Jesus Fought for Me

I was watching a movie with my family the other night and beyond all the special effects and high action scenes, there was a human story about an absentee father trying to relate to his estranged 11 year old son.  At the emotional arc of the film, the frustrated father exasperatedly asks "What do you want from me?!"  To which his son responds, with tears in his eyes, "I want you to fight for me, that's all I've ever wanted."

Isn't that the truth?  As humans we long to be fought for.  We want to know we're valued enough for someone to risk their comfort, safety, and security for our own.  Whether it's a chivalrous gentleman defending our honor or a friend standing in our corner, we want someone to tell us we're worth it.  I know I do.

As I pondered this fictional son's heartbreaking request to his father, I was reminded of all the beautiful and valiant ways Jesus has fought for me.

When the doctors said I wasn't supposed to live past the age of 10, Jesus fought for me.

When fear crept into my heart and tried to overcome me, Jesus fought for me.

When there were more tears than laughter, Jesus fought for me. 

When financial provision seemed impossible, Jesus fought for me.

When I was so entangled in my own sin that I could not see His light, Jesus fought for me.

When I thought I was an orphan and alone, Jesus fought for me.

When I was heartbroken, Jesus fought for me.

When I ignored Him, Jesus fought for me.

When the world told me there was no way, Jesus fought for me.

When I felt rejected, Jesus fought for me.

When I told Him that I didn't need His help, Jesus fought for me.

When I was too weak to stand, Jesus fought for me.

When I was dead in my sin, Jesus fought for me.  Bled for me.  Died for me.

And He fights for me still.  Ever present and eternally faithful. 

Perhaps God created us with this need to be fought for so that when we see Jesus once again - riding on the clouds with blood on His robe and fire on His eyes - we would know...

He's coming for His Bride.

He's coming for me.  

He's coming to fight for me.

Straight-A Daughter

"I would send you a bouquet of newly
sharpened pencils if I knew your name and
address."  Tom Hanks in You've Got Mail

As of last Tuesday, a new semester has officially begun.  Aside from giving up reading for pleasure, free time, and sleeping in, I really love going back to school.  I love the structure of it.  I love buying new books with hopes of mastering their contents.  I love reading syllabuses and planning assignments.  And I've always secretly wanted to receive a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils during  the back to school season

Actually, I've loved learning for as long as I can remember.  I recall sitting in the backseat of our Toyota hatchback on long drives and asking my mom to quiz me with math problems and spelling words.  When I'm learning, it's like I can actually feeling my brain neurons firing and making connections.  Learning, growing, expanding.  I love that feeling.  Challenging my intellect is one of the things that makes me feel alive. 

This feeling simmered in my heart as I moved back home in 2010 to finish my undergrad.  I began taking classes, writing papers, and giving presentations, all to my heart's delight.  But there was something more beneath the surface than my pure love of learning... I had a record to keep.  You see, I've never gotten a B.  School has always been defined by one letter for me: A.  Luckily, academics came easy and I excelled.  But as middle school, high school, and my first couple years of college scrolled by with straight A's, it became more than nice fact or accomplishment.  It became my identity.

Isn't it funny how we, as humans, love to keep track of perfect records?  No cavities, no speeding tickets, no B's.  There's something in people that desperately wants to earn approval based on good behavior - me being chief among them.  I was so terrified of breaking my record and getting anything less than an A, that I would sacrifice relationships, sleep, and ultimately sanity to focus on my studies.  (Bursting into tears over 20 page term papers as if my world was crumbling can not be deemed sane in my opinion.)

The breaking point came last spring semester.  I was taking 18 credits at school, a Hebrew class on top of that, working 25 hours a week, and volunteering for a non-profit.  People would look at me in amazement when I described my schedule.  I was often asked, "How do you do it?"  Or boosted with the occasional, "Well, if anyone can do it, it's you Chelsea."  I would always respond with a light hearted laugh, shrug my shoulders, and say "Oh, you know" with a sparkling smile, as if it didn't phase me.  But in reality, I had stretched myself so thin that I was snapping in every direction.  The end of the semester found me with straight A's, but little else.  I was exhausted, burn out, and hadn't read my Bible in a month. 

One night I finally asked the question, why am I so terrified of not getting an A?  Almost immediately I recognized that "4.0 Chelsea" had become my identity.  Over the years, I knew that I wasn't the funniest girl or the prettiest, but I was smart - I knew I was smart.   I had built my world around that one fact.  And if I got a B (a grade I felt would brand me of average intelligence),then who was I?  What made me special?  It was that fear drove me to over work, over extend, and over achieve.

But then Abba came and whispered,  

Be a Daughter.  

Being a daughter doesn't require anything of you.  

You do not earn the title based on your own virtue, rather it is bestowed on you simply because I am your Father.  

Daughters are at rest. 

The Father's sweet words gave me freedom and purpose.  He continued on, I've sent you back to school for more than straight A's.  You are to bring my Light to your campus.  Chelsea, I'd rather you get B's because you were spending your time sharing the gospel and praying for the sick, than get A's because all you did was study.

I was completely overwhelmed.  He blew my box wide open and faces of the 60,000 students on my campus flashed through my mind.  I began to weep as compassion overtook me and all I wanted was for each of them to know the glorious love that eclipsed my heart. 

Now, at the beginning of a new year and new semester, I smile in light of all the Lord has done.  I am more passionate about the gospel and evangelism than I have ever been in my entire life.  And while I still want to fulfill my coursework with excellence, peace - not fear - defines me.

