Are you in the Wilderness or the Workshop?

 

   I'm pretty harsh on the ancient Hebrews, post Red Sea experience.
   They have a first person encounter with a miracle that defies natural laws and effectively wipes out their opposition (See Exodus 14), yet as soon as the desert comes so does disbelief. 
    Oh ye of little faith.

    I've had my own desert experience this year--literally. I travelled to the United Arab Emirates and had my eyes opened to a beautiful menegerie of cultures. That desert land was rich with promise, community, purpose and vision. I felt more alive in 115 degrees than I have anywhere else.

   Then came a different type of desert experience.

   The kind where you wake up in the morning devoid of purpose. Where reformed workaholics like myself cling to the schedule, filling up their lives so they know who they are by what they do. 
    The funny thing is, this was in the wake of a year of Red Sea miracles.

    From August 2013 to May 2014 I attended a discipleship school called Equip at Antioch Community Church in Norman, Oklahoma. It was a leap of faith into the sea of unknown...something I don't do well with as a person who struggles with needing control.
   But oh does God act for those who wait for Him (See Isaiah 64:4)
   I prayed, Lord, I need a home.
   A friend approached me and asked if I needed a place to stay.
   I prayed,  Lord, I need a job.
   Another friend asked me if I was job searching and offered me a position 10 minutes from where I lived.
   I prayed, Lord, I need community.
   This past year I've found a deep well of community and family, hungry for God's purposes.

   I could go on and on with testimony after testimony, but basically I experienced a year of response to an act of faith--God's tangible provision, again and again.

 And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him -Hebrews 11:6

   Then I walked out into the desert or as I like to call it, the waiting period.
   This season is something equivalent to standing in line at the DMV. You know someone has your number and you know you have to practice patience, but it never does meet your expected time line. Before you know it your positive attitude is tested and you're tempted to turn into one of those fist-pounding, agitated individuals who is just wondering why everyone seems to have forgotten about you.

   Praise God for grace. Praise God for Holy Spirit encounters.

   I was am that person.

   I came down from the mountaintop experience, ready for my next immediate answer to prayer. Instead I went through four months of unemployment, no secure living situation, slowly watching my savings deplete after months of padding my account.

   I grumbled. I stressed. I squeezed my spiritual stress ball of several note cards of verses over and over again. Recite, remember, repeat...recite, remember, repeat.
   God where are you in my wilderness?

   Then I had one of those gut wrenching moments of Holy Spirit conviction. Oh, you know what I'm talking about. One moment I'm planning my escape from job uncertainty and instability, engaging in a full-frontal attack on a house infested with fleas, and staring at split ends I've been dying to cut but can't afford to and WHAM!
 
   Remember my people in the desert Rachel? They took control to. They made their own god when I seemed absent and forgot who I was, am, and will be. They let go of the promise over their lives...
  What response are you going to have?

   Oh, Lord! What a tender place of conviction. How can I, in the wake of so many instances of God's grace, deny myself the season of growth--of trusting. That's when I realized the desert, as we often call it, is not a season of wilderness but of workmanship. You can't exercise faith without having a period of believing without seeing. (See Hebrews 11:1)

    So I took a step back, shifted my perspective to holy.

   I was blessed with a home for a season of insecurity.
   Thank you Lord for the fleas, that I can grow and learn in a place of love and peace.
   A job came to me before I looked for it.
   Thank you Lord for growth in my field, that I can do what I love and get paid for it, and that I can grow in faith by depending on you financially to provide...because you always do.
   
   When you shift your perspective of your environment, you allow hope to clear your vision.
   So I have healthy respect of the Hebrews now. Insecurity is the food of fear. So let's learn from history and hold fast to the promises, because we serve a God who has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, and who will fulfill His great promises for our lives (See 2 Peter 1:3-4)

.

   We can allow the bitter aftertaste of suffering to overwhelm us, or we can have faith that God can use suffering to transform us --Sarah Young

Don't forget to adventure today.
-Ray

   

Why Everyone Should Visit the Middle East

Mosque on the road to the Mall of the Emirates 

No, I'm not trying to guilt you to hop on a plane and parachute into war-torn Syria to experience what life is like for the less fortunate. However, I would tell anyone before planning their next trip to London or Paris to consider visiting an area that will probably impact your life beyond your 4-5 day stay.

