feels like all I am doing is sitting, I will let it be. It is enough. Even when it doesn't feel like it, it is enough.    It's like the parable on Sunday [the sermon was about Luke 19:11-27]. God has given me a mina. He expects me to do the best I can with it, to try my hardest. He doesn't expect me to build a city. He's asking me to sit down right here, and look this issue, these people, this culture, in the face. And he wants me to do it through his strength and out of his love. He doesn't expect me to have the power to do it on my own; he's given me what I need. Through his strength, and his love.    It's the hardest thing I have ever done."

It is hard. It's brutally hard. I have lived overseas before, and not once has it been easy.

But it has always been wonderful, at the same time. It has always been worth it.

  Thank you for praying with me through this trip, and I ask that you continue to pray over things as the team evaluates my time there, and prays over accepting me onto their team. I am also continuing to pray over things on my side as well. There is also still money to be raised; you can give at give.onecollective.org and paste "Ministry of Wells, Samantha [30US3256]" is in the line that says, "In Behalf of". Or mail checks made out to One Collective (not me!) to One Collective 2155 Point Boulevard, Suite 200 Elgin, IL 60123. These gifts are tax deductible! 

Thank you so so much to everyone that has donated to far! And thanks to all of you, for reading this, for going with me in spirit, and being a part of what I do. Every bit of it means the world to me. <3

Much love always

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Week One In Athens

Copy of email sent to supporters:

Hey everybody!

(Just a note before we begin, I am still definitely taking donations which you can give at give.onecollective.org and paste "Ministry of Wells, Samantha [30US3256]" is in the line that says, "In Behalf of". Or mail checks made out to One Collective (not me!) to One Collective 2155 Point Boulevard, Suite 200 Elgin, IL 60123, and then let me know you sent it. These gifts are tax deductible!)

This week has been a bit of a blur, thanks to jet lag, unintentionally putting myself on caffeine withdrawal (how do you just forget about coffee? why did I do this to myself? I had it this morning and felt sooo much better. I've drank it a few times in the afternoon but I just haven't gotten it in the morning), wicked heat, walking A LOT, and not drinking enough water thanks to the tap water being drinkable but tasting like the sea so I finally bought a big bottle of water at the store yesterday but I've been trying to make it last because I only bought one because I didn't want to have to carry more than that because it's a long walk from there to the house but then we actually got a taxi so I could have gotten more... alas. Back home I always complain about how expensive keeping up with a car is and how I wish we had trains and I hate driving... conclusion: trains would be great if they dropped you off at your door. Right now, I miss my car.

This trip is partly to introduce me to the reality of what it would look like to live here though, so I'm definitely making some notes to myself: live closer to the city, where there are more things to do and more stores within decent walking distance. Also coffee shops. Live close to a metro stop so you don't have to walk fifteen minutes there and back in the heat everyday. Budget for a big electricity bill because you are going to want the air con on ALL THE TIME. Buy a water filter so you don't have to drink the gross water. Figure out more things to eat that don't involve meat because good gracious they eat a lot of meat here. Get in shape before you come so you can handle all the walking. Buy more light weight tee shirts that are not black. Learn Greek before you come so you tell what things are in the grocery store. So, yeah. Making some good notes haha.

