Grace is for Me, Too

Emotional, processing post ahead.  You've been warned.

It's 11:30pm and I should be heading to bed considering the fact that I'll be driving 2,400 miles starting tomorrow.  I'm completely exhausted, as is to be expected when packing up a home and saying "see ya later" to so many loved ones.  It's so strange to feel so ill with grief and yet long for nothing more than these hours and days to fly by.  Honestly... if I could just sleep for the next week or two, that would be great.  

When friends become family, like mine have, it feels like I'm leaving a part of myself behind.  While this season has not been without its challenges, these deep connections are clear evidence of hard work, love, and the presence of God.  I've been reading a lot of Paul's writings lately... sitting with him in his grief as he moves from one place of ministry to the next... trying to gain some peace from his experiences, some wisdom.  This is not at all to suggest the work I've been a part of is comparable to Paul's, but I imagine many of the things I'm feeling now were felt by him, felt by Jesus.  Paul often reflects on his work and expresses how he's been impacted in his writings... and that is where I'm at tonight.

In the past few weeks, many people have reflected with me on our time together.  They have shared how they've been so impacted by me and how deeply I'll be missed, which totally blows my mind.  In all reality, I don't feel as though I've done anything special here.  This is not me trying to be humble, this is just the way I tend to view myself, for better or for worse.  I never feel like I've done anything extraordinary or anything that anyone else would not have done.  I feel extremely blessed by these sweet relationships and I don't feel as though I've done anything at all to earn them.  Again, much of this stems from my skewed view of myself, but it has been hard to stomach other people's experiences of me.  I get embarrassed when people thank me because as they're speaking these things that are so true to them, I've got this little voice telling me, "yeah, you did that, but remember how you messed that other thing up?  Remember how you said the wrong thing to that one person?  Remember how you're a sinner and not as good as they think you are?"

As a perfectionist, I tend to think in terms of how I can improve upon myself.  On the surface, that's not a bad thing, of course.  Everyone can probably think of plenty of healthy ways to improve themselves.  But the problem lies in the unrealistic expectations I carry... in those things that are paralyzing me tonight and preventing me from being comfortable with letting go and moving forward.  These tears that won't seem to stop falling are reflections of feelings of guilt, regret, and imperfection.

And yet, even in this moment... even as I write this out right now, Jesus whispers to my heart, "grace."  Tonight as I prayed with some friends, I prayed for them to fully know God's grace.  It's so easy to pray this for those I love, but I don't always have the mind to pray the same for myself.  Something I've been challenged to do over and over again, especially in the past couple of years is to learn to really allow myself the grace I believe is offered to everyone else.  To let go of perfectionism and to accept God's gift of grace... for it is definitely by the grace of God that I am able to do anything.  Tonight this means allowing myself to weep without feeling silly... because I love people deeply.  It means releasing myself of guilt and regrets, knowing and trusting that God works even in spite of my imperfections... even though I didn't always handle things well, people still know and have experienced God because I said "yes" when God said, "therefore, go."  

And just like, most of the weight lifts off my chest (some of it is going to stick around as I continue my "see ya later" meetings tomorrow).  Freedom in the midst of deep grief and sorrow.  Thanks Jesus.

I have much more to share about my final weeks here in Jersey and lots to process through about the exciting things that lie ahead, but those things will have to wait.  I'll leave you with some Scripture and a picture.

“As Jesus was speaking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, asking to speak to him.  Someone told Jesus, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, and they want to speak to you.”  Jesus asked, “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”  Then he pointed to his disciples and said, “Look, these are my mother and brothers.  Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother!”” Matthew 12:46-50

“And now I entrust you to God and the message of his grace that is able to build you up and give you an inheritance with all those he has set apart for himself.”  Acts 20:32

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“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed.  If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.  Likewise, two people lying close together can keep each other warm. But how can one be warm alone?  A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.”  Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

So much love 💛

Next Steps

Ready for some vulnerability?  Well, ready or not, here it comes.

Just over 5 years ago, I moved to New Jersey.  While I was unsure as to what God had in store for me, I knew very clearly that this was the next place for me.  Prior to being here, I had been back and forth between Uganda and Illinois for 4 years, and before that I lived in Indiana for about 6 years.  Well, the time has come for me to move again.  This fall I'll be moving to Arizona to pursue my professional counseling license now that I've finished my master's degree.  The decision hasn't be reached easily and I continue to go through a wide range of emotions, sometimes all in one day.  I'll admit that between the sadness, anger, and excitement, some days I don't know whether I'm coming or going.

When I first got to Jersey, the word that the Lord gave me to cling to was "settle."  Quite honestly, I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I was hoping it meant a husband and a family.  I was hoping it would mean that I would finally settle down somewhere and have one single place to call home.  Instead, I have yet ANOTHER place to call home.