I have been fortunate to have travelled to friends up north (eh?), down south (thanks for ruining Taco Bell forever), the motherland (our humor is still not up to British par), that French country we love to hate (but secretly envy with every fiber of our being), and even a brief jaunt to the Swiss Alps (okay one Alp...and I'm not even sure if it was an Alp. Someone Google Mt. Pilatus for me.)

Nothing, absolutely nothing impacted my life more than venturing beyond the familiar green into the desert sands.

Desert Safari stop on the sand dunes

Why? Because as Americans we have prejudices we don't realize we have. What's even worse, as someone who professes to be a Christian, I had additional prejudices I didn't realize until walking outside into the blinding Dubai sun.

I'm not prejudice. I accept all cultures, religions, behaviors, etc 

You may say that but here in the loving embrace of the red, white, and blue it's easy to disassociate the culture from the person. We think everyone here, if not American already, wants to be a U.S. citizen, which means they are seeking something of the same values we are.

Stepping out my first day in Dubai was quite a shock to my western mindset. I mean, why would you force women to wear long black veils, let alone pants, when the heat index is 115? I found myself looking for my culture, being drawn to people who looked like me, and allowing everything else to fade into the background. It's pretty easy to do in Dubai. The western culture has pretty well saturated the coast and you can find anything from a Starbucks to an IHOP in the city.

Waterfall in the Dubai mall

But as my jet lagged body dragged through the Carrefour in the Mall of the Emirates and up to the register to check out groceries I stopped to smile at the red headed, freckled man with the name tag that read, "Mohamed."
We struggled through our language barrier (most of the barrier I claim since everyone there seems to know at least 4 languages, and I'm just chilling with my English), but he ended up telling myself and the friends I was with that he was a refuge from Syria, fleeing the destruction and constant bombings ripping up his nation. His family is still there, but he is working to send money back to them.

My heart breaks...and it's just the start.

I began opening my eyes, engaging, looking through the veils, past the culture and the religion to see the person. I heard stories. One worker from Egypt, another from Pakistan, this Indian man left home 17 years ago to provide for his family, the phone he carried his only connection back home. This Philippine woman stuck in a job, unable to leave the abusive working environment cultivated by her superior, an Emirate woman studying for her masters, her background on her computer showing her warmly embraced by the Sheik.

Egyptian musicians at the desert safari

I wouldn't tell you to go to the Middle East simply to go sight seeing. There are incredible structures, which destroy our concept of skyscrapers--but there are the men who clamored from around the world to be employed for the behemoths' construction.

Metro view of the Burj Khalifa

I wouldn't tell you to try all the delicacies of the Middle East without talking to the person behind the counter and hearing their life story.
And my final piece of advice would be to forgo the tourist traps and find a local that will unlock your explorer within by taking you up path less travelled so you can experience a world you've never seen before.

Desert mountains in Oman

I was told by one of the women I met to consider Dubai my second home.

I think I'll be back.

More stories to come.

-Ray

What's in a Name: Defining Purity in My Life

Rachel Allison Morse

   

