here at the crossroads.

Confession: This post is really more for me than it is for you.

Here's where I externally process this season of my life and look ahead to the next...in this space between the three-year journey towards a master's degree in counseling and the fairly ambiguous-but-coming-together future. What's next, you might ask (and I know you might ask it because if you have had a conversation with me in the past few months, you probably already have), now that I've taken the last exam, turned in the last paper, and walked across the stage in a black robe and a funny hat? 

Keep reading to find out :)

It's honestly hard to know where to begin on this one. I have learned SO much at seminary (both inside and outside of the classroom). I've learned to study the Bible better -- digging into hermeneutical principles like context, historical and cultural analysis, grammar and syntax, study of genre, and seeking to determine authorial intent -- and grown to love God's Word more and more. I have learned more about the character of God, human nature, and the wonder of all wonders that the God of the universe would condescend to identify with us in every way and take the punishment we deserved to restore us again to a right relationship with himself. I have pondered philosophical and theological questions like, "How do we know what we know?" and "What is real?" and "How do we know what is true?" and "Why would a good God allow suffering?"

I've also had up-close-and-personal, boots-on-the-ground, hands-in-the-dirt experience with pretty much all of the counseling issues I've studied in class (through my own personal experience or through walking alongside friends, family, or guys I've dated as they struggled with these things): 

...anxiety...depression...abuse...grief and loss...eating disorders...suicidal ideation...same sex attraction...addiction...the challenges of adoption and foster care...the struggles children of divorce will face for the rest of their lives... 

If there were ever any doubt he was indeed calling me to minister to people who are suffering, the gamut of grief and hardship I've walked (or sometimes crawled) through myself or alongside others in this short, three-year period seems to be evidence in support of that calling. I recently read a quote by John Piper I found relevant: "If you are called to counsel others, I entreat you, do not begrudge the seminary of suffering." It may not always feel fantastic, but I am truly thankful for the ways he's been using this place as a training ground for whatever he is leading me towards (and is already allowing me to do). 

He's also been teaching me so much personally. I have certainly come to realize how broken I am...anxious...fearful...distrusting...easily angered...passive aggressive...a chronic grudge-holder...always chasing the ever-illusive MORE. I've come to realize how little I've actually/fully/functionally trusted God throughout my life. Instead, I try to make my own way, coddling my idols and chasing after wind. I've only begun to grasp the depth of his grace to me in that he has pursued me and loves me still. 

In fact, I recently went through a bit of an existential crisis when a hope I've been holding onto for far too long was shattered. 

What are you doing, God? How could I have been so wrong? Why do things I feel like you're leading me in just implode? Am I mishearing you? Are you even there? 

I realized that night that I have a decision to make. The image of literally sitting on a fence came to mind. There are really only two options here: Either God does not exist and the past half a decade or so of my life has been absolutely meaningless and I better find something else to do with my life OR he is who he says he is and he is both fully sovereign and fully good and he is working all things together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). 

And my life is eternally impacted by which side of the fence I land on. Either I land on Side A (there is no God -- or if there is, he obviously either isn't good or isn't powerful -- and life is ultimately meaningless because we are all going to die and return to dust anyway so we might as well live a hedonistic, pleasure-seeking existence because this is really all there is [cf. Ecclesiastes]) OR Side B...a good God created the universe and each image-bearer in it on purpose and for a purpose and "the skies proclaim to works of his hands" (Psalm 19:1)...and he didn't make us robots but gave us the potential to really love and really choose to love him and be faithful to him...but we were disobedient and ran away...but he still bought us back and brought us back, if we will surrender our lives to the Savior of Souls and return to him...and he is working it all -- all the pain and the suffering (which he voluntarily entered into and personally experienced) as well as the beauty and the joy -- towards an ultimate grand finale of once-and-for-all restoration. 

If Option B is true, than I can't keep living like I actually believe Option A. I can't keep being afraid that he'll pull the rug out from under me or drop me or walk out on me or that he's not there or doesn't care. "Perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18).

