prayer without words

she presses into me, small limbs still overflowing my far-too-narrow lap. too narrow because i want to gather her up and never let her go, i want to rock her until she's forgotten whatever made her so desperate for this much love, this attention she craves from all of us but most especially me. i've become her favorite, this little dark-haired, winsome eyed girl with the too-jaunty smile, the ecstatic hugs and the quiet looks that let me know this one isn't any different from the others here.

she's been through the fire, and she's survived.

so i sit behind her on the floor, let her press herself into me even though i probably shouldn't--someone will get upset with me, surely, think i'm breaking rules--but this is the ranch, where kids are sent to be loved into knowledge of god's grace and their true potential. so she presses herself inward, the beat of my heart feeling loud and hard under her head. her hair rasps against my chin, the neat braid with its little flower, pressing into my cheek when i rest it on top of her head.

she curls her sparkly converse boots closer against my legs, pulls my arm around her. i pray for her, almost on reflex, pray love and healing and whatever else she needs into the tiny body that's wrapped itself against mine. the prayer is not so much words as simple impressions--as if by simply forming the intent of words in my mind, they will become so (but isn't that truly prayer without ceasing; sending every thought, like a rare bird, toward god, bringing every one of them into the substance of something worth going before the throne?).

in that moment, with the little ball of warmth against me and the unspoken prayer and the constant reminder that she should listen to the teacher instead of playing with my fingernail--or at least more obviously multi-task--i think i could do this forever. i could sit on a hard floor that's barely covered by ancient blue carpet, surrounded by kids who've been through things i could never imagine, for the rest of my life. i could do this, could pray prayers without words, could smile and laugh and gently guide, could pray some more when it seems nothing's going right.

and in that moment, i feel my heart open a little more, my dreams and hopes and plans flying away a bit more properly. i am content, i suppose, is what i'm trying to say. content to stay here, to love on what's in front of me, to pray the words that must be prayed. and i imagine this feeling will go away at some point and i'll be left desperately wanting out of my hometown, away as far as i can get, to the reaches of the earth, in places i can't speak the language and don't know how to eat the food...but for now, i am content with whatever is in store.

- Kyla Denae

deep breath before the plunge

summer ministry in the texas panhandle is officially over. the last five day club has been held, the last thank you note has been dispatched, the last newsletter article been written. it's happy, on the one hand, because i no longer have to run around like a chicken with my head cut off, hoping i remembered everything for the day's club.

on the other hand

i'm really freaking bored

i want my kids back

ugh

why is there a month until good news clubs start

stahp it monthly calendars

i suppose that, for now, i get to see the un-glamorous side of ministry, the side that makes ministry visits and tries like mad to reach 100% of support and calls pastors.

have i ever mentioned that pastors intimidate me? they do. it's quite an interesting phenomenon, but i'm also having to get over it. maybe it's just that adults intimidate me. i don't know. but i've still got to get over it.

pray for me. 

i need lots of grace. 

and patience. 

and courage. 

and willpower. 

and nutella. 

mostly nutella.

along with all that, though, i know that it's only a matter of time before i get shoved back into being with kids all the time, because i have at least three good news clubs that need my teaching skills this fall. i'm excited. i won't have time to be bored, at least, and that's an incredibly good thing. my hate for boredom runs deep.

so i'm taking a deep breath before we have to run headlong into workshops and teaching and bible lessons and kids asking me crazy questions. because i love it, but it's tiring.

- Kyla Denae

and a little child shall lead them

sometimes, i get really confused. i start worrying. like now, for instance. i was supposed to have quite a big chunk of my internship funds raised by now, the end of july. for those of you not in the loop, i'm working at child evangelism fellowship this summer as one of the local interns. it's been an adventure, and i'm having quite a bit of fun. it's just...money. fundraising is not my favorite thing. i don't think it's anybody's. and i'm stressing (just the tiniest bit) about that, though i'm giving it to god and letting him take care of it.

last week, i went to camp good news, which is a camp in oklahoma run by one of my teachers from cmi. i came home to some stuff that i'd not expected, stuff that's been in my family for a long while, but is beginning to manifest in new and exciting ways.

can you sense the sarcasm here

i hope so

i'm being really sarcastic

it's not exciting

it sucks

i hate drama

anyway

i came home to this, and i'm sitting here thinking, god, you said you were gonna take care of me this summer. you were very clear about how this internship was where i was supposed to be. i wanted to go to thailand, and you said no, god, and i know there was a reason, but i'm having a bit of trouble seeing it right about now. god, i'm confused. i don't know where i'm supposed to go. am i supposed to go finish out my internship down south, or am i supposed to stay in amarillo for another year. am i supposed to help do good news clubs or am i supposed to get a job and be a good little member of the workforce. am i supposed to buy a car and get my own place or buy a car and stay where i'm at or am i supposed to go hunting me a husband and hope you work it all out.

another thing i hate

adulthood

it's full of all sorts of problems that my nine year old conception never did see

curse you unrealistic expectations about life

i could go on and on about my young adult angst, but it would bore you, so i shan't. to make a long story short, i'm confused and trying to figure out god's will in the midst of much weirdness. i'm in way over my head, and i just want out of most of it, and i'm unable to be.

