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

the power of the almighty

I'm currently reading through the minor prophets. I love the minor prophets, in a rather odd way. They're little snapshots of a time when Israel was slowly drifting away from God, getting further and further away. Yeah, there are brief moments of revival; Zephaniah's warnings are believed to have been the impetus behind Josiah's reforms of the religious system in Judah. Yet time and again, no matter how strident the warnings, the people always seem to drift farther from God yet again, forever forgetting just how great God is.

This is a common thread throughout the minor prophets. The people get so entrenched into their materialism, into their deep apathy, into their worship of other gods, that they forget how amazing the one true God truly is, how well He's taken care of them.

Hosea condemns this drifting in likely the strongest language--

For their mother hath played the harlot: she that conceived them hath done shamefully.

...the spirit of whoredoms hath caused them to err, and they have gone a whoring from under their God. (Hosea 1:5, 4:12)

Joel speaks in the midst of physical destruction, just after a plague of locusts that is a judgment upon the people of Judah for their sin of idolatry. Amos rails against Israel's sins of gluttony and drunkenness, their lack of compassion for the poor, and their immorality.Obadiah speaks of Edom's attacks against "thy brother Jacob". Jonah's whole dilemma centered around the sin and immorality of Nineveh, as does Nahum's. Micah speaks of the greediness of the people of Jerusalem, of their apathy toward God, and their lack of trust in Him. In chapter two, he enjoins them to

Arise ye, and depart; for this is not your rest: because it is polluted, it shall destroy you, even with a sore destruction. If a man walking in the spirit and falsehood do lie, saying, I will prophesy unto thee of wine and of strong drink; he shall even be the prophet of this people.

Micah is referring to the place of rest and joy that was promised to the people of Israel all the way back in the Torah. Deuteronomy refers to the inheritance that God had promised (12:9). Even then, they'd not yet come to it, even within sight of the promised land of Canaan. Micah is warning the people that even this, this land of seeming plenty that he's talked about in the preceding verses, still isn't the one of ultimate rest that God has promised to his people. It is an illusion, built upon the greed of people, independent of the power of God; they've built it seemingly all on their own...and, in consequence, they've begun to listen to false prophets who speak to them only of further prosperity, rather than the judgment that Micah warns is coming.

Habbakkuk warns against wanton war, against robbing from others and enriching yourself through it. Zephaniah tells of Judah's spiritual adultery--trying to serve both the one true God and Molech, covering all the bases, per se. Verse twelve of chapter one tells of the people of Judah. They are

...[settled in complacency: they] say in their heart, The Lord will not do good, neither will he do evil.

They had denied the power that was God's, and refused to see the power that He held over all of them.

Yet consistently, these same prophets speak out powerfully about the power of God, affirming it over and over to God's chosen people, reminding them of His greatness. Habakkuk praises God most of all because

the Lord God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.

Nahum takes the path of reminding the people of Nineveh of the destructive power of God's wrath:

But with an overrunning flood he will make an utter end of the place thereof, and darkness will pursue his enemies.

Jonah documents God's saving grace, not just toward Nineveh, but towards Jonah himself. Obadiah highlights the illumination that will come after judgement (verse 18). Amos simply shows how great God truly is.

For, lo, he that formeth the mountains, and createth the wind, and declareth unto man what is his thought, that maketh the morning darkness, and treadeth upon the high places of the earth, The Lord, the God of hosts, is his name.

Joel speaks of God's saving power, His ability to follow through on His word, His power to do great things. Hosea declares that God is a loving spouse to a wayward Israel, constantly drawing her back, and He has power over all the angels.

My favorite passages that demonstrate this attention to God's power, however, are found in Micah and Zephaniah. Micah chapter 7 talks about how God is going to build up his people once more--regardless of their sin, regardless of how far they strayed; it is only temporary. Micah gives hope. Even despite all the transgressions, God will still hear. He still cares. We are His flock, His heritage, and He will build us up again--and "the nations shall see and be confounded at all their might..." He continues on, and gives the most amazing picture of God's power toward us.

Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he retaineth not his anger for ever, because he delighteth in mercy.

He is all-powerful. He will cow all nations. He is supreme. And yet he forgives. He cares about us, so far beyond what we can ever imagine. Zephaniah continues this theme, in chapter 3.