If Option B is true, I don't have to fear! "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want" (Psalm 23:1). I don't have to want! If he is wholly good and completely in control, I don't have to fear the unknown or the ambiguous or the seemingly hopeless. I can trust that, even if circumstances aren't want I expected or wanted them to be, he is working all things together for good and no plan of his can be thwarted (Job 42:2).

But it really is one or the other. Either he's there or he's not. Either he's sovereign or he's not. Either he's good or he's not. Either the Bible is true or it's not. Which will you believe? And will you live like you really believe it? As a counselor friend of mine said during an emotional breakdown I had a few months into this season, "It's dangerous to only believe something in theory."

So, let's get back to the real reason you're probably reading this post: Where am I going from here?

Well, that's an excellent question. One I'd prefer to know a definitive, beyond-the-shadow-of-a-doubt answer to myself. But the truth is, there are a lot of question marks right now (from my finite perspective, at least). There's the potential for a counseling job that may or may not work out (and hopefully there will be others if it doesn't...and I plan to continue to pursue counseling experience in whatever way I can as I'm really just starting out). But there's also the possibility of going back to Italy, either with a family from my church or potentially to another city with the organization I went through the first time). The logistics and the timeline are a bit hazy, but the Lord does seem to be leading in that direction. 

So, I'm praying for clarity on three things right now: 1) Where to go. 2) What to do. 3) With whom to do it. Would love it if you joined me in that.

The world feels a little too wide open for my Type-A personality. I like a plan. I really like control. But let's face it...control is an illusion anyway. Take this weekend, for instance: As I type this, I should be in Williamsburg with my family, doing Christmas-y things and giving my grandmother a break from a taxing time in her life. Instead, I came straight to my hometown for the holidays while my parents and uncle have been handling a situation with my grandfather (who has dementia and is no longer able to control his actions, unfortunately making him a danger to himself and the other patients at the nursing home he had been living in for the past six weeks). May it be a lesson not to be so arrogant that we think we can truly plan our own way, saying, "'Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit' -- yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring" (James 4:13-14).

So, even if I had a really "concrete plan," it would likely change -- or at least turn out differently than I expected. So here I am again...just trying to trust and obey in the midst of uncertainly...and marveling at the work he's done in my heart in the past few years that has kept me from melting into an anxious puddle as would once have been my tendency. Which, ya know, may still happen at some point...

As so many times before, I find myself again in a season of waiting. But as God has graciously drawn me closer to himself, I feel myself waiting more in a posture of expectancy than anxiety. It has made this Advent season -- this annual period of longing and expectancy -- all the sweeter. 

I'm sure I could go on and on about all this season has meant to me...and how much it has changed me...But I'll spare you the endless ramble and leave you with something that drew me to tears at my graduation ceremony. The president preached on Hebrews 13:5, when the author quotes God's promise: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." He also quoted the Message's paraphrase: "I'll never let you down, never walk off and leave you." 

How much of my life have I really functionally been driven by that fear? 

Better come up with a back up plan, because God might not come through...

...What if, like so many people in my life, we gives up and walks out? What if he lets me down?"

Clinging to his promise never to leave us or forsake us, we can face the future fearless and faithful. We don't have to want. We don't have to fear. We have a God who, if we put our trust in him (if we land on the "Truth" side of the fence), is for us. And he is with us in every way.

Emmanuel. God with us. 

The One who holds the stars
In the creases of His hands
Is the One who holds my heart
Like a mother once held him
The One who knows what lies
Where space has run its course
Embraced a baby’s mind
And now I can know my God
The monarch of the stars
The King above all kings
The ruler of my heart
And the Saviour for my sins
The One who sees what lies
In each and every soul
Embraced our finite eyes
And now we can see our God
["Arrival" by Hillsong]

A Chance to Die

Book Summary

Amy Carmichael lived a life of radical obedience and sacrifice. As a missionary whose husband, Jim Elliot, literally gave his life so that the Auca people in Ecuador could know the One who died to save them, biographer Elisabeth Elliot was also well-versed in sacrifice and submission, making her an appropriate candidate to chronicle Carmichael’s compelling story. As Elliot asserts in the preface, “The Christian life comes down to two simple things: trust and obedience,” both of which Amy Carmichael exemplified in her 83 years of following the Lord to foreign lands and loving the people he put in front of her (Elliot 16). 