at camp this past week, there was this little girl in the bible class i was teaching. on the second day at camp, she came to me and told me that she knew she'd believed in jesus, but she wasn't sure if she still was, because she'd done some wrong things and she didn't always feel that god was with her. one of my favorite promises in the bible is found in hebrews 13:5--it says, "for he has said, i will never leave you nor forsake you." it's a beautiful promise, full of truth and wonder and the awe-inspiring idea that out of all his creations, out of all the things there are to love, out of all the majesty and beauty that fills the universe, god chose to love me, to tear out a part of himself and sacrifice it, for me, and with that knowledge comes the idea that i'll never able to do anything that will drive god away from me.

so i shared that verse with jaylin. i told her what it means, what god has promised to us. and every day after that, i heard her repeating the promise. she told everyone she met. she put a marker in her bible at that verse and opened to it every chance she got. it was what she shared at testimony night. she made up a song with the words, so she could repeat to herself every chance she got the promise that "i will never leave you nor forsake you." to her, that was the most important thing of camp, the most important thing about god. the only important thing about god.

and so, as i sit here surrounded by a bunch of stuff i can't comprehend and can't see my way through, i am humbled by the faith of a little child. the faith that will accept something so earth-shattering as "god is never going to leave me ever" and translate it into a song and into a chant that is repeated to oneself over every meal and before every bedtime and to everybody i meet. i am left in awe at the sort of faith that can accept that so completely, and i know beyond a doubt that i want that faith, that that faith is something to be reached for.

so i'm going to reach for it. i'm going to trust that promise--that even when i can't see my way, even when everything's cloudy and weird and beyond my wisdom, god's got me. he will never leave me. he's sealed me in the palm of his hand. he's three hundred steps ahead of me, scouting out my life decades in advance. 

for he has said

i will never leave you nor forsake you

so we can confidently say

the lord is my helper

i will not fear

what can man do to me

hebrews 13:5-6, ESV

- Kyla Denae

i am a child of the twenty first century

I hate phone calls.

I hate making them.

I hate taking them.

I hate having to sit with a phone pressed to my ear, saying words into a person's ear, without fully knowing whether that person is, in fact, at all willing to listen to me say those words, or whether they want me to stop, or whether their face is screwed up in disgust because ew this person is so stupid.

Perhaps you will say that you never think that about someone who you're talking to on the phone. Perhaps you're right. However, I still much prefer talking to people face-to-face. I prefer even more managing to never see people face-to-face at all, and instead texting them, or popping them a Facebook message, or otherwise avoiding the unfortunate necessity of actually speaking to them.

I am told this is not a good thing.

However, it is a perfectly logical thing. Let me explain. If I send someone a text, they have a multitude of options. They can ignore that text, deleting it and sending it out into the cosmos. I will simply assume the text got lost in cyberspace, and unless it was really important, probably won't even bother sending another. They could also answer this text at their leisure if they so desire. That text will stay on their phone as long as they want it to. It will still be there in six years when they finally get around to answering my appeal for funds! It will still be there, just as it was the day I sent it, awaiting the kind person's pleasure! I'm not bothering them! They have freedom to answer whenever they choose! Texts have the added bonus of not being interruptible. People's words get in the way of other people's words, and if we just cut out people's ability to butt into other people's words until said person's words are done, then said person won't get nervous!

In a phone call, it's very hard to just ignore it. If you hit 'ignore', the person is going to know you hit ignore, because the call will cut out. This leads to inevitable hurt feelings, because you can't just ignore a call from a potential donor, or from your best friend, or from your Great-aunt Beth without there being serious repercussions. And there's the issue of having to call back. If you miss someone or go to their answering machine--yeah, you can leave a message...but you're still going to have to call back. And then you will have to say words, and these words could be interrupted and that's just awkward for everybody.

How do people words

I don't understand

A Facebook message also has many good perks. It has all the bonuses that come with texting, with the added amazingness that is everyone uses Facebook. Don't have somebody's number? No problem! No need to go be a creeper and use whitepages.com to stalk them down. You just find them on your friends list (or, occasionally, on your friend's friends list) and shoot them a message! And Facebook even notifies them for you! And bugs them if they don't answer you!

Of course, I will forever prefer simply talking face-to-face with someone. Because then, at least, you know whether you're bothering them or not. Sometimes. Then there's the poker-faced people who you know are judging you in their minds.

You can feel it. Like this crashing wave of disapproval. And it hurts. But at least you can see them, and know.

As an intern for CEF, though, I've got to raise support. Which means finding ministry partners. Which means I have to make phone calls. Which means I must put aside my discomfort as a child of the twenty-first century who is way better at writing words than she is at speaking them.

But it hurts.

So, dear people of the world, let us consider turning away from this odd invention that is the telephone, and going entirely to text-based communication. Again. Life was so much more comfortable when you wouldn't know precisely what somebody thought of you for six months.

- Kyla Denae

my job description includes

teaching

hugging little kids

throwing dead frogs away

after picking them up out of the office bathroom

being completely ridiculous

eating lots of nutella and sour gummy worms

reading large books

praising jesus

knowing the answer to questions like "what's the number for child support"

or, sometimes, just flat not knowing the answer to questions like "what's the number for child support"

playing with hula hoops, parachutes, and a very large rubber inflatable ball

praying for dead, dying, and not-yet-living dogs, cats, and other assorted pets

knowing why the sky is blue, why rainbows appear, and what jesus was like when he was six

always being 'teacher' no matter where i am

knowing prayer is the first resort for any problem

always being ready to give a hug, even in the middle of walmart

being willing to be silly

and, more often than not, actually being silly

juggling visuals, cds, kids, and more games than i care to think about

singing ridiculous songs at the top of my lungs because they are cool, darnit

remembering that jesus is the reason for everything

and above all

investing in the lives of everyone i meet, for jesus' sake

- Kyla Denae

going stir-crazy

Next Tuesday, it will mark the one-year anniversary of the last overseas missions trip I took. One year since I left the States for Romania. Fourteen days beyond that will be the one-year for being in the States mark.