Nerd alert: You know how in the Harry Potter books Voldemort splits his soul 7 times to ensure his immortality?  I feel like I can relate... on a less crazy evil-villain-y level, of course.  The range of emotions (which is much wider than the 3 already mentioned) seems to expand every day.

Between Illinois, Indiana, Uganda, and now New Jersey, I'm not sure I want to add to the list again.  Why?  Because it hurts to say "see ya later" or "goodbye."  It's both incredibly beautiful and incredibly painful to pour your heart into so many people and to give so much of your time (while taking their's) only to walk away in the end.  So often over the last couple of months as the decision to move has been made, it has seemed almost irresponsible.  Yet, the love and depth in the relationships that have been created in all of these various places is so worth the pain I feel now.  At least that's what I tell myself when a student is sobbing with grief into my shoulder... which happened this past week as they learned of my leaving.

For many of my younger years, I did the best I could to contain my emotion, never allowing people to see me cry or grieve at all, but recently I've failed to contain myself as I tell people about this move.  However, as I've reflected on the heightened emotional response I've had lately, I feel no shame or regret.  I've decided that to hide my emotions... to ignore the grief... takes away from all that God has done.  I have met and come to truly love so many amazing people since being here and I am very thankful that my heart is so broken right now... as strange as that may sound.  It is indicative of the relationships built and the work God has done over the past 5+ years and will continue to do.  Praise be to God for such strong emotion because it means that I have loved genuinely, deeply, and with my whole heart.

While I'm currently embracing all the feels, I also know (thanks to my transient life) how easy it is to become just a memory in the lives of those you have valued so dearly.  This is my current fear.  I know how this goes.  I have experience here.  The best intentions can only carry relationships so far.  I'm not good at giving up on relationships and I would never just let someone dear to me go, but the reality is that miles have a funny way of coming in between even the closest of relationships.  Even those relationships that feel like family.  A prime example is my actual family.  I love my nieces with my whole heart and when we're together we have an amazing time, but when they're miles away, our communication is limited and it ebbs and flows for various reasons.  But blood... family... is always family.  That can't change.  Other relationships can.  That is where my fear and grief lies.

Yet even as I sit here and think about that fear, I have to ask myself where it comes from.  I find myself wondering why it even exists in the first place.  "It cannot be from God," is my first thought.    If I have been doing this all for the glory of God, then I wonder if it should matter whether I'm easily forgotten or not.  God will not be forgotten easily.  Experiences with Him don't fade so quickly.  For that, I'm so thankful... and so humbled.  None of this has ever been about me.  It's been about the work of the Lord being accomplished in and through me.  That's the cry of my heart right now.

Anyway, there are so many exciting things ahead, I know, but still, I don't want this place to just become my past.  I am not the person I was when I moved here.  For better or for worse (I hope for better), I am a changed woman.  My experiences have changed me.  The work God has asked me to do has changed me.  Relationships have changed me.  I am constantly being reshaped and renewed and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I think that the word "settle" that God gave me referred to being settled in Him... which was necessary as I ministered at this particular church.  Never did I think I would be called upon to lead a congregation in the midst of a very difficult season, but had God not been preparing me for it as He helped me settle into Him, I may not have been obedient to His leading.  It was not always easy, but I did always know that He was walking with me.  He provided the support necessary and I'm so thankful to those closest with me as I walked those long months.

I also think  "settle" meant to settle into the youth ministry well and connect like never before... to build a team of leaders and to really know and love the kids... to be vulnerable and share my heart.  It's been a privilege to disciple and help these students grow into the followers of Christ they are today.  My prayer is that our relationships would continue to grow and that they would earnestly seek a life with Christ as they navigate high school, college, and beyond.  The same goes for the many others I've had the privilege of working with and discipling.  I know that it's possible to keep moving forward... because "kids" from my other youth groups are still Skyping me, asking me to officiate their weddings, do their premarital counseling, etc.

So, thanks be to God for His faithfulness, for His clear leading in my life, and for the love shared between so many of His people.  For those who didn't get it, this is the letter my church received this week.  I would appreciate your prayers as this news continues to spread and sink in.  Below the letter are some of my favorite pictures from these years.

Snapchat from Bry

I Will Not Be Quiet

Over the last year and a half I have read hundreds of articles, watched hours and hours of the news (including the primary and presidential debates), and have been involved in more discussions than I can even remember at this point.  I consider myself to be, at the very least, moderately educated when it comes to current politics.  I preface this post with that information because I'm really not interested in a debate or argument.  That is not my purpose here.  I'm well aware of what has taken place.  My purpose is to be a voice.  I may not be as articulate as many of my friends and family, but I will not be quiet.

I will not be quiet because to do so would only add to the horror that we are currently living.  To do so would be permissive.  To do so would go against everything I have ever known to be Truth.

