Xanthos

Last night I went to an engagement part for two people that are just full of awesomeness. Then, in true girl form, a group of us stayed at said party until after midnight, wigging out over wedding magazines with the bride. She was delighted that the first thing that needs to be done is: dress. I mean, who wouldn't smile at that?

Since I didn't get home until 1am, I didn't read my chapters of Homer. I know, I know.

Then, in class, for the first time in my college career and maybe only the 2nd or 3rd time in my ever-school career, we had a pop quiz.

About the chapters I didn't read.

And I guessed that there hadn't been a talking horse in the reading.

But there had been.

His name wasn't Mr. Ed. And he bothered Achilles (not the tendon).

Now I'm going home, and I will probably eat food. Hopefully you're going home and will probably eat food. And hopefully you don't feel like you wasted the last 40 seconds reading about the quiz where I denied the existence of a talking horse.

Actually, I still deny the existence of a talking horse. Au revoir.

Pray Continually...

Mike Bickle has this little saying that has always seemed qualified and excellent but I hadn't really put into practice. You know those things you hear and you say: "Hey, that's a great point!" and then walk out of church and don't think about it again for the next week or month or decade?

"Never underestimate the power of 30-second prayers."

It sounds so simple, right?

The other week, the Holy Spirit started nudging my heart to pray in the small moments. See a few desperately broken classmates in the coffeeshop, walk out with my white mocha, and cry out for their salvation down the sidewalk on the way to work. Remember your friend who was having a hard time last Saturday? Right then and there ask the Lord to show them His face. No more "oh, I should pray for them!" Do it! With your 30 seconds! Just do it, and don't underestimate the power of it. Nothing is too small to pray about!

The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. James 5:16

I found that the two or three times I did it during my day made such a difference! My heart felt lighter as the hours passed. Imagine walking down a road and passing heavy stones. You pick them up, one by one, and put them in your bag. Eventually when you get to the end of the road you are ready to lay your head on the pillow out of sheer exhaustion rather than the sweet reward of rest. Lifting up the little things that were burdens on my heart during the day kept my eyes on Jesus and my mind constantly on Him. What would His perspective be of that situation? If you're praying about it, that's what you'll be thinking. If you just let it sit in your mind and weigh you down, you'll forget to ask what He thinks. Hand Him your stones.

The God of all the universe hears your words, and He inspires the prayers in your heart, and when you open your mouth, His ears are open and His attention is on you. Right now, the attention of God is on you. What do you want to say to Him?

I Will Wait.

The theme word for this week, the message that has been preached on repeat in my heart for days, the thing that has occupied my thoughts and my pen, is patience.

Patience. What a word.

Before this past month, it was just that - a word. A word I found here or there, a word that drifted across my eyes when I wanted a little girl to put her shoes on faster, a word I could sing in a song and get a warm fuzzy feeling.

Now when I think of patience, there's more of a wrestle-in-the-mud effect. I have hope that this wrestle will end like Jacob's did.

Saturday night, I read about Ronel, and my heart broken into a million pieces. On the floor. At the library. I couldn't get this picture that Randy tweeted from Haiti out of my mind. My thoughts raced - what if I really left school and just went to Haiti? What could I do? What could I DO? Something turned into my heart from "One day, I am doing to be a mom and adopt orphans and they won't be orphans anymore" to "anywhere children are alone, I belong." To steal a flow of logic from my friend, it's a good thing I don't have any money or else I might have gotten on a plane to India right then and there. I texted Christina:

What would you do if I got on a plane right now, went to India, found a house, and took in 50 kids?

She replied she'd come with me. That's my partner in crime right there, folks.

I went to sleep with tears dropping from my eyes and "Oh, Jesus..." from my lips. I got up the next morning and tried to share the heaviness of my heart with Chris & Jena. Jena tried to encourage me with answers: "see what degree you need to help them!" "Pray! You might hear a story in ten years of a little kid getting out of Haiti today and look back and remember that you were praying." Finally, she identified the 200 pound weight my heart had been trying to lift for the past few hours:

It's frustrating to be filled with passion and compassion about something and not be able to do anything about it.