Though some activities and meetings are last minute, as per Greek culture, the schedule at the Helping Hands center is pretty well set. On Mondays there's a staff meeting and lunch together. On Tuesdays we serve lunch to the refugees and have a program that is optional for them to stay for, as well as a kids program. Wednesday is women's day, which used to be a shower day, but most of the camps and houses that the refugees are staying in now have decent showers, so instead we paint nails and color and chat, then have a short talk and discussion while the kids play, and then we all eat together, play some more, and then go home. Thursday is mens day, so female staff members get a day to get other things done, like working on updates or meeting with people individually (men of course get this day on women's day). Friday is Tea House, so everyone is free to come and go and drink tea while the kids play, and the Jesus film plays in the background in Farsi. Sometimes they have demonstrations, like this week, where there was instruction in tooth brushing, and the kids got a toothbrush and toothpaste. The weekends are free to do whatever you want. Most of the time during these programs, I'm in the babies room, which is sometimes for all ages, and sometimes just for babies through about four or five, I can't remember now. It's been fun to play with the kids, and since they tend to have the best English, thanks to school and other classes they might take, they're the easiest to understand. It was funny actually, on Friday we had a few kids that speak Arabic (probably from Syria, I didn't talk with the parents though so I don't know for sure), but they knew a little English, and the Afgan kids knew a little English, so they were speaking in English to each other as they played. Of course the little ones don't know English as well, but when you're little you don't depend on language much anyway. On Wednesday we got roller skates out at the end, which you would have read about in my Facebook update on Thursday, and which I have a picture of here:

​Isn't he so cute? <3 It's also been fun to reconnect with some of the people from Helping Hands that I already know, as well as to meet others I don't know, and get to know those I've only known in passing. I've also met a lot of short term teams, as well as a couple who were on vision trip, same as me, and the interns that I'm sharing an apartment with.

It's crazy, the stories you hear here. I was playing with some kids on Wednesday and took some pictures of them, knowing that as long as I kept anything pertaining to the Bible out of frame, they were safe to post. When we debriefed later though, I learned that this family can't be in contact with their family back home, because they have relatives that are Taliban, who, if they found out that this family is in Europe, would kill their other family members as punishment. So I didn't post the pictures. Can you imagine not being able to call your mom because word might get out where you were and she could be killed by your other relatives? It blows my mind. It hurts my heart. Please pray for the people here. Pray for their safety, for the safety of their families, and for the countries (mainly Afghanistan and Iran) to finally find peace. Pray that they will see the true face of God here, and be open to him in their hearts. Pray over the trauma they've been through, and against the loneliness and outcast-ness they feel in Athens. Prayers for myself would be over my energy level, my ability to ask the right questions (I know I'm going to think of a hundred I forgot to ask as soon as I get home haha), for my heart to be open and over the relationships I am building with the staff here. It's a lot to absorb and process in two weeks. Thank you for being on this journey with me! (If you're missing my Facebook updates, you can hit the star in the right hand corner of my posts to see them first in your feed. I'm going to make a page you can follow at some point as well. And I'll email another update next week. You can also follow me on instagram, where I post most my pictures, and more every day stuff.)

Love always,

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Big Life Update!

Copy of email sent to supporters:

Hi everyone!

Wow there's been a lot going on lately. Some of you may know some of this from seeing facebook and instagram updates, but I'll start from the beginning just in case.

I've been in contact with a missions organization called One Collective (formerly known as International Teams) since November, with the aim of serving in Athens, Greece long term. Ever since coming back from my trip there last summer, I haven't been able to get this place and the refugees I've worked with there out of my mind or heart. I knew I had to go back, and this time, I wanted to go longer than a week or two. I've known for a long time that missions and humanitarian work were going to be a huge part of my life, but ever since coming back from my YWAM trip in 2015, God had been telling me "wait." Last summer though I was able to go back (thanks to you guys!!) to the summer camp for refugees that my YWAM team had served at as part of our outreach. While I was there, I talked to one of my friends, who I knew from my last trip, about the organization she's with, and the refugee center in Athens that she works at. I realized that this center, called Helping Hands, was the bridge between Christian missions and practical humanitarian work that I'd been looking for, and when I got home and looked into her sending organzation (One Collective), I found even more of this idea. That spiritual and physical needs both need to be met at the same time. Finally, I was no longer hearing God say "wait." The more I looked into things, and especially once I began skypeing with someone from One Collective about the possibility of my joining, the more I knew that I needed to move this possibility into a reality. It's finally time for me to go.