"In the place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’ they will be called ‘children of the living God.'"     Hosea 1:10

How would you like to join my Purpose Driven Life?

A couple of weeks ago, a co-worker asked me if I had found "the love of my life" yet.  I informed him that I had not and explained that I'm trusting God to divinely ordain that situation.  Additionally, I explained to him that I have pretty high standards.  I want to spend my life with someone who wants to live the same kind of international, faith lifestyle I do - committed to fighting injustice and shining Jesus' glorious light.  Aware of my extreme moral convictions, my unbelieving co-worker looked at me quizzically and matter-of-factly replied "Geez, you're never gonna find anyone."

Thankfully, his words did not pierce, but simply afforded me a good laugh.  It's true, to a world who has not known the beautiful and faithful love of my Father, my romantic future may look bleak.  But in my heart, there is perfect peace. 

Let's just hope that when God does bring my husband along, that he NEVER uses one of these pick-up lines!  Yikes!

  

I just don't feel called to celibacy.

For you, I would slay two Goliaths.

You are so unblemished that I would sacrifice you.

At points in my life I have been referred to as Samson.

The word says "Give drink to those who are thirsty, and feed the hungry"  How about dinner?

I didn't believe in predestination until tonight.  (personal favorite)

I believe one of my ribs belongs to you.

I can be your Boaz.

My spiritual gift is my good looks.

Is this the transfiguration.. because you are glowing.

Mark Driscoll takes up 35% of my ipod memory.  (I would actually be OK with this...)

I have many sponsor children - one in each developing nation.

Now I know why Solomon had 700 wives... because he never met you.

Is that a thinline, duo-tone, compact, ESV Bible in your pocket?  (I have that Bible!)

How many times do I have to walk around you to make you fall for me?

How would you like to join my Purpose Driven Life?

Let me remove my sandals before I come any closer.

Feel free to meet me at the threshing floor.
 
I have a bible verse tattoo.  It's permanent.  It's also in ancient Greek.

Have you died before?  Because that looks like a resurrection body to me.

I mentioned you in my testimony.

Laughter is the best medicine...

Airplanes are No Place for Tears

Wonderful New Years Eve dinner with Spokane Friends!

2012 is officially in full swing.  This reality seems to be crashing in on me today, it being my first day back at work after the holiday and school starting up again in just two short weeks (yikes!).  Part of me wishes that I could just squeeze my eyes closed tight and go back to holidays and vacations.  My holidays were spent with my lovely family, but for New Years, I charted my course northwest!  For five days I enjoyed the love and conversation of treasured friends in beautiful Spokane, Washington, only to force myself onto a Denver bound airplane yesterday and make my way home.

As I looked out the window of the plane at the outline of Spokane, organized on the ground like children's building blocks, tears filled my eyes.   My heart had come alive in the presence of friends and the company of beloved community.  Now, I was leaving a home to go home - and conflict wrestled in my heart.  As my tears increased and began blur my vision, I suddenly remembered crying on an airplane almost exactly four years ago. 

It was a cold January day in 2008 and I was going to Cyprus for the first time.  I had just said goodbye to my family, knowing I wouldn't see them for six months, and boarded a plane headed half-way across the world because I had read a website and heard a whisper from the Holy Spirit.  I felt scared and uncertain and just sat in my seat and let the tears flow freely down my face (it wasn't even a soft gentle crying - it was my ugly cry - complete with face contortion, mascara running, and sharp inhaling).  After a few moments, a sweet older woman claimed the aisle seat.  She took one look at me, her eyes full of compassion, leaned over and said, "Sweetheart, airplanes are no place for tears.  I don't know where you're going or who you've just said goodbye to, but there is a great adventure waiting for you."

Little did I know at the time that she was so, so right.  I eventually stopped crying and those next six months in the Mediterranean were some of the most adventurous, beautiful, and wonderful of my life.  All those warm memories flooded my conscious yesterday as we soared over the Continental Divide on our way to Colorado.  I reminded myself that although it was heart wrenching to leave the friends and community that have become so close to my heart, that my Father was calling me onward.  He has great and immeasurable plans for me in this season.  I don't want to miss them.

A pastor friend of mine says that the very nature of the call of God is upward.  I have found solace in that truth yesterday, last night, and today.  He beckons me to move forward, upward, onward.  So rather than lament on what I have left, I will set my eyes ahead of me - focused on His call and attentive to His voice.  After all, how am I supposed to see Him and what He wants to do in me with all these tears clouding my vision?

Here I go.

Crushes on Dead Men and Theology in Movies

John Calvin

In high school I started going to a new youth group at a local church.  I met lots of new people, made some life long friends, and learned a bunch of theology.  You see, this church youth group wasn't like the ones you may be familiar with.  We had fun like most, but rather than playing endless games of Have you ever? and freeze tag, we dissected systematic theology and pondered dispensationalism.  We were a bit intense.  I was also introduced to a guy there.  He said things I had never heard before.  He was wise and intellectual.  He glorified God's sovereignty and had an affinity for tulips.  After a while the inevitable happened - I developed a crush on him.  I was smitten with John Calvin.  

Me at the John Calvin
statue in Geneva

Some may see this as problematic considering the fact that Calvin died in 1564 (and there's that intense beard issue), but I was more concerned with Calvin's writings and doctrine.  John Calvin is famous in church history for propagating the notion of God predestining humans for salvation, and every other aspect of life, based on five theologic points that spell out the acronym, TULIP.  I was enthralled with Calvinism and the solace I found in believing God was in control of literally everything.  This theological crush was my entry point into Reformed Theology.  Over the next few years, my friends and I spent hours debating theology and stayed up to all hours of the night listening to John Piper sermons... for fun.  It was a very Jesus-nerd stage of life.  I was a bona-fide 5-point Calvinist, committed to the teachings of God's sovereignty, and considered free will a dirty word, or two words rather.