   My first memory of realizing the meaning behind my name goes back several years to when I was around 6 or 7. We were in our first duplex in Tyler, and I remember talking to my mom about all the different meanings of names. I remember her saying my sister's name, Amy, means Beloved. My mother's name, Cathy, means pure--and my name, Rachel, means innocent, or little lamb.
   Ever since then, I have loved my name (although I did go through a phase where I though my middle name, Allison, would suit me better). There is something about being called a lamb, which makes my heart erupt in joy . . . although for the longest time I really couldn't tell you why.
   Then, about a year ago, I became obsessed with names.
   I had came across a book called "The Names of God," and as I explored the unending facets of my heavenly Father, I realized how each name He was given relayed a message to me of who He is. Abba Father, Jehovah Jirah, Jehovah Rapha, Lord Adonai, Yeshua, I AM, on and on, continuous, never ending. He is the God of names, who knows the importance of the intrinsic name. Did He not change Abram's name after making the covenant of a chosen nation? (Gen. 17) Abraham: the father of a multitude of nations. There was a deeper identity within Abram that God spoke out and named.
   Jesus was named so to convey a message as well. An angel spoke to Mary the name which the world would soon resound: Jesus, Jehovah saves (Luke 1:31-32).
   So where does little, innocent lamb come in? Am I putting intrinsic value in something my mother simply thought was pretty and my father liked because it spelled out his school mascot?
(Quick back-story, my dad went to the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, and their mascot was the ram. Rachel Allison Morse . . . R.A.M. . . . RAM)
   As I have begun the process of stripping off worldly identity, my Father has begun identifying the things I  am not defined by: I am not defined by my attitude, I am not defined by my past, I am not defined by my parents, money, background, talent, beauty, abilities, personality, job, organization, friends, a boy--and as these things were stripped off, my true identity began to be made known.
   Rachel, you are my precious one, the one I am enamored with. I see the way I crafted you, and though the world may not see, I AM does. How beautiful is the heart I gave you--how tender I made it. I see what beauty drapes you and I am in awe of my creation. What a beautiful facet of myself you are--you reflect a piece of my glory.
   Just to sit and know the God of the universe thinks this about me is a little intoxicating--I dare you to sit and let Him spill out His love over you.
    So what role does purity play in all this? Pretty much my whole life people have perceived me differently then I perceived myself (isn't that true for everyone?) When then world looked at me and sneered, "naive, pure, too innocent, ignorant, you have never known pain or suffering," I looked and said, "defiled, hurting, ugly, weak, lost, worthless, devalued, unloved." I had the world's defiled purity stamp on my forehead, while inside all I saw was trash.
   But as Jesus drew me deeper into His heart and His love, I couldn't resist shedding the coat of insecurities and drawing on the robe of purity. I am embraced my name--innocent lamb--and let it fuel the fire inside of me. I claim that identity. I claim that no matter what I have done, thought, said, or contemplated, the blood of The Lamb has washed me clean and made me just as innocent before the Father's eyes. That is the purity that I cling to:
   Purity that doesn't make me afraid of what's dirty, but Purity that reminds me that I am already clean.
   That's my identity--my name. Rachel . . . one like the Lamb.

A New Year Knocking

 
   I don't know about most of this cynical society, but I used to view New Year resolutions as another list to add to my continual supply of "to-dos." It may seem a bit odd--and I confess that I am--but I find a sense of delight in creating goals, tactics, lists, and plans written on post-its, note cards, my planner, and now iphone.
   For new years I would simply treat this list as any other--except for the fact that the deadline was a year away . . . so I had a bit of a grace period.
   However, one concept, which always appeared on my goal list, never seemed to deserve that check mark of finality come Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve. Without fail I would always write down:

"A Closer Relationship with God"

   Can having a closer relationship with God be something you put as your New Year's resolution? I seemed to think so. Yet the funny thing was, this one resolution was never accomplished during the era of "life by checklist." I continued in the static, shallow, greeting card acquaintance with God I had begun at, "Jesus come into my heart." What is relational about that? Nothing. What is religious about that? Everything.

   See, I had a crisis of faith in high school--and for good reason, because it seemed I had none. Since that crisis, I asked God to reveal Himself to me and to convince me of His reality. 

   Ever heard of be careful what you wish for? Or pray for? Well, He showed up--which is surprisingly a scripture based phenomenon:

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you."

    The door was knocked aside, I have been running after Jesus ever since, and I have never looked back. Well . . . maybe a couple times.

    Bu in this new year--2012, the year we thought we'd never make it to--I am feeling a bit nostalgic. I am thinking back over those New Year's lists, over the struggles that I never could overcome, my frustrations at myself, and the boulders that kept me shuffling along, too stubborn and proud to ask for help. *Sigh* I look at that beaten down little girl and smile. Those times make where I am today such a beautiful contrast.

   Why must we go through those times though? In a book I read recently (1000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp) a the author described times of "shadows" in her life like a cloud covering the sun. But the sun never leaves. And doesn't a cloud bring the rain, which sustains the earth below? Maybe we are looking at the trials in our lives the wrong way. Maybe a good New Year resolution to make would be:

"A New Encounter with God Every Day"

   He has such heights he wants to takes us to. Such depths of His love he wants to plunge us into. He wants us to seek Him for answers to the questions that plague us at night. He has them. I know in my life, every time I have asked God to show up He does. Maybe not in the way I expect, but what kind of God do I want to worship: predictable or the Great I AM. 

