The Year of Honey

 

This time last year, I received a message from a woman named Bruna, telling me she had found a puppy on the streets. She sent me a photo of the puppy and asked if I wanted her; I said: "yes." 

And as I reflect on having lived out that "yes" for the past year, I am reminded of another yes I gave in May of 2019. 

Just weeks after I graduated college, I flew to Germany for a 10-day missions conference where I ended up meeting missionaries who invited me to join their team in Brazil; I said: "yes."  

I had no way of fully knowing everything that would come about because of saying yes. And there have been days when I have thought: "This isn't what I thought I was saying yes to."

I knew it would be lonely to move to a foreign country away from friends and family, but I didn't know it would be this lonely. I knew a puppy would test my patience, but I didn't know it would test my patience this much. 

Coldplay said it best: "Nobody said it was easy; no one ever said it would be this hard." 

I think it's a mixture of God's grace and sense of humor that keeps us from knowing everything that lies ahead of our chosen road; because for as much as we plan and dream for the future, agonize over details, bullet point pros and cons, and incessantly imagine every single hypothetical, we all walk into our yeses blind. 

And that's because we all walk into the future blind. 

That's not to say we shouldn't do our homework--as much as it depends on us, we should know what we are getting ourselves into before we say yes to something--I am not trying to advocate for a passive or defeatist approach to life here. 

But I am trying to acknowledge a simple fact: that for as much as we think we know exactly how something will go, circumstances and people change and, in a moment, everything is completely different and we find ourselves thinking: "had I known it was going to be like this, I don't know that I would have said yes." 

And we think that because none of us like pain. None of us like to walk the difficult road. None of us like to suffer. And God, who knows our nature, will ask us to take a road He knows will lead to pain for the purpose of our sanctification and growth. Sometimes that's the only way we can learn.  

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us. For the creation eagerly waits with anticipation for God's sons to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to futility--not willingly, but because of him who subjected it--in the hope that creation itself will also be set free from the bondage to decay into the glorious freedom of God's children. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together with labor pains until now. Not only that, but we ourselves who have the Spirit as the first fruits--we also groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for adoption, for the redemption of our bodies. Now in this hope, we were saved, but hope that is seen is not hope, because who hopes for what he sees? Now if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience" (Romans 8:18-25 CSB). 

Suffering isn't worth comparing to the work sanctification will produce in us. 

Verse 28 continues: "We know all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose. For those He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those He predestined, He also called; and those He called, He also justified; and those He justified, He also glorified" (Romans 8:28-30 CSB). 

All hard things we walk through work together for our good. 

Let me talk about Honey for a minute. 

Everyone who sees Honey looks at her honey-colored fur and assumes I gave her that name because of her coloring, but it actually wasn't. When I first received Honey, her fur was more of a chestnut brown, but over time it has become the color of honey.  

In a way, I predestined her to be like honey. 

Through the course of this last year, as she has grown and learned and matured, tripling in size (although she still has not quite grown into her ears), she is being conformed to the image of honey--from the color of her fur to her sweet disposition.

When we go on walks, Honey is loved by everyone she comes in contact with. She wildly wags her tail watching children play, lifts up her front paws to each passing stranger to be petted, and has never once growled or barked at someone she didn't know.  

And in the same way, we are predestined to be like Christ. 

And through our lives, we, who once looked nothing like the image of Christ, slowly are being conformed to look more and more like Him. 

For Honey that happened through my consistent discipline: teaching her to pee outside rather than on my living room floor, teaching her to be comfortable being alone while I am out of the house without crying, teaching her to play gently rather than biting and scratching--I have taught her to listen to my voice and heed my commands. 

Now, she doesn't always listen to my voice. There are times when she has stolen yet another sock and instead of giving it back like I have asked her to, she turns around and trots away, but she does obey much more than she did a year ago. 

And I can't help but think that I look more like Christ now than I did in May of 2019 before I ever set my life and future on the altar and submitted to the Lord by saying "yes" to coming to Brazil as a missionary. 

That happened through confronting my pride through circumstances the Lord brought to my life, realizing the idols of my heart that the Lord allowed me to see for what they truly were, and becoming aware of how weak and helpless I am in my own right and my need for daily dependence on the Lord. 