A lot has changed since those days, some of which I wrote about in a previous post.  While I still love a lot of Reformed thinking and have kept some of it in my current hodgepodge of eclectic theology, I have digressed into a 2.5 point Calvinist and acknowledged that I really don't understand it all.  Although I am in a new season of being content with not knowing all the answers, investigating the ways of God still fascinates me and I am constantly intrigued by the small things that shape my view of Him.

One such moment came when watching the film The Adjustment Bureau.  That's right folks, a secular movie was instrumental in shaping my theology [gasp]!  While this is something that I swore I would never EVER do, times have changed and I was actually really provoked by a quote at the end of the film.  For those of you who haven't seen the movie, I don't want to spoil it for you, but the basic story line is that an unseen organization called the Adjustment Bureau (led by the God-like mysterious "Chairman") predestines the future of humans until one day, a man (Matt Damon) tries to fight for his own fate.  At the very end, a member of the Adjustment Bureau closes the film by saying, "I think that's the Chairman's real plan ... maybe, one day, we won't write the plan. You will."  [Insert my mind warping, making connections, and thinking at a hundred miles an hour here.]  The credits rolled and I just sat there, pondering that thought.  

After some time and reflection, here is my hypothesis.  We know that God is abounding in love for us because He is a good Father.  And like any good father, He is going to make choices for us that are in our best interest.  This makes Him no more of a crazed power-weilding divine dictator than an earthly father who chooses nutritious food and warm clothes for his children.  The choices are in our best interests.  

But, just like when we grew up and our parents began to let us make our own choices about what we wore, ate, read, watched, and played, God also allows His children greater freedom as they grow into maturity.  I fully believe that when Jesus has returned and we are living in His glorious kingdom, He will delegate responsibilities to us, allowing us to rule and reign with Him.  (P.S. I totally call dibs on establishing a righteous and just government with Jesus someday!)  So in light of this, maybe life is one big training ground for us in our journey of regeneration and redemption, so that one day we will be equipped to rule with Christ.  That one day I will be so much like my Father in Heaven that He won't have to predestine things in my life - I'll make the choices He would have made for me all along.  

Maybe it isn't an either/or situation between Calvinism and the Armenian free will doctrine - maybe it's both.  Perhaps the Father has prepared seasons of greater predestination and seasons in which He allows us greater use of choice.  This concept would have driven me crazy a few years ago, because it seems so grey.  I firmly believed in absolute, right or wrong, black or white, truth.  But the more I get to know Jesus, I'm realizing that we live most of our life in the grey areas.  As a wise friend and mentor always says, we live life in the tension between two truths - forcing us to constantly rely on Christ to keep us in balance.  For the first time in a long time (maybe ever) I feel like I'm learning to walk this grey tightrope of balance between the two predestination camps.  Does God predestine life for us or do we have free will to make our own choice?  I answer, yes.

So that's the theology that I found in a movie and that's about where I sit with the whole predestination thing right now.  We must acknowledge that predestination exists because Jesus said "No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them." (John 6:44) and Paul tells us that "those God foreknew he also predestined." (Romans 8:29).  But what that exactly means, I have no idea.  And I'm okay with that.  For now I'm loving the idea that God predestines parts of our lives out of His great, caring, protective love for us and that someday I'll be like Him.  


And let's face it, that beard really would have been an issue.  Sorry Mr. Calvin.

Where are you in the predestination debate conversation?

Eleven Years

Shannon and I in Jin Li, Chengdu, China

This eleventh month of the year 2011 will mark eleven years of friendship with one of the dearest people I know.  When my family moved back to Colorado in the fall of 2000, I was a lonely 12 year old, uprooted from all I knew and attempting to adjust to the multitude of changes occurring in my life.  My aunt, knowing I was in need of a good friend, set my family and another family up on a "friend blind date" of sorts.  And so, on a chilly November evening, Shannon and I met for the first time at a toy store in our small town.  

Since that day, we have experienced so much together.  We've gone through joys and heartbreaks, close times and seasons where we drifted apart, hilarious adolescence and attempting to figure out this whole adulthood thing.  But through it all, Shannon has been one of the dearest, most faithful of friends.  I remember huddling away in a corner to pray for our future husbands together when we were 13, listening to hours of LaRue, attempting to give Shannon dreadlocks during a weekend in the mountains at age 14, and our first annual all girls camping trip.  But, perhaps my most favorite memory is when we dreamed of going to the nations.  A true kindred spirit, Shan and I would dream about where the Father would call us, how many orphans we'd save, and what languages we'd learn to share the gospel in.  Our hearts bonded while dreaming about reaching a dark and hurting world with the glorious light of the Son.  And that's exactly what we did.

Through the years, we've watched each other go to five continents, swapping Africa stories and laughing about culture shock.  We've loved on those orphans and shared the good news in over 20 countries between the two of us.  And all those years of dreaming about being like Amy Carmichael when we grow up are making this exact moment so much sweeter.

You see, I am in China.