And, in a way, it makes me sad.

I know that God wants me here for something. I know that my work here is important, that working in the local CEF chapter here in my hometown is important. That there are kids here who need to hear the Gospel. That I'm following God's will--at least, as much of it as He's revealed to me so far.

But...

I don't want it to be God's will for me to be here. I want to go someplace. I want to feel the press of g-forces as a plane takes off beneath me, carrying me thirty thousand feet up into the air. I want to be on my way to someplace on another continent, with strange smells and different foods and beautiful languages. I want to be running through an airport, trying to find an eatery with somewhat affordable food so that I can eat before I get on the plane. I want to have colorful money in my hands that crinkles oddly and shines when I hold it up to the light. I want to learn how to twist my tongue around the words of a new 'hello'. I want to see dark little hands put into mine. 

I want to run through a weed-infested churchyard, chasing a Romanian five year old who's challenged me to a game of tag. I want to walk through an African compound with a child on my back as we head home from church. I want to be in a Chinese high school where the beds are made of wooden slats and I don't have the option of a fork. I want to stare down from a plane window at the Sahara Desert, or the Pacific Ocean, or the soaring mountains of Germany. I want to stand below Big Ben, and walk along the fence of Westminster Abbey. I want to stand in an airport terminal and press my nose against the window and try to see beyond the fence that surrounds me. I want to go into a mall and feel that relief at air conditioning. I want to hug an orphan whose teeth flash white from a dusky-dark face.

I want to feel the press of a hand from someone who's just heard the Gospel for the first time. I want to see a smile from a child who's hanging upside down from a rusted carport, and know that as I smile we're communicating, even though he doesn't speak a word of English and I can't say more than three words in Romanian. I want to be able to sit next to an old woman and watch her prepare a meal for her family, knowing that words aren't needed, because we're sitting here, listening to the village celebrate the miracle of Christ. Words aren't needed. Our English and Nyanja is sufficient, because we don't need to use it.

I want all these things.

But I don't need them.

I know I don't need them. I know that there's something in this time here, firmly in the States, sitting behind a desk, reaching out to little kids who, more often than not, are of precisely my skin tone, that God has to show me. I know that He will use this time. I know He has appointed it. I know that He's going to reveal this whatever-it-is to me in His perfect time. I know that, when He does, I'll understand (at least in part), and I'll be the better for it.

But it's hard. And perhaps it shouldn't be. Because, everyday, God is revealing to me just how deep the hurt runs right here in my country, in my hometown. How deeply some of these children are hurting. How much of them simply need to be pulled into a bear hug and told how much He loves them.

So yes, travelling overseas is thrilling. I doubt my heart for international missions is going to go away anytime soon (at least, I hope not, because that would be sad). But for now, I'm working on being content right where I am. Giving my life up for the One who gave up His own.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11

- Kyla Denae

falling in love with jesus

There's something about serving others. About reaching out to people who may have never heard the Gospel. About sincerely, genuinely getting down to a child's level and simply showing them how much you care. There's something about it that lifts the fog of a world that's broken and hurting, and for a few simple, beautiful moments, shows the wonder that Jesus brought to earth.

This year at Christian Youth In Action© (a training camp Child Evangelism Fellowship© holds around the country to train teenagers how to effectively share their faith), I was a team leader for the first time. My team and I, consisting of two fourteen year old teenagers, went to a Boys' and Girls' Club, community centers that bring in kids during the year and teach them respect, discipline...or, at least, attempt to.

Community center 5 Day Clubs are always difficult. A lot of the kids in these places come from broken or troubled homes. Both of their parents--or their only parent--have to work all day long, and so the kids get bundled off to these budget daycare facilities, because it's all they can afford during the summer. The school systems are, very often, failing these kids spectacularly. They're faced with parents who don't care, or are abusive, or try really hard but can't make ends meet. Many of them have absent fathers--some because their fathers are in jail, some because their dad just up and disappeared one day. Some, the ones who really break my heart, have different daddies than their siblings, and their mom has a new guy these days.

As a consequence of all these factors, many of these kids have behaviour problems. Respect is earned, not freely given. And it can only be earned very, very slowly, by continually pouring into their lives. Everyone else has left them; the chances of your doing so, in their eyes, is extremely high. They see no need to listen to some teacher they don't know. Add into this a racial divide that's still very much alive in some of these places, and it becomes downright impossible.

We walked into this community center, and I could only glance back at my team and say one of those quick "dear Jesus, please help us," prayers. Neither of my team was particularly prepared for the challenge presented by these kids. One of my team members was a second-year in our program. He's a great teacher, but he's also very focused. He has to focus entirely upon his lesson, or he'll lose it...and the discipline problems in this club didn't help the whole focus thing. My other team member was a first-year, a little fourteen year old girl who's almost whiter than I am, with perfect hair and nails and a bit of germophobia.

To say that I was a bit nervous about the outcome of this club would be an understatement. I could handle it. But I was the team leader. My job was to sit in the back of the room, observe, write things down on sheets of paper, and pray really hard that my team wouldn't tank. Okay, maybe that last bit isn't technically on the job description, but it fits. So that's what I did. For five days, I helped how I could, I gave pointers, I prayed for my team, and I loved the kids in our club. I loved them with every bit of me.

