Wifery Tales #2: A Wedding, A Thief, and Four Staples

This weekend was certainly one for the books.

We got to have a little weekend getaway in Albuquerque because Lance's cousin, Dustin and his new wife Melanie got married! It was such a sweet wedding-- Aren't they cute?!

We had a blast seeing family and friends--oh and so much dancing-- so much fun! 

But after the wedding is when the real adventure began.

We got to stay in a hotel and enjoy all the luxuries of that: free breakfast, soft comforters, no need for cleaning your room... Except for, well- we were in a rough part of town. 

The first night we got there, someone tried breaking into Lance's truck and in the morning, all of the rubber seal on the windows had been pressed down as if someone tried to get an in with a crowbar and a hanger. 

Being the obsessively secure man that Lance is, as soon as we got back to the hotel from the wedding, he decided to go check on his truck before we called it a night. 

AN HOUR LATER... Lance came back saying that he saw a suspicious vehicle drive out of a hotel across the street and then drove into our hotel parking lot-- only to park by Lance's cousins vehicle. So, Lance  camped out in his truck to see what they were doing (and got their license plate!). One of the men in the vehicle got out and started looking in all the cars in the parking lot when he was interrupted by the security guard, Ernie, who approached the scene. At the sight of his car, the two hooligans fled the scene. Lance talked with Ernie for awhile and gave him the license plate number and his testimony.

It turned out that Ernie had run these guys off before but could never get their license plate! Now that he had it, Ernie decided to call the police and file a report. The police said that license plate had been stolen off of another car that day, and were very busy that night so they would be by later and would need Lance's testimony. 

Meanwhile, I am back in the hotel room all snuggled up in my comfy pajamas watching Full House (does it get any better than that?!) wondering what the heck is taking Lance so long! He  finally comes back to the room and tells me the whole story about the crazy men and that how he has to stay awake because he will be getting a phone call from Ernie to come down and give his testimony. 

Well, I for one, am exhausted at this point because it is now approaching 1:00 a.m. 

My eyes slowly begin to close as I gracefully fall asleep on Lance's chest....

**Poke Poke**

Eyes slowly open.. and then close.

**Poke Poke**

Eyes slowly open to see googly eyes from my husband. 

**Eyes roll**

"What, babe? I'm sleeping.." I mumbled

"Boooo-- We're in a hotel.... ;) Come on....."

** More googly eyes and a cheesy smile**

(I'm going to let YOU connect the dots about what this fellow was alluding to..)

And being the awesome wife that I am, although tired and weary, I consent... 

But ONLY--If he brushes his teeth. 

"Nooooo! I don't want to! I'm already here! Come on!"

"LANCE. GO. BRUSH. YOUR. TEETH." 

Instead of getting up to brush his teeth, he begins ruthlessly tickling me. 

**Begin Rant**

To all the male readers: Remember in middle school when you had the bright idea to 'tickle' that girl you liked *hoping* that she would think it was cute and flirtatious? And then for the rest of your life you kept doing it? And after you got married, you STILL think its a good idea?

Well its not cute. Its not funny. Its not romantic. And it SUCKS. 

Tickling SUCKS.

1. Because it hurts

2. Because you aren't in control of your random spazzes/kicks/punches/slapping that result from the repetitive poking

3. Because it makes you lose control of your bladder

4. Because it makes you laugh, when really, ITS NOT FUNNY, it hurts. But for some reason laughter is the only thing that comes out. Which signals to the guy, "Keep tickling me! I like it!" 

No. 

No, no, no--No. 

Tickling leads to bad things. 

**End Rant**

Back to the story.

At this point, we are on the edge of the side of the bed with Lance hidden under the covers, tickling his poor wife who is trying to escape him. 

When all of the sudden.....

****BOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!****

Remember what I said about spastic kicking? Well.. I may have accidentally kicked my husband like a mule and sent him flying off the bed.

I am still on the bed, hanging off the side, laughing while blurting out "Are you okay" haha "are you okay?!" 

White face. Groans. Eyes rolling back. Bad words. 

Lance reaches his hand behind his head and as he pulls it back-- It's COVERED in blood. 