The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

He is great, yet He saves. He is great, yet He rejoices over us. He is great, yet He will allow us to rest in His love. He is great, but he sings over me with great joy. God is mighty, yet He cares so wonderfully for each one of us. This was the thing Israel was consistently forgetting--God's power, and God's powerful love. I hope I never forget that truth, because it continues to amaze me every time I really, truly think about it.

- 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

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.

but

'But' can be one of the most beautiful words. Think about it. But signals a reversal, a redemption, a change in thought. Such-and-such is true, but. I especially like it when I come across this word in the Bible. Very often, it means something exceptionally good is about to come along. Just like with this verse:

And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God. - 1 Corinthians 5:11

For some context--Paul has just finished talking about lawsuits between believers, and then gone into the varieties of people that won't see the kingdom of God. Thieves, fornicators, covetous, drunkards...all of these and more have no hope of inheriting the kingdom. They have been severed forever from God by the things they've done. They had a choice, they chose wrong, end of story.

Or is it?

The first part of this verse lets us know that Paul knows the church at Corinth intimately. He knows that the people in this church have committed sins--grievous ones. In fact, more than that, he knows himself! In 1 Timothy, he called himself a 'chief sinner', basically saying "I'm a bigger sinner than all y'all." This verse starts off with an acknowledgement of that fact, of the fact that every one is a sinner, that none of us can inherit the kingdom of God, that there is none righteous, no not one.

but.

but you are washed.

but you are sanctified.

but you are justified.

Yes, we've all done things that immediately disqualify us from going to heaven. Yes, we've all done things that disqualify us from having a relationship with Christ. Yes, we've all done things that disqualify us from experiencing the peace and joy that comes with that relationship.

but.

In the name of the Lord Jesus, by the indwelling Holy Spirit of God, we have been washed. We have been sanctified. We have been justified. We are no longer our own, we are God's, we are no longer what we were, we have been dramatically reversed, like a great big 'but' has been made into the sum total of our lives. Our past record has been erased, and in its place have been put two words:

but Jesus.

- Kyla Denae

confidence

It's come upon me off and on over the years--this small voice, deep inside, that insists upon telling me that I'm not good enough, or not pretty enough, or that if I'd just act this certain way, or dress this certain way, or talk this certain way, I'd be popular. I've worried that my personality is the wrong sort, that my fashion sense is horrible, that my body isn't attractive...overall, I've had just about the same thoughts that most humans have at some time or another, directed towards myself. I'm sure we've all been there at one time or another; it seems to be a uniquely human trait, this problem of looking at ourselves and seeing nothing but problems. Perhaps it's just a side-product of being self-aware and sentient.

But amidst all this worrying about what other people will think of me, I've come to realize something. I can't make everyone happy. Someone in the world, somewhere, will find me annoying, or be upset about something I do and, in the grand scheme of things, only one person's opinion matters--one person in the whole universe, and that's God. And he, as always, has made it very clear what he thinks:

I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. - Psalm 139:14 

We are 'fearfully and wonderfully' made--there is awe surrounding our forming, tiny miracles from the beauty of our growth in the womb until now, as our bodies constantly remake themselves literally every day. We are wonderful creations, in so many ways.

Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. - Matthew 6:27-29

We cannot change our appearance through conscious thought, yet God has provided; he will continue to do so. We have been fashioned with as much care as the flowers that we adore so much. Take a peek out your window, or take a walk in a park. Take a moment to just pause and marvel at the variety of different colors and types of beauty God has created. You are one of those types, whether you believe it or not.

Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. - Proverbs 31:30

 The definitions of the world change. God's never will.

He hath made everything beautiful in his time... - Ecclesiastes 3:11a

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace... - Isaiah 52:7a

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair... - Song of Solomon 1:15

 - Kyla Denae

the power of the grave

In church this morning, our choir will have sung a beautiful song called "I Will Arise". It's one of my favorites (and I'm slowly getting over the fact that I'm sick today and so didn't get a chance to sing it one last time. Alas), mostly because the words are just so amazingly beautiful. And the music is good. And it's stirring and wonderful and I love singing it because it's in this really nice middle-range, and... okay, I'll shut up now.