Shannon has been living here for the past year, serving the King we both so ardently love and have pursued together.  Closer now than ever, we talk for hours about the marvels of our King and the beauty of His ever-present grace in our lives.  Watching His work in her has been one of life's greatest pleasures and actually being able to live life with her here for a few days is beyond sweet.  Everyday here I am moved to tears by the goodness of the Father.  He brought us from little girls with big dreams to a place where we are actually living them.

Friendship is one of the Father's most precious gifts to us.  Being able to walk in covenant with another human being through the good and bad times is such a picture of Christ's love for us.  Having someone walk with you who says "I will fight for the Father's best in your life and not allow you to settle for anything else" is truly amazing if we stop and think about.  Friendship allows us to witness another's life, cheering them on along the way.  Shannon has spent the last few years cheering me on, supporting me, and encouraging me while I've been living and serving overseas, and now it's my turn to cheer.  And that's exactly why I'm in China -- cheering on my faithful friend in the work of our Daddy-King.  

Oh, and I am having WAY TOO MUCH FUN doing it!

Oh thank you Father for friendship.

Embracing the Crazy & Learning to Love

This summer, I reached the one year mark of living back in the states.  It was a bittersweet feeling.  I miss the nations in the deep places of my heart, but cherish the sweet lessons I have learned in this year at home.  I have reconnected with friends and mentors, bonded with family, and completed a year of university.  School has been inspiring for a nerd like me, as I'm sure future blogs will reveal.  But perhaps the most important thing I learned at school last year was a lesson in love.

After three years of traveling the world, studying the Bible, and living in a missional community I re-entered the American academic world.  As a political science major, I dusted off my apologetics books and brushed up on my debate arguments.  Enrolled in a "secular college" I was prepared to win people to Christ through the virtue of my argument -- intellectually and logically.  I was tired of accusations that Christians can't use their brains and intended to prove them all wrong.

But then something happened.  First, I realized that nobody was asking the questions I had rehearsed the answers to.  My classmates and professors didn't care about the Council of Niccea, they were just trying to get through today.  I listened to hours of people... hurting.  Looking for love.  Broken.  Purposeless.  Then it hit me, they didn't need an argument, they needed to encounter love.  A love that never ends, never gives up, never fails.  For once they experienced a love like that, I wouldn't need to convince them God was real, they would know it at the core of who they are.  And so I set aside my arguments and picked up the burden of love for my classmates and co-workers. 

I have also been doing what I affectionately call, "embracing the crazy."  Once I allowed myself to let go of logic as a tool of winning my friends to the Kingdom, I realized how crazy we Christians sound -- and I love it!  I believe in a virgin birth and that a God/man's blood allows me to live forever!  Just let that sink in a bit.  Sounds a bit crazy, doesn't it?  But that is the beauty of faith.  God is completely other than us.  He is beyond our reasoning, comprehension, and logic.  So rather than try to intellectualize the indescribable and logically prove the immeasurable, I'm learning to embrace the fact that I don't understand it all.  I have no other explanation other than faith.  It is truly believing in the unseen hope.  I love that I can't fathom all that He is, because if I could, I would limit Him in the finite dimensions of my own mind.  No, my Jesus is limitless.  He is the author of life and sculptor of love.

So I choose to embrace the crazy -- to treasure what is beautifully foreign and unseen.  I never thought I would be the girl championing fluffy love over intellectualism or debate, but my human logic is overrated in the light of God's strong, unchanging, life-giving love.  He is more real than I could ever describe and more loving than I could ever argue.  His love reigns supreme in the universe and it's going to change the world.  Has it changed yours?  Will you let Him in? 

Golda Meir's House: My Daily Inspiration

In 1911, Herman Kortz and his wife Fanny, built a small, brick duplex in the style of the Denver Double at 1606-1608 Julian Street to serve as a rental property. The Kortz family had established themselves in Denver business with their jewelry stores, of which Elvis Presley was a loyal customer.  Almost immediately upon the house's completion, Sam and Shayna Korngold, a young couple with their daughter, Judith, moved in as tenants.

The west Colfax neighborhood of turn-of-the century Denver had become somewhat of a gathering place for Jews of Russian decent, such as the Korngolds.  Most of them had traveled out West for treatment at Denver's famous Jewish Hospital for Consumptives (Jewish Consumptive Relief Society and National Jewish Hospital), and were either ill or recently recovered from tuberculosis.  This was also true for the Korgolds, as Shayna suffered from consumption.  In 1913, Shayna's younger sister, Golda (known as Goldie to her family) unexpectedly came to live with the Korngolds in their Denver home.   Fifteen-year-old Golda had been living with her parents in Milwaukee, studying to become a teacher.   Her parents however, wished Golda to discontinue her studies and marry the young man they had chosen for her.  Knowing that Milwaukee law forbade married women from teaching in public schools, Golda ran away to Colorado to continue her studies.

While in Denver, Golda worked part time as a presser for her brother-in-law at Korngold's Cleaning and Pressing Works, near the Brown Palace Hotel and attended North High School.  In the evenings, the Korngold's home served as a regular meeting place for Jewish intellectuals in the community.   Philosophical discussions and heated debates, covering a broad range of topics, would often carry on into the early morning hours.  It was during these nights of intellectual fervor that Golda developed many of the values and ideas that would later serve her during her political career, including Zionism and women's suffrage.   In her 1975 autobiography My Life, she stated, "to the extent that my own future convictions were shaped and given form ... those talk-filled nights in Denver played a considerable role." and "it was in Denver that my real education began."