It's been a long application process, especially since I couldn't really get into it until after the holiday season, so in January, but I've been accepted into the organization and was able to go to their Orientation at their office in Chicago last week. It was a great experience! I had really awesome class mates, and all the staff members were super welcoming. I got to know more about the values of One Collective, learned fundraising tools, got an idea of what my budget would be, and learned how to do a three minute presentation (and mine nearly made everyone cry so you can look forward to that ;) haha). The next step is a vision trip to Athens. That happens in just two weeks! This trip will be for two weeks, and will be to ensure that I'm a good fit for the team, and so I can get a better feel for what the day to day work is like. Though I've been in Athens and to the summer camp, I've never actually been to the Helping Hands center, so I'm very excited to see what my life there could look like! After I return from this trip, and if I'm accepted onto the team, I will begin fundraising for going long term, which One Collective does in two year commitments. So I'm committed for two years, but I'm also able to serve for longer after that if I want to.

Until I get to that point though, there's still some fundraising I need to do. You can now donate to me through One Collective, to cover the cost of orientation, my flights (which I have already purchased but I'm fundraising for them retrospectively), and my food and lodging while I'm in Greece. These are my first steps towards working full time for refugees in Athens, and every little bit you give helps me to get to that take off point! You guys have seen me through from the beginning, and I'm so excited to continue this journey with you. Beyond donating, you can also pray for safe travel (I have two very short layovers both ways, so I'm a little worried about missing flights, with having to go through security and everything), that my trip will be a positive and informative experience, and for my teammates, as well as the refugees we're serving. You can also spread the word around! Tell your friends and family! Get them signed up for my email list! And if you want to make sure you don't miss out on any Facebook updates, 1) make sure you're friends with me haha, and 2) hit the star in the right hand corner of one of my posts, so you always see them at the top of your feed. My posts tend to get lost in the crowd, and a lot of people last time said they only saw one or two, even though I was posting every week. Also on the note of updates, from now on I'll send my email updates through my One Collective email, so that's where you'll see them coming from from now on. 

There are a few ways you can donate: through this link here:click ... and through checks made out to Once Collective (not to me, just put in the notes that it's for me), send it to One Collective 2155 Point Boulevard, Suite 200 Elgin, IL 60123, and then let me know you sent it. These gifts are tax deductible! I don't really have a good way for you to donate cash unfortunately; but the online giving page is super easy. (let me know if that link doesn't work it's not letting me test it) You can also hand me your checks, and I can mail them for you. 

Thank you all so much, and I can't wait to tell you all about it when I come back!

Love,Samantha

[freshbrewedlife]

[skwjournal]

Back Home

It's been a little over a week since I've been back, and I'm finally starting to feel human again. I probably spent 80% of last week sleeping, thanks to jet lag and a cold I caught the last day of camp. Now, though, I'm back to work, back to swimming in the pool instead of the ocean, back to driving through downtown Woodstock to the sound of cicadas and thinking about how easy it is to go back to normal, and how easy it is to forget.

To forget how it felt to live in 106 degree weather, sweating your skin off every moment of every day, taking a shower and not even really bothering to dry off before you dress because you're going to be every bit as wet from sweat in a few moments... OK maybe I remember that part pretty well still. I could not wait to get to air conditioning. The picture I held onto to pull me through was imagining laying on the floor of my living room wearing shorts and a tank top with the air and the ceiling fan on high, probably also eating ice cream. I didn't actually do that. I got plenty cooled off on the airplane, considering I spent most of the flight under a blanket.

But do you know, despite the heat, I want to go back already. We were driving away, and looking back across the bay, I got a lump in my throat. I was hot and tired, sure. But I'd made more friends in one week of sweat and flies and chasing children and eating strange food, than I do in half a year selling athletic wear to the frustrated parents of whiny children. It's easy to live in America; I mean, it's not easy for me to drag my butt out of the house to jobs I don't enjoy where I deal with difficult people, and standing on concrete floors for even just four hours is exhausting. I usually feel like I need to come home and take a nap. But that's the thing; I come home to a comfortable, air conditioned home, and for the rest of the day, I rest. Or shop. Or clean. Or whatever else I want to do. At camp, you work pretty much the whole day, but that work is playing with little kids. As you try to convince them that staying with you on the play mat is Way Better than running back to their parents, don't you want to play with these cool toys with these strangers who don't speak your language? You definitely want to- no wait you can't go up those stairs, oh dear now you are crying, where's your mother? We had fifteen babies through two year olds this year, and they definitely did not stay with us the whole time, but we tried our best.

