Wednesday, June 12, 2013 § 4 Comments
I should have written this weeks ago. But when your mind’s in a limbo, when you can’t find words for what you feel, when you don’t even know what you really feel, it’s not fair to drag someone else into your messy mound of unnamed thoughts and emotions.
But my writing now doesn’t mean to say I’ve got everything defined. In fact, I’m not even counting on the day that I’ll understand everything, because I won’t and I can’t. Let’s just say, everything is starting to make sense now. And I find that as I read my prayer journal from last year and early this year, and view my prayers in light of what happened recently.
Let me back up a little here and give you some history. I went to India on a mission trip last April. And this, my friends, is a big deal for me, not only because it’s a mission work, but also because I’d had the desire to go there on a mission trip since 2010. It was a long time coming, and it’s partly the reason for my restlessness that stretched for years.
I’ve been told that missions would change you. That it would make you do it again and again. But nobody warned me that going on a mission is an emotional journey. That you would arrive home knowing that you left part of your heart, part of yourself in that country you served. That it would take you days, weeks, months even to get a grip on what has just happened because it’s overwhelming and you couldn’t believe that you went through a lot in just a short time. That you couldn’t pinpoint the reason why you want to burst crying one moment and you end up crying in another. And that you’re asking God why you’re feeling what you’re feeling and you find no answer except for his comforting presence.
All of it feels weird. But it’s a beautiful kind of weird.
If there’s one thing I can say with definite clarity, it is this: India changed me. From start to end, it changed me. From the moment I prayed for this mission opportunity to the time I was raising my funds, it roused something in me. From the time I boarded the plane to Delhi to the moment I met my family after two weeks in Manila, India messed with my life—in a subtle, gentle, and divine way.
How would you feel when you’re aware that something significant was going to happen in your life but didn’t know it yet and then you went to a new place and after a time you realized something and could say to yourself, “I think I have an idea what this might be”? The nagging feelings finally made sense. The prayers of long ago found an answer. The desires that you easily dismissed as random were not random after all but had been ingrained in your inmost being—and although they seemed diverse in nature, they fit together in God’s master plan.
It’s so amazing how one act of obedience could be an answer to many of my prayers. It never occurred to me that the prayers are a lot more connected than I allowed myself to believe, and they all point to the same things.
Changes. Transition. Shifts.
I am reminded that one act of obedience puts us in a good position to acknowledge and receive God’s plans for us. In that act of obedience, we get acquainted with our own desires and dreams and view them in his perspective. We see our confusion melt away as we begin to understand how faith is required to live out the plans of God. And with an attitude of total submission and self-abandonment, we can freely let go, leave the safe place, and move in the direction he’s leading us.
I’ve been asked what the highlight of the mission trip is for me. I could think of a lot. Vacation Bible School. Praise dance with the kids. Home bible studies. Dinners with the church members. All the time I spent at our host church. Strangely, as I think of it now, the highlight really happened after the trip. It’s when I got home and sought God about this restlessness and these desires, and when God gave me an answer in the form of a glimpse of his plans. That sparked a greater, powerful sense of purpose and direction in me. He planted seeds in my heart long ago, and only when I went to India and came back home did I really have a good look at them.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013 § 3 Comments
I was the kid who couldn’t run fast enough or catch a ball or balance in roller skates. I didn’t try athletics or anything that would demand a ton of physical strength, because what’s the point? If you grew up believing you’re weak, you’d eventually live it. And so I led a life of a weakling, living in fear all my life. I was hesitant to try new things. I didn’t dare to be adventurous. I put myself in a box, thinking I was secure in it. Put another way, my life was boring.
But when you’re in Christ, you’d know that life with Him is rarely a bore. He would push you out of your comfort zone, taking you on adventurous trips you wouldn’t have otherwise chosen for yourself. You could only tug on Him and plead to spare you from this, because, “God, I’m afraid.” But that’s exactly why you have to get on it, because it’s when you’re afraid you completely rely on Him. After all, He knows what He’s doing, and you are left with a choice to obey or disobey.
