I Have a Voice

There are nights when I sit on the dock and look out into the deep black that is the ocean in front of me, wondering why in the world I have been called to be here. I lean against the pole of the palapa roof that is hovering over my head, breathing the salt-and-wind laced air that is my constant companion.

I don't feel inadequate here; I can honestly say that that isn't what makes me question. I love what I do, I love the leadership role that I am in. I love being immersed in a culture that revolves around the Father from whom we all came. I wouldn't do any of this differently. Maybe 'why' isn't necessarily the correct question; rather, how? How am I equipped to continue to live here? How am I going to fulfill the calling that I know has been placed on my life? I have been called to inspire; to reach the college-age generation and to speak life and meaning and purpose over them. To call the youth of this world up into leadership, into a life-bringing people whose energy spills from them, engulfing those around and reaching to the depths of the souls that are hurting and crying out for freedom. I am called to protect and feed the weak, to encourage and challenge and push the strong, to call out the apathetic and to love on the hurting.

I am called to use my voice.

I had the incredible opportunity to teach one day of lectures here at YWAM Destination Paradise. I had 3 hours on January 17th to teach our students about leaving a legacy of integrity. However, you can't leave a legacy without knowing first who you are, without being secure in your identity. I taught on how to find your identity in Christ, about how to leave the baggage that we so easily and so harshly pack for ourselves and carry with us throughout our lives; those things that we are ashamed of and worried about and the things that we feel make us "dirty" or "unlovable" or "slutty" or a "jackass". Those things that we haul around that label us "unworthy", "abusive", "selfish", "stupid". These are things we are called to drop; to abandon and to leave behind us as we step into a new identity: an identity reflecting Isaiah 62.

I spent three hours speaking life into these students, praying over them and seeking God for truths and freedom to speak into their lives. I knew as soon as I stepped up in front of the students that this was where I wanted to be; in front of young adults, speaking life and love and freedom and healing over them. I am called to fulfill Isaiah 61; calling healing into people's lives and freeing the captives from their hurt and the chains that have so easily entangled them in the past.

Teaching is something that I know will be a part of my future with YWAM, whether it's just here at DP, or I might decide to develop my own teaching week. We'll see what God has for me. So far, this school has been wonderful; it's been challenging in it's own way, but I can see God moving so freely and so beautifully in the lives of everyone on base here; staff and students alike.

This past week has been particularly challenging for me; I'm learning to walk further in the truths that God's speaking over me and am finding areas that still need healing from my past. It's a journey, and it always will be, but it is so worth it to walk this out in a community of people that I know are fighting for me, with a God who I know has my back. He is continuing to blow my mind and is ever shaping me into a beautiful creature in Him.

I'm walking forth into further freedom, leaving behind the lies and the areas that I have been caught up in, claiming His life and love over myself.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set you free; stand fast, therefore, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." -Galatians 5:1

Not Just Another Journey

"You don't become a new person by changing your behavior. You discover the person that you already are in Christ and you start to behave accordingly because the Holy Spirit is with you. He makes moves on you. Uncommon love is present and active for your good." -Graham Cooke

I've been listening to a lot of Graham Cooke recently, diving into his 'Uncommon Love' series. A part of his message is about baggage, about the things that we've carried into our present-future from our past. 

We're four days into this January 2013 DTS here at DP, and it's going wonderfully. Right now the students are taking advantage of their first free day so far by heading into town, snorkeling, kayaking and playing volleyball. It's fantastic to have so many people around again. 

There's already been some insane freedom happening here; the students shared their testimonies last night and some of them bared their hearts like they've never bared them before. It's beautiful to see so many young people laying their hearts out and trusting that they will be safe; sharing their lives and letting their walls come down, their vulnerable sides be visible for a split second. 

My heart is already wrenching for them; some have come from some incredibly hard situations and I feel so privileged to have heard their stories and have them give permission for me to speak into their lives. Connections are being made between us as staff and them as students, and I feel more and more the need to be 100% real with them in everything I say and do. This isn't a group to trifle with. None of them ever are, but I already feel the strong pull of leadership in their lives and I feel like I've been given an ability to tap into their hearts and see what God wants to say specifically to each one of them.

His faithfulness has already been showing up to these 25 amazing college-aged men and women, and I am so excited to see how they respond and grow as He continues to break down the walls they've built up inside and pour into them until they have that moment where they get it. That moment where they absolutely get His love and get His touch and feel what He has for them. I can't wait for the dawn to break in their lives. So many of them have been found wanting, have been lacking something and have been searching for it for such a long time. My heart is pulled towards them with a love that can only come from the Father; a love and a passion to see them succeed, and to see them explode into a passionate, worshipful, strong and healthy school. 