Do I still struggle against pride? Yes. Do I still have idols in my heart? Again, yes. Have I mastered dependence on the Lord alone? Of course not. But I am not where I was three years ago, and that is what matters.  

So, here's to the year of Honey--the unexpected sweetness of sanctification. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

I Don't Wanna Go (If You're Not Going Before Me)

Sarah and Evie taking a rest at the construction site for the new church in Tupanatinga

These days, I've had one song on repeat.

It has kept me company while I wash dishes, drive, sweep floors, cook, and prepare English lessons. I don't have the exact number of times I have played the song, but if I did it would probably be too embarrassing to share. 

The song is "I Don't Wanna Go" by Chris Renzema. 

I heard the song a few years back, but I never found it that special. Then as quickly as the annoying boy in math class becomes a heartthrob overnight, so an average worship song took on profound personal meaning. 

This last month I was processing through one of the most difficult decisions I have had to make at this point in my life--to extend my contract in Brazil for another year or not. I didn't want to make the decision based on selfish motives or from a place of fear or lack of trust in the Lord. I wanted to make the decision that most pleased the Lord. I knew the decision that I wanted most might not be the decision the Lord asked me to make.  

Like David and the temple, I wanna bring You praise, but like David and his temple plans, Your ways are not my ways. You don't need me to build a temple to know that You love me still, oh.

Part of me wanted to stay, but another part of me didn't. Part of me wanted to pursue other avenues to better use my gifts and talents, but the other part of me wanted to continue investing in the ministry I had already started. I didn't want to just pick something without the Lord's leading. My heart felt like a ship on raging seas and I felt like it would drown before I ever made a decision.  

Like Israel on the shore, all I see is crashing waves, but like Israel on the shore, it's through the wild You make a way. I will go where You go, I will stay where You stay, oh.

I felt a heavy sense of responsibility to the youth ministry in Brazil. I feared that my leaving would hurt the ministry and possibly cause it to die. I knew the importance of that type of community and I didn't want to see it come to an end because of me. I had grown to love each of the students in that ministry. I wanted to see them continue to grow in their faith and I wanted to watch the youth ministry continue to flourish and become all that I dreamed it could become. 

'Cause I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I remember laying in bed unable to sleep and I asked myself the simple question: "What do you want?" And for the first time, I admitted to myself that what I wanted was to pursue my talents and gifts through writing. I didn't see myself as a missionary for the rest of my life in the live-overseas-forever type of way and I didn't see myself as a youth leader forever. I have loved doing those things and watching how the Lord has worked through those things, but my passions and gifts are with writing. 

Like Moses in the desert, I wanna see the land, but like Moses in the desert, I can't fully see Your plan. Still Your love doesn't stop, when I see the land from a mountaintop, oh.

But even after coming to that realization, the feelings of responsibility to the youth ministry didn't go away. I imagined myself going home and I felt a pit in my stomach. I knew that as much as that was what I wanted, I couldn't do it without peace from the Lord. I knew fighting against that would only end in pain and suffering for me. I knew I had to believe that if the Lord wanted me to stay, it would be for my best and His glory. Then, on another sleepless night, I finally opened my hands and told Him that if He wanted me to stay for another year I would. I figured that would be the end of this story.  

Like Peter on the hill, I wanna make this my place, but like Peter on the hill, before Your transfigured face. I will go where you go, I will stay where you stay, oh.

Then a week later I woke up and felt like a burden had been lifted off of me. That heavy sense of responsibility was gone. I would think about the youth group or ministry in Brazil and feel a peace and a calm that the Lord would care for them in a way I never did before. I would think about going home and that pit in my stomach was no longer there. It was almost as if the Lord was saying, "You can choose." 

'Cause I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I was in disbelief. I never expected to wake up and feel like that. I never expected to be given the choice. I thought it was stay and obey or leave and disobey. I had surrendered that year to the Lord honestly never dreaming that He would ever hand it back to me. 

If You're not going before me, yeah, if You're not going before me, I won't go, I won't go.