I will be the first to admit that I grew up in an extremely privileged, predominately white area and was given everything I ever needed and wanted.  I never went without anything because my parents worked tirelessly to give us the childhood they never had.  I have been given every opportunity to be educated and successful.  On top of that, I was introduced to Christ around the age of 13 or so and quite honestly have never looked back since.  I fell in love with His Word.  The fact that Jesus died for me was mind-boggling and awe-inspiring.  I couldn't get enough of Christ, so I studied the Word, I listened to teaching, I engaged in discussion, and I learned what it meant to be an image-bearer of Christ, what it meant to live a Christ-like life.  I observed the life of Jesus and His relationships with His closest disciples, with sinners, and with those who despised Him.  I became sensitive to His commands, taking them very seriously.

As a result, much of my life has been dedicated to serving Jesus.  Let me be clear: it hasn't always been pretty and I've messed up A LOT (yeah, I'm a big time sinner), but I have tried to walk in obedience.  So after attending a small evangelical university and working in youth ministry for a time, I felt called to Africa where I served for two separate year-long terms as a missionary.  In that time, I worked with people from nearly 30 different countries and had the joy of learning at least a little bit about each culture.  (I worked at an international school for part of my time, hence the vast variety of cultures.)  There are some that I learned more about than others.  For example, much of my time was spent with former child soldiers and refugees from South Sudan, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Sudan, Rwanda, Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, and the list goes on, along with the various religions represented.

Many of these dear ones have come to know Jesus and many have amazing stories of how God revealed Himself to them in unlikely and miraculous ways.  When you sit and listen to the first-hand accounts of 6 different former child soldiers and lost boys, you can't not be changed and deeply impacted.  Absolute horror becomes real when you look into the eyes of those affected by such violence.  And the refugees who recounted their stories of survival and resilience brought me to my knees.  Yet in their deep pain and suffering, I was welcomed in as a daughter and as a sister.  I was made a part of many different family units.  Homes and hearts were opened.  In fact, my heart now has two homes on two continents.  Some of these beautiful brothers and sisters have been resettled here in the U.S. over the last few years.

Because of this, I will not be quiet.

Flash forward five years to present day: I have this terrible habit of checking my phone first thing in the morning, while I'm still laying bed.  I think I justify it by first reading the daily devo in my email.  Wednesday morning I was met with the results of the election.  And I cried.  No, I didn't just cry.  I wept.  I figured it was going to end that way when I went to bed on Tuesday, but the reality of it was heartbreaking that morning.  Pictures of my loved ones flashed through my brain and I sobbed.  My sister and I exchanged a few snapchats expressing our grief and our fear, especially for her daughters, my nieces who happen to be two of the most beautiful, bi-racial girls around.  The weeping continued as I thought of other dear friends and family who are people of color, who are a part of the LGBTQ community, and the Muslim community.
 
As I looked at the news and social media, I found that we weren't alone.  The expressions of anger, sadness, and fear filled my various newsfeeds and my tears kept flowing.  There was also much rejoicing, followed by proud statements that boasted of a victory for the evangelicals.  All I could think was, "how?"  How did this happen?  I listened to his words, I observed his actions, I was shocked by his flippant attitude towards so many.  How could a man who exemplifies such intense hatred, racism, neglect, abuse, etc be elected to lead this nation?  He does not represent the people... not the people I know.  So, how?

(Let me add in that if you voted for him, I love you and I don't think you're ignorant, racist, or abusive people.  I know that some have decided that to be true of you, but I refuse that narrative.)

The amount of violence and hate speech that has erupted as a result of the election is alarming.  I'm not talking about the protests though.  I'm talking about those who now feel safe, confident, and justified in speaking hate towards people of color, Muslims, the LGBTQ community, etc.  To many, the president-elect offers space for such language and action.  The KKK marched on Wednesday celebrating the victory.  Someone graffiti'd a swastika with the words "Make America White Again."  Pretending that this isn't happening, that this isn't the reality that we're now living is completely irresponsible.  These are the real experiences of minorities in a free land.  If you've not encountered such hate, you're counted among the privileged.

As a woman, I'm horrified.  As a Christian, I'm horrified.  As a daughter, aunt, sister, neighbor, I'm horrified.  How is this acceptable?  The fear and grief many are experiencing is very real!  I've sat quietly for a few days now partially because of shock, partially because I was made to feel foolish for having such a strong response.  "Why can't people get over it?"  "So what?  He's our president-elect. It's nothing to cry over."  "Millennials are so dramatic about everything."  "Protesting is so ignorant and pathetic."  "Libtards are so weak." (By the way, "libtards" is a horribly offensive term to both liberals and the disability community.)