My other job, which was not as much fun nor so rewarding, was sitting in a chair down by the beach for thirty minutes at a time to make sure no one went down there that wasn't supposed to. I had to chase soccer balls and yell at arrogant eight year olds and also make sure not too many children were jumping on the trampolines at one time. I guess in Afghan couture, boys do not have to listen to women after the age of about eight or nine. At camp, things are different. I had a full on staring match with an eight year old who had punched another kid. He didn't know he was dealing with a pro. I won. I have so many stories I could tell; I witnessed a baptism, which I'm not sure that I was supposed to be there for, but I was told it was happening so I went down. Baptisms are usually done in secret at camp; these people go back to Muslim communities in Athens, and they often have family members that are still in at risk places. To have word spread around that they are now Christians is a big risk, and they aren't all up for it at the beginning. Eventually, of course, it becomes known; there were several believer families at camp, many of whom found Christ at previous camps, who attend to support the teachers there and to be available for the campers to ask questions of. I'm not sure which is more amazing to me, actually; to see the Muslims that come and are exposed to the gospel, or to watch the Afghan church laugh and sing and dance and love on their children and each other and just live every day in this shinning joy of freedom and love. It's making me emotional just writing about it. To hear their testimonies and just be able to see the joy they've found, it makes you go, Jesus, you really are Real. You really are Here and Powerful and you really do save people and I'm seeing it, right here.

I usually feel a little bit spiritually overwhelmed in these places. For all that I know about Christianity and God and the Bible, I'll admit it right here: I don't always feel it. I'm not always good about reading my Bible, and sometimes when I pray I feel like I am talking to air. I don't feel holy or righteous enough to be a missionary, to be a witness for Christ to these people. The thing is, I don't need to be. I can not be holy, Christ is holy in me, and he shines out from me without my notice. It's enough that I am there; it's enough that I say, Lord, use me. He doesn't need a second request. Do you know what one of the younger Muslim guys said at the end of that week? He that he could see that we were filled with so much joy. He said that, "even your faces are brighter." Seriously? That's like Moses, that is crazy stuff, and this guy, he could see it. He did see it and he knew what he was seeing and what is he going to do about it? That's the thing, the thing that gets me, that's the stuff that keeps me coming back to sweat buckets and eat strange food and chase children that speak a different language. I'm addicted to this, the stuff I've read about in the Bible since I was little coming to life before my eyes. It feels like God is taking my face between in his hands and grinning madly at me and shouting, I'm here and I'm alive and I AM LOVE and what are you going to do about it? What are you going to do?

I'm going to go. Again and again and again, I will go. Wherever he sends me, no matter how stressful it is to get there, no matter how exhausted I am at the end of every day, because the chaos and the struggle and the challenges, they're worth it. It's not like a job, were at the end of the week you are rewarded with how ever much money you made for the hours you put in. It's not like, on the mission field, you put in this many hours, so good for you, you've made 1.2 Christians. Sometimes you cry yourself to sleep and wonder what in the world you're doing, and all you want to do is go home, and the fruit of your labor looks like an absolute 0. But then you pull yourself out of bed the next morning and there's worship music playing as you eat your breakfast and someone says something at the staff meeting that hits you in the gut and you squint at the too bright and too hot sky and say, "You, not me. You in me, you in me." And you make it through another day. And a little kid that did nothing but cry at the beginning of the week now won't leave your side. You learn a new word in Farsi. You hold someone's hand as they try to learn how to swim. Women are laughing and singing; a missionary who has lived in Afghanistan says that they don't do that there. That she can't believe what she is seeing. That she feels like she should pinch herself awake.