Not only did Denver nourish Golda's future political life, but her personal one as well.  She met an artistically inclined, music-loving sign painter named Morris Meyerson, whom she married four years later.  After two years in Denver, Golda reconciled with her parents and moved back to Milwaukee to complete her high school education.   Shortly there after, she, Morris, and her beloved sister Shayna emigrated to what was then know as Palestine, where they changed their name from Meyerson to its original Hebrew version: Meir.  The year was 1921.
With Shayna's emigration to Israel, the Korngolds vacated the Julian Street house, and the Kortz's found new tenants. Various families and individuals inhabited the duplex over the the next fifty years, but none so influential nor inspiring as Golda Meir.

Shortly after Golda's death in 1978, the duplex was identified as her home and reached its current home on the Denver Auraria campus in 1988.  The city of Denver deemed the house city landmark in 1995.  The house remains the sole preserved American residence of Golda Meir.

Every time I walk past this quaint brick home on campus, I am inspired.  I'm inspired at how my ramblings and debates of today could change the world tomorrow.  I'm inspired by how God can use women who are passionate.  I'm inspired by how a woman will move across the world to act on what she believes.  I'm inspired by how much just one woman can inspire me.

This house feels like a gift from the Father just for me.  It serves as just one more confirmation that I'm supposed to be where I am, studying what I am, because someday, He just might use me to inspire others.

I'm the Christian I was Before

I'm not the Christian I used to be.  I'm the Christian I was before.

I've been unraveling that mystery over the last few days, weeks, and months. 

Things are beginning to come into focus.

When I was little, I was enthralled with Jesus.  The songs we sang in Sunday School all revolved around Him.  He was "in my heart" and on my VBS t-shirt.  He was everything.  I drew pictures of Him, asked questions about Him, and sang "Happy Birthday Jesus" every Christmas.  I was that kid always talking to and about Jesus. 

But in high school, I was introduced to the wonderful world of theology.  I fell in love with the study of God -- this divine mystery that captivated me.  All of a sudden, all my childhood Bible stories and flannel graphs had a very intellectual and mature context.  The academic in me became slightly obsessed and I devoted myself to study.  But, somewhere between Calvin and Grudem, I lost sight of Jesus.  He began to seem trite.  Rather than singing simple songs to Him -- I recited doctrine.  Instead of using "immature" language to describe salvation such as Jesus "in my heart," I claimed that I had accepted His atonement for sin.  I still loved Jesus, but it was different.  I scoffed at those who mused about the fluffy, sugary, teddy bear Jesus.  What baby Christians.  Didn't they know that God was much more than cotton candy?  He's omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent (and there's probably another omni in there somewhere).  All I could see was arguments, theologies, and 5 point doctrines.  I felt as though I had found my niche.  I was going to be the smart theology girl.  It takes my breath away to think of it now, but Jesus faded into the background for awhile -- replaced with scholars and systematic theology.  Jesus became cute and unimportant.  The cross became elementary. 

Then something happened a few years ago.  Jesus cut through my logic and showed me love.  All of a sudden I was a child once more.  Jesus captured my affections in a way so real and so tangible that my heart gushed for Him.  In this last year at home, He has led me further and further down the path of love.  These days I sound like a certified hippie, because I am consumed with Jesus' love.  It's what the world needs now -- His love, sweet love.  When life is the question, Jesus' love is the answer.  I still enjoy theology and ridiculously thick books full of ideas about the Divine, but now my motivation is purely love.  Oh that I might know all that my heart and mind can contain about this magnificent One.  I've come full circle, back to the little girl who is enthralled with Jesus. 

Thank You Jesus that I'm not the Christian I used to be.  Thank you for making me the Christian I was before.

There's no Place Like Away from Home

When asked what emotions the word home evokes, most people will respond with warm, cozy, feelings, and sentiments of security. But, in my opinion, home is far overrated. Our comfortable habitats can only allow us to experience so much. That is why, for me, there is no place like away from home. Everyday, the world waits for me – a standing invitation to break out of my confines and discover new cultures, foods, languages, and perhaps more than anything else, I truly discover myself. 

Over the past several years, the nations have been my classroom. I better understand the Palestinian-Israeli conflict because I spent time in Israel and the West Bank conversing with the people. I cherish literature at a deeper level after my time in Switzerland, meandering through the oldest monastic library in the world. I devour history with greater appreciation after clambering upon Egypt's pyramids and staring into the face of the Sphinx. Intentionally positioning myself mentally and geographically for learning has lead to some of the most educational and influential experiences of my life. But none of these would have been possible had I stayed home, warm and cozy.

When I remove myself from the things in my own culture which define me, I not only learn about this wondrous world I reside in, I propel myself down the path of self-discovery. No more friends, family, or co-workers mandating who I am. No more job, school, or native culture to tell me what to do or how to dress. When I am completely outside of my daily restrictions, I am allowed to be the truest version of myself. And it is in that state of complete freedom that I feel most alive.

So, although home may be our definition of comfort and security, home is limited, and security places boundaries around our potential experiences. The world, however, is limitless – full of cultural and personal treasures waiting to be discovered. The experiences travel affords should never lead to a disdain for home, just for the contentment that it can all too easily incite. For when I am discontented with the normalcy of home, it is then that I hear the nations beckon clearest and I know that there is no place like away from home.

Help! I was Homeschooled!

Shanny and I on my 22nd birthday
 eating amazing baklava:)

Shannon, or Shanny as she is better know to those near and dear in her life, is one of my favorite people in the world.  2010 marked ten years of our covenant friendship and I am so blessed to know her.  We have seen each other through times of joy and pain, supported each other in missions, and even went through a rebellious time together (we liked boys when we were 13.  Yikes!). 