I felt joy and fear at the same time. I wanted to be sure that the Lord had really lifted that burden and was giving me the freedom to choose. I continued to pray about it and wonder if things would really be okay if I left. One night I watched the co-leader of the youth group give the lesson and a calm washed over me as if the Lord was saying, "He'll be okay. He can do this." 

Anywhere You are, I wanna be there. It's written on my heart, You're all I've ever needed. Anywhere You go, I wanna be there. It's written on my soul, You're all I've ever needed. Anywhere You are, I wanna be there. It's written on my heart, You're all I ever needed. Anywhere You go, I wanna be there. It's written on my soul, You're all I ever needed.

And so finally at the beginning of this month, I made my official decision to close the chapter here in Brazil. It breaks my heart to leave the friendships, the ministry partners who have become like family, and the youth who have become like little brothers and sisters to me. In spite of that, I feel at peace with the decision. 

I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me. I don't wanna go if You're not going before me.

I don't know exactly what the future is going to look like. I know I have a passion for writing and I want to pursue that. I know that doesn't mean that the Lord will make me a famous author, but I do know that He gives us our talents and passions for a reason and I don't want to waste them. I also know that the Lord can use me anywhere, whether in Brazil or not. 

If You're not going before me, I won't go, I won't go, no. Oh, if You're not, if You're not going, I won't go.

My journey in Brazil isn't finished. I still have six months before my time comes to an end. I am looking forward to making the most of the time I have left here and doing all that I can to finish well. But I am also looking forward to a future unknown, knowing I am about to enter into a new season of new and different joys and new and different sorrows. 

Like Jesus in the garden, won't You take this cup from me? But like Jesus in the garden, You don't call where You won't lead. I wanna love like You love, I wanna bleed like you bleed, oh. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

A God of Clarity, Not Confusion

 

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with a friend from college who I was given the privilege of watching God take hold of during our senior year and call to himself. Her growth and passion for the Lord over the past three years have been a source of joy and encouragement to me.  

She shared with me how she always struggled to know what was the voice of the Holy Spirit and what was her own voice. In her classic goofy and casual way, she told me, "But I finally realized that when the message is clear, that's the Holy Spirit, and when the message is confusing, dat me." 

Recently, I sat on a bench with a woman who shared with me her desire to be married but knew she hadn't met the right man yet. She looked me in the eyes and told me that she believed that when she met the right man she would know and feel peace. "Deus não é um Deus de confusão (God is not a God of confusion)" she told me. 

Wait, why did I feel like I was having déjà vu? 

I am a strong believer in God communicating to us with patterns because just like any good parent, God has to repeat himself in order to be heard, and like the disobedient children we are, we usually aren't listening the first time. 

This truth that God is a God of clarity and not confusion is found in 1 Corinthians 14:33, which says: "God is not a God of disorder but of peace" (CSB), or "God is not a God of confusion but of peace" (ESV). 

These verses are specifically talking about how the gift of tongues should be stewarded, especially in the congregation. People speaking in tongues without an interpreter present would only result in confusion and disorder, which is not the vision Christ has for the church.

What is Christ's vision for the church? 

Verse 26 answers this question: "What then, brothers and sisters? Whenever you come together, each one has a hymn, a teaching, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Everything is to be done for building up" (CSB). 

Everything in the church must be done for building up. How can confusion and disorder build up? They can't and therefore have no place in the church. 

God is a God of clarity, of order, of edification and for this reason he values these principals in his church. 

And since God cannot contradict himself, we know this principal governs how he interacts with us in our personal lives. It wouldn't make sense for God to value clarity and order in the congregation but confusion and disorder in our personal lives. 

 We cannot overlook this. 

Why? Because if we believe that God is the author of clarity, of order, and of peace, then we learn to follow those principals. Where there is clarity, where there is order, where there is peace, there is a good chance that's where God is and there's a good chance that is where God is asking us to follow him. 

Important note: Peace does not equal comfort. Clarity does not equal absence of fear. Order does not equal absence of trial or persecution. 

The Lord will lead us out of our comfort zones, he will lead us where we are afraid to go and he will lead us through trials and persecutions, but he will give us his peace. 