It was a hard club, I'll tell you that. My team wasn't quite sure what to do with them. Some of them smelled bad, and my poor little germophobe didn't know what to do with them. Some of them wouldn't sit down for love or money--or, what was more immediate, the promise of candy. Some of them were attentive and got as close as they could to the teacher. Some could answer every question at the end, but during the lesson looked as if they weren't listening at all...and did their hardest to distract everyone around them. My team wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to love these kids. How just standing up and teaching them a lesson constituted loving them at all. How they were supposed to reach into these kids' lives and make a difference.

How, in short, loving them was at all possible.

They're smelly.

They don't pay attention.

They're disrespectful.

They make snide comments about us.

They hate us.

Slowly, I got them to look past that...or, at least, attempted to. Yes, they're disrespectful. But God made them, and loves them. And it is here that loving others and loving Jesus intersects. Telling people about Christ--especially children, who Jesus loved above all others--seems to bring Jesus from the past, from the realm of abstract intellectual knowledge, and makes Him a present, living reality.

Christ lived and died. 

For each and every one of these smelly, disobedient kids. 

Christ gave His blood. 

For each child who turns around in their chair while they're supposed to be listening. 

Christ came alive again. 

For each child who complains as he's being led into the classroom on day three. 

When I really make an effort to think about the sacrifice Jesus made, about how much he suffered just for the love of sinful, horrible people who were, in that very moment, nailing him to one of the most brutal torture implements ever devised by human imagination, it's hard to ever despise the people you're trying to tell about Him. It makes it difficult to say bad things. It makes it difficult to undervalue those who've never heard that He did, in fact, make that sacrifice.

And as I ponder it, this incredible, immense sacrifice that was made on my behalf, it makes me fall in love, too. It makes me realize that, as I am loved, as Christ loved me, so these children are loved. And that's why the end of a 5 Day Club always makes me cry. Why I can only pray during our last few minutes with them, praying life and love and hope over them, praying for those who came so close to a knowledge of the Savior during the five days, yet still fell short of quite getting it, of fully grasping it, of understanding the truth we'd been pouring into their lives.

Yesterday, I was reading in 1 Peter. I was actually studying for a lesson, but then my eye landed on this, and it so perfectly sums up the reason I do what I do.

Knowing that you were not redeemed with corruptible things... but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. He indeed was foreordained before the foundation of the world, but was manifest in these last times for you who through Him believe in God, who raised Him from the dead and gave Him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.

I am not redeemed by anything I can do, with corruptible things that will pass away. My deeds cannot ever atone for the other deeds I've done, can't begin to cover the sin I've committed. Yet Christ came, a lamb without any defect. He knew this would happen, eons before it came to pass. And yet He still came. He came to earth and died. He came to earth and came alive again, to be a testament for us, to make a new covenant forged under his blood, by his suffering.

And now my faith and hope are in Him, in His Father. And that is why I go to these places where the kids are tough and hurting and broken. It's why I go into a sick, broken world. Because I know the One who heals all hurts. And can I sit by and simply not take it? 

I've fallen in love with Jesus. Totally, irrevocably, utterly in love with Jesus. I love Him who first loved me. And now I can't help but speak of this faith and hope that He has given me.

- Kyla Denae

lasts and new beginnings

I've been MIA for the past three months, I know. There's a good reason for it, honest.

I was at the Children's Ministries Institute...which was, quite frankly, so amazingly beyond words that I can't even try to fit all of it into one blog post. So I shan't try, and shall instead just simply say: if you are at all interested in children's ministry of any sort, CMI is the way to go. It is the best training you can get anywhere, I'm about 99.9% certain.

So there's that.

Because I had such an amazing time, though, it was very difficult to say goodbye. Myself and my classmates (and a few of the staff people that live at headquarters) became very much like a family...so much so that our final, parting gift and "project" for the wall of pictures from past classes is an actual, legit family tree with our entire class mapped out as "relatives". No, we're not strange...

Well, okay, we are, but that's beside the point.

For the last two weeks, we were cataloging lasts.

Last trip to Walmart. 

Last game night. 

Last trip to the mall. 

Last walk to the lake. 

Last module. 

Last casual day. 

Last hugs.

Last goodbyes.

Lasts are sad. And yes, we'll all see each other again, but it'll never be the same as it was before, when we were all living at headquarters and seeing God do great and mighty things all around us, and being in the midst of such a spirit of prayer and encouragement. We'll never be in that exact same situation, with those exact same people again. Because we're all changing.

I'm changing. My life is changing, moving on, growing, expanding. I'm about to start talking with the local CEF committee, looking at possible employment with them. I'll change as I find ministry partners, and change as I begin ministry, and all around the country, my classmates will be changing, too--getting married, or finding their own employment or getting a car or buying a dog. So all those lasts add up to one gigantic last. And that's sad.

But at the same time, it's kind of amazing. All those lasts add up to a chance to find a beginning, too. Yeah, our time at CMI is over, and that's really sad. I've cried a couple times. And I'll always love those memories--because my CMI family is amazing. But now, it's time to move on, and to grow and change and simply Be.

Jeremiah 29:11 is a verse that came up a lot during my time at CMI. Our entire class took this as sort of an encouragement verse, the place we went to when things looked like they weren't going well, and I love the two verses immediately after it, too.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.