These students have it. They have so much potential that it blows me away to even think about it. Their strong character and the depth of their hearts and personalities is breath-taking. I'm already so proud of them all, and we've just barely wrapped up orientation week! They have a hunger and a heartbeat and thirst for God that I haven't seen before; an almost dire desperation to find Him, to be close to Him, to find that purpose and that strength and that security and that love that only He can provide. 

This is always a journey, and I am so thankful for that. The ability to build and work and live together in relationship and community with one another is always an adventure. Having 25 more people move into our home here is wonderful, and I can't even begin to describe the excitement I feel when I think about how far these students will have come at the end of the school. I feel such fierce loyalty to fight for them, to urge them every step of the way towards Jesus, to love them with everything He gives me. They are so worth this. 

The baggage is about to be non-existent. Freedom is coming so swiftly that I can't even begin to follow it. Like I said; it's a process, but it's about to get real, and intense, and wonderful. God is so good!

Climb.

I admit, I've been procrastinating. I've been locking myself away and reading, and watching movies, and not writing. I've been preoccupied with moving through the days until the next school starts, rationalizing that once those days hit, I'll be doing something worthwhile. Guess what?

Today is worthwhile.

Today is worth living.

And I forgot that.

I forgot that I am here for a purpose; and every single day that I don't chase after that purpose, I'm wasting time. My purpose here is to know Jesus and to proclaim Him and His love and His majesty and wonder over everything I come in contact with. So, today I decided to do things differently. I spent the entire morning with Jesus. Not making up for lost time, because I can't get that time back, but making a conscious effort to restore my relationship with Him. I've been on a bit of a roller coaster since being in Belize; during the last school I was actively pursuing God, wandering in His wake. It was amazing, until I let my guard down. And then I started to become apathetic about it, and I didn't wake up for Him in the morning. I woke up for me...I woke up so I could walk through another day. I let things like homesickness and doubt distract me from His ever-waving arms. I let Him become something that was comfortable and worn, something that I put on when I want to feel warm and cozy, much like my old sweatpants.

I was reading this morning, and the book I was reading was talking about the God of Ezekiel. Have you ever read the book of Ezekiel? It's all about a jealous God. A God who doesn't stand up and let people get away with wickedness. It is about a fierce, warrior God who loves His people so much, He won't watch them go to ruin. He will let them take the consequences for their actions, though.

Want to know what crossed my mind this morning? God's not a pair of old, worn out sweatpants. God is a God of love, terrible and passionate love that will stop at no bounds. He is a God of fire and water, a God of justice and of mercy. A gentle God. An intense God. A lover God. A wild, and powerful, and relentless God. A holy God.

And I completely lost sight of that. Needless to say, I was humbled by this revelation, and I sat with Him talking and reading more about His incredible nature, listening to Him as He poured His devotion over me.

It's been hard for me recently. I'm a part of a school that disciples young people to go into life and become leaders in faith, leaders in ministry, leaders in integrity. We are now moving into a time where we will have 4 schools per year, and I have the wonderful privilege of staffing here. That means that I am a girls small group leader--I mentor and counsel and pray over and live for my girls as they are here. Last school, there were 9 girls in my group, and I was absolutely in rapture with the love that God gave me for them. I got to sit with them and hear their stories; stories of pain, of humiliation, of self-hurt and of abuse. I got to counsel them, to walk with them through memories and feelings and their own tortured thoughts, speaking God's light and life into them as we went.

I had the chance to chase after them as they bolted to the end of the dock and fell onto their knees, sobbing in the sheer pain of their circumstances. I had the freedom to pull them into my arms and hold them, tears slipping down my own face as I prayed for words, and if none came, I sat with them in silence, letting them cry it out as I held them, as Jesus held both of us in His presence.

And when those young women sat before me at the end of the school and I spoke to them about how they had impacted me, about how I had seen the change in them as they grew closer to God, I was so proud, so privileged to see them grin, their eyes glowing as they walked away with their heads held high in trust of the Father, in trust of His plan for them, in a new mindset of self-esteem and love.

I played a piece in a wild, incredible transformation. My girls left this space with a new breath in their lungs. They are changed for the better, and not by my doing. I was just a tool in this, and it's not over. They will continue to grow and flourish as they go on in life. 

This is what I do here, this is why I am here. To serve this awe-inspiring, trustworthy, fierce, loyal, loving, passionate, wonderful, crazy God. And He is constantly calling out His plea for us to join Him... today, I will.  And tomorrow, I will. And the next day, I will choose this.