Philippians 4:7 tells us that "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus" (CSB). 

This means the peace of God will accompany us when life is hard and when it seems like we should be without peace. The opposite is true for those who reject God and vow to do things their own way. 

"'There is no peace for the wicked,' says the Lord" (Isaiah 48:22 CSB). 

There is a difference between fear, life circumstances that bring suffering, external persecution and a profoundly troubled spirit without rest or peace. 

There are people who, justifiably, caution against using our feelings to make decisions. They say that making decisions based on the presence or absence of peace is wrong, because that is just a feeling and feelings come and go--the Bible is the only foundation on which we can make decisions. 

I agree and disagree with this argument and I'll explain why. 

First, I agree that we cannot solely make decisions on our feelings and claim that is the Lord's leading. I do agree that is wrong and could even be borderline sinful at times. However, I would argue that the peace I am talking about and that the Bible is talking about is not a feeling, but a deep sense of knowing and trust in the Lord. 

Peace is present despite feelings of fear, doubt, or worry. 

I think where people get tripped up is when they confuse peace for feelings of comfort, security, or control. Feelings of comfort, security and control are passing and are not foundations worthy of decision making. 

Do I think we should make decisions based on feelings? 100% no. Do I think we should make decisions based on the peace of the Lord? 100% yes. 

If you have felt the peace of the Lord, you know there is a difference, and you know it truly does "surpass all understanding" and feelings. 

My encouragement to you who find yourselves at a crossroad is to follow the peace of the Lord. 

I want to briefly share that I too find myself at a crossroad to extend my contract here in Brazil or not and my feelings are all over the place and changing every day. My constant prayer has been for that all surpassing peace of the Lord to guide me. My prayer is that I would not make a decision based on fear, or comfort, or lack of trust, or lack of faith, or selfish motives. My prayer is that I would know the peace of the Lord, and know with perfect clarity and conviction the path to take. 

My prayer for you is the same. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S 

Remember the Drought

In the summers, my dad would chop down the pine trees that had died alongside our property during the previous year, swiping flies and ringing sweat from his red handkerchief that he would use to wipe his face and then stuff as a wadded ball of fabric into his back pocket.

What had once been a wall of my make-believe log cabin, and heavenly shade in the sticky Indiana July heat was left as nothing more than a stump that stretched to my waist. 

I would trace my fingers over the uneven cuts of my dad's ax, observing the rough circles growing smaller and smaller to center. 

Some of the circles were almost touching they were so close together and others had spaces the size of my fingernail. The circles were lopsided, discolored, beautiful, and strange. 

I finally asked my mom the meaning of the circles, and she explained each ring represented a year of growth the tree had lived through, and if I counted the number of rings, I could actually tell how old the tree was. 

She also explained that the spaces between the rings could tell me how much rain the tree had received from one year to the next, whether the tree had lived through a drought or even a forest fire. 

Since those summers, I have loved the idea that with a little time, some careful observation, and a desire to understand, you can learn some of the most intimate pains and joys the tree had lived through. 

And I can't help but think of my own uneven, lopsided growth. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like droughts, where my faith felt like it was hanging by a thread and I felt like I was losing my love for the Lord, still I grew. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like forest fires, where the consequences of my own sin destroyed so much more than I bargained for, and so much more than I felt capable of recovering from, still I grew. 

For the years of my spiritual life that felt like times of plenty, where I felt overwhelmed by the love and grace of the Lord who continued to give me more than I could have ever dreamed, even still I grew. 

And I share this because sometimes it feels like I am trying to survive a drought. 

A tree in a drought is also referred to as drought-stressed. When a tree begins to undergo this type of stress, it will start to shed leaves. The fewer leaves the tree has, the more water the tree will be able to conserve. 

In short, the tree adapts.  

Usually, the tree recovers from this process of adaptation and soon it will find its boughs full of green leaves again. But sometimes, if a tree has shed all of its leaves, the tree isn't able to recover because of the lack of food caused by not having any leaves to photosynthesize. 

I am not always sure I am adapting. 

I long for deeper friendships with the people here. I long for a stronger community. I long for intimate conversations over coffee. I long to walk the Christian life with fellow believers sharing the joys and sorrows and struggles of that lifelong journey. 