Corrie Ten Boom once said that "In the center of a hurricane there is absolute peace and quiet. There is no safer place than in the center of the will of God."

A little known fact about me is that I hate change. I really do. I love it, but I hate it, all at the same time. Change means the unfamiliar. Change means doing something I'm not good at, am not experienced with. And it's pride that makes that 'bad', yes, but there it is. So as I step out into this new beginning, into this adult world of ministry and teacher training and pastor calls and ministry coordination...I'm scared silly. But God knows the plans He has for me. I am safe in the center of His will. And in the end, it will be enough to stand before His throne and hear him say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

- Kyla Denae

perfectly laid plans

this post was originally written in the late months of 2010, just after I'd been accepted to go to China. I found it in one of my old notebooks, and liked it so much that I felt the need to share it. It's also rather relevant to my situation now, so that's nice.

I have  come to a realization: It doesn't matter what I want, God is going to blow my plans away.

You see, until recently, I had a plan. This November I was going to get a job. Next summer, I was going to maybe intern at CEF, though my thoughts mainly went along the line of maybe taking a summer off from money concerns, beefing up my bank account a little so I could buy a car and stuff. 2012 would come and I'd start fundraising for a trip to China.

Perfect, right? The most amazing balance of 'Jesus-work' and 'me-work'. Yup, just peachy.

Until God dumped this organization into my lap. It started innocently enough. I wanted to find a video of a Zambian praise song. Well, I found one...and a whole bunch more. Navigating to the webpage of this organization--Global Expeditions--I was thrilled to discover they had an opportunity for China. Great. You know, maybe as a survey trip in 2012...

no.

now.

or at least, next year.

2011.

you, china.

And there went my perfect plan.

So here I sit, contemplating massive mysteries. Mysteries like--"Why can't I have my perfect life?" (I'd be miserable), "Why now?" (because there's no time like the present), "How will I raise $4,000 in less than a year?" (Jehovah owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He has it covered) and, most importantly, "Why me?"

This one I've contemplated many times over the ten years my call has been present. I am a 5"7, redheaded, mayonnaise-white Texan who likes hot cocoa and hates dirt, loves culture but hates breaking out of her comfort zone...

I have to wonder...is God quite sure I'm the right one?

Someone once told me that God only calls those He knows are the ones for the job. God has something for me to do. I have no idea what, but apparently there's something. Even if that "something" is one soul, one life, one changed moment...well, that's enough for me. And in the end, God's plans always turn out way more awesome than mine do, anyway.

- Kyla Denae

i will decide what to do once i decide

There's this really funny thing about my future that I'd like to share with you. I'm never quite sure what's going to happen in it.

Now, I'm fairly certain what's going to be happening with me for the next four or five months, at least at this point. I'm going to be working, and then attending the Children's Ministry Institute. After that...well...I'm not quite sure.

I usually take long missions trips in the summers, or at least I have for the past three summers. I've been to three different continents and come home to my own. I've made friends in three countries, friends who have often gone back home to even more countries--from China to Taiwan and Canada and Mongolia, from Zambia to South Africa and Zimbabwe, from Romania to Hungary and Germany.

But for the first time since I was fourteen, I'm not planning on...anything. At this point, anything after April is one big, fat question mark. And even said question marks looks vaguely confused, like it was drawn by a kid with ADHD who's just gone on a massive sugar binge and can't draw straight to save his life. In other words, I'm really, really (really) not sure what's going to be happening in my life.

And the funny thing is, I'm really okay with that. I'm okay with not stressing about where I'm going to get the money to meet my deadlines, and having to buy clothes to go overseas, and not having to worry about visas and passports and plane tickets and what happens if my plane goes down and I land on a deserted island with polar bears and ominous messages left random places with Others living on the island that all the survivors have to learn to live with and eventually we'll all die and end up in some light-infested afterlife-esque scenario. That sounds eerily familiar. But you get my point.

And even though I'm still having to worry about money (I'm not freaking out I'm not freaking out I'm not freaking out omw i've got to have $3,000 more by January 23 what is happening my life is spinning out of control help), and I'm still going to have to buy new clothes, and there are problems of transportation to worry about--real, genuine concerns, all of them--it's refreshing, in a way. I have something to worry about that doesn't involve culture shock and new foods and strange languages. I don't have to worry that I'll mispronounce a word this summer and end up in a duel that will end my life. You know.

At the moment, my life is so shaping itself that I'll be at home next summer, working with our local Child Evangelism Fellowship branch, being the summer missions coordinator and reaching out to the community in my hometown. And even though I still long to be a missionary overseas, and I still want to go back to China, and there are so many places I want to travel to and experience...I'm okay with that. I'm okay with staying put, with trusting God that He's got the plans this time. Because if there's one thing I most definitely don't want to do, it's go against Him just because I've got this agenda, this idea that I have to go somewhere every summer and reach people for Him.

Right now, Amarillo is quite a big enough mission field. It's not the most glamorous, attention-grabbing job. I'm not going to have any eyes popping or excited 'wows' as I tell people that yes, I'll be staying home and helping teenagers run 5 Day Clubs while trying to get new Good News Clubs lined up, and would you like to help us?, but I truly think that's what God has for me this time around. 2014 might be different. Hey, summer 2013 might even end up shaping differently than I expect. Because if there's one thing I've definitely learned about my God, it's that he delights in springing surprises on people (I get this idea that God likes to craft delicious surprises for us, and he sprinkles them throughout our paths, and just waits to watch us open them. As we get closer and closer to what he's planned, he starts getting ever more excited, like a grandparent who knows his present is waiting at the bottom of the stack, and just can't wait to see the delight on his grandchild's face. And the minute the child actually opens it, he's almost as excited as the kid because, wow, look at how happy he is. I think if God is just as awesome and wonderful as the Bible says, he has to get a kick out of how happy he can make us...that, and he has a sense of humor).