One of my favorite things to do with Shanny is to talk and laugh about the book we will write together one day, entitled, Help! I was Homeschooled!  We get together over chai and share our hearts to see freedom brought to young people in our generation who may have been misguided, like we were.  Now, in our twenties, we have been on a similar journey of learning about the reality of blood bought grace in our lives and the freedom that is our inheritance in the Kingdom of God.  So now, whenever we share a powerful revelation that Abba has given us, we half jokingly/half seriously say "That's going in our book!"  Who knows, maybe you'll see it on the shelf someday.  

These days Shanny is half way across the world serving our King with an ardent love that exudes from her pure heart.  I miss her bunches, but couldn't be happier to see my sister/friend walking in the ways of our God -- pouring her life out for the broken.  

A few weeks ago, my family had Shannon's family (all 9 of them, minus my sweet friend of course) over to our home.  They all have such a special place in my heart and I soaked up the hours we spent discussing the work of God in our lives and let the tears stream down my cheeks as we worshipped and proclaimed God's goodness together.  At one point in the evening I began sharing about my struggle with feeling tainted.  

You see, courtship is like one of the pillars of the homeschool movement, and as a teenager, one way to look pretty spiritual is to be on the courtship train.  I was that girl in middle and high school that went to the purity conferences, read the courtship books, and made the husband lists (Did anyone else do this?  That's a whole other post all together!).  Now those books can be really great if you read one or two, but if you read twelve like me and some of my friends did, it gets really unhealthy really fast.  First, it gives you a completely skewed perspective.  In retrospect, I wish that I had read one of those books, and ten others on prayer, consecration, missions, and theology.  Romantic relationships did not need to take up so much space in my thoughts or my bookshelf.  

Second, I fell in love with godly rules more than relationship with God.  Those of you who know me well probably smile when I say that I love black and white -- right and wrong.  There is something in my God created nature that loves moral absolutes and unquestionable truth.  But at sixteen, that part of me saw many of the principles in those books as rules that lead to a perfect relationship, marriage, and life.  The devastating flip side of that coin is that if you make even one mistake or break one rule, your hopes of a wonderful marriage shatter forever.  I joke that I believed things like, "Well, I had a crush on a boy so now I'll never have a good marriage."  But in reality, I believed that with all my heart.  I believed that I was tainted.  I knew that God would forgive and redeem me where I had been emotionally promiscuous, but I completely believed that I was no longer pure and lovely. My once white dress had its hem drug through the mud.  


At this point, Caleb, Shannon's little brother (who isn't so little anymore at 21) spoke up.  Caleb is the perfect example of still waters run deep.  He doesn't speak up often, but when he purposes to make his voice heard, it is often profound.  And this time was no exception.  He began to share that you may believe that you've ruined a part of yourself by "messing up," but in reality, we are all already completely ruined and Jesus loves that.  We are born in a sinful state and Jesus lovingly chooses to redeem us.  Just let that sink in for a second.  We are born in sin and live a life of sanctification from the moment of salvation onward.  We are not born with these clean slates that we mar and mark up over the course of life.  Jesus is taking me on a love adventure and as I love Him more, I am being transformed into the spectacular Bride.  When Caleb spoke those words, the Holy Spirit gave me a complete paradigm shift.  The lies of the enemy that I had ruined it all were no longer valid.  I realized that I was born ruined and have been gloriously redeemed.

It looks like our book is going to have to have a guest contributor:)  Hint, hint, Caleb.  

P.S. I absolutely LOVED being homeschooled, wholly support the practice, and will probably educate my children at home someday.  This is not an attack on homeschooling, simply a desire to see young people set free from lies that can be found in the broad "homeschooling movement."

Do not Despise the Season of Preparation

A few months back I bought this little black Jetta. The previous owners are family friends of ours and the car had been taken good care of. Everything about getting that car was a miracle, even how I got the funds. I truly believed that God had prepared this little car just for me.

And then things started breaking. It was just small things at first, a light, the heater knob, the door lock. But then it was big things, like overheating and leaking oil. I feel like my mechanic is on speed dial these days, and even though he has wonderful prices, my bank account continues to diminish.

I hit the breaking point two weeks ago when I was on my way to school. I had just put some more oil in my car and after just ten short miles, the oil had completely drained, leaving my dipstick bone dry. You don't have to know much about cars to know that I had BIG problems. I called my professor and explained to him in a voice cracking with emotion that I wasn't going to be in class, and then I just sat on the side of the road and cried while I waited for the tow truck. I had been praying over that little car so much and I couldn't understand why this was happening. It may not sound like a big deal to some people, but it's just me and my mom at home and car stuff can get pretty overwhelming pretty fast. But as I was sitting there, crying and asking God why this was all happening, He gently reminded me of the season, two seasons actually. The first was that it was Channukah. That whole holiday ironically revolves around the miracle of the oil, and did I ever need an oil miracle of my own. Channukah is also about God's faithfulness and provision in seemingly impossible circumstances - again very relevant to my current side of the road situation. But the other season that Abba pointed out to me was the broader season He has me in during these years back in America. I learned so much during my wonderful time overseas, but He brought me back to learn some things that only home could teach me. I know so assuredly that my time here is a season of preparation - emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually - so that when I go back overseas, I will be more fully equipped. At that moment, crying alone in my car, I realized that this was an opportunity. I could become more frustrated, and cry more tears, and become more overwhelmed with my circumstances, or I could trust, pray, and rest in the fact that the God of the universe is crazy about me and is going to watch over me. I had to choose not to despise the season of preparation with its strategic challenges, but rather to embrace them as they force me into the arms of my Savior.