But for whatever reason, the Lord has decided not to fulfill that longing in my heart. For whatever reason, the Lord has seen it fit to hold back the rain, causing the soil to slowly dry up and break, leaving deep gashes in the earth where my roots, hungry for water, have sunk deeper into the earth. 

Psalm 38:9 (CSB) says "Lord, my every desire is in front of you, my sighing is not hidden from you." 

The Lord knows of my desire for a stronger community here. He knows of my desire for deeper friendships. He knows of my desire to walk this Christian life with people here. He is not ignoring me. He is not depriving me. He is simply asking me to be patient, to have faith, and to grow anyway. 

Psalm 38 continues on in verse 15 "For I put my hope in you, Lord; you will answer me, my Lord, my God."

Despite not hearing a response from the Lord, despite not seeing his circumstances change, David still puts his hope and faith in the Lord. 

David knows that God is not plugging his ears to his prayers and he continues to believe that at the right time God will answer, but that also means that David must wait. 

C.S. Lewis in his book "Mere Christianity" writes: "The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose, the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable. It is true that some people may find that they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless he sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good, which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not camping. You must keep praying for light; and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all, you must be asking which door is the true one."

This "some type of good" Lewis is referring to here, is, I think, sanctification. And God in his mercy and love for me is not meeting my desires because he sees there is some work of sanctification that needs to take place first. 

Could it be my desire to be liked by everyone that he sees fit to sanctify? Could it be the approval of others that often finds itself as an idol in my heart that he would like to realign? Could it be persistent fears of being unseen that he wants to correct? 

Who knows, but clearly he's got options. 

I think we often miss the point of waiting, of unfulfilled desires and prayers that have yet to be answered. Even if we are contented to quietly wait, I would argue we are still missing the point, which is what I think Lewis is talking about when he warns us that "waiting" is not to be confused with "camping." 

Waiting is never for the sake of waiting. Waiting is always to accomplish some work in us that could not be fulfilled in any other way. But I think we can sometimes be so focused on just "getting through" the time of waiting that we never look inward to see what the purpose of the waiting might be or what God might be trying to sanctify in us. 

It might take years to realize what the purpose of the waiting was, and even then, we may never understand the full scope of what God was doing until we reach Eternity. 

Another thing I find fascinating about trees is their memory; trees do not easily forget. 

In a study conducted by The Department of Plant Pathology and Microbiology at Texas A&M University, 73% of trees were still showing symptoms of drought stress 7 years after the drought had passed. 

Something repeated over and over again in scripture is the command to remember:

"I will remember the Lord's works; yes, I will remember your ancient wonders. I will reflect on all that you have done and meditate on your actions" (Psalm 77:11-12 CSB). 

"So, then, remember that at one time you were Gentiles in the flesh--called 'the uncircumcised' by those called 'the circumcised,' which is done in the flesh by human hands. At that time, you were without Christ, excluded from the citizenship of Israel, and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus, you who were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ" (Ephesians 2:11-13 CSB). 

"Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. that is why the Lord your God has commanded you to keep the Sabbath day" (Deuteronomy 5:15 CSB). 

We are commanded to remember hard, difficult moments of our lives: the Israelites were commanded to remember their time of ruthless and abusive servitude in Egypt. Why? So that they can remember the powerful way the Lord delivered them out into freedom and new life. 

Former Gentiles are commanded to remember their wayward pasts when they were excluded from grace, destined for Hell, and without hope of ever being counted as co-heirs to the promises of God. why? So that they can remember the miracle of being given equal share in something they never deserved. 

And we, as Christians, who struggle against our flesh, who suffer in a fallen and broken world, who go through things we wish we could forget or never think about again, are commanded to remember. Why? So that we can remember how the Lord redeemed us, saved us, pulled us from the pit and set our feet on a solid place to stand. 

And the only fitting response to this remembering is worship. 

We can't pay God back and even the debts, and he doesn't ask us to. All he asks is that we remember and respond in worship. 