I chose to obey when I sensed God calling me on an adventure. It’s totally out of my comfort zone, but I realized it was that one thing I’d been waiting — praying — for.
But no sooner had I said yes than I also realized that for me to finish this adventure, I had to be strong. That’s something I knew I wasn’t.
Fear easily found a foothold once again. Discouraging me. Paralyzing me.
And I’m tired of it. Tired of being afraid, scared. Tired of cowering. Of backing out. Of taking cautious little steps. Of being uncertain. Of finding the courage you couldn’t see.
When you’re facing a mountain, you have to find the strength in yourself to climb it. Otherwise, you’re going to be stuck where you are — and I’m speaking literally here as much as figuratively.
Just this weekend I joined a mountain adventure with wonderful, beautiful, passionate-for-Christ ladies. When I say mountain adventure, I mean passing through caves, trekking toward the summit, crossing a hanging cable bridge. My fearful self would have liked to back out, or at least would have used a lot of pep talk. This wasn’t what I was used to doing.
But my fearful self surprisingly wasn’t around. I was able to hold myself together and put on some amount of boldness. I didn’t panic. Okay, maybe at some point I did, especially when I saw the cable bridge and considered my fear of heights.
But here’s the thing. I squeezed myself into the tiny spaces in the cave, climbed rocks, trekked in mostly muddy terrain, trod toward the summit, and balanced myself in a thin cable with a strength I didn’t know I have.
I didn’t know I have it because I was too afraid to know. Because it’s the kind of strength you’d only learn of when you throw yourself into uncomfortable, unfamiliar situations. True enough, only when I freely embarked on a seemingly scary adventure did I find out that God had already deposited His strength in me. What’s there to be afraid of?
I have already given my strength to you. You are strong. You have it in you.
“I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).
There’s confidence in awareness that when He gives you a task, God provides the strength you need to carry it out. But more importantly, there’s power when you allow God to unleash His strength in you.
So here I am today, a changed woman. It’s amazing how a weekend of adventure uncovered the brave and strong me. The past mindsets that have limited me and thwarted my potential are gone. God has parted the lies that have covered my heart for so long, revealing a fresh heart beating with His energy and strength.
Now I choose to live without fear.
I have come to terms with uncertainty.
I can take bold steps, confident that God has made the ground stable.
In the end, it all comes down to this: I am weak, but if God is living in me and God is strong, then I become strong.
Now that I realize how strong I am in Christ, I cannot begin to understand the magnitude of His work in and through me. So I say, “God, let’s get that adventure rolling.”
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).
Friday, December 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
I asked one important thing from God, one thing every Christian would pray for. Because I asked Him to increase my faith, I was confident He wouldn’t say no.
I sat back, waiting for Him to do wonders in my heart. That I’d wake up one morning already with vigorous faith, boldly believing for all the things I had prayed for, doubt no longer lingering in the corners of my heart. Instant miracle right there.
I came up empty instead. It felt like my level of faith was still the same on the day I prayed. Even worse, I found myself in tight situations and I had to tell God this was not what I prayed for. I prayed for bolder faith, didn’t I, Father?
Impatient thinking — foolish if I might say — is when I expect God to address my prayer that way. Like magic. That would make me one lazy woman, I know.
I have come to understand that He doesn’t deal with the matters of the heart that way. Because in dealing with everything that has to do with my heart attitude and beliefs, He leads me in a process — oftentimes a laborious one. And He requires my willing participation.
It’s the same when we pray to God to make us more obedient, or generous, or patient. He doesn’t put obedience, or generosity, or patience in a neat gift box and pass it down to us. Instead, He puts us in a situation where we are forced to flex our spiritual muscles and train our hearts to respond in the way we pray to. Because a healthy Christian walk doesn’t only involve feeding on the Word; there need be some spiritual workout.
And it means that whatever it is I want to practice in my life, I need to work it until it becomes part of who I am. There is a conscious decision and involvement.