I can't just "get over it" because the fear is founded in reality.  I am scared.  The youth I work with are scared.  A man has spoken hate and made promises regarding the removal of certain people and certain rights.  I weep because I've seen people threatened and abused as a result of him.  I weep because the Church remains silent, thus allowing it to continue.  I'll say it again: to be silent is to be permissive.  I weep because many who claim to follow Jesus mock those who are hurting, scared, and alone.  Showing emotion and caring for others is not weakness, but strength.  I will not be told how I'm allowed to react or feel about something and I will not be told to be quiet.  (By the way... I'm a few years too old to be considered a millennial.)

Friends, I have known Jesus in the deepest pits of life-threatening terror and despair through my brothers and sisters both here and around the world.  And I have known Him in great privilege.  I know the Truth.  Many of you know the Truth.  We cannot remain quiet.  To those in fear, I will stand with you.  I will not be quiet.

Broken Relationships

This used to be a forum for me to update my family and friends about my life when I lived in Uganda.  Since then, it's been a place where I've continued to update since my move to the east coast, but it's also been a place where I've vented, reflected, and generally just shared my thoughts, for better or for worse.  At this point, I can't even think about updating everything that's happened since I last posted in May.  If we've been in touch or if we're friends on social media, you are relatively up to date on my life.

To be honest, I shouldn't even be on here today.  The second year of grad school is no joke and I've got two exams, a paper, numerous lectures to listen and respond to, and a book I really should be reading.  (Also, the CUBS are in the WORLD SERIES!!! #FlyTheW)  However, I need to stop today, if only for myself, to reflect for a few minutes.  On my hour-long commute home from class this afternoon I feel like I reached a boiling point on something.  In my theological foundations of counseling class we've been talking about the theology of relationships.  It's got me really reflecting on my own relationships both with God and with others in a way that I haven't done in a long time.

It's been no secret in my life that I love relationships.  I love building new relationships and I really love maintaining long-term relationships.  I'm not satisfied with surface-level interactions.  I like to get to the heart of someone and to really know them... and of course, I like to be known too.  Both time and space have a tendency to cause relationships to fade away and then back for a season and then away again, sometimes causing them to remain away.  Not broken though.  Just away.  Even my relationship with God throughout the years has experienced a bit of a back and forth, though thankfully, never away for an extended period of time.  

There are people I have been friends with for nearly 25 years that slip in and out of my life for no other reason than proximity and life itself.  I've somehow learned to be content with that and have even begun to allow myself grace in that area.  When I have a random phone call with a friend that I haven't spoken to for years, I don't hang up and mourn for what once was, instead I rejoice for the few precious moments of genuine connection.  There is something so safe and comforting about old relationships.  I've discovered that it's when I'm not feeling comfortable and/or safe that I seek out these familiar bonds, hence my recent trip to be with my family.  

Notice though, that I did not include broken relationships in the same category as those that ebb and flow.  I'm not in the least bit comfortable with broken relationships.  I never have been.  Letting go is not my strong suit, even if I know in my heart that that's what's best.  A broken relationship feels like a failure to me; like I've wasted my time and been used or that I've done that very same thing to someone else, which I hate.  Even times when I've been deeply wounded by someone, I still have a tendency to want to cling to that person because I am so uncomfortable with the loss, which I realize is quite unhealthy.  In fact, I can count on one, maybe two hands the amount of relationships that I would put in the "broken" category. 

What ends up happening is that I beat myself up for not doing a better job at keeping the broken (or very lopsided) relationship.  I think of all the things I did (or am doing) wrong.  I think of all of the ways that I should have handled myself differently.  I convince myself that if I were a certain way or fulfilled a certain requirement well for that other person, the relationship would not be broken, that I would not have been used up and tossed out.  Again, being a graduate counseling student, I understand the faulty thinking and inaccurate core beliefs and I'm working on changing them, but what remains is that this is how I experience broken relationships.  My core beliefs dictate how I relate to others.  The things I believe about myself, about God, and about the other person are not aligned well.  

Today, I realized some very deep-seated resentment and hurt that I've been harboring towards God because of unmet relational expectations.  I know that some of my pain comes from my own depravity.  Pride, desire, and disobedience get in the way of hearing truth.  I have allowed this brokenness to settle in and I've spent so much time dwelling on it and allowing it to drive wedges deeper still in some places.  I've allowed it to convince me of my worthlessness.  On my loneliest days, it's been unbearable.  On my best days, it's just been a small, nagging voice.  

Today however, was an illuminating day full of both righteous and unrighteous anger, confession, tears, praise and worship, and silence.  Today, I was reminded where my hope is found.  Don't get me wrong, the pain is still there.  I'm still extremely uncomfortable with relational brokenness, though I don't think that will ever change.  We are designed to be in relationship... in deep fellowship with God and with one another.  When that's broken or in the process of breaking, it's uncomfortable and painful.  This is why unavoidable loss, like death, is so painful: it's a broken relationship.  This wasn't in the original plan.  

"There is no greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" John 15:13 (NLT).