I know it might seem strange for me to be talking about remembering this time of drought when I am still in the middle of it, when the rains still haven't come. But I know they will. I know this time will pass about I don't want to forget God's faithfulness right now, in the midst of the hard, in the midst of the waiting, in the midst of blind faith. 

The rains will come; never forget the drought. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

Wait in Faith, Pray in Faith

A photo I took while taking Honey on an evening walk

Since 2013, I have been choosing a "word" for each new year. 

The tradition started in the home of a mentor of mine. Every new year, she invited a houseful of women and girls to participate in painting a canvas in honor of their word--so that for the next 12 months, every time we looked at our canvas we would remember the word we chose, and be mindful of the ways God was working on that area of our lives. 

My word for 2021 was "pine"; to both pine after Christ, and to be like a pine--evergreen and faithful. 

This year, I decided that I would bend the rules a little bit and choose, not just one word, but six. Jeannie, please don't be disappointed in me. 

"Wait in Faith, Pray in Faith"

Now, I am not a believer in the "name it and claim it" movement where if I pray something with enough faith, it will happen, or that all I have to do is sprinkle pixie dust over my head, shut my eyes, and believe real hard and God will do whatever I want. I don't own a single Joel Osteen book and I don't listen to the likes of Benny Hinn. 

I also don't believe that we can manipulate God into doing our will by empty promises and flattery disguised as prayers. I believe that God is sovereign and his plans will unfold whether we want them to or not, however, I do believe that we are commanded to pray and that praying with faith and a heart full of belief is an inseparable element of that. I also believe that when we earnestly pray in faith and spirit, the Lord is faithful to hear and answer our prayers. 

How can those things be true at the same time?

Beats me. Probably someone with a seminary degree and more facial hair than me could explain that to you.  

This is a principal that I have struggled with for most of my Christian life. It's confusing and complicated at times to rectify the two truths that seem to be in direct opposition to one another. And while I don't have the biblical knowledge or training or degree status to fully and completely (and with nuanced flair) explain the perfect balance, here five simple truths that I do know:

1. We are commanded to pray in faith. 

"Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God--who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly--and it will be given to him. But let him ask with faith without doubting. For the doubter is like a surging sea, driven and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord, being double-minded and unstable in all his ways" (James 1:5-8 CSB). 

"Early in the morning, as he was returning to the city, he was hungry. Seeing a lone fig tree by the road, he went up to it and found nothing on it except leaves. And he said to it, 'May no fruit ever come from you again!' At once the fig tree withered. When the disciples saw it, they were amazed and said, 'How did the fig tree wither so quickly?' Jesus answered them, 'Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree, but even if you tell this mountain, "Be lifted up and thrown into the sea," it will be done. And if you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer'" (Matthew 21:18-22 CSB). 

2. God is sovereign. 

"A king's heart is like channeled water in the Lord's hand: he directs it wherever he chooses" (Proverbs 21:1 CSB). 

"Many plans are in a person's heart, but the Lord's decree will prevail" (Proverbs 19:21 CSB). 

"May the name of God be praised forever and ever, for wisdom and power belong to him. He changes the times and seasons; he removes kings and establishes kings. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding. He reveals the deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness and light dwells with him" (Daniel 2:20-22 CSB). 

3. God will not always give us what we desire or pray for. 

"What is the source of wars and fights among you? Don't they come from your passions that wage war inside you? You desire and do not have. You murder and covet and cannot obtain. You fight and wage war. You do not have because you do not ask. You ask and don't recieve because you ask with the wrong motives, so that you may spend it on your pleasures" (James 4:1-3 CSB). 

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways,' this is the Lord's declaration. 'For as heaven is higher than earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:8-9 CSB).  

4. God always answers prayers, but not always how we imagined. 

"But the Lord asked Abraham, 'Why did Sarah laugh, saying, 'Can I really have a baby when I am old? Is anything impossible for the LORD? At the appointed time I will come back to you, and in about a year she will have a son" (Genesis 18:13-14 CSB). 

5. All responses from God, whether favorable to our requests or not, are for our good. 

"Ask and you will receive so that your joy may be complete" (John 16:24 CSB). 

"Who among you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him" (Matthew 7:9-11 CSB). 