Because He is worthy of this.

Thrive

I honestly don't know how to start this. I would absolutely love to describe the past three months in a way that grasps everything that has happened, but even the aspiration of such a task seems insurmountable.

I could try to paint a picture of the countless lives that were transformed; lay out stories of individuals whose hearts were wrecked by God in a way that one could only understand if their heart had been through a similar process.

I could draw out pages and pages of details on the healings and freedoms and perspectives gained. I could speak of the demons shattered and the heart-wrenching memories broken; of the strongholds of the enemy that were infiltrated and captured for the King.

I could describe the moments where I sat and held students shaking, sobbing, crying out in pain or fear. I could explain the way that my heart wrenched with anguish on the nights that I wandered around the deserted base, praying and crying, letting my frustration at the enemy vent as I prayed against his very existence on our base.

I could recount many nights of laughter, sitting at the drink palapa with guitars and coke, playing cards and losing game after game after game to one of the students. I could sketch moments of pure ecstasy, where I'm sitting with my small group girls on the end of the dock, washing their feet and blessing them one-by-one as the rest of them swim around the dock or stand on the bench dancing and shouting with laughter.

I could try to describe so many moments...but I don't think I can capture them in a way that they are meant to be captured. I could use all the adjectives in the world and still not convey the right meaning for certain moments.

These three months have been full of 34 students whose lives have been insanely transformed; both audaciously and subtly. Watching them flourish and rise from ashes of past hurts, misgivings, destructive behaviors, and hostile mindsets has been such an extraordinary happening to be a part of.

The September 2012 Lecture Phase is coming to a close for these students, and as they take off to head to their different countries for outreach, I couldn't be more proud. I have been here to witness and encourage them through three months of their lives, and I am ecstatic to hear about their adventures on outreach. I can't describe my love for them, and the best part is; I get to do this all over again in January, with a new set of students.

I realized a few days ago that I am a part of something so incredibly large, so incredibly important; something  that makes a large impression on the lives of many people. And I have the immense privilege of watching men and women of God filter through this school and learn about His awesome, magnificent, marvelous love. I get to be a part of guiding them, of encouraging and listening to them, of praying with them through the night and rejoicing with them through the brilliant dawn.

I am a part of a movement that is so large and encompassing; so important and beautiful; and I am so humbled by that. The fact that I get to live in Belize and watch freedom and healing happen before my very eyes--to facilitate freedom and healing... this is incredible. This is a huge responsibility. It's excruciatingly intricate sometimes. It's extremely taxing. It's abundantly rewarding. And I love every moment of it.

I feel like I'm in my element; learning and teaching, growing and molding, being and doing, following and leading. It's an endless cycle of hope and tears, of joy and sadness. It's beautiful.

And it takes more than just me. I am so privileged to have such a vast prayer team at home; friends and family that are willing to keep me on their hearts in prayer. They are the reason I am here right now; the reason this is so effective. The reason I can be with my small group girls and speak life over them as they sit before me voicing doubts, or dance with them as they gain healing and hope. I LOVE THIS. And I LOVE the team behind me that is supporting me.

So I continue to be thankful, to realize that this endeavor is more than I could ever imagine. To become more vulnerable and more stable in our Jesus, in the Holy Spirit, in my Daddy. I am taking hold of the joy He has given me as a gift, and embracing these students as they head off this week into a new adventure, into a new lifestyle. I've found my place for this season; my sweet spot.

And so I will continue to soak in Jesus, to write, and share my thoughts, and be present, and thrive.

Take Flight. Breathe In. Crush Fear.

I'm really good at running.

I'm exceptional at sprinting, actually. Away from hurt. Away from potential heartache. Away from frustration and away from misfortune. I flee from pain and I search for bliss. Not joy, mind you, but bliss; the encasing, short-lived, euphoric state of mind where no hurt can find you... and generally, I'm apt to find an avenue into that place of rapture. But then that feeling of ecstasy evaporates, and I'm left to abscond again, growing farther and farther away from myself as I try to escape the bitter reality that life sometimes is.

This week, I wanted to run. At some points, everything inside of me was screaming at me to take flight--to turn to the beach, to let my legs pump and my breath flow and the adrenaline carry me to a place of bliss. My mind wanted to shut down, to stop caring about what was happening around me, to enter that place inside of me that is pure imagination, where I can construct and breathe life into something around me that seems safe. But in all reality, I can't do that. I can't leave.