I will arise
like the sun at dawn's first light
I will arise
You can bury me that day
Seal the tomb and turn away
but the power of the grave will be denied
I will arise

Sometimes, in the midst of typical American Christianity, we forget the truth of the resurrection. It becomes just another one of those holidays that we celebrate with special church services. We go to church, say "yay, Jesus" and then go home for food and naps and go on with our lives. And we miss that moment, that one little moment, of just standing in the presence of God and saying, "You're the most amazing thing existence can offer. Thank you."

We forget how amazing his promise and its fulfillment was. Can you imagine Jesus' disciples sitting on a hillside somewhere in Israel, being told by their beloved friend, leader, and teacher that he's going to die? And not only is he going to die, but then he's going to come alive again? Maybe the second part didn't make as much of an impact on them. He couldn't die--he was God! They believed this with every bit of themselves, or tried to say they did.

But then he did die. Jesus Christ, their friend, died. Jesus Christ, God of the universe, died. Petty concerns faded. All at once, they were faced with the indisputable truth that they were going to wrap him in burial clothes and stick him in a borrowed grave, roll a rock over the door, and go back to their mundane existences. They didn't want to let it go; they gathered in a rented room instead, clustered together and clinging to one another like the last refuge of sanity. Afraid that the Jews would come get them, too. Alone. Feeling like there was nothing in the world to cling onto. Perhaps praying within themselves, shouting at God and asking why he'd let them waste three years of their lives if he was just going to take it all away from them.

They'd forgotten. They'd forgotten the promise he'd made them. Either that, or they'd simply discarded it as idle fancy. God can't die, they might have thought. Jesus died, hence we must have been wrong. Perhaps some of them still clung to faith in the face of uncertainty, not willing to let go of the knowledge that somehow, some way, Jesus would make it right because that's what he always did.

Death will have no victory
the grave will have no sting
the promise of the living one
the whole world will see 

Four women picked their way through a dark garden. The sun hadn't yet risen; it was just the right hour for them to know that it was no longer the Sabbath. They were following God's law to the letter, still going through the motions of life while heading to say goodbye to the dead. Joseph of Arimathea had given his own tomb up for their friend, a fact they were thankful for. The thought of leaving their friend and son and brother to be married in an unmarked criminal's grave was too painful. At least, this way, they'd be able to say goodbye properly, like good Jewish women.

Perhaps the first thing they saw were the two guards, slumped over in the pathway. Perhaps not. Perhaps the guards had already woken and picked themselves up, running away in fear when they saw the open grave. Perhaps the gaping hole left by the stone's absence was the first thing they saw. Either way, their first thought was obviously not that Jesus had fulfilled his promise. It was that he had been stolen, that some thief had come and taken away his body. Only later would this first impression be corrected, when Jesus came to visit them in their hideaway, appearing out of nowhere.

And even today, two thousand years after four women first discovered an empty tomb and then saw their risen Messiah, we still remember that event. And whatever we call it--Easter or Resurrection Sunday or whatever--the whole world has indeed seen and will continue to see the promise of Christ and his redemption.

Happy Easter.

- Kyla Denae

send the morning breeze

I'm not a morning person. I'm really, spectacularly, unequivocally not a morning person. I'm so emphatically not a morning person that it's given rise to several family jokes about waking the "bear", mostly from my dad (yeah, thanks dad). The past few days, though, I've been finding myself waking a bit earlier than usual, just as the sun rises. We had daylight savings time, so that might have something to do with it. But, since I'm awake anyway, I've been heading out onto our back deck to do my devotions

And I have to say that I love it. There's something about the early morning that makes the world seem alive. It's just waking up from sleep--the first rays of the sun shining on the dew that's just fallen, a few sleepy birds twittering as they begin their day. Flowers are opening toward the sky, their scent seeming stronger because exhaust fumes haven't yet blown their way into my yard. It makes me realize why David wrote

O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; To see thy power and thy glory... - Psalm 63:1, 2

For whatever reason, it's easier to focus on God in the half-chill of the morning. Maybe it's because our minds aren't already taken up by all the junk that clutters them in the course of a normal day. We can fully devote everything we are to that one moment, to that one place.

- 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

Right on Time

So. Sometimes, I find God's timing nothing short of...well, pretty hilarious, actually.

I mean that in a very, very good way.

Being the control freak and worrier that I am (anybody remember the absolutely frantic posts I wrote back in April? I do.) I've already begun to spazz about the roughly $5,000 I'm going to need for my planned summer activities.