You see, the next words out of my mouth after "Oh Jesus, save that little boy" had been "God, why am I here?" It was so hard to reconcile the fact that my arms that could hold so many of these little boys and girls were instead filled with works of Homer and textbooks on politics. That my feet could be dirty with the mud of Port-au-Prince but instead pounded the glistening pavement of my stellar university campus. That I could burn for hearts without homes while I slept in a room that could fit at least two cribs in it, maybe three.

All that to say, Jena also identified a key aspect that I had been blind to:

You're angry with God. You're angry that there's injustice in the world and you can't do anything about it right now.

How scary. She was right. The thing is, being mad at God scares me, but it doesn't scare Him. He's willing to work with me, guide my heart, speak to me, and forgive me when I come repentant. This is where patience comes in (perhaps you were wondering!).

I walked through the evening air crying on Monday, pouring out to Christina how my heart felt tied in knots and I just didn't understand, and how could I be angry with God? She spoke some oil of personal experience and solid truth that brought peace instantly:

Annie, I don't like it. But Jesus did it.

He did! He went to school to study the Scriptures that he wrote. The one who crafted the world built chairs and tables until he was 30. THIRTY! He was a boy. He was God, and lived with people who had no idea. (Christina, I hope I'm not stealing a blog post here! :)

Then, to follow it up:

A good friend told me a little while ago: 'Jesus requests patience of me, not as an act of obedience, but as an act of love.'

That friend was me. The Lord began speaking to me as I prepared to come back to Tacoma that love is patient. 1 Corinthians 13, authentic, deep, lasting love is patient. Somehow, in the rustle of a few days, I had lost sight of it. I want to love Jesus with real love, and real love is patient.

So I am here. In Tacoma. With so many things waiting as dreams in my heart, not the least of which is the fatherless of the world, and Jesus is teaching me to be patient. I will be patient for Him to bring about the dreams He has etched in me. I will be patient for Him to perfect my faith. I will be patient for Him to show me the big picture. I will be patient.

And the only reason I can hope to love Jesus with a love fueled by patience? Jesus' love for me is patient. I can love Him with this authentic, patient love only because He loved me first with authentic, patient love.

But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience... ~1 Timothy 1:16

He loved me first. I feel as if I could shout it to the world.

Oh friends, He is patient. I am learning to be patient, but He is the kindest teacher I know. I trust Him. I committed to trust Him with everything, to throw my life on the surety of His goodness, and I am committed to that promise. Thank God He's committed to me.

Isaiah 40:31
They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles;
They shall run and not be weary;
They shall walk and not faint.

What you really want to read...

I have a blog post brewing, but my Classics teacher assigned this reading in the Iliad...

That doesn't mean you don't have something to read, though. Head over to Randy's blog and catch up on his Haiti journey. He arrived on the ground there today to search out everything he can possibly find out about how best to take care of the thousands of orphans left in the rubble.

Randybohlender.com

Just a Reminder

Today, don't forget that your hope is alive. He's a Man, and you will see Him, very soon. And guess what? Until you do see Him, the power of God is guarding you -- at your left, your right, behind, and before, making you ready for the coming Great Day.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. ~1 Peter 1:3-5

Don't forget that you are on His mind, and He is praying for you.

Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them. ~Hebrews 7:25

The Russian Steppe was Reinhabited...

I would like to say something profoundly interesting, but I'm not sure what it would be.

I could tell you about my class about the Russian Revolution. The professor is fantastic and says things like:

"Being a professor is so hard sometimes. It's like being paid to be constantly confused."

or

"And then, of course, his daughter Anastasia ran away and lives in Cleveland somewhere."