You realize that the believers trying to answer the difficult questions ask by a woman in a head scarf before lunch is a blessing brought about by tragedy, and that you don't care how much sweat it costs you. It's worth it. You don't care if you feel one hundred percent close with Jesus every hour of the day. He's here anyway.

My American life is easy. I could go to work every day and spend my money on cactus's to decorate my room with and get by. I don't want to. I want to go back to the place where I face the end of myself everyday by lunch time. I need to. It's what everything in me is called to do.

So stay tuned, till next time. ;)

[skwjournal]

copy of support letter, 6/25/17

It is always a little difficult for “cold” culture to meet “warm” culture. Western culture has to-do lists. All other cultures take it by the day and the hour and maybe an hour, maybe four hours later. And even though I have been staying in an American and Norwegian household, Albanian culture still rules. Which is to say, I had hoped to get a lot of things done while I was here, and I have not. It’s not like I had a list of specifics; it’s more that, I came by myself, without a team, and sort of landed between teams and events. There was nothing for me to tag along with, and you can not exactly organize big things for just one person to do. So, I have talked to a lot of missionaries, and I have explored all my old streets, visited a museum, helped around the house, helped set up a lunch at the YWAM base in Durres, visited my former landlady, went to an Albanian church and witnessed a surprise wedding, helped with a yard sale and played with a little girl without understanding a word she said… but I haven’t really had “ministry” opportunities. I had hoped to just join along with another team, but one was just wrapping up when I got here, and another will be arriving shortly after I leave, so my timing was just off.

That’s alright though. It’s kind of ironic, actually. My parents came here mainly as missionary support, and that’s what I’ve been doing this past week. Listening to stories and asking questions and watching and learning. I’m seeing the everyday part of missionary life, the not so glamorous or exciting bits. The phone calls and the emails and the organizing and planning and budgeting… doing the dishes, chopping vegetables, running down to the store to buy water. It’s been a window back into what life in Albania was like, all those years ago, when I was a kid doing these exact same things. Walking these same streets, hearing the same language, eating the same food, counting out the same money. And even though living in a different culture with different stores and different foods and such hot, hot afternoons, can be stressful… I miss it. I miss living here. Sometimes I wonder if I will move back someday.

But there are a lot of places I love, and even more places I haven’t been yet, and they all call to me. I’ve got wings on my feet, it seems. Like I told a Danish couple that was leaving the other day and invited me to their YWAM base, “I might come, you never know. I am always going somewhere.”

That “somewhere” is Greece next; I leave Monday morning. And though it will be hard to say goodbye to Tirana, I am very excited for what’s waiting for me there. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I won’t have internet while I am there. So though I’ve been pretty active on Facebook and Instagram this past week, all those things will have to wait until I get back to the States. Or at least the airport haha. It’s been nice to be able to get over my jetlag here rather than in the midst of the busyness at the camp; the first few days I was here, I crashed for a good couple of hours every afternoon. I’m better adjusted now though, and ready to take on all the challenges that I’m sure will be thrown at me next week. I’m sure it will be every bit as hot. There will be more languages I don’t understand. More food that my stomach may or may not be ok with. More cultural differences, more people to live with and collaborate with, more patience and grace needed from me every day. It will be exciting and awesome, but it will not be easy. Good things never are.

Prayers for my continued health and safety are always appreciated! A smooth flight on a plane that has been described on the ticket as “a propeller plane” would also be great. Small planes are always an adventure. That I’ll be able to find the trains I need, that all the camp staff will work together well, and that all the camp participants will hear what is being said with open hearts, are also things you can lift up in the coming week.

Thank you all for your continued support!