Elliot begins her biography by detailing Carmichael’s early years. Amy Carmichael was born in Millisle, Ireland on December 16, 1867. She was one of seven children, and her father died of pneumonia when she was 18 years old. While she grew up in a Christian home and faithfully served the poor in her community for much of her life, a true turning point in Carmichael’s life came at a Keswick Meeting in Scotland about a year after her father’s death when she truly realized for the first time that earthly things don’t really matter and she became “dead to the world,” rejoicing in the faith-awaking epiphany that “the Lord is able to keep us from falling” (37). A precocious, clever, and compassionate child, her adolescence was characterized by peacefulness and contentment as well as a no-nonsense attention to discipline, which would prove indispensable in shaping her into the woman God was calling her to be: “The sternness of Christian discipline put red blood—spiritual health—into the girl who could not have imagined then the buffetings she would be called on to endure” (26).

Another crucial juncture in Carmichael’s life came when Hudson Taylor of the China Inland Mission visited Belfast in 1887 and told of the thousands of souls hourly passing into eternity without the hope of the gospel. Soon after, Amy wrote, “Does it not stir up our hearts to go forth and help them, does it not make us long to leave our luxury, our exceedingly abundant light, and go to them that sit in darkness?” (41). She would go on to identify January 13, 1892 as the day God unmistakably and irrefutably called her to go. Soon after, she was appointed as the first missionary to be sent out by the Keswick Convention.

Originally planning to go to China, her health prevented her from going where and when she had planned. Instead, “‘the thought came’ to Amy that Japan was the place for her to go,” and she prepared to journey halfway across the globe shortly afterward (63). Sickness set in (a condition the doctors described as “brain exhaustion”) and, after nearly two years in Japan, it was settled that she would move to Ceylon (modern-day Sri Lanka). After a ten-month respite in England, she ultimately moved to India, never again to return to her homeland. 

During her nearly 56 years in India, she founded and ran the Dohnavur Fellowship, a home for at-risk and underprivileged children that is still thriving today. A passionate evangelist, she felt called to lay aside an occupation that brought her great joy to serve as “mother” for hundreds of children over several decades. She fought fervently for girls who were taken as children to become temple prostitutes, often risking her life to rescue them from such a fate. In her nearly 400-page biography, Elliot tells extensively of Carmichael’s work at Dohnavur until an accident 1931 left her predominantly confined to her room for the remainder of her life. However, she was still actively involved in the management of Dohnavur and the lives of the people in the community there until her death in 1951. She wrote nearly 40 books in her lifetime, and her voice still rings out across the ages. Her faithfulness impacted millions, leaving an indelible imprint on the world and pointing countless souls to Christ. 

Personal Reaction

Amy Carmichael’s story has made a profound impression on me, personally. It was also a timely read, as I am currently wrestling with the possibility of going back overseas. Her courageous example of making the counter-cultural commitment to follow the Lord to far-away places, to be dependent on him for every material provision, and to do it all as an unmarried woman are all particularly inspiring. 

First of all, she surrendered her life to overseas mission work, leaving behind the comfort of all things familiar and amidst initial opposition from those dearest to her. Upon her mother’s resistance to her going, she responded with, “My Precious Mother, have you given your child unreservedly to the Lord for whatever he wills? …O may he strengthen you to say YES to him if he asks something which costs” (54). Despite her conviction of her calling, leaving her loved ones behind was by no means easy: “I feel as though I have been stabbing someone I loved…The certainty that it was his voice I heard has never wavered, though all my heart has shrunk from what it means, though I seem torn in two” (54). Eventually, the Lord aligned her mother’s will with his own and she was able to write, “He is yours—you are his—to take you where he pleases and to use you as he pleases. I can trust you to him and I do…All day he has helped me, and my heart unfailingly says, ‘Go ye'” (55). It is a comfort to know that even the great Amy Carmichael faced doubt (her own and that of her family) and opposition before taking the leap of faith to journey to far-away lands for the sake of a Kingdom greater than her own and that the Lord was faithful to lead her loved ones to ultimately support her going, heart-wrenching as it was not to be able to hold on to someone they loved so deeply. 