I grab his head forward to look at it. HUGE gash-- My hand is now covered in blood.

(Betcha never saw THAT in a steamy romance movie...)

"Oh my gosh... GO get my Dad-- I need to go to the E.R."

When white coat syndrome Lance says he needs to go to the E.R.-- You better believe something is wrong. 

I run down the hallway to get his parents while he runs downstairs with nothing on but shorts with a towel compressed on his head and blood dripping down his back. (You can imagine what the front desk worker is thinking...)

We all hop in the car and rush to the ER. As we're driving--IT clicks. 

The police are still supposed to call back. And Lance said he would be there. 

Can you imagine this with me? 

Officer to Ernie: "Hey. This dude isn't answering his phone and he said he would.. He gave me his room number, lets go do a knock and talk so we can get his testimony and complete the report."

There is a bloody handprint on the outside of the hotel room door.

A comforter on the floor soaked in blood.

Little drippings of Lance's blood all over the bathroom and the doorknob.

Oh. 

Did I mention Lance left his gun on the nightstand? right by alllll this blood? (Yes, we are 2nd amendment believers.)

THIS DOES NOT LOOK GOOD. 

Arlene and I drop the half clothed Lance, and his dad off at the ER and go back to the hotel room where we clean up all the blood and conveniently run into the police officer that was about to contact Lance about the report. We caught him just in time to let him know Lance busted his head open and wouldn't be able to speak with him. 

Back to the ER we go to find out that Lance had a 1 inch gash in his head and had to get four staples to the head (poor baby!)

But don't worry. Lance was snap chatting away, laughing and having a good time as he explained how excited he was about now having a FIFTH hospital gown to add to his collection ( the man is a nut case, I tell ya.)

3 A.M. rolls around-- and we are finally headed back to the hotel to get back to sleep.

That. That was the weirdest, most eventful night of my life. 

What was supposed to be romantic, turned hysterically tragic in only a matter of seconds.

And that ladies and gentleman, is how foreplay lead to four staples. 

The Anatomy of a Tick

The Garrison household has officially gained a new family member:

Everyone meet: Tiller!

Oh my-- Ain't he cute?? 

This would be my very first puppy of all time! You know, one that I picked out, have to feed and bathe-- One I am 'responsible' for. I mean I've had a dog before, but my dad did all that stuff and I just played with him :) 

He is such a good dog. He snuggles, doesn't bark outrageously when we put him in his kennel to go to sleep, he gets along with Dozer (our other pup), his "outside peeing skills" are definitely improving, and his personality is just hilarious! 

And. His whimper. Good gracious-- It is SO cute! Every time I come to get him from outside, he leaps into my arms and whimpers as I rub his belly. Mmm.. Melt my heart.

One of my sweet friends came over to see the little guy a few months ago and as she was admiring him and petting him, she stopped and pulled back his fur and said:

"Oh no, Kaitlin, is that a tick?"

Well, I for one couldn't tell you that because I had never seen a tick before! 

But after seeing four, five, six little reddish brown things burrowed in his ear, I was sure I never wanted to again! 

They're gross. Absolutely gross little blood- sucking varmints. 

Not to mention, they infested my poor little puppy! 

We went through his head and ears and plucked them suckers out of his fur as he yelped (break my heart) and squirmed. Finally-- we had gotten them all out!

Or, I thought we did. 

Until I found a dozen more the next day after I gave him a bath. 

And then more few weeks later.

And then a few more months later.

Blegh, it just creeps me out that there could still be dozens of little pathogens on my puppy as I watch him scratch and itch and roll all over the carpet (Lord, if one of those things crawl on me... I'll die). 

So, my disgust and sorrow for my stickered puppy drove me to do some research on these creatures.

*Why* did I spend an hour at the library looking at dozens of pictures and diagrams of ticks? I have no idea. The people sitting next to me at the library probably thought I was trippin' out on drugs because I kept compulsively scratching and itching, squirming and lifting up clothing articles to make sure there was no bugs in my skin. Elgh!  

Yet! Here is some interesting facts about ticks you probably NEVER wanted to know!