Much love always

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Tirana

I am looking at familiar mountains; the same mountains I would say goodnight and good morning to when I was nine. I can see my old house from the balcony; I walked down all the old familiar streets, heard the familiar language, and even with everything that’s changed, it’s all still so much the same. There are traffic lights now, and most people obey them, but traffic lanes are still mostly a suggestion. It’s OK for girls to wear shorts now, but tattoos are still a no. The stores sell the same cereals and juices and snacks. They smell like the same yogurts and cheeses. The old women still tie handkerchiefs around their heads, and wear layers of clothing in the summer heat. The souvenir shops are the same. The airport is the same. The roads are a little better and there are a few more big shopping centers, but there are still butcher shops with skinned sheep hanging in the windows, and street vendors selling byrek. There are still groups of men hanging out on the sidewalks all hours of the day, smoking and arguing about sports, who watch you as you walk by. There are still girls walking up to stopped cars and washing their windows in hope of some change. The beggars are here, the restaurants that I used to eat at are here, the church I used to go to, the houses where my friends used to live, or still do live. It’s been twelve years. In some ways, I can see it. The square has changed and the market has changed and if possible, there are more buses. I lot of people I used to know no longer live here. But this is still the Tirana I know, and strangely, love. What is there to love in these worn down cement buildings and stray dogs and blown about trash? What is there NOT to love in these worn down smiling faces and stray children and proudly blown about flags? I love it all, every corner of it. It makes my heart ache and my soul sing and all the inside and outside parts of me smile with joy and belonging and Home. Because Home is often not a place you choose; it’s the place that chooses you. I was first brought here as a baby, and later when I was nine, and I did not want to leave when I was ten. Always, a part of me has belonged here. And I think that will never change. No matter how old I grow and how many other places I visit and how many other cities claim pieces of my heart, this one remains unique. Albanian is the place I am always trying to come back to, the place I compare all other places to, my first love. Oh Tirana, with your noisy streets and crowded buildings and hot summers and the smell of gasoline; it’s me, I’m back, and I love you forever and always.

[skwjournal]

Leaving

It's always the leaving that gets me.

In the days before, I stress about having the money. About buying good tickets. About how I'm going to pack everything and my bags being the right weight and how many liquids I can bring and so on and so forth. But it never seems real until the day before, as I'm giving my brother instructions about my parakeet and my plants, as I say goodbye to my Dad because he won't be here in the morning, as I listen to my sisters talking in their room next to mine and realize, tomorrow I won't be here. Tomorrow, I'll be going through security and hoping they don't take any of my things, sitting at my gate and holding my bags next to my body because I'm paranoid that a passerby is going to snatch them, stepping onto a plane and thinking about how crazy it is that this huge thing can fly, watching out the window as my city disappears and taking a great deep breath of that wondrous feeling. That sense of freedom and adventure that I'm addicted to.

Until then my brain will go all night and into the morning making up scenarios of how my tickets will be rejected and they won't let me on the plane, of how the people at security will tell me I packed everything wrong despite how carefully I read the instructions, that I won't be able to find my gate at my layover, and it will remind me how terrifying it is to be surrounded by so many strangers. Everybody thinks I'm this super chill and very brave person but in reality, all those "what if's" terrify me. I'm not scared of the plane or of the places I'm going, it's just that my brain is wired to make stories. It's very helpful when writing a book and not so helpful when embarking on great adventures.

So this is the part I don't like. The planning, the packing, the waiting. If I could pick a place to go and leave for the airport five minutes later, I would love it. That would be how I would do it, if I could choose. But unfortunately, I can't. My bag is packed. I even have some extra room, which never happens, and which obviously means that I will find more things to put in that extra room later. I've printed my tickets, because the website won't let me check in online. In fact it tried to tell me I have no flights. But I called and they said they're having problems with their website, and they can see my information on their side. Still this is the reason my brain is throwing me stressful what if stories. I'll try the website again in the morning.

I don't even have to leave super early; I'll have time to shower and eat breakfast and lunch. And even more time to sit and wait and have the jitters. 