Additionally, Carmichael’s legacy serves as an encouragement and challenge to live a life of spiritual fervor and what she called “Calvary Love.” During her time in India, Carmichael wrote, “Our prayers for the evangelization of the world are but a bitter irony so long as we only give of our superfluity and draw back before the sacrifice of ourselves” (164). How often are the priorities of Christ-followers skewed and sidetracked in favor of earthly comforts, pleasure, and ambition? Carmichael would have none of it. She understood that the call to follow Christ was one of suffering and sacrifice, as she beautifully puts it in one of her poems: 

No wound? No scar?

Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,

And pierced are the feet that follow Me,

But thine are whole; can he have followed far

Who has nor wound nor scar? (264)

Carmichael understood the importance of faithfully loving those in her community, and love was a pervasive characteristic at Dohnavur. She fought to protect her community from divisiveness and disunity, with love being the tie that bound them all together. Additionally, she did not believe in fundraising or living in abundance. Instead, she and the Dohnavur community lived on very little, monetarily speaking, and funds were always miraculously provided for the work at just the right time. Elliot mentions numerous instances in which a need was prayed for and the money (often in the exact amount) would arrive nearly immediately afterward. There can be no doubt that God was and continues to be at work in the ministry there. 

Lastly, Carmichael did it all without the help, comfort, or headship of a husband. This aspect of her life is the one that, for me, is most intimidating to consider imitating. If I’m honest, what scares me most about returning overseas is the thought of doing so without the built-in support system of my own family. Did she ever mourn the life she missed out on—a life consisting of marriage and motherhood (although, in reality, she was “mother” to hundreds of children throughout her life)? She apparently never said much on the subject, but she did once write to a friend of a time when she might have chosen “the other life”: “Deep down in me a voice seemed to be saying, ‘No, no, no, I have something different for you to do,’” going on to say, “Remember our God did not say to me, ‘I have something greater for you to do.’ This life is not greater than the other, but it is different. That is all. For some our Father chooses one, for some he chooses the other, all that matters is that we should be obedient…” (287). So, is the fear of going alone a good enough reason to stay when he is calling you to go? Carmichael would probably laugh and give her rebuttal in her usual straightforward and witty way, perhaps offering another of her poems in empathetic encouragement: 

If Thy dear Home be fuller, Lord,

For that a little emptier 

My house on earth, what rich reward

That guerdon were. (288)

Amy Carmichael is a beautiful example of faithfulness, trust, and obedience for fellow Christians to follow. Her life of Calvary Love should compel the church today to live sacrificially for what truly matters and to “count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:8). Christians can also learn from her commitment to trust him even in ambiguity and amidst danger, doubt, discouragement, and discomfort. Carmichael’s trust in the Lord to meet all her needs also flies in the face of American notions of independence, individuality, and self-sufficiency. Where are the men and women today who would surrender all to serve Christ and love others so wholeheartedly? Could I trustingly allow him to lead me where, as Hillsong’s “Oceans” says, “my trust is without borders…where feet may fail and fear surrounds me”? Am I strong enough to do it alone? Amy Carmichael would answer, “Yes,” because “the called and chosen can by God’s grace be faithful, and to follow the Crucified is all that matters to the true lover and disciple” (287). So, with examples like Amy Carmichael and Elisabeth Elliot before me, I can follow him into “the great unknown, where feet may fail,” knowing that “his grace abounds in deepest waters” and “[his] sovereign hand will be my guide.”

fear / foundations / fish / faith

I apologize for my silence this semester.

Life has been fairly full, to say the least: living the full-time student life while working four part-time jobs and serving in different ministries at my church but still wanting to make people my top priority. It's a balancing act (or a juggling act...or both...), but it's been varied and interesting and instructive and fun!