Did you know?

Ticks find their "hosts" simply by detecting their odor, body heat or vibrations. Therefore, they pick well used paths where they know animals commonly travel. When an animal walks by, they do not jump or fly to clasp to the animal, but instead they do this thing called questing. When a tick quests, they first climb up to the very top of a blade of grass. Because the tick has four pairs of legs, it grabs on to the blade of grass with it's third and fourth pair and then with its first pair of legs outstretched, it literally waits for for a "host" to brush by it so it can CLING to it! Ticks like to hide in dark places- places that they can hide and not be found. Therefore, they usually hide in the ears.

**Be advised, this gets a little nasty.**

Then. Once the tick grabs onto the fur they insert a feeding tube. Yeah. A FEEDING TUBE. Then, they secrete this concrete type stuff that keeps them attached as they 'feed'. Lastly, they give off this "anesthetic" fluid stuff that makes it to where the animal can't feel that the tick is there. They survive by the blood of another, and they die by being fully uprooted from the skin.

Those SNEAKY little turds. They are so disgustingly...clever.

Weird, I know. However, the more I read about how these tricksters find their victims, how they survive, and how they die--I began to realize the strikingly similar tactics that we all fall prey to, without even being aware of it. 

I realized that the anatomy and function of a tick, is a lot like the anatomy and function of sin.

Think about it. Satan knows our biggest weaknesses and temptations. He knows those paths we unfortunately tend to drift towards when we fall into temptation. And HELLO! There he is waiting, arms outstretched, prowling around like a lion looking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8). Sin is always crouching at the door looking for prey, someone to cling to--someone to master.  And once a sinful habit attaches itself, it starts to suck the life out of ya. But, it doesn't do it in plain sight- no. Like ticks, the quickest and fastest growing sins are well hidden and out of sight. So nobody sees, nobody knows and light can't expose it.

Sin loves to hide. Which makes us hide- from God, from His Word, from the people that love us the most. Hiding makes you lonely. And loneliness is the best place for sinful habits to keep feeding and  festering and inviting their friends because there isn't anyone to point out what they see. No one to keep you accountable.

There are some sins that are PLAIN as day and everyone can see the manifestations of it. But then there are the 'secret' sins that we like to ignore and pretend they aren't there. They keep us in the dark. Then, the guilt and shame that come with sinful behavior creates that same 'anesthetic' that makes us turn a blind eye to the very thing that destroys us. The sin keeps sucking and we're left wondering, "Why do I feel so empty? Why do I feel so lifeless?"

And! Isn't it a coincidence that ticks love to hide in the ears? Isn't that the same with sin? We hear a lie, we believe a lie. We keep hearing that lie over and over instead of the voice of the Savior. That still small voice becomes so muffled between all the itching and scratching of trying to shoo those lies away.

No wonder these ticks hack me off-- I'm sure the Good Lord feels the same way when we walk through those tick ridden paths with eyes wandering making sure no one sees. As time goes on we get tangled up, wrapped up in so many snares that we're itching, scratching and rolling around in the dirt trying to relieve the itch and heal ourself.

The same ridiculous look that dogs have when they're pawing at their ears, biting themselves, rolling around on the floor trying to remove the ticks is the same way we look when we think that we can handle, heal and "fix" ourselves by 'scratching' hard enough to remove the stain of our sin. In this 'Do It Yourself' day and age, it is incredibly difficult to take our hands OFF and let God fix us. Yet, in Ephesians 2:8-10, Paul writes such a beautiful truth that ushers us to release our control and let God:


 "God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. 9 Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. 10 For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago."

One night, I had just finished bathing Tiller and again, I found dozens of ticks all in his ears. One by one I picked them out of his fur and he kept whimpering, squirming and trying to scratch his own ears. I'm thinking to myself "Tiller! I promise I'm not trying to hurt you but you can't get them out by yourself! I'm the one with the tweezers and I'm the only one that can do it RIGHT!"