That's something I've learned working here; I can't run. I can't just pick up and check out of what's happening at the moment. For one, what is happening here--however intense, however chaotic--it's happening under Jesus' name. He encompasses every move here, whether it brings glory to Him or not. He can't help it, His presence just automatically permeates everything. All that is going on isn't necessarily from Him, but He is always encasing every situation, and that which is evil and disgusting is shown for what it really is in a heartbeat. The deception game doesn't work too well here. But then, I'm getting ahead of myself.

This week has been draining. Every day has been a constant battle for truth and healing. It's been amazingly breathtaking. He has been amazingly breathtaking. He has propelled us as staff members forward through a web of deceit and hurt and given us ears and eyes to hear and see the truth as lies unfold before us. He has given us strength to wake up every morning, ready for a new day. And He has taught me that it's okay to face pain head-on. Granted, it's not my pain that I'm facing, but He has still given me a will to fight for His children, a passion to see freedom break through the hurt and the confusion that so easily entangles. This past week has been full of a pain and a confusion that I've never had to face before. I've never dealt with the circumstances that we're in at the moment. I've never walked through some of these things with people. In essence--I have no idea what I'm doing, or how I'm going to do this.

But then...that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Because when I end...that's where Jesus really begins to work. Where the Father floods His grace on me and those around. When the Spirit is allowed to completely flow through me and wreck my heart for Him, and make me thirst for more of Him in my depravity. And so I stop running. I slow down... I take a deep breath. The adrenaline drains and I begin to feel the exhaustion steal in. My heart rate slows and my eyes grow heavy, my limbs almost too weary to propel myself along...and suddenly, the hair on my arms stands up. 

I feel a burst of energy come from thin air, crashing into me and taking my breath away, even as it gives me the strength to keep gasping for the oxygen my body so eagerly craves. My muscles start to strengthen, seemingly of their own accord. I suddenly have the will to fight, the will to keep walking in the direction I was headed in the first place--away from bliss, into this messy, painful, hard, beautiful, crushing lifestyle called missions, where some days you don't get to rest, some nights you're pulled from your sleep and you can feel the enemy crushing down on you, you can see dark shadows in the room trying to oppress you, and all you can do is pray and pray in earnest faith, knowing that these dark beings have no power over you if you can just open your mouth to speak His name... where sometimes you're jerked from your dreams by a knock on the door, and suddenly you're throwing on clothing to rush into some unknown emotional or mental territory with one of the students.

But in those moments I realize that this is really what I love. I wouldn't change this. Even when I'm waking up to a knock on my door at 1am. Even when I'm sitting on the end of the dock crying in anguish for the hurting souls gathered on this base. I wouldn't change any of the pain, or the hurt, because along with it comes great growth, and great joy, and an even greater sense of His presence and Spirit. Because even though, yes, this is hard...I know that it is fully worth it. Every second of it. All the tears, all the laughter, all the silly moments I have with those around, all the sad hugs shared, all the smiles and wry looks given and sarcasm and dancing and singing and twirling together.

I suppose the appropriate thing to say is that I have previously been fantastic at running away. But Jesus is teaching me to saunter, to savor the moment--whether filled with sorrow or joy--and to take it one step at a time, letting all the hard moments be erased with every laugh, with every smile that shows itself.

And so I stop sprinting. I slow down...I take a deep breath. And I let His touch sear like a million wildfires inside of my soul.

I trust...Sometimes.

I trust.

I trust the chair I'm sitting in to hold me. 

I trust the floor I walk on to carry my weight.

I trust the water I drink and the food I consume to keep me alive.

But do I trust God?

I have a hard time trusting that He will take care of me. And so today, I'm taking a step of faith. I had a lengthy conversation with Him this morning about my lack of funds, and I kept hearing Him say, 

"Trust me." Not a suggestion. Not a casual, "Hey, Em, maybe you should trust me a little more. Think you can do that?" But a sincere, peace-filled, I-Know-What-I'm-Doing statement. 

"Trust me." And so I am. I'm trusting that He will provide the money I need to pay staff fees/visa renewal, and general living costs. I asked Him this morning if He would provide just enough, and heard Him replying to me;

"How much do you want?"

Well, God. I need enough for staff fees. It'd be nice to pay off a few months in advance so I don't need to worry about it... but I'll take what you give me.

"No, that wasn't my question, Em. How much do you want?"

Um. I need enough to pay for my visa renewal every month, so $150 would last me for 6 months. Plus staff fees to pay for a few months out. And staff fees are $200 a month... so, I don't know, maybe about $950 would be generous.

"Baby Girl, my Wild One, whom I've chosen, how much money do you want Me to provide?"