So, since it's been about half a year, this blog post has been brewing for a while. As I sat down (or rather, went for a walk) to think about how to piece together some of the things God's been teaching me this semester, I realized there were two common threads:

Trust.

And Hope Reins.

It seems that the theme of my life this year is "trust." God seems to be asking me, through a smorgasbord of circumstances, "Do you trust me? Do you really? Do you fully, functionally believe I've got you and I'm working things together for your good?"

Unfortunately, I can typically only offer a tentatively affirmative response. At best. 

I know I have trust issues. Turns out they're mostly with God.

So, God has been using one of my jobs, Hope Reins (a non-profit ministry that I LOVE that pairs rescued horses with kids in crisis to offer opportunities for True Hope and Real Healing -- knowing that can only truly come through a relationship with Christ), to give me my fair share of object lessons to teach me about trust over the past few months. 

Don't worry. I've got several vignettes to prove it. 

I'm an experiential, tactile learner. We probably all are, to some extent. If I experience an "Aha!" moment through something that I'm doing, what I learn from that experience lodges itself more securely in my psyche. 

One of those experiences came during the intern orientation at Hope Reins. We did an activity in which we got to be the "session kids": We were each asked to set up our own obstacle representing an obstacle in our own lives and then we would work together to get the horse around the obstacle course without a halter or lead line. My obstacle was a cross-rail made out of pool noodles (that kept blowing away in the wind) that represented my fear of the unknown future. As a group, we decided the order in which we wanted to get Sparrow to go over each of our obstacles. I think mine might have been last. But, much to my surprise, Sparrow actually blew right through my obstacle without us even trying to get him to go over it as we were headed towards another one. I laughed as he barreled through the physical representation of all my anticipatory anxiety, giving me a memory I've reference time and time again when I need to be reminded to just relax and go with it.

"Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." -Isaiah 41:10

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." -Joshua 1:9

"The heart of man plans his way,
but the Lord established his steps." -Proverbs 16:9

[Do you trust me?]

Another big learning moment came during a training at Hope Reins shortly after that. We were focusing on one of the main things we (and especially our session kids, many of whom have been abandoned, neglected, or abused by people who are supposed to love, protect, and take care of them) can learn from horses: trust. So we had just spent an hour talking about trusting God and people and how it takes much longer to build trust than to break it and that God is the only one who is 100% trustworthy (And the Lord has since been pressing this truth into my heart: He is only 100% trustworthy if he is both 100% good and 100% in control. And he is.).

BUT.

As I was driving home that night, I was doing anything but trusting God with my situation...

Let me tell you about my house. I live in a house with four other women that was built in 1901 (and only has one bathroom). The walls are wonky and the floors are slightly slanted. There's a massive four-way fireplace that's blocked off, and I've always been curious about what's in there (dead bodies, perhaps). We've had issues with mold and mice (Yes...we caught about 10 mice in six months or so...one of which ate the York peppermint patties IN MY NIGHTSTAND and was hoarding Goldfish under my roommate's bed. But the exterminator came and we haven't seen a mouse in months. So it's fine.).

So, at the time, our landlord decided to do foundation work on our house...with us still living in it. Consequently, a massive dirt hole replaced our living room for a few days. So, as I was driving home from the trust training at Hope Reins that night, a million thoughts were running though my head: "I can't sleep there tonight...Where am I gonna stay? Can I even get in my room to pack a bag? My bedroom door is currently suspended about four feet off the ground!"

It finally occurred to me a few stoplights from home that, even after spending a solid hour talking about trusting in the Lord, I was just getting more and more tangled in my own anxious thoughts and had not even paused to pray. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight." -Proverbs 3:5-6

[Do you trust me? Do you really?]

A few weeks later, I had my first 1:1 session at Hope Reins (something I was definitely nervous about and intimidated by...How could I lovingly speak truth into these kids' lives who had been through so much? How would I know the right things to say and do?).

But that night, God had much more to say to me than I did to the 11-year-old girl I was paired with. 