As I realized this, my face just twisted thinking about how I so many times am this puppy in God's hands with attachments, strongholds and hang ups that I can't seem to scratch hard enough to remove and yet, the more i scratch, the deeper they burrow. The more I hurt. The longer I suffer. The more sin reproduces itself and covers more areas of my heart. Yet, here I am hindering my own healing by squirming in the arms of the Savior refusing to let him set me free because I'm ashamed. I'm guilt ridden and by golly, I can fix this because I got myself into this!

The antidote, the only antidote for sin, is outside intervention from the only One who can truly remove, uproot and set us free from hiding. The One with the cleansing blood of sacrifice and the tweezers that uproot the weeds of bitterness that burrow deep. As Martin Luther King Jr. puts it, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that."

Let Him in. Let Him heal. Let go.

Lessons learned from a tick infested puppy.

 (Who is now tick free... and definitely doesn't fit in Lance's shoe anymore.)

With Me

God, you know the end from the beginning.  You see it all. Even
On days I feel like my sight has been taken away by the
Daunting fear of the unknown.

In everything I've ever done, you've been with me--
Side by side, hand in hand, you haven't left me once.

Whenever I walk through times of darkness, where the next step
Is one I can't see or feel, you always lead me by
The hand, speak to me in whispers, and
Hold me in the times when I become discouraged by my lack of faith.

Mold my heart into one that fully trusts you-- Leans on you, depends on you, and is
Eager to follow you, even if that is to dangerous places. Places that call for

Adventure's in trust, trials in faith, crazy love, a
Nose to the ground in surrender, hands that
Dare to empty themselves of dreams, comfort, and self will.

Form in me a heart that seeks your pleasure
Over man's opinion.
Remind me that this journey is all about knowing you

More. In the ups and down and through every back road, help me to
Embrace the adventure and cling to the peace you've already granted to me.


God, You are with me.

Wifery Tales- #1

I have always been part of a weird family.
Always.
We like weird noises, fart humor is 100% okay, we all talk and argue in a variety of accents, and we can never. EVER. go into grocery stores as an entire family without a funny story, or maybe even someone being offended--haha!

My dad and brother being the goofiest of them all. In the Kirkpatrick household, there was (is) never a dull moment.

Even now as I have moved out, my dad is still making wise cracks over the phone and yelling and joking in the background-- I love it.

And, **thank you Jesus** -- Weirdness has only multiplied in my life: In the best way.

Ahh.. My husband.
I love the guts right out of him.
He is great-- and...

He fits right in!

I was always so afraid as a teenager that my husband would end up being super serious and that he wouldn't like my weird nor except the weird habits I grew up with (and LOVE!)

No.

He is his own species of weird. 
He and I -- We are mutually weird and quirky, and our household will forever be that way.

Which brings me to last nights events.

LAST NIGHT:

Last night was our first ever G3 (that's our youth group) kick off. And it was amazing.
Lance preached a killer message, many students came, heard God's word, and it was just overall a great turn out.

After the service, Lance had to stay later to clean up and lock up and I had to get home, shower and finish up my homework- so I was a party pooper and headed out early.

*Pause*

You know what I love? I love listening to music in the shower. Its my favorite!

And- one of our family friends gave Lance and I this COOL gadget for a wedding gift - A WATERPROOF BLUETOOTH SHOWER SPEAKER.

Yes. I know, isn't that AWESOME!!???

You just link your phone to it and you can blast whatever you want while your scrub 'a dubbin!

*UnPause*

Back to last night.

So I get home and head straight for the shower.  And of course, I turn on my Bluetooth shower speaker and blast some Rend Collective on Spotify.

I'm singing my little heart out and just jamming' away.

When all of the sudden, my music stops.

"Dang you Spotify-- You told me I had 30 minutes of ad- free music!"

But oh no, it doesn't just stop.

In the creepiest, demonic, raspy, unworldly voice, the shower speaker starts TALKING to me.

"You wanna play a game?"

My eyebrows raise, my mouth drops.

"What the crap are they doing to the ad's on Spotify?! That is straight up SKETCH!"

At this point I'm just waiting for my song to continue playing, but NO.

"Yoooou waaaaanna play a game?"

STOP. TALKING. TO. ME. SHOWER. SPEAKER.