But if that happens, and I get a delicious surprise, whether it be a call in the middle of the night that hey, we'd quite like you to come stay with us for three months, could you arrange to get a flight to Thailand in the next three days?, or if it's a simple, friendly call from someone I've not seen in awhile...I'm quite sure I'll thoroughly enjoy it.

And if I don't, I'm sure I'll enjoy that, too. Because why are we put where we are but to enjoy it?

- Kyla Denae

carrying a message

One time I had a little kid ask me one of those really deep, philosophical questions that no little kid has any business asking. You know the ones--things just come out of their mouth, and you're left standing there, staring in shock down at their little faces, tipped back to you with a shy, sincere little smile, confident of the answer that you, their teacher/sister/older-person-at-the-moment will have a satisfactory answer for them. And then you just sort of stand there like, "uhhhh...where did that come from again why i don't understand even i don't have thoughts like that why is it that children are shown things not fair asdfjkl;"

Anyway. The question in this instance was very simple, and I actually had an answer for it, though I wasn't quite sure how to deal with it at the time.

why can't we go be with God right now?

do we have to die first?

and if so, why?

doesn't dying hurt?

why can't God just take us to heaven right now?

doesn't he love us?

Yes, he does. He loves us more than any of us can imagine. So why, exactly, does he want us to stay here on earth, in the midst of so much depravity and heartache and just plain stupidity? Why can't he take us to heaven--and since we know he can, technically, why doesn't he? Surely that would be simpler, removing his people permanently from the world?

Instead, we're supposed to live in a world that is not our home, in a place that is ruled by the Prince of the powers of the air, a place where disease and starvation and corruption and sin run rampant, where people kill people and justify it, where children get caught in the middle of armies and armies run roughshod over their people, where we can never hope to escape from the things we know to be wrong. So why? Why is it that God expects us to stay here? Wouldn't our Christian life be more pure if we were removed from all that?

Well, of course. And God could take us to heaven, and we could live with him the moment we believed in Christ. But God doesn't do something--or neglect to do something--just because. There's always a purpose. It may be difficult to see. But there is a reason, and there is one here. I believe it can be found in 2 Corinthians 5, verse 20.

Now then we are ambassadors for Christ...

An ambassador is a person tasked to take a message for their home country to a foreign one. They are the public face of their nation in the foreign country, the one that brings the two parties together and links them, leads them to a bridge where common ground can be found. To understand just how amazing this task as an ambassador is, and what its purpose for the Christian is, let's look at the verses that come just before.

And all things are of God, who has reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and has given to us the message of reconciliation; that is, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses to them; and has committed unto us the word of reconciliation.

Through Christ, we have been reconciled to God--which basically means we've become his son in his eyes. We have been given the righteousness of God the Son, have been transformed and converted from the inside out, radically changed from a sin-laden state to a glorious life of freedom. We have been brought into harmony, our debt has been mitigated, God's sense of justice has been appeased, we have been reunited with God. And now, it is our job to be ambassadors, to take the message of reconciliation, of this radical change, to the rest of the world.

Put simply, the reason God has changed us and we are still here on earth is because he's not finished with us yet. We have a purpose. We are supposed to carry a message--the most important message in the universe.

- Kyla Denae
full disclosure: 99% of this post was inspired by a missionary to Alaska, Bro. Carter, who came through our church last night and preached on this passage. It was amazing, and I wanted to share. So there's that.

life changing?

the people who stay behind on missions trips have come to expect big stories. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. There very often are big stories. I've had some of my own, from Zambia and China. I saw God work in mighty ways in my own life, and sometimes, in brief glimpses, I saw just what he was doing in other people's lives, too. My outlook was radically changed by the poverty in Zambia and by the atheism in China, by the different aspects of a lost world strangled by starvation in one hand and by materialism in the other. But I've had trouble pulling together my thoughts about Romania, and not really because anything big and spectacular happened.

Yes, there were moments that still shine in my memory. There was Rebeca and Estera, two sisters who followed me around at VBS. There was Bethany and Cami, the missionary's daughters, who I grew really close to, and who I'm pretty sure were the people I was sent to Romania to minister to. There were other times: when I stood in the middle of a sauna that we once called an auditorium and taught to seventy kids, via a translator, about the miracle that brought Philip to a lone Ethiopian man on a desert road and then carried him away once his task had been taught and, despite the heat, I didn't feel hot or uncomfortable at all. There was the feeling of closeness to God as I stood above Budapest and, despite the people around me, looked out at a city full of all lights except spiritual ones, and realized that He was still there, though few claim His name. There was the moment when we were all in a castle and stood in the great hall and sang Amazing Grace. The words echoed from the rafters, filling me with a sense of how awesome that grace actually is, how amazing it is, how utterly awesome God must be (and also, as a side-note, discovered that Amazing Grace really shouldn't be sung outside of a place that can make it sound so beautiful just because of the acoustics).