   My New Year Resolution:

Love the Lord My God with ALL My Heart Soul and Mind

(Matt. 22:37)

. . . and see where it takes me.

It Blows Away in Light of Him

New Post. New Design. New Revelation.

As it is the first day of fall, I feel it necessary to use some imagery and metaphors to describe where I am in my life right now. So get ready.
First of all, Autumn is my absolute favorite season. There is something about the transition from warm to cold, that in between, that I just love. I love the smell of fall. It makes me reminisce of burning piles of leaves, roasting pumpkin seeds, jumping into piles of leaves, and watching a harvest moon on the horizon. Seriously, this season was made for me. 
But as I think on the season I can absolutely compare it to where I am in my life right now.
See, it's the 1st semester of my junior year. I am pushing through and pressing in. Trying to run hard after the Lord but balancing my need to strive after all things. Basically, I am in this awkward stage of transition--trying to shake of the dead weight of burdens the Lord has released me from, but focused on transitioning into a new season of life, yet still holding on the the trappings of my old season of life. Like a tree shaking off its dead leaves to transition into winter.

What am I trying to shake off you may ask? Well, let me get a little vulnerable (Rev. 12:11)
Judgement. Ouch. Yeah, that clouded vision toward others, distorting their true identity in Christ and keeping me from calling out in others who they are in Christ. Let's get that sucker off!

Striving. The definition of my testimony. If you asked me what my life would be like without Jesus I would tell you that I would be the anxiety-bound, hunched over perfectionist, keeping others at bay, shoving everything inside, and spread so thin that she needs to escape through movies, books, and continuous hours alone--in isolation. Doesn't that sound horrible. Well, I think I would rather not live a life like that. So I am shaking off that striving leaf, watching it float to the ground with delight.

Comparison/Jealousy. The two seem to alternate with me. I either compare myself to what I don't have or sit and stew about what others do. Thank Jesus for freedom! This little booger of a demon sat in my chest making physical knots so that I literally felt like my heart was being wrapped into a little bow--not cool. Then by the grace of God, something broke through. I stopped listening to the lies and looked at the abundance that I had before me! Praise Jesus. Get the heck off my tree!

Insecurity. Funny how a little bit of this is gnawing at me know as I reveal this portion of the deadweight. Nobody likes to seem vulnerable, imperfect, or (God forbid) insecure. It's like the statement of doom. "I am insecure." People's whole perception of you changes when this is admitted. You can become even more insecure worrying about the fact that you are insecure. Now that's a vicious circle. But then I stopped and listened to the soft whisper of my Creator. "You are not insecure. I made you. What have you to feel awkward or incomplete about? There is a cloud around your head telling you that who I made you to be is not worthy of the world. But your worth is found in me, not in the world. For you are in the world, but not of it. Shake away that cloud. You know you are a daughter of the King." So long insecurity.
 
I probably could go on and on and call out every struggle I have ever gone through in my life and how God has freed me but that would take a really long time, and would totally kill the memoir I plan on busting out in about 20 years (stay tuned for that!).

But take a look back at the freedom, the release. How, as Shane and Shane sang, it all blows away in light of Him. When we focus our perspective on God and our purpose aligns, we begin to see a shift of the chains that once held us. They loosen. And soon you no longer call them chains, you see them as burdens. They lighten. And then you can look and your situation and see that you know longer have burdens, but an atmosphere of fog around your head. You walk through it. And finally you come to the place where with the delight of the new season God has brought you to, you can then shake of the dead leaves of old demons that once held you.

And with delight, observe the beauty of the freedom. The past trials falling away in a beautiful symphony of transition, like leaves from a tree.