It could be uncomfortable at times. Difficult. There’s plenty of unlearning, undoing, and breaking to be done until all wrong attitude and beliefs are exposed before God and myself. I’ve got to be far removed from where I used to be and what I used to do. There’s a great deal of inward activities going on, and if I truly desire real transformation, I have to resign myself to them.
Some days I want to throw in the towel. But I also begin to understand that discomfort and difficulty are what reshapes the attitude, develops the discipline, and makes the muscles firm.
In many cases, God doesn’t hand us down the miracles. That’s too easy on our end. He works us to be the miracle.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’ve got a dream — it’s big in scope. It’s grand in nature.
But I lost it. Or did it die?
All I know is that I woke up one day realizing I had lived my days just as they came.
Make no mistake, I am all for living life one day at a time. Isn’t that what the Israelites did on the desert? Relying on God for manna on a daily basis? Looking up to him as their cloud by day and their pillar of fire by night? Yet they still had their sights on the Promised Land, did they?
I didn’t, and I was alarmed at knowing this because it meant only one thing: I was just going through the motions of life, having no ropes to hold me in place. I lost my grasp of my dream, grew unexcited for my future. That’s dangerous, if you ask me.
I wanted to cry. And I did. My spirit did.
Because I know how it happened. And I know why it happened. Because my dream was big in scope and grand in nature. Because in the natural realm, it looked impossible. Because I didn’t seem to progress to just get a glimpse — just a glimpse! — of my dream.
And then one thing led to another. Discouraged, I opened my palm and let the dream fly away, flutter in the wind, and be blown far into obscurity.
One of the greatest tragedies is to give up your dream, and with it the anticipation of a future God designed even before he breathed life into you. Because to dream is to hope, and to hope is to live. A person who dreams is a person passionate to live, his appetite for attaining a quality life drives him to live intentionally. His hope wakes him to a new beginning every morning.
My dream is God’s dream too. He put the seed here in my heart. So when I lost the dream, God cried too.
I could sense His heartbreak because I myself was heartbroken. And then, with full knowledge of what I needed, He told me, “I’m restoring the dream.”
My spirit cried again — not out of dejection but of rejoicing. My God, who is the author of life, who speaks life to the dead, who calls nothing into being, is going to plant a new seed of dream again. I know my God, and He doesn’t stop at a job half-done. He will water my dream into full bloom and until it grows into every particle of my soul.
Sometimes it takes a brand new chance for us to see where we slipped, to have a real understanding of our roles. And in this, I know my role is to move myself into action. To continue walking toward the dream no matter how far it seems to me. To receive all the tools God is sending my way to keep the dream branching out. To protect it from the enemy that will snatch it and bully me into silence.
And the enemy will try his hardest to not only snatch but also kill our dreams, because he knows very well that our dreams have a special place in God’s plan. To see them triumph is the enemy’s loss.
I won’t allow him — or my faithlessness — to steal my victory. So I’m clasping my arms around my dream and never let it go. I’m letting hope to drench my spirit once again. My God, who also dreams for me, will watch it into fruition.
Friday, July 6, 2012 § 3 Comments
I’ve felt this before, and now I’m feeling it again. Will it ever end? The cycle?
My feet want to take a life of their own, want to drag me from out here and take me to a place I haven’t even seen. If I allow them, they could probably grow wings and fly me — hastily — to that place I have been wondering about but which I haven’t had the luxury to see.
My hands, my mind, my heart, my entire being seem to beg me to assent to it, as if they hold the knowledge that something’s waiting for me at the other end.
I call it the other end because I don’t know what it is. I have no name for it. Is it a literal destination? Figurative? Where is it? What does it look like? What do I have to do with it? And what does the Lord want me to accomplish for Him? The last question is important, because certainly I know it’s Him calling.
Fear and uncertainty linger. They chain my feet to the earth I’m standing on. But if I let go and take a step, will my feet land on a good ground? Will everything finally make sense?
But maybe at this point where I will go and what I shall do are irrelevant. Maybe at this point what I need to do is make a decision.