He also basically called me a Marxist. I reject this notion because 1) I'm not 2) I know I'm not and 3) the teacher took back what he said. I just happened to voice an idea that Marx may or may not have agreed with.

I have also decided that I want to visit Russia on the New Earth. It seems like such a wholly wild place right now, with all that cold and all those bears and all those trees (a quarter of the world's forest is in Russia!). I want to know what the Lord was thinking when he designed it, and I want to see what it's like after He restores all things.

Let me finish this short blog with this a hearty endorsement for this message. Danny Lehmann is part of YWAM leadership, and visited Tacoma a couple weeks ago. The message is packed with seriously awesome stories, funny jokes, and (best of all) some hard core truth about doing what the Lord tells you to do. Ready, set, listen! (For the record, he's so engaging that I listened while multi-tasking and feel like I was able to take in everything! Turn it on while you cook or something!)

I Have a Living Hope.

For my work-study job at school, I have been going through obituaries. Pleasant job, I bet you're thinking. It's not usually what I do, but for now I am going through, searching the names to see if any of them have at some time been connected with our university. This task is not the easiest; yesterday I started to cry.

There are some I read that begin with something like: "Jim was welcomed into the loving arms of Jesus Christ..." Those are usually the ones where tears gather in my eyes. The ones where the family can say without a doubt that the man lived his life for the glory of Jesus Christ and they know where he is now.

Then there are the terribly sad ones that grieve me deeply on the inside but don't usually move me to the kind of tears that are, in the previous instance, usually mingled with the joy of the knowledge of salvation. These second ones are instead like brick walls of terribly tangible reality. I read one yesterday that exalted the way the woman had given herself to "transcendental meditation" and how that was what she had passed onto her children. These ones about people that did not know the Lord - they are the difficult ones to read. Their lives are over. Their chance to say yes to Jesus is gone.

Today, as I finished up my task, I decided: should the Lord tarry, and I die and have a funeral, I want people to get saved at it. I don't want to die simply having "made the world a better place." No, I have a far greater legacy I dream of. I want to point people to Jesus. I want to finish my race having given everything I could to love and serve Him well. When people think of me, whether I'm alive on this earth or truly alive, I want them to in the next breath think of Jesus, and how He was what my life was for, about, spent on, everything.

I know a blog about death seems at first uncharacteristically sorrowful. The truth is, however, that if you know Jesus, there is no fear in physical death! Philippians 1:21 says that "to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Only in recent years has my heart begun to yearn for the day when I am with Him fully. He has written eternity on my heart (like He has on yours), and so here I am, caught between the now and the not yet (as my sister would say). Because Jesus died on the cross with me in mind then defeated death in rising from the grave, I have heaven to look forward to, rather than the hell my sinful soul deserved. Now, life is Christ, and oh how sweet it is! But then? Then is perfect peace, seeing Jesus as He is, touching His scarred hands with which He bought my life, being welcomed as one of the Father's own into His house. Now is good, but then...then will be great.

Boogers

The impurities in your faith are strikingly similar to snot in a baby's nose.

Tonight, I watched my friend hold Zoe, the little almost-1-year-old I live with, and try to wipe her nose. She could hear that Zoe was having a hard time breathing easily, and knew that if only Zoe's nose could be clear, life would be much more comfortable. Zoe, however, had no intention of letting her nose be wiped. She arched her back, squished her face, and screamed like the world was ending. She flailed. She screamed more. And finally it was over.

I watched her and thought: that's me. I feel sometimes like my soul gets stuck in its limited vision, and I cry. Sometimes, inside (let's be honest here), I scream. But his strong arms are there, holding me, not offended by my screams. He knows I don't understand. Go ahead, I dare you, try to explain to Zoe while she screams the concept of clear sinuses and oxygen saturation. She won't get it, and she'll probably scream louder.

Through this time of transition to life in Tacoma, in the midst of aching for my sisters and warring in spiritual battles at school, 1 Peter 1 has been ringing true:

In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, ⁷so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. ⁸ Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, ⁹obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

For a little while...if necessary...various trials...

but then?

faith...precious...genuineness...you love Him...joy inexpressible.