I believe that Jesus did in fact tell me to buy that car, but now I also see that He is going to use every challenge to increase my trust in Him.

What season does He have you in?

Son of Hamas

Can you imagine being 17 years old and going to prison where you are ruthlessly tortured? Or what if there was a high possibility everyday that you would be murdered? Can you imagine your father being a terrorist?! That is the life of Mosab Hassan Yousef, the son of one of the seven founding members of the Hamas terrorist organization. Born in 1978, Mosab, the oldest of nine children, grew up in the West Bank. Surrounded with terrorism since his childhood, Mosab went to prison for attempted violence against Israel, but later ended up working for Israel as an undercover spy! On top of it all, Mosab has now become a follower of the teachings of Jesus. His is an amazing story of betrayal, political intrigue, and redemption. Having personally spent time in Israel and the West Bank, I have tasted their conflict and admire this man for his bravery and sense of justice. He has chosen to document his story in this book, “Son of Hamas,” which was published this year, in order to share with the world the truth about Hamas, Islam, and what he believes is the only answer for peace in the Middle East. I read this book in a couple days and it has given me a new sense of justice and understanding of the Middle East conflict. It is an amazing story of what is possible when we love our enemies. I highly recommend it!

sonofhamas.com

A Letter to Christian Radio

Dear Christian Radio,

Overall, I appreciate you. We have a fairly good relationship. Yes, I used to mock you in my teenage years, when all I could do was criticize the music you play with it's weak writing and repetitive choruses; and although I still generally hold those opinions, I've calmed down a bit and give you a listen. I enjoy the worship songs and am grateful for how they focus my heart on Christ while driving my car. I've had some of the sweetest worship experiences with the Lord listening to the music you play, that is until the song ends. At this point, the DJ feels the need to engage in some "clever banter" before playing the next song. That is really where my grievance begins. I'm saddened to hear DJs complain about traffic and ooze over Hollywood gossip. I hear these things and double check the station. Nope, there's no mistake - it's still Christian radio. Last time I checked, we served a God who came and died for us, allowing us to speak boldly to this world about grace, life, love, and justice. Wouldn't it be amazing if when I flipped on the Christian radio I heard the DJs sharing stories of miracles rather than discussing their favorite Taco Bell combo (true story)? What benefit is there in complaining about heavy traffic when we could be encouraging one another to rise above our circumstances with the attitude of Christ Jesus? Why do we feel the need to relish in Hollywood gossip, when the works of God are unquestionably more exciting, wondrous, and awe-inspiring? Just a thought.

Sincerely,

Chelsea

Date Night

I have a confession to make: my quiet times having been lacking lately. It's like the cardinal sin of Christianity isn't it? I've been trying to tell myself that I tend judge myself too harshly and that quality is often more important than quantity, but in the end I'm just not satisfied with things in their current state. School is overwhelming at times, and with the addition of friends, family, work, and church, I haven't been able to keep up the lengthly times of study and set apartness that I've been accustom to with my King.

I realized this morning that I needed a complete overhaul. I needed to fall in love with Jesus again. Now, of course I never really fell out of love with Him in the apostate sense, but I had ceased to cultivate that love relationship with Him that catches my breath and inspires my tears in the most gentle and wonderful way. I needed to refocus, so I opened up to the gospel of Luke. There's a great debate about having favorite books of the Bible and I can't say that I've chosen just one, but the gospels hold a special place in my heart. When I read them, I fall in love with Jesus all over again. I love going over the accounts of the miracles and the love that defined Him. I love how the words transcend from the page to my soul as I realize that love still defines this living God that my heart belongs to. I feel like a proud lover, saying, "Yes! This is the One that my soul loves! Isn't He amazing?!" I can't help but be romanced by the man of Christ Jesus when I truly meditate on who He is.

So, in an effort to cultivate my love relationship with this Divine Prince, I am instituting Date Night into my week. In addition to my daily quiet times, I will set aside an extended time each week to get away with my Jesus. Maybe it will be with a chai latte and my Bible in a coffee shop, maybe it will be a prayer walk through the park, or communion in the Rocky Mountains aspen trees of gold. All I know is that I need to fight for intimacy - it's life. So once a week I will leave my house and surroundings with the chores and homework that distract me, and enter into this divinely romantic world with my King - like a step through the wardrobe.

Does your relationship with God need a date night?

She Did What She Could

I heard a speaker recently who taught from Mark 14, where a woman that we assume to be Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus with nard from an alabaster box. I'd read the story hundreds of times and heard dozens of speakers point to different aspects of the layered text. But this time, I heard something new. It's the sentence that Jesus speaks at the beginning of verse eight. She did what she could. In those five short words, there is a storehouse of freedom and grace. Sometimes I get so caught up in the things that I want to do but can't, that I don't do the small things that I can. I may not be able to stop human trafficking today, but am I praying about it today? I can't fix all my friend's problems, but am I sending emails and making phone calls just to let them know that I'm here to listen. I may not convince all my fellow classmates that Jesus is the Son of God, but am I treating them like Jesus would, even down to my smile? Am I doing what I can? Because in reality, all Jesus is asking is for us to rely on His strength and do what we can. Sometimes we can do a lot - more than we think we can - and sometimes we can do a little. I'm choosing to stop getting so bogged down in what I'd like to do but can't, and start doing what I can.