But despite that, there was no life-changing moment that I can point to. There was nothing that broke my heart. The thing that came closest was, perhaps, when I was talking to Mrs. Tyler and discovered that there are only a handful of actual Gospel-preaching churches in Hungary...but that had very little to do with my trip as a whole. I suppose that, besides that, the one thing I really discovered on this trip is that I'm not called to Romania. I mean, I loved it. I have made friends there that will live in my heart forever, that I still pray for, who someday I'd love to go back and visit. But I can't picture myself living there for a long period of time like I can in, say, Zambia, or even China. God sent me to Romania for a purpose, I know that, he put that desire in my heart, and there were things that I believe I accomplished. But for the first time, I think I went to a place where I was doing the ministering, not necessarily being ministered to, and a place that is now closed to me, at least for the time being. That door has closed, my purpose there is over for the foreseeable future.

I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. If that's "life changing" or not. Either way, I doubt anybody would want me to answer the question of "what did you learn in Romania?" with, "I'm not supposed to be a missionary there."

But it's true. And here I stand, waiting with eager expectation for the next door to open.

- Kyla Denae

so it's been awhile

First it was our internet. And then it was a two-week trip to Lubbock. And then it was still our internet. And then it was a two week trip to Romania. So I have reasons for not having posted. Honest.
To begin with the first--our internet went down, apparently because our modem failed. We now have a new one and, while the 'net is still not hooked up to my laptop, I'm no longer suffering in the land of unconnectedness. Did you know that practically all my friends live on the internet? And those that I know in real life still mostly communicate with me via the internet? It's kind of depressing, actually, and I could probably derive some sort of lesson about the breakdown of communication in modern American culture from this happening, but I'm too lazy and jet-lagged to bother with it at the moment.

Christian Youth In Action (a nine day training program hosted by Child Evangelism Fellowship all over the US for local teens every year) was amazing this year. I got to know some people I'd not before, made some new friends, and had an awesome time. Ah, memories. You know that group of people you might have that are like a second family, who you can't wait to be around, who are always supportive and encouraging and, yeah, they have their problems and occasionally there's dramatic moments where we all want to strangle each other, but they're still epic? That's what the CYIA'ers are like. And I sort of love it.

As to Romania, I'll hopefully be making a few posts about that at some other time in the next few days. For now, let me just say that I'm trying to process, to decide what I think, to dredge up some memories from the jet-lagged morass. I'll get back to you on how that's going. But for now, pache (peace).

- Kyla Denae

final countdown

We're nearing the last days before summer begins. In less than two weeks, I will be leaving home to head two hours south on a nine-day journey that I've taken twice before. And it's going to be amazing, because I get to spend time with friends I've not seen in a couple years, spend time with an absolutely awesome God, and teach kids about said awesome God.

In just over 30 days (one month. one. month.) I will be driving to Dallas/Fort Worth to get on a plane for Frankfurt, Germany.

God has something planned for this summer. And I don't just mean safe traveling mercies, or maybe a mildly fun time overseas. A year ago, I had a desire to go to Romania. I expected to maybe be counting down to another GE trip at this point. That didn't happen, and instead I'm going with my church. But that desire hasn't changed, and whatever's going to go down, I'm confident it's going to be something that's going to blow the lid off my expectations--again. And I'm so ready.

O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsts for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; To see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. - Psalm 63:1-2

- Kyla Denae

in fifty three days

The countdown has officially begun! In thirty days, I shall be heading two hours south to participate in Christian Youth In Action 2012, which shall be amazingly awesome, and filled with good times with friends, much squealing and laughter, and probably more than a little insanity.

Just twenty days after that (or something like that), I'll be climbing into a bus and heading to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where I and a group of twenty other people shall get onto a very large jet plane and fly to Frankfurt, Germany where we shall catch a connecting flight to somewhere in Hungary. I think. We shall then be continuing on to Timisoara, Romania, where we shall have two weeks of awesome ministry and team-building while sight-seeing and generally having fun times.

So let the insanity begin.

- Kyla Denae

wherein kyla gets a job

So, I have a job now.

I'm like all official and stuff

I even have a nametag.

I am now officially a front-counter, ringer-upper, drive-through-ish, dining-room-attender person at Chick-fil-a. Yes. It's actually not that bad; I've been working there for about two weeks now, and I quite like it.

But as a consequence of this change, I've had very little free time. It's really odd, being on a strict schedule. I've never had to be this conscientious of how I spend my time, where practically every minute is counted in order to get me where I need to go 'on time'.

I suppose there could be some deep, challenging lesson there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it.

In other news

I am fully funded for Romania!

Yes. This makes me very happy. It's partly due to a reader of this blog

- Kyla Denae

trusting god for the water

A few nights ago, I was talking to one of my friends on Facebook. He's currently stationed overseas for his job, and we talk often about different stuff--usually writerly things, and occasionally we stray into more Biblical matters. This night, I was telling him about my deadlines and how they stress me out, and he made a very interesting analogy.

When I was fundraising for China, it was relatively easy. I mean, there were still times when I was tearing my hair out, thinking, God, this isn't going to work. But it always came, and I was fully funded days before my trip. But this time around, for Romania, I'm finding it infinitely more difficult, for whatever reason. To contrast these two, I needed $6,000 for China. For this trip, I'm needing about $2,500. Big difference there.

This friend, Travis, likened my struggle to that of the Israelites while they were wandering in the desert. They had no water. They'd run out. And here they stood, shouting at God and Moses and each other and anybody else who'd sit still long enough to be yelled at. Crossing the Red Sea had been so easy! Had God brought them here just so he could starve them? Was this really His will--for them to wander in this forsaken wilderness and slowly get dried up to death?