A page from my journal

It's going down--journal time.
   Now we get to the thoughts beyond London again. The thoughts that search out the meaning behind traveling across the country. That wonder which people I pass on the street live fulfilling lives, let alone lives awakened to the plan created for them by Christ.
    This journal moment is brought to you by the beautiful Kingston park laying next to the river Thames. It is from the date July 11, 2011, a Monday, and it was inspired by all of Creation, which cries out to its creator.
    The context of this journal entree (I am really building this up aren't I?): I am laying across my slightly worn, fleece basketball blanket--comfortably resting my chin on my palm, my stomach on the ground. A high school rowing team is training on the river in front of me, and every so often I hear the faint instructions blasted from the mega-phone the trainer is holding. There is a line of trees just after the river and a circle of sunshine surrounding my head. Where else can a person expect to get inspiration?
   
   I am currently in a small meadow on my fleece basketball blanket, smelling the air drenched with lilac and listening to the alternating sounds of a breeze drifting though the trees and a motorboat passing by.
   In front of me I see little daisies and my green pencil--a little further on, an old couple is sitting on a bench--one reading a magazine the other a book. I'd like to think they reach over and grab each others hands from time to time.
    In front of them, the tranquil Thames, surging to the side as kayaks and other boats snip though its middle.
    This is beauty--but not quite heaven. How? Why?
    In a place like this, how can I not feel that sense of pleasure and accomplishment the world is so ardently searching for? Because I know true heaven. No matter what, I can cling to the hope I have found in Jesus Christ. Nothing fills. Nothing sustains. Nothing renews, but Him.
   For the things that are seen are temporary--but the things that are unseen are eternal.
   ...
   Jesus--today I simply want to cry out your name, to call on you, to be with you, to know you surround me, and live in me. I want to please you, live for you, glorify you. Jesus, grant me the knowledge to know how to do so.

   Some days we just need to be...still...and be. So that is what I got Monday--a day of simply watching , thinking, reading, napping, and praying that my time here in London is not a waste. That I am not living for selfish ambition, but that this is in some way furthering the kingdom of God. I know that if this is my mindset, nothing I do is meaningless or in vain.

    If I can do that in London, then surely you--whoever you are that is reading this--can take the time to do the same. Find a quite, or noisy place. Bring a journal, a book, and coffee. Watch. Write what you see. Take in others' lives. Pray for them. Pray for your life as well. Enjoy a book. Then do it again.
   

Digging Deeper...

   It's funny--as each day passes I find myself more attracted to the smaller towns of Surbiton, Kingston, Wimbledon, ext., rather than the glitz and glam of the city of London. There is a peace, a regard for family, and tradition that I have never found in the states. And yes, I do believe I am picking up my fair share of British jargon. So far I have transitioned from grabbing "some" coffee to just grabbing a coffee. I think things are rather brilliant and say cheers when leaving the pub. I also have finally started looking right first when crossing the road and never ask my waiter to split the bill.
   There are honestly not many things that I miss, although I feel that the states are my home and it gives me comfort to know that I can go back. But why do I want to get comfortable? Isn't the whole point about living a life that is unknown and wild? My spirit has also been incredibly convicted as well.
   I walk through museum after museum, seeing relics and artwork with such grandeur and detail, most of which echo some sort of religious story or image. And yet, so many seem empty--just an intricate scene on a canvas that is awesome to behold, but doesn't  really get the point across.
   I had a conversation once about art done just to make art and art created from a passion and a purpose. The difference is staggering.
    But I want to take that a step further: I believe also that when religious art is made, there is a profound difference between those that are simply good at what they do, and those that are created to make art--and know that this is their purpose. I saw that today at the Victoria and Albert museum in a painting much more faded than the rest and not even as extravagant--but the emotion that it brought moved me more than any gilded alter piece. It was made with a purpose--it was created from passion. That is the kind of life I want to lead. One knowing that what I accomplish comes from my very core of being, that everything in me desires to accomplish this work, and that its purpose is solitary: to glorify God and lead men before his throne.
    London was once a great city--one that seemed to understand this purpose as well. It got lost somewhere along the way. But God always leaves a remnant.

Escapade or Escape?