I can't see. I honestly can't see the things God can. I can't see the dross that's in my imperfect faith right now, and I can't see the missions and plans the Lord has ahead, which He needs my faith and trust to be at a certain, more mature spot for. So I trust Him. Love does not insist on its own way. I will bend to Him and believe that He does great work in His plans. Love is patient. I am okay with not being able to see, because I love Him so much that I trust Him and I will be patient to see what He is working. In reality, I already know the main picture: "the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."

Back.

The time has come. I've returned to Tacoma and school begins again tomorrow. Today, I charged the bookstore, ready to take on every aisle of words and emerge victorious. Homer's Iliad was out of stock, however, which can always leave one feeling somewhat...un-Iliadish, I suppose.

As sad as this is, the past three days have not been without tears. Don't worry -- this return is going much smoother than the one in the fall. The trip over Christmas break, however, left me more sure than ever that Kansas City is a home for me. When I'm in Kansas City, I know my way around town. I can walk into the coffeeshop and greet a handful of people I know within a few seconds. I can walk into the prayer room and hear the familiar rhythm of prayer leader - singers - prayer leader - singers. In Kansas City, I can head to Amy's house any time of the day or night and curl up by her fire (after having raided her chocolate stash or drunk some of her raw milk that she gets from the farmers every Saturday at 3 o'clock) with either a book or with a simple desire for warmth. In Kansas City, I can merely begin the word "snuggle" and have at least one of five cuddly children thrown into my arms. In Kansas City, I can be teased by sisters while I make them dinner. I can go on midnight runs to HyVee with Christina for $1 ice cream. I can knock on the Bohlender's front door even though I know I could walk in without knocking.

Kansas City is home in an instant. My home in Tacoma is still growing.

This verse has been touching the tender part of my missing-home heart the past few days:

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also planted eternity in men's hearts, yet so that men cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." Ecclesiastes 3:11

So if you find yourself in a place where you know the Lord has placed you, but today - just today - the circumstances hurt for a little bit, remember that He makes everything beautiful in time. Your faith will be tested, but it will be more precious than gold refined by the fire. It's going to be worth it. The things you do now out of love for Him, regardless of pain or discomfort, they will last. He sees all, and you are safe. Utterly, completely, totally safe.

Time to Go

Tomorrow (well, today) I leave home to go home.

It's like being caught between two oceans, but being on the most perfect little island you've ever known.

Sometimes you forget it's so perfect, but then the Lord reminds:

"Love does not insist on its own way."

So here I go, my offering in loving Jesus: to obey, to follow, to not insist on my own way. There are moments, like just now leaving Christina in the car after a midnight ice cream run, where my heart aches. Let's be real: those moments happen.

But somehow, the Comforter wraps your heart in peace, every time. When it feels victorious, I exuberantly shout praise. And when it aches (like it does a little bit right now), I whisper: "It's all for You, Jesus. I'm still all in. Anything, anything, anything to obey You and love You more."

{Read it!}

I just have to put in a shameless plug. If you are a parent, you know a parent, or you are thinking of ever becoming a parent, this is for you. My sister Suzanna has just started a one-week blog series on parenting. The first one alone will blow your mind, and I have no doubt that the rest will too, once they are written. Things she writes usually blows minds, if I her sister may say so myself.

Read it HERE. Need the link again? Here, here here!

It's gone

When I got to Kansas City, people's comments, strangely often, centered around my hair and how long it was. Hair is a funny thing, because you never really part with your own hair, so its growth doesn't shock you. All that to say, my hair was very long. See here:


But now? Now it's gone!


My head feels strangely light... The last time I got my hair cut, I loved the lady who did it so much that I told myself I would wait for Christmas Break and come back! If you are in Kansas City and need the best hair cut you've ever gotten for $20, let me know. :)