I'm breathing a little heavy at this point.

I peek my head out of the shower curtain to see what the heck is going on with my shower speaker

And everything is perfectly normal. Great.

"My phone is demon possessed. The Devil is trying to scare me and has taken my phone captive! He is asking me to play his games. Help me Lord, I'm home alone and I can't get my shower speaker to shut up!"

Then, the creepy, raspy, serial killer toned voice breaks the silence yet again more frequently:

"YOU WANNA PLAY A GAME?!"
"YOU WANNA PLAY A GAME?!"
"YOU WANNA PLAY A GAME?!"

I reach my hand outside the shower.

I'm freaking out and thinking, " Oh gosh, I'm gonna have to lay my hands on this dang wedding gift and rebuke that Devil until this horrid voice stops taking over my MUSIC and interrupting my shower time!"

Had evil truly entered my bathroom? Were there evil spirits trying to play with my head by using my shower speaker as a tool?!

Laughter.

Then. I hear laughter.

No no, not coming from the shower speaker.

FROM MY HUSBAND.

He comes running into the bathroom hysterically laughing with my phone in one hand saying:

"I hacked your phone and I've been watching you from the reflection of the mirror this whole time!!!! Hahhaaa!"



Thank you, you red-headed turd.

This. Means. War.

Remember

The past few months-- I have been CONVINCED... I'm losing my short term memory.

I don't know if it's because I stay up too late, or that I'm not eating right, (or just not paying attention..) -- who knows!

All that I know, is that I could be on the phone with someone and instantly forget what they just said. Or get directions from someone and then ask again because I forgot. Plus, I find myself constantly asking my friends, "What was I just saying? What did you ask?"

Can you imagine my thought process?

"Oh gosh.. what if i'm developing short term memory loss...Altzeimers?  Lord! I'm only 21! IM ONLY 21!! There's a lot I want to remember!"

"What if I lose my job because I can't remember emergency details??"

"What if I have to live the rest of my life writing Post It notes everywhere to remember who I AM!"

I'm ridiculous, I know. Don't act like your mind doesn't wander here sometimes!

But seriously. This sounds really silly, but I have sincerely been freaking out a little bit on the inside because I can't remember things!

All the while, in my Bible reading, prayer and in the quiet moments, God keeps ironically impressing these words on my heart.. "Kaitlin, remember, and don't forget."

THANKS God. Just keep rubbin' it in! I already feel bad enough for forgetting things all of the time-- I can't help it, and I'm trying!!

God has been showing me that my tendency to forget goes so far beyond things that are superficial, minute and short term--and is a much deeper kind of forgetting that can actually be detrimental to my whole being.

Psalm 78 is one of those chapters that retells the whole entire story of Israel and its' history. Sometimes when I see these parables, I just skip over them (shhhh..). Why? Because its the same story over and over and over and overrrrrrr...... We all know the drill of Israel:

Israel walks with God, watches God do CRAZY things that will blow your mind like split a sea, draw water from a rock, lead the crowd by a cloud, THEN Israel find something to be dissatisfied about, they grumble against God--Israel wanders. Israel sins against God, repeatedly. Israel finds another "god" to serve. Because why?

Israel forgot.

Numerous times throughout this passage, it highlights the very root of their sin: They FORGOT.

"They did not keep God's covenant, and refused to live by his instructions. They forgot what he had done-- the great wonders he had shown them, the miracles he had done for their ancestors."(78:11-12)

"Again and again they tested God's patience and provoked the Holy One of Israel, they did not remember his power and how he rescued them from their enemies." (78:41-42).

"They did not remember his miraculous signs in Egypt, his wonders on the plains of Zoan." (78:43)

And as a result...

"...they kept testing and rebelling against God Most High. They did not obey his laws. They turned back and were as faithless as their parents. They were as undependable as crooked bows." (78:56)

And what about Eve?

The serpent told her if she ate of the fruit, she would be like God. So she ate it and man fell.
Eve!!!!
Remember what God told you?
"So God created man in His own image-- In the image of God He created them" (Genesis 1:27)
You're identity was already in God, you were already LIKE HIM!