   Well, it would be putting it lightly to say that the past two weeks have been very interesting. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that I have been on a roller-coaster of emotions, one that has me chilling out at the bottom of what seems to be one giant climb.
   Some background info: I began, two weeks ago, my normal routine of get up, work out, go to a coffee shop, read, look up stuff on London, go home or hang out with friends. A reasonable summer, I should think. Then Wham, Bam! My grandpa has terminal cancer. Wham! I have my first freelance writing assignment. Bam! My trip for London is looming closer as is my article deadline. Slam! My grandpa dies.
    Now, I am not the world's best actor when it comes to how I feel. I normally cannot hide anything or pretend to feel a way that I don't. But I have found that when it comes to high stress situations I can stuff my emotions back and muscle my way through pretty much anything.
    What I forget--it doesn't go anywhere.
   So here I am, dealing with two-weeks of high stress emotional blockage, which I honestly forget I stuffed back there. Also I am facing not only the loss of my papa, but a kick-off to my study abroad in London, my first article floating somewhere is cyber-space to my editors, and the feeling that I am not prepared or adequate for either.
     Now what?
    Enter my life verse: Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
    This is the race, what I train for, what I receive rest for. The reason I was home the first half of the summer. The reason I felt called not to have a job. The reason I am now going to London. The reason, the purpose, the plan, the race.
    Isn't is funny that they say hindsight is 20/20. Now that I know, what can I do with this ball of emotion that is freaking my mom out and is leading me to write this post? I give it over to the Lord.
  
   Jesus, there is no way I can do this on my own right now. I pray for your peace that transcends all understanding to guard my heart and my mind. You alone can take these burdens away. You can fill my spirit and give me the endurance to make it through this valley. Father, in you alone I put my trust, and from you alone I find hope and purpose. Your child

   It's incredible what seemed to be welded to your body simply drops off in the presence of the Almighty God.
   Peace. That transcends all understanding. I prayed that for my papa as he was suffering through his last battle to cancer, but my mom also prayed that God would open up heaven to him, so that this peace would manifest itself not only in his soul, but before his eyes. I believe that this prayer was answered as well.

   Now, with these new-found lessons in mind I keep running. Literally too, I am training for a half-marathon, which has more spiritual parallelisms than I could ever say. I have chosen to slowly jog up this next hill, but I feel a sprint coming on as the reality of London offers a rest at the top.

  My next adventure is a day away. The Lord is faithful. Pass the Kleenex.

                                           Me and my Poppa, Grammy, and sister at Thanksgiving '10

"My name is Rachel, can I earn your love today?"

   The topic today is Grace. A concept that I understand intellectually. I can spout off to you why grace is different from mercy, how we are saved by grace and not by our own efforts [please see Romans], heck, I even went to a school named after this concept. How is it then that when I look back at my life I see a pattern of continual striving? Somewhere along the line, I missed the point.
    As I sat in Cafe Taza today mulling over my thoughts with help from Sarah Young [Jesus Lives] and a vanilla latte, I began to realize how I have allowed fear to distort my view of grace and the Savior who died to give it to us. I allowed my thoughts to follow the path of this idea and it led me to Jr. High. I quickly retreated thinking, "This is a horrible place, why did you lead me back here brain?" but then something other than the electrical impulses of my mind was gently tugging me back to the repressed memories of my tweens. I supposed rightly that this was the Holy Spirit. With this knowledge I allowed myself to be pulled back to 6th grade Rachel--brave, fun, a little weird, but unaware. Then something happened. Expectations started to arise from her peers. Lies started to be spun in her head, and words from others experiencing the same insecurities began to affirm these lies. Suddenly, she felt inadequate. Bravado gone, this once bold, brassy girl turned timid and awkward, perpetually embarrassed and a new word was introduced into her vocabulary: strive. Strive to be pretty, strive to impress, strive to be funny, strive to get that boy's attention, strive to receive the love of "friends" strive to make fun of that teacher, strive, try, earn. There is no one who will accept you for who you are. It was a different kind of innocence lost. It was the loss of a heavenly identity.
   It's crazy to me how something that happened so long ago can influence me today. I try to cover these scars in me with words like "oh, I am a perfectionist" or "I just want people to know that I am nice" and even "I just want everyone to like me." The truth is I am filled with pride. Not the" I think I am blatantly better than everyone and everything" pride, but the hidden "I am consumed with my actions and words and thoughts and the opinions of those around me about me, so really, I do think I am more important than everyone, but I just can't admit it to myself"...that kind of pride. Huh...so listening to lies about myself way back when not only distorted my view of grace and God, heaped insecurities upon my head, and gave me a perfectionist complex, but it also gave me pride??? Well...that sucks.
   So where does pride connect to fear which connects back to grace? And how has this Jr. high girl still lived inside of me for so long? My pride turned into a shield around me--protecting me, but cutting me off from God and from the plan I was created for. It also began slamming down in front of friends and family--trying to protect a fearful heart from pain, while causing it all the same. Pride is what keeps me from admitting that still today, I am afraid. I am afraid that I am not worthy, for love, friendship, relationships, God's plan...anything. I am afraid that what others think really does dictate who I am, and I am afraid that my fear will eventually paralyze me. And this fear cloaks the all important grace. Grace that came and saw a scared, style-inept Jr. High girl and said, "I choose you." Grace that says, "I am sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness," and I in response shall say, "I will boast all the more gladly in my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me!" [2 Cor. 12:9]
   I think about 10 years of striving is enough for anyone, and I am pretty much done. Instead I will allow my God to meet all my needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus [Phil. 4:19] And if my God says that I need not strive for His affections, what one earth am I doing striving after the affections of people? I mean, really? So the next time I meet someone, you can expect my thought process to be:
   "My name is Rachel. I am a daughter of the King. How can I show my Father's love to you?"