So finally, with total submission, I’m answering to the subtle — but sometimes hard — tug. Genuinely, but not without fear, I am submitting myself to the call. Whatever that could mean for me, my life, the people I love.
This is to put an end to the restlessness. But for the most part, this is to express obedience.
Maybe at this point making the decision is more important than anything else. Maybe only after making that decision can I come to terms with the possible turn of events, and only then will I more openly accept that one day I will have to go.
Everything sounds cryptic, doesn’t it? It does, yes. Because everything remains a mystery at the moment. It seems like the answer rests under a large blanket and which will get uncovered at the proper time. Maybe I will finally have the answer after this. I’ll probably receive concrete instructions by then. And my road will fan out with a more defined outline.
In the meantime, I’m praying for direction and wisdom. Let His will be done, not mine.
Thursday, June 7, 2012 § 7 Comments
Later this day, my guest post for (in)courage will go live. (in)courage is a community of women with a passionate love for Christ. Women from many places and many backgrounds gather together in that beautiful, beach house-themed space to warm everyone’s heart with sincere, encouraging words.
I can’t remember how I found out about (in)courage, but I’m glad I did. No, I’m glad God led me to it. In all the times I visited the site, there’s always this incredible feeling that I’m not alone in my journey–that there’s a bunch of amazing women who share my struggles, understand my hormone-induced peculiarities, and have the same desires and dreams.
That even if they don’t know me, they know my story. They know what to say to salve my troubled and oftentimes confused heart. They know the words of my rejoicing. They know because my story is also their story.
If you’re a woman and you want to find a home for your heart, visit (in)courage. I’m thankful for my first visit. And look now, it’s my time to share.
See you at (in)courage.
Friday, May 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’ve been asked more than once if I have any idea who I am going to be and what I’ll do in the future. In response, I’d bring out from my mental drawer a picture of my future self: A wife to a great man of God, mother to wonderful kids, still writing, working on to become or already an accomplished author, doing missions, teaching, speaking to people.
As far as I’m concerned, this is a perfect picture, because it is based on what I really want to be and do. Yet I know in my heart that my picture of the future wouldn’t be accurate. This is just according to my plan, so its certainty cannot be guaranteed. Not like the certainty of God’s plans.
Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails (Proverbs 19:21).
Truth be told, I’ve long decided to charge my own plans to give way to the plans of my God. I’ve dedicated every piece of myself to pursue God’s ordained future for me. Even though I have no complete picture of it. Even though I am clueless.
But no matter how I try to convince myself that being clueless of the future could mean a thrill-filled and adventurous journey, sometimes I’m just terrified. After all, this kind of journey requires me to live with God’s habit of revealing only tiny detail after tiny detail of His grand plan. He shows only the road I need at the moment and leaves all the others hidden until I need to walk on them. This is not ideal for someone like me who appreciates detailed plans and advanced knowledge of routes, roadblocks, and twists and turns.
And believe me, I’ve asked God a hundred times to let me in on His plans, and always He responds not with a detailed map or with step-by-step instructions, but with “Trust me, my child, I know which paths to take you.”
So I choose to rest on that. Even though I don’t completely understand how He works, I’ll respond to his invitation to completely submit to His plans. In the first place, He knows more than I do. He knows my future even before my past and present came to being.
His plans are to make me prosperous and to be with me whichever road I traverse. And by submitting to His plans, I can be assured of an exceedingly beautiful future I cannot knit together with my own power.
My only part is to take the journey—to hold His hand as He leads me along, to move my feet when He shows me the way, to lean against Him when He instructs me to rest, to make a turn when He needs me to change paths, and to communicate with Him every step I make.
I don’t need to know all the details of God’s plans. I won’t fully comprehend them after all, so with God’s grace, I’m learning to rejoice even in my cluelessness. Besides, it’s enough to know that the creative and wise God whose hand made the universe out of nothing is the same God who has planned out my future to the minutest detail.
Friends, I don’t how you might be struggling with totally embracing—or seeking—God’s plans for you. But trust that He knows every concern and hears every question, and He will bring to light whatever you need to know at this moment, in this season.