But in the end, I'll be on that plane. I'll get sick of sitting on that plane, after several boring hours of crossing the ocean. I'll land in Rome the next morning and find my connecting flight, and then land in Albania. And see people and places that I haven't seen in twelve years. It feels like going back home. It feels like going back to childhood. It feels amazing and surreal and strange. I don't know what to expect; I don't know what will be different, and what will be the same. But I'll be there. In just one more day, I'll be there.

And it's because of you. Thank you so much again for believing in me and funding me and for continuing to send me in your prayers. I can not wait to see how God will move; he always shows up in these trips in crazy ways, and usually not at all in the ways I was expecting. I go with eyes and heart wide open, eager and trembling with expectancy. I don't know what's coming next; all I know is that it will be great.

Much love always

Samantha

[skwjournal]

Enjoy Your One Precious Life

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ~Mary Oliver

Though I love this quote (and Mary Oliver in general), I feel the pressure of this question every day. What am I going to do with my life? I’ve only got one, after all, and every day I am a little older, and everyone always tells me “do it when you’re young!” but what is it that I should be doing? Traveling? Working? Moving out on my own? Taking risks? All of the above? How do I go about doing those things? How do I travel when I don’t have money? How do I move out when I’m not making consistent money? How do I get a second job or a full time job with no college degree? Should I give up and go to college? (that’s an absolute no, I would go crazy. Not doing that. Not for me.)

Basically, all these voices telling me I can do anything because I’m young, are not helpful. Yes, I am young. I am also broke. I am female and single and don’t have many friends. Traveling alone has been fun, I’ve done it, and I’m also done with the social anxiety it gives me (and that I always end up lost somehow...). So then, how do I make friends? Where do I go to make friends? How do I get them to travel the world with me?

The questions in my life seem to be endless. There are so many things that I *could* do, so many things that different people (and myself) tell me I *should* be doing, that I end up doing nothing. Because I’m overwhelmed. Do you know I have put off watering one of my potted plants for three days now? Why? Exactly because I know I should do it. So my brain, instead of going, “OK let’s do the thing!” instead says, “How many times can I put this off before I go crazy?” This is not helpful. I sit on my bed and watch Pokemon and tell myself I will take it downstairs with me and water it the next time I go down. But then I forget. Or it’s dinner time and so it’s now inconvenient. Or whatever.

Anyway, the point I’m trying to get to is that what I’m learning is that putting this constant pressure on myself of, “Oh my goodness you’re already twenty-two and you haven’t been out of the country in nearly two years now you better do something quick time is running out WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE???!!!!” is really not getting me anywhere. It’s not helping at all. You know where it’s getting me? You guessed it, sitting in my bed watching Pokemon.

So what will help?

Tonight I was feeling especially pointless and worthless, so I decided that instead of watching more Pokemon, I would do something that I needed to do: go grocery shopping. Just what every twenty-two year old wants to do on a Friday night, right? 

So I go to the grocery store. I buy frozen mini pizzas and smoothies and larabars for eating at work. Then I bought a larger pizza for eating at home, because I can not do peanut butter and jelly sandwiches anymore, and a lot of times that’s all there is in the house for lunch, which means sometimes I just eat chips for lunch and that is definitely not healthy. Or helpful. Because then I’m hungry, and because I’m hungry I’m grumpy, and because I feel like I can’t do anything about my hunger I’m even grumpier, and then I lay around because I am grumpy and that makes me lethargic so I lie around even more and then I feel lazy and worthless and THEN, because I feel worthless, I don’t want to eat anything. See the vicious cycle? So I bought pizza so I can eat, and want to eat, and be happy after I have eaten.

Such a small step towards happiness, food.

I also bought a small thing of cappuccino gelato because there was a coupon sitting in the freezer, and if that doesn’t say “buy yourself some gelato,” I don’t know what does.

And THEN, what song was on the radio when I got in the car, but Fight Song, by Rachel Platton.

“This is my fight song / Take back my life song / Prove I’m alright song”

It seemed appropriate. 