Eve forgot.

Hmmm. Ya know, I'm thinkin' the reason the same unhealthy cyclic story of Israel & God's chosen people is so constant throughout the Bible because *hello* -- How often do we forget?

Forget who we are, forget what God has done for us not only in our own lives, but in those before us?  We forget how effective Christ's work for us was on the cross, how sufficient it was and is! We forget what God has freed us from. And like those wandering Israelites, we run back to the same lovers and idols that bind us right back up again into a routine of giving ourselves to them over and over again, only to receive nothing in return? We forget how BIG God's love is, we forget about forgiveness. And instead-- We run. We run away from Him, we lose faith in the God we once trusted so deeply--Why?

Because we forget, too.

Why else would God have called for what seem to be drastic measures when it comes to remembering to follow Him wholeheartedly?

 “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.  Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.  Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates." -Deuteronomy 6:4-9

Tie them to your hands, write them on your FOREHEAD, are you kidding me? 
Whether God was being serious, I don't know-- But I do know, that if they were really that consistent with remembering the love of the Lord and what He had asked of them -- It would be SO hard for them to forget.

Remembering is powerful. 

Remembering has the ability to make a monumental shift in the reality we live in. We can become so weighed down with the reality of where we are-- whether we are burned out, overwhelmed with burdens, carrying the weight of a family, feeling purposeless, dealing with sin, rudely awakened to the horrid things going on in the world, aware of the fact that we are not satisfied or content, terrified of the future, maybe depressed--hopeless. We're all somewhere. It's easy to find ourselves honed in on our feelings and what we see that we forget to remember who we are, who our God is, what He has done, and the promises he has given us. 

But! When we remember, our entire attitude can change. Not our circumstances, but our outlook. Remembering these things takes the scales off of our eyes that cause us to reflect inward and allow them to be miraculously opened to a breathtaking reality that our God is "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us" (Ephesians 3:20). 

Jeremiah shows a great example of this when he was weeping over the city of Jerusalem and was beyond overwhelmed with the horrible condition of the city and the loftiness of his circumstances and still said:

"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:

The faithful love of the Lord never ends!

His mercies never cease, 

Great is his faithfulness;

His mercies begin afresh each morning.

I say to myself, "The Lord is my inheritance,

therefore, I will put my hope in Him." (Lamentations 3:21-24)

And boom! Just like that, hope comes forth from remembering the God who saves. Did Jeremiah's circumstances change-- Nope! But instead of wallowing in depression and angst, His remembrance opened his eyes to the reality of God's faithfulness and presence with him even in destruction.

Forgetting is truly detrimental to our being. It has caused a whole lot of trouble in history (as we have surely seen!) 
This whole not being able to remember things sucks, but forgetting who God is, what He's done and who He has made and called me to be-- is even worse. 

May we not be a people that pleads to see a move of God just to forget it.
May we not be a chosen generation who fails to remember his faithfulness in the past and his promise to be faithful to us for the rest of our lives and eternity. 
May we be a people of remembrance and call to mind daily the awe and wonder of the God we've seen-- the God we know.

___________________________________________________
"So each generation should set its hope anew on God,
not forgetting His glorious miracles and obeying his commands.
Then, they will not be like their ancestors--
stubborn, rebellious, and unfaithful,
refusing to give their hearts to God." (Psalm 78:7-8)

Wax Fingers

Atelophobia |a-tel-o-pho-bia|

noun

Fear of not being good enough. Fear of imperfection.

_________________________________________________________

Well, I'll be. They really do have a diagnosis for everything don't they?

Whether we like it or not, I think we're all somewhat fearful that we don't match up to who we think we should be , or what we think others expect of us. 

We could always do more.

Love more.
Laugh more.
Serve more.
Work out more.
Read more.
Save more.
Study more.

And when we fail to meet our own expectations, we bring the hammer to our head for not measuring up to who we think we ought to be.  This is especially true for me.

I constantly find myself stuck in a rut of feeling guilty for not doing more or if I'm not on top of things.