I recently watched the movie Bella for the first time. I loved it. Not only is it super cleans and moral, but the cinematography is absolutely beautiful. It's the story of someone who did what they could. Check it out.

In House Revival

According to our calendars, this week was supposed to be the busiest of the year for us. Several teachers and guests were scheduled to join us for the week, all of whom were unable to come due to the volcanic ash hovering over Europe - the leftovers from last week's eruption in Iceland. As we began receiving emails, one by one, that flights had been cancelled and plans changed, our expectation grew for what the Lord had in store. And then the question was posed, Why not an in house revival? Over the course of this amazing week, we have seen that when our lives are open and available for a move of God, He is faithful to come and meet with us. Many students were touched with the joy of the Holy Spirit, the love of God and tears of intercession during the six to seven hour "morning worship times." There was also a wave of repentance that came when the revelation of God's love motivated us to more purely care for one another with an uncommon love. Lunch breaks and time tables became unimportant, because we were in the presence of God. Community member, Jeff Collins, stepped in as the teacher for this week, but often acted more as the facilitator of what God wanted to do, clearing a way for the Holy Spirit to freely come. When Jeff did speak, his topics included: the leading of the Holy Spirit, how we need to develop a sensitivity to His presence and that fear of grieving the Holy Spirit should far outweigh any fear of man. As the world around us fell into the chaos of the volcano's aftermath, we, a small community of burning ones in the mountains of Cyprus chose a different response. The outcome of that choice was an outbreak of Heaven in our midst. May we never be the same.

Here is one student's testimony from this week:

I had so much expectation for this week because our teachers weren't able to come. We all wanted to encounter God and have a deep move of the Holy Spirit. The Lord spoke to me and came with such a tangible reality in my body and heart, pouring out His joy. I am full of His joy! Even when we're praying for someone else, I grab the blessing for myself as well, not choosing to be a spectator. This week, a door opened in me for intercession for others, because it's also a blessing for me. One day I was laying on the floor and said "Lord, I can't make it happen." and He said, "No you can't. Why don't you just give everything to me and let me lead?" This school is not about a season for me - it's about a lifestyle. Just to know that I am His and He is mine.

Suicide to Salvation

Last weekend one of our first year students received news that her Grandmother was terminally ill in the hospital and wanted to die. In Belgium (where the student and her family live) euthanasia is legal and practiced. We immediately began to pray as a community for her family and unbelieving grandmother. One of the saddest things was that when asked if she wanted to talk to a pastor before making the decision to end her life, the grandmother replied "I have no sin." Our hearts broke for this woman and the way she had been deceived. We began to declare LIFE over her and ask God to come and change her heart. Over the course of the week we waited for reports from Belgium on the grandmother's status. The student's parents are believers and spent every moment they could with the grandmother, sharing the gospel with her. Then, late Thursday night, we got the news: the grandmother had a revelation of her sin and had accepted Jesus! There is no way I can express the jubilation in our community as we heard those words. Not only is God working in her spirit, but her whole body used to be in pain and now there are only two places that hurt! We are believing for a full healing in the natural and that she would declare God's goodness to the rest of the unbelieving family! Amazing - from suicide to salvation in one week. God is so good. This is just one more example of how what the Lord is doing in the lives of the students here at the school is making a difference in their families and home nations as well. We are also very aware that Belgium is one of the nations the school is going to on outreach this year and that this is only a firstfruits of the life that Yeshua is going to bring! Come Lord!

Streams Girl

I have absolutely loved working on the Streams in the Desert events this year. Not only has it been stimulating for the side of me that loves to plan and organize things, but it has deepened my heart for this island as well. It is my third year living here and praying for Cyprus. I see that God has a divine purpose for this place and these people, but connecting on a deeper level hasn't always come easily for me. I've pressed through in intercession because I know that it's true, not so much because I feel it all in my heart. But at the last Streams event, God did something in me for Cyprus that I've never felt before. I know that I will carry this nation with me in intercession for the rest of my life. I consider it one of my biggest privileges to get to know the believers here. Because my job is very hands on emailing people the answers their inquiries and making announcements at our worship gatherings, I've begun to build relationships with these people, putting names and stories with the faces. And they've gotten to know me as well. Many will come up to me at an event and ask, "Are you the Chelsea from the emails?" Or if they see me somewhere else, they'll say "Oh, you're the Streams girl!" I love that. I love getting to know these precious people. I see what an honor it is and am so grateful for this opportunity.

Love that Tickles

Last Saturday night worship, God came and heaven kissed us. Our worship time that closes out our shabbat are scheduled to last from 6 - 9pm, but often run into the wee hours of morning. Last night was one of these nights. After worship, some began to share testimonies of what the Lord did on a recent outreach into the Cypriot city of Paphos. Before we knew it, the Holy Spirit took control and a string of prophetic words were released for different members of the community. Some wept in the revelation of God's love, some groaned prostrate on the ground in intercession, and some were doubled over laughing in the joy of the Lord. As the hours went on and God continued to come and touch us, some of the kids began to drift off to sleep. Myrrh (the 5 year old daughter of our leaders) was laying in my lap fighting the sleep that was inevitable when she heard a new wave of laughter from the Lord break out. She suddenly sat up and asked "Why are they laughing?" I tried to explain to her that God was just showing them how much He loves them when she asked "Is God's love tickling them?" I smiled at the thought of it - the reality of heaven coming and tickling our hearts. Abba, I love your joy, come and tickle us with Your love!