"For the LORD God is a sun and shield. The LORD grants favor and honor; he does not withhold the good from those who live with integrity" (Psalm 84:11 CSB).   

These truths, although simple, are easy to forget.

It's easy to forget that God is a good father who gives good gifts and doesn't withhold any good thing from us. It's easy to forget that our prayers actually make a difference when we consider the sovereignty of God. It's easy to forget that the motivations of our hearts and the faith with which we ask with makes a difference in WHAT we pray for and HOW those prayers will be answered by God. 

I know they're easy to forget because I forget them often. And if I am being totally vulnerable (very uncharacteristic of me, I know) I struggle to pray for things because I trust that the Lord's decrees will come to pass with or without my prayers and so prayer sometimes feels pointless. 

It sometimes feels like praying for personal desires or hopes is a direct prayer against the will of God, and that the only acceptable prayer is "Thy will be done."

But why then does God ask us to come to him for the trivialities of human existence? Why does he ask us to come to him with our hopes, our dreams, our sufferings, our desires and our longings? Why does he ask us to pray for those things however small and insignificant that they might seem or however overwhelming and impossible they might feel? 

I think because prayer is an act of faith. It takes very little faith to sit on your hands and let life happen to you, and blame it all on God's will and sovereignty. 

I also think because prayer is an act of dependence and trust in God. It is asking God to do something that you can't take credit for and that you can't chalk up to your own abilities, qualities or merit. 

Hoping is difficult. Believing is difficult. Waiting is difficult. Waiting while believing and hoping feels like stretching a wound larger and larger, while only making yourself more vulnerable to be hurt in the end.  

Longstanding prayers like the one of Abraham and Sarah that required 25 years of waiting, praying, hoping and believing that the Lord would deliver what he promised, bring about a great deal of pain, doubts, of wrestling with faith, and a greater knowledge of the Lord's heart when it's all said and done.  

And I am still learning what it looks like to wait and pray with faith. I know he hears my prayers. I know he is powerful enough and able to answer any request I offer up. I know my pain is his pain and my joy is his joy. I know he doesn't withhold good gifts. I believe, Lord, help me believe. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

12 Lessons // 12 Months

As I have been reflecting on my first 12 months in Brazil, I couldn't help remembering a few (trillion) lessons I have learned in those rapidly passing months. And so, I figured it was only fitting to create a list of 12 lessons learned in 12 months:

1. Portion sizes are larger in the U.S. than in Brazil. When I order a small coffee, I learned to expect that cup to contain exactly two sips and nothing more. 

2. I experienced overwhelming hospitality and love from people who hardly knew me. I was invited over for meals and parties and coffee and movies and I never could express how much that meant to me. 

3. SPEED BUMPS. I BECAME VERY CLOSELY ACQUAINTED WITH SPEED BUMPS. 

4. I learned to live a slower, more patient life. I watched others not grow angry and rude when they had to wait longer than 5 minutes for food or service, and I eventually learned from their examples. 

5. It was learning how to cook or starve, and I chose to learn to cook.  

6. Despite thinking I was going to be the only missionary who couldn't learn the language and have to be sent home in disgrace, I eventually learned. I cried and became frustrated and wanted to give up, but I learned. 

7. I can trust in the sovereignty and faithfulness of God despite confusing or painful circumstances. 

8. My heart is even uglier and sinful than I thought, and holy cow, I am so thankful for grace.  

9. You do not have to be on social media to exist. 

10. Podcasts are a glorious thing. 

11. RAISING A PUPPY IS NOT FOR THE WEAK. 

12. You are going to have to depend on other people more than you are comfortable with, but that's okay, it's uncomfortable because you are growing and becoming a little less prideful.   

(I Wish I Was) Homeward Bound

When I was a kid, I used to watch the 1950's sitcom "I Love Lucy" and aside from Lucille Ball and her incredible acting ability, one of the things I remember most about the show was every time Desi Arnaz would walk in the door and yell, "Lucy, I'm home!" 

Flash forwards a couple of years when my family adopted a black lab we named Lucy. 

Every day after school when the school bus would drop us off at home and we raced each other up the driveway slamming the kitchen screen door behind us we would yell, "Lucy, I'm hoooooooome!" 