And even though the Bible says that we can't earn God's love or salvation by our works or by praying enough, reading enough, serving enough, exc, I am frequently caught in unbelief, thinking that I can somehow "wow" Him enough to make an exception to that truth. So, in seasons where my prayer life is scattered, my discipline to read my Bible is just not there, and I just don't feel "put together"-- I tend to get really upset with myself because if my works are insufficient or not where they could be, then subconsciously, that equates to God loving me less.

These thoughts were running through my head as I woke up on Monday morning and the more I thought about my unbelief the more I kept questioning, "Why can't I just get it?! This is so elementary-- 10 year olds get this! Why can't I just understand it's not about me and quit doing this?"

So I sulked in bed, like a little baby.


And in the silence between my mumbling, God began to take my mind back to this ridiculous thing I did one time when I was a little girl.

Storytime!
__________________________________________________________ I was about 9 years old and I had just worked up the courage to try out my mom's new Christmas present: a paraffin wax hand dip! If you have no idea what that is, its like, a MEGA Scentsy (but it doesn't smell good) and you stick your whole hand in melted wax to moisturize them and help with hand cramping... or something therapeutic like that. Because I was still nervous to stick my entire hand in this burning wax, I settled for dipping each finger into the pot and boy... I was so proud! One evening, I had just finished one of my "finger treatments" and I removed all of the wax casings of my fingers and had them sprawled out on the floor. Moments later, I heard the ice cream truck music slowly getting louder and louder as the truck came down my street.

" MOOOOM. Mom! Please!!!!!"

(She already knew what was coming...)

"No!"

"......PLEASE!"

No again.

Frantically, I'm running around my house trying to find extra change because dang it, I want some ice cream! Unluckily for me, there was no change in sight.

Overwhelmed and so disappointed, I sat down and sulked because YET AGAIN, the ice cream man would not see my face today.

Then it dawned on me.

"Aaahaaa! Maybe I can trade these wax fingers for an ice cream!! YES!!"

So I put my genius plan into action, swooped up my ten wax finger casings, and ran all the way down the street to find the ice cream truck stopped at the corner. Nearly breathless, I managed to tell the ice cream man my plan of trade.

"Hello! So, I don't have any money. But I was thinkin' that maybe... I could give you these wax fingers... all TEN...for an ice cream bar? It can even be the smallest ice cream you have! Plus, these are my own fingers--Made of wax! Ya know, you can even fit them on your fingers because they're a little stretchy!"

The ice cream man so graciously smiled... then he laughed at me.
"I'm sorry sweetheart, I cant' do that for you. I can only take money."

After a few minutes of trying to convince him it was totally a good trade, I finally walked away, wax fingers and all, back to my house with no ice cream.
_____________________________________________________________________________
After reminiscing on this past time, I began to see why it was He brought my mind to this silly old memory.

At the time, I was really dumbfounded why the ice cream guy didn't think my wax fingers were as cool and valuable as I thought they were! Better yet, in my mind,  it wasn't like I was asking for a HUGE ice cream that was like 6 dollars, no! I would settle for the .50 cent ones if he would just give into the trade! The truth is, I could've stood there for hours, turning blue in the face, pulling out my best tricks, dance moves and songs to try and get myself an ice cream cone, and I still would have got the same reply, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I can only take money."

This is because I wasn't offering the right kind of currency to make the exchange.


In the same way, the currency that we try to offer God, whether it be through our works, our money, or our actions, does not work because it isn't the sufficient currency. It never can be. It's just as ridiculous as trying to give an ice cream man grubby wax molds!

The one and only currency to pay for a rightness with God was the sinless life, death, sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and when we believe in the sufficiency of what He's done, repent of our waywardness, and turn to Jesus and follow Him, His identity becomes ours. That rightness that Jesus has with the Father becomes ours too.

We no longer have to live life in the same way people did in the Old Testament where they had to incessantly go through purifications rituals, animal sacrifices and numerous offerings to temporally atone for sins. But all of those things were merely foreshadows of what Jesus would conquer, complete and restore for all time and for all people.

Hebrews 10:2-7 says:

"For this reason it can never, by the same sacrifices repeated endlessly

year after year, make perfect those who draw near to worship.