It may sound weird to say that I’m taking my life back with gelato and pizza, but that’s what I’m doing. Because starting today, I’m going to try to be less concerned with “doing” something with my one wild, precious life, and focus more on enjoying it.

Because if all I ever do with my life is fight for goals, if I only ever climb mountains to reach the top of them... well it won’t matter how many metals I earn, I’ll still feel pointless if I can’t take in the view. If I can’t enjoy every day, no matter where I live it, no matter if I can make an istagram picture or a snapchat video out of it, no matter if anyone else views it as “special.”

So, what I am I going to do with my life? Well Mary Oliver, I’m going to enjoy it.

I think she’d approve.

[skwjournal]

This is a love song.

A God big enough for my Chaos.

A God who wrote stars, and wrote me.

A God who loves everyone all at once.

I can not wrap my head around this God of mine.

I think this is impossible. I think an action must be on behalf of one person, not all persons. Because a human like myself can not do so many things at once; I do this one thing for one person but that means that I have to disappoint this other person, because I am finite. I can not be more than one place, I have to take away time from one thing to give time to another.

God’s not like that. He does a good thing for someone close to me that looks like a bad thing for me but really, it’s also for me. I think that I have to suffer from it but I shouldn’t be upset about it because God’s doing a good thing for them even if it sucks for me. But I was thinking about it today and He whispered, “No.” “No?” “It’s good for you too.”

He is for me and for my friends and for the stranger sitting beside me, all at once, at the same time, in the same moment, through the same things, which mean different things for all of us, and how does he keep track of so many strings? It seems an impossible story to tell. I’m a story maker, I think that I understand these things, about setting the stage and using disasters to get characters to where I need them to be. But the stage master is an incomplete picture for Him, just like any other picture. He doesn’t do things just because. He does them Because. We might not even be able to follow the string to it’s completion until much later, looking back, or maybe never at all but here’s the thing. The thing I have so much trouble seeing because I get blinded by anger and all this self made smoke.

He loves.

Always. Loves.

Everything He does, is love. He is so, so big. He is beyond me. He can see the end of everything. He loves me with disasters. He loves me with misfortune. He loves me with stars and with songs and with stories. He loves me through people and He speaks to me through people and He. Is. Limitless.

No one tells God the rules. I try, all the time. I try to say, no, this is not good, and no, this is not love. And He shakes his head and says, Oh, you finite, finite being. What is Good? You tell me now.

And I open my mouth and my brain says, Wait. I look at all the “good” things, the pleasant things, that I asked for, and didn’t happen, and all the “bad” things, distasteful things, that happened instead, and they were good. The real kind of Good, that lasts.

And I try to say, I don’t want Your kind of Good, because it hurts. I just want to go through everyday happy and unafraid.

But this is Earth. Nothing is Sound. The ground shakes beneath me, and where will I stand? Evil lashes out to strike me, and where is my protection? I let it whip me because I don’t want to run back. I am proud and angry and hurt and I don’t want to go back to the Author of it all because I am full of bitterness and resentment because I am convinced that His plans are not Good. Mine are better. Why can’t I write this story?

The Master of the universe came down to be human with me. His spirit is in me crying “Abba!” even when I tell it to shut up. 

He loves me through everything. He protects me from so many things that I never see.

I can’t wrap my head around a God like that. I can never love like that.

I don’t have to.

He is my Lover and He does not expect me to always be able to love Him back. He is jealous of me, but He waits for me. He does not demand my attention, He does not punish me with thunder and lightening; He Is, every time I turn around. He’s There.

The God who Is. The God who is There.

I don’t know this God. I do not understand Him. I resent things that I can not understand. Any sort of math that doesn’t add up.

He has no boundaries, and in the end, I don’t want Him too. Because He is my Lion and He is big enough and strong enough and Infinite and Here.

My God is too big for me, and that is exactly what I need.

[sterlinggraves]

let’s do this. 🌟

[skwjournal]

a day late, but oh well~