For us, it never got old, but I am sure my mother would tell a different story. 

Home, for the majority of my life, has been a white farmhouse nestled next to a green rain-weathered barn on three acres of land. Home has been drafty windows in the winter and tattletale stairsteps when I was coming home past curfew. Home has been lined with pine trees to be used as cabins during the civil war and shelter when trekking into the uncharted west. Home has been vegetable gardens and tire swings.  

But right now, home isn't any of those things. If I am being perfectly honest, I am not sure what home is. 

My apartment in Brazil full of plants and books and a dog I picked up from the street doesn't feel like home yet, but the place I grew up in Indiana doesn't feel like home anymore either. 

I remember as I was preparing to come back to Indiana after my first year in Brazil I kept saying "I am going home" but when I got there, I realized things weren't the same. Time had kept moving. People's lives changed. My life changed. My life of daily tasks and community and conversations was located somewhere else. And no matter how much I wish it could be different, the white farmhouse in Indiana was my parents' home that I could visit for a little while, but it was no longer my home. 

Hebrews 13:14 tells us that Heaven is our only home that lasts forever. 

And so, when it feels like I am a wandering nomad with no place to call home and no land to call my own, I can rest in the truth that anywhere I call home on Earth is a temporary and dim reflection of what my true home in Heaven will be like. 

I think as we get older, we naturally start to realize how unfit this earthly home is. What we once saw with rose-colored glasses as children, starts to show an ugly underbelly as we age. We see corruption. We see injustice. We see deceit. We see sin. We see a world crumbling and full of pain. 

We long for a better home. 

Throughout the Bible Christians are referred to as sojourners, foreigners, strangers, and aliens. (1 Peter 1:1, 2:11-12, 1 Chronicles 29:15, Philippians 3:20). 

I am not a wandering nomad simply because I am caught somewhere between Brazil and America. I am a wandering nomad because Earth itself is not where I belong. 

And the more we realize this, the more we become uncomfortable with this temporary home and begin to long for our eternal home, the home we were created for, the home where we can finally be all that we were created to be in perfect sinless harmony. 

You know that feeling of being home? When people around you understand your background, your culture, share core values and core beliefs and you feel like you can just take a sigh of relief? 

Imagine that times a million when we are finally in Heaven. 

I find myself contemplating the brevity of this life often. I find myself contemplating how, in comparison to eternity, this life is a vapor--here today and gone tomorrow. 

I think I used to put a lot of stake in this earthly home of mine. I had a laundry list of things I wanted to hoard here on Earth to maximize my experience here before God took me to Heaven and I had to sing endless hymns to God forever and ever. (I really did think that was what Heaven was going to be like as a kid I didn't want to go because I thought it sounded boring.) 

But now? My list of things is less important to me. Sure, there are still things I desire to have on this Earth before the Lord takes me home, but that's with the perspective that it is temporary. That I will eventually say goodbye and give back to the Lord what he has allowed me to enjoy for a time. 

I think of it as a traveler on the road. On a road trip, you have a destination. Sure, if you do it well you will stop at all the cute towns along the way and maybe pick up a few trinkets to remember the places in between, but you wouldn't buy an apartment one town into the trip, sell your car and call it a day. You know each stop, each person you meet, and each experience you have is temporary and brief because you have a larger trip, a larger end goal, and what a shame it would be to get so distracted at the souvenir shop in an insignificant town along the way that you never make it to the Grand Canyon at the end of your trip.

Colossians 3:2 tells us to fixate our minds, not on the things of this temporary home, but on the things of our eternal home. 

And so, for me, that means understanding that this feeling of homelessness on Earth is one stop on my way home to heaven. It means not making my white farmhouse in Indiana an idol and a source of my identity, but understanding that Heaven is the only home where I will ever feel completely at peace, completely loved, and completely at home. 

And I don't know when that day will come when the Lord will take me home. It might be today, it might be tomorrow, it might be in eighty years. But no matter when he takes me, I will continue this journey as a foreigner doing my best to make the most of this vapor of a life. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S 

Video of my first year in Brazil