Of course, we know how that ended: Moses struck the rock as God had told him, and water came out. Maybe God's simply making me wait for my rock. (I do wish he wouldn't, but if there's one thing I've learned about God, it's that he doesn't particularly care about my wants most of the time.)

- Kyla Denae

i'm operating on a deadline here

Last night, my sister and I went out "canvassing" in a neighborhood a few miles from where we live. Basically, we went door-to-door and sweetly asked if our kind neighbors would be willing to help us fundraise for Romania. In fifteen minutes of walking and knocking, we came away with about $50, which was really good. Of course, most of it was on her side--she got over $40, while I was stuck with $10. Apparently my almost-adult face doesn't inspire as much confidence as her sweet little stuttering self.

Oh well.

Of course, I have a deadline. So does she, to be technical, but meh. We both must have over $1,000 in our accounts by this Friday. And, predictably, I am sick this Sunday. I got queasy last night, and almost got sick a few times. And it stuck around 'till this morning. Really?

God, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to do something for you. I mean, what's the deal? You say I'm supposed to go to Romania, and then promptly make me sick almost non-stop from December to March before then making me sick on the last actual fundraising day I have before my deadline. Not to quibble with the creator of the universe or anything, but that seems kind of silly.

So whatever your plan is, I would greatly appreciate it if it went into effect soon. Y'know.

In other words, dear readers, I would greatly appreciate prayer. I'm trying to do more praying than worrying, and trusting God in all this, but...well, you know me.

- Kyla Denae

i'm sure those people over there can help

What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him? If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, And one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. - James 2:14-17

I have heard this verse taught many times. We're supposed to take care of the poor, those who are unable to take care of themselves, etc. It's taken by the left to mean that we're supposed to steal from people to give their money to other people. It's taken by more conservative members of the Christian community to mean we're supposed to send aid to other countries, to places where people are starving and, maybe--in a pinch--to that homeless shelter down the street. In whatever way this idea manifests itself, there's always one thing that is central to it: we are, in some way, supposed to care for the less fortunate members of our own community.

It is odd, however, that the execution of this idea doesn't seem to extend to those people that are truly our brothers and sisters... that is, those people who sit next to us in the church pew, drift their way through our buildings, and then return to their homes. Many times, we're none the wiser about what our fellow Christians are going through. And, if we are, there's this sort of conversation:

"Sally and her husband are going through some real trouble. Joe's gonna have to have some surgery. They really need prayer."
"They have those three kids, don't they? And a baby on the way?""Yeah. But I heard that there's a new government program; if they apply for it, they can get medical assistance, which should help them feed those kids."
"I'll pray they'll be able to get into that program, then. It would be a shame if they had to sell their house or ended up being homeless!"

I have seriously heard exchanges almost exactly like this one many times in churches, between members of a Christian community. There seems to be this idea in America that, if we fall on hard times, the government will take care of us. After all, what are we paying taxes for? Surely the government can help out!

And so, to all intents and purposes, we look at these brothers and sisters of ours and say, "hey, you know--I heard you were on hard times. I'm going to pray for you. Go on home now, and you stay warm and fed, alright?" And then we mosey on home to our Sunday afternoon dinners and our comfortable lives where, while there might be occasional hiccups in the smooth passage, we don't have to worry about breakfast tomorrow morning.

But aren't we sort of missing the point? Aren't we completely ignoring what James told us to do? Yes, there are many great charity programs that are run by churches. They feed a lot of people, both in America and out. Money is being constantly sent overseas to buy cornmeal, rice, and even meat for small schools and churches in African and Asian countries. Some of those people, yes, are our brothers and sisters in Christ. But we're ignoring the problems right under our noses. We're so busy with feeling spiritual--setting our Facebook status to a really great Bible verse, trying to raise awareness for our newest pet cause in Africa, campaigning to make abortion illegal--that we forget that without our faith manifesting itself into the physical realm, it means absolutely nothing.

There's a saying I once heard. I don't know who originally said it. It's probably as old as Christianity itself. But it's simply this: If you can't be a missionary at home first, you're not going to be an effective missionary elsewhere.

Until you start taking care of things close to home, you can't be an effective crusader for women's rights in Afghanistan. Until you are willing to help out a family in need that goes to your church, you can't be an effective volunteer at a food bank. Until you are actively living out the things you say you believe, it doesn't count for anything. God doesn't care about rhetoric; he cares about action.

Can it be difficult, thinking about making sacrifices for our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ? Of course. Nobody ever said it would be easy. I'm sure that the people who were reading James' letter thought he was crazy. "What? He's saying we should all chip in like those crazy Christians in Antioch and have everything common and help each other? What about the poor people around us? What about them? Surely they can go find help elsewhere--they have families, support systems!"

But they didn't, and they don't. The Church was designed to be a support system. When the author of Acts talked about how the early Christians had "all things common", that's what he meant. He meant that they all chipped in when something was needed. But we've become so focused on our own needs, our wants, the things that are immediately in front of us, that all we can say to Christians who need help is, "Well, that sucks. I'm pretty sure the government runs a fund for losers like you...good luck. Go eat and keep your house warm this winter."

If a brother or sister...

- Kyla Denae

92 days. $1500.

Well.

I once again find myself in the position of needing to raise a lot of money in a very short space of time. Pray for me. Wish me luck. Whatever. Allons-y.

- Kyla Denae