My word, why do I do this to myself?

Basically, I'm going to be focusing on Romania fundraising. That's about $2,000. I'm hoping to be able to go to Zambia on $3,000. But, back in September, it seemed like a smart idea to tell God that I wasn't going to start fundraising for that trip--I wanted to focus on Romania, and if he wanted me to go to Zambia, I'd trust him to provide.

See, this is why I do things like this to myself. I think that I'm actually going to be able to exercise a little bit of trust. But I don't. Silly, silly me.

This is probably more of just a commentary on my character more than anything else. Of course I began stressing about it. I started thinking about all the reasons God might not want me to go to Zambia, then I started thinking about not going to Zambia, and then I thought that maybe not going to Zambia might be better. Then I thought about little African children and their singing and their playing, and that ended that.

Because you see, I love Africa. But I still don't know why I do this to myself.

And so the cycle begins again. Trusting, believing God will provide because, after all, I want to go to Zambia. But what if I want to go to Zambia, but God doesn't want me to go to Zambia? What will I tell the missionaries? What will I tell the people I've told about my potential trip? Will they feel let-down? Am I letting this trip become more about the people around me and my own desires than about God? Will that make God not want to let me go to Zambia? Will I not get to go to Zambia?

But I want to go to Zambia!

So here I sit, full of countless worries, and then the money issue plunks right back into my lap. Almost $4,000 before the first of the year? Please. You've told maybe half a dozen people you're planning to go to Zambia. And your blog readers. All four of them. Woopiee for you. You're not going to be able to go to Zambia. That's simply too much money, and God's obviously not going to just plunk it in your lap. Maybe you should start fundraising. Maybe you should just forget this whole thing you're doing. After all, this faith is passive. It doesn't do anything. It doesn't express itself in works. Sure, you're starting work for Romania, but that hardly counts.

And I think, for just a second, that maybe I should just give it up, forget the whole venture. Just be content with going to Romania.

And then my pastor preaches on the awe-inspiring faithfulness of God.

*"God is faithful..."

All the time, no matter our circumstances, no matter what we think he's doing, God is always, always faithful. He will never forget us, he will never forget our needs.

"That in every thing ye are enriched by him, in all utterance, and in all knowledge...So that ye come behind in no gift..."

As my pastor put it: 'we can have confidence in Him to accompany us as we serve and venture out for him and stretch in our serving Him.'

Ouch.

Okay, God.

Not quite what I expected.

But okay.

I think I'm ready to try out that whole trust thing again.

No, I've not gotten some big check. No, I still have absolutely no idea how God is going to provide for a $2,000 plane flight to Zambia, Africa before the first of the year. Not a single clue. I don't know by what means he's going to send that money. I haven't the foggiest. But one thing I do know.

He is always, always faithful. He always has been, He always will be.

And everything will work out for His glory. So here I am, trying yet again to set out on this journey of faith and make something of it other than a huge mess.

*Scriptures from 1 Corinthians 1:5, 7, 9

爱於耶穌,
~Liberty (紫涵)

Confidence and Glory

Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory in his presence. But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: That, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.

1 Corinthians 1:26-25-31

I find quite a bit of comfort in this passage. I'm not much at all. But through God, I am made wise and righteous...and it's only through him that I can be made so. I can have confidence--or, as this passage puts it, glory--in the fact that I am sanctified by the blood of Christ. I can worship him, glorify his name, with the knowledge that he has made me clean and called me to a great purpose...no matter how I looked before.

Not many wise after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called...

He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.

爱於耶穌,
~Liberty (紫涵)

The Psalms

سلام لكم في هذا اليوم

I love the Psalms. They're my favorite part of the Bible, except possibly John's four books. It's probably because, no matter what I'm going through, there's a Psalm for it. And anyway, who can't love passages like these?

"The Lord is m light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"
(Psalm 27:1)

"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him."
(Psalm 28:7)

"I will love thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust: my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from my enemies."
(Psalm 18:1-3)

"For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the Lord; I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him. The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times. Thou shalt keep them, O Lord, thou shalt preserve them from this generation forever."
(Psalm 12:5-7)

Yes, there are many great verses in the Bible that aren't contained in Psalms. But I love Psalms nontheless. Because it is beautiful.

爱於耶穌,
~Liberty