I wrestled with His question for quite awhile, and it finally hit me--He wants to provide more than I need. He wants to give me above and beyond that which I ask for. So I'm praying in $8000. I don't know where it will come from, or how it will come, or how long it will take to get, but I believe that He can provide. I believe He has the means to support me while I'm here. This was His idea in the first place, and I believe that as long as I am obedient, He will provide. I do need to take action as well and send support letters out, but that's in the process. I'm trusting Him.

Jesus, I want $8000. I realize that some may think that's greedy, or too much. But it's not. You know what I need it for, what I will use it for, who I will bless with bits a pieces of it. I trust You to provide. 

I trust.

Dead Men Don't Care How They Feel.

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you've been fasting for a few days (or just haven't eaten for quite a while)? When your stomach is contracting and seems to be screaming for food, for something to fill the emptiness, something to sink into it and fill it up?

And when you get to that point--the point of gnawing, almost agonizing hunger--it's almost all you can do at points to keep going. You just want something to eat.

Then you see it. A donut, sitting on a plate, perfectly glazed and beautiful and sweet and oh so worth it! You take a few steps towards it. But wait... you're fasting. You can't have it yet. Your stomach is begging, "Please! I need it. Please... it's all I want." But your mind knows that there needs to be a shift in something before the fast can end. There needs to be an action or a result before you can end your period of hunger.

Have you ever thought about how Jesus feels when we're wandering from Him? His heart is full of a burning, endless passion for us. I imagine that when we stray, when we decide to turn our backs to Him, His pain in hunger for our presence is much like that of the example above. Everything in Him cries to just take us, but He knows that that's not how it can be. It doesn't work like that. There has to be a shift first; we have to choose to turn and acknowledge Him first. He won't force us down, He will simply wait and see what we choose. But then, it isn't so simple, is it? His heart still longs for us, He craves our presence with the very essence of His being.

I've been learning the process of complete abandon to Him. Staffing with YWAM as a DTS staff member, among having other responsibilities, has been one of the most challenging journeys I've embarked on. But every single moment of victory and triumph over then enemy trumps the frustration and chaos of the harder moments. There have been so many changes here in the past week; laced with miscommunication, tragedy, joy, freedom, and subtle yet powerful shifts in the spiritual and physical realms. 

Along with the rest of the staff, I've been walking through freedom and denial with the students; each one with an individual story, a different thought process, a unique passion. Being in a position where I am constantly pouring God's truth and heart into them is a delicate yet exhilarating place to be. When the Father gives me words to speak or actions to take, I am responsible to say or take those actions... That's a lot of responsibility. But then again, it all comes down to abandoning myself to Him. There's been so many opportunities to speak His love over the students, and there have honestly been times where I haven't wanted to be His mouthpiece. Honestly though--I'm not here for me. I'm not here to do what I want to do, in my time, on my terms. 

There's an amazing thing happening here--God's been having some incredible moments of freedom within these students, and I've been so privileged to be a part of this. I'm learning every day, in every moment, to abandon every single part of me to the Father. I'm not perfect; I don't always follow His instruction, I'm not the most refined in speech or conduct, but I am trying to be closer to Him. I'm learning, I'm asking questions, I'm wanting to be closer to His heart in every way. And I think that maybe I'm getting a tad closer. Maybe. 

I've been challenged by a quote I found while researching for a project this past week:

Are you prepared to let God take you into total oneness with Himself, paying no more attention to what you call the great things of life? Are you prepared to surrender totally and let go?  -OswaldChambers

I want this.

I want to be completely, totally, irrevocably His. My heart burns for His presence, and I want to crave Him in such a way as I described above in the donut illustration. I want to want Him as badly as He wants and calls for me. I pray for that. It'd be a crazy experience... but then again, His love is crazy for me, so why shouldn't my love for Him be equally as mad?

Join me as I pray for more of a passion for Him. I ask that you'd partner with me in prayer, and pray over the lives of these students, of the staff, as we continue to walk out this path that He's placed us on. Pray that we as staff are able to communicate His love in a way that outlines His enduring passion for the students. Because really, if He wants me that bad... He wants them even more. And I can't wait for them to realize that,

I want to walk as one who is dead; one who doesn't care what happens to them; one whose feelings don't steer everything they do, but they walk out what they're called to do. I want to have a heart for others like Jesus had. Not a cheap imitation or a counterfeit worthy only to pawn off onto others, but the real thing. Genuine. 

This is my heart: to be completely abandoned to Him, to let Him take me into total oneness with Himself.

I want to walk as the dead. Because dead men don't care how they feel. They care only of the will and heart of the Master.