Echos in a Hollow World

     I am walking the streets of London, soaking in the sights and sounds: the whiff of deep fryer sputtering up fish and chips floats across my nose, a gleaming antique tea kettle winks at me through the shop window. I wander through the crowds of commuters and vendors, tourists and families, searching through the sea of humanity washing up upon the sidewalks again and again. There--I spot it. A pregnant girl--alone--at the bus stop, clutching a shabby backpack to her stomach and letting her eyes roam listlessly across the urban sprawl unfolding before her. I reach her and carefully place myself next to her, unzipping my backpack and pulling out a sandwich, water bottle, and letter.
     "Here, this is for you." Her tired eyes reluctantly fall away from the numbing activity of the city streets and fall to the items I have set next to her on the bench. She grabs the food and water and stuffs them in her bag, and after a hesitating look, carefully picks up the letter as well. She clutches it in both hands and furiously reads the first couple of lines before I hear a small catch in her breath. She pulls back the letter and with tears rolling down her face stares at me.
     "Miss, I believe you mistook me for someone else. This is not a letter for me." I smile reassuringly, gently pressing the letter back into her hand.
     "You're wrong. This letter is specifically for you. It's about grace."


    So clearly I am a dreamer. I think flowery thoughts and write flowery words. I make grandiose claims and over commit myself every single day. I am a perfectionist and strive for a level of self discipline that will regulate my life. If I could--I would save myself.
    But for some reason, I have a call on my life. I heard the whisper through the uproar of this world, and I made a choice to no longer hold my life in my own hands but offer it up to the one who made it in the first place. I laid myself down on the alter so that I would no longer live, but Christ would live in me.
     Again, flowery words. In truth I am a pretty simple person, and while I describe my salvation experience let me describe where I am right now and why on earth I decided to write this blog.
      Right now I am in a Barnes and Noble racing to finish this post with the 20 min. I have left on my laptop. I am staring at my empty java chip frappachino through Jennifer Lopez glasses and alternating facebook checks with texts on my cellphone. I live in a nice house just outside of a nice town in America and worry more about staying fit and losing weight than I do about those who may not eat for days at a time. So much for laying my life down on the alter right? That is why I am writing this blog. I know I was given the opportunities I have in life for a reason. I know that God has blessed me for a purpose...and I am determined to find out what the purpose is! So I am waiting. And praying. And learning how to fight with everything I've got against the one who is dead set on keeping me from the purpose I am intended for.
     A couple months ago I heard another whisper. It said, "Why do you seek a tame version of yourself, Rachel, when I created you to be wild?"
     I want to know what it means to lived an untamed, wild life pursuing the Lord...to find the freedom in the sacrifice. So here I go, taking for first step toward wild....hood.
     I love this quote in Elizabeth Elliot's book Let Me Be A Woman:
     "My freedom will be so much greater and more meaningful the more narrowly I limit my field of action and the more I surround myself with obstacles. Whatever diminishes constraint diminishes strength. The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one's self of the chains that shackle the spirit."