Instead of working with the horses, she wanted to go fishing. This may come as a shock to some of you, but I am no fisherwoman. So I was just like, "Cool, guess I'll halfheartedly stand here with the fishing pole and talk to her while she hopefully catches something."

BUT. Much to my surprise (again), directly after a noteworthily pathetic "cast" (that was really just dropping my line in the water right in front of me), my bobber thing (?) dipped below the surface and I reeled in a fish! I laughed and squealed and thankfully got another session leader to help me get the little guy off the hook and actually held the thing before tossing it back into the pond. 

Here again was an object lesson showing me what happens, "when fears are stilled, when strivings cease." Catching that fish had nothing (NOTHING) whatsoever to do with my own aptitude. He lovingly showed me that all my striving and my selfish pride in my own skill is ultimately all for nothing. I can't fix these kids' problems. I can't change hearts and minds. I can't make things happen the way I want them to happen. It is the Lord who does the work. He is 100% in control. And he is 100% good.

"Unless the Lord builds the house, 
those who build it labor in vain." -Psalm 127:1

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." -Exodus 14:14

[Do you trust me? Do you really? Do you fully, functionally believe I've got you?]

I'm gonna be honest. I'm tempted to end this post right there, because this last one hits a little too close to home. But in the interest of transparency and with the hope that this could resonate with someone else, I'll share what has potentially been the most impactful object lesson. 

Vulnerable moment...I know "normal" means getting married in your early 20's and settling down and starting a family. White picket fence and all that. And a very substantial part of me wishes that had been my story...and 21-year-old me expected that to be my story. But that's about the time that God rocked my world and started writing a story that's been anything but conventional. And I wouldn't trade any of the things I've gotten to experience or the places I've gotten to go or the people I've loved (and sometimes lost). I know none of those things would have happened if I'd gotten married right out of college. So I don't regret any of it. And I am thankful. But I still want a ministry partner, lover, and best friend. I still want a family of my own. [By the way, if you've ever found out someone was not married and thought less of them for it or pitied them in some way that showed in your facial expression or offered some sort of platitude, patting them on the back and imploring them to just be patient...please just don't do any of those things. If you're interested in loving your unmarried friends better, let's talk. I have a lot of thoughts.]

So, for better or for worse, I've had a couple of failed almost-relationships this year (cue Meghan's Trainor's song, "Mr. Almost"). And I'm not gonna lie -- it's a little exhausting. Anyway, while still reeling from my most recent episode of not-quite-right (as in, the day after it ended), I had a training session and a 1:1 session at Hope Reins. And I did NOT want to go. How was I supposed to speak into these kids lives when I was feeling so hurt? How was I supposed to talk about how great God was when I didn't even want to talk to him...when I was mad at him and didn't even feel like he saw me or heard me or cared?

Well. As usual, God met me right in the middle of my pain. He used that training session (that turned into my own personal equine therapy session) to minister to me and remind me he is indeed "the God who sees me" (Genesis 16:13). He used a fellow session leader to speak that truth over me and a horse who chose me when some guy had rejected me (Kody followed me around the arena with no lead line -- away from the hay we had brought we us, and I got to ride him that night). Then I ended up working with Kody in several sessions that week and he was able to minister to other "session kids" as well. Not only that, but God has been using everything I've been feeling (and just being real: there have been a lot of emotions lately) to speak directly into the lives of two of my high school girls especially. Seriously. They've said things lately that I've just been like, "Yup...been there...that's exactly how I felt, like, last week." He knows. He sees. He cares. He carries. 

"You have kept count of all my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your book?
...in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can man to do me?" -Psalm 56:8,11

"Trust in the Lord and do good;
dwell in the land and feed on faithfulness...
...be still before he Lord and wait patiently for him..." -Psalm 37:3,7

[Do you trust me? Do you really? Do you fully, functionally believe I've got you and I'm working things together for your good?]

I can see that he's using so many things to teach me about trust. I can see that he's not wasting any of this. Even though it's painful and heavy sometimes and this might not be what I would have chosen for myself...

He's 100% in control and he's 100% good. And he's not finished yet. 

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." -Romans 8:28