Otherwise, would they not have stopped being offered?

For the worshipers would have been cleansed once for all,

and would no longer have felt guilty for their sins.....

It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.

Therefore, when Christ came into the world, he said:'Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
but a body you prepared for me;
with burnt offerings and sin offerings
you were not pleased.'
Then I said, ‘Here I am—it is written about me in the scroll—
I have come to do your will, my God."

The only currency worthy enough to purchase our salvation, our rightness and restored relationship with God-- is Jesus and HIS works alone. Human effort has never nor will ever meet the standard of holiness and perfection that God is and requires of those who wish to draw near to Him.

"But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy,  made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved." -Ephesians 2:4-5

It is our faith in Jesus and what He's done that makes us right with God. And because of our faith, good works should flow in combination with and out of faith. Both are essential. (James 2:26) For some reason that childhood memory of trying to pay for ice cream with paraffin pieces showed me the ridiculousness of trying to earn God's love by performing well or having it all together.

I love how simple, yet complex God has made things.
Simple enough for a child to understand, yet complex enough to mask every mind from fully comprehending the wonder of who He is.

True comfort and peace is found when we realize that our insufficiency is no longer counted against us, but that our identity is found and hidden in Jesus.. And all that He is and all that He has done is enough.

Goodbye Atelophobia--Say hello to grace.

Reflections:: Africa (Part 1- Pre Bush)

Base Camp

(Real quick-- Here's some  need to know lingo:

BUSH: a time period where you and your team take the big lovely army truck anywhere from 5-12 hours away from the Base to reach a rural village, pitch tents,  preach the Gospel, and live in the Zambian desert with the locals)

Goodness.
I have been thinking about what to type in this empty space for a month, and I just have no idea how to put the experience into words that could sufficiently explain all that happened in Zambia this summer.

Well, I guess I can start off by saying-- Holy Cow. 


You know how before you do something, you build up a whole lot of expectations for what the experience will be like? Well, I had a ton of expectations of what this trip was going to look like but I couldn't have even begun to anticipate beforehand what God had in store for the us and the Zambians.

A few days before we left for Africa, the scribbles in my journal said mostly phrases such as this:

- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
- What am I going to say?
- Is my testimony even RELATABLE?!
- What if they ask me to speak? I dunno what to SAY!
- I'm scared
- I'm scared
- I'm scared
- Am I even spiritual enough to go?
- Do I know enough scripture?
- WHAT AM I DOING!?

I had no idea what things were going to be like. I have heard many amazing testimonies from missionaries about the wonders they experienced overseas and I was like "Sheesh. These people and God must be TIGHT to have experienced what they have!" I had the picture in my head that in order to be a missionary overseas you had to "have it all together" so to say.

So, that was kind of my mindset going into it- So... I downloaded some books, then bought some books, downloaded a junk ton of podcasts and decided that the whole flight to Africa I would try to cram as much "Jesus" into my mind as I could so that when I got there, I would be 'spirit filled' and equipped with a lot of knowledge about Jesus and the Gospel to share with people. I truly felt that I needed to work really hard to equip myself to be ready to do this ministry and to get to experience the kinds of things that people had told me about, as if I had to deserve them somehow.
(And, you can guess Who wrecked that mentality when I got there.. But that's another story for another blog!) 

After over 24 hours of flying and a lovely 12 hour layover in Germany, we finally reached the land of Zambia! Our AMAZING leaders came and picked us up from the airport and we rode in a large army truck back to the Base Camp. At Base Camp, there were lots of other full time missionaries, part time missionaries, expedition teams, and many students going through a program called Advanced Missions Training. It was seriously so cool to be surrounded by tons of other believers who were truly pressing into the presence of God and seeking His heart constantly. I loved getting to know other people and hear about what they were learning in the season of life they were in.

Not only were the people beautiful, but so was the land surrounding us. 
We were literally sharing the same air as the Zambezi River. The top of the camp overlooked this BEAUTIFUL gorge ( which we also got to hike down! And by we I mean- they (my team) .. I only made it halfway down! Haa.)

One particular morning, bright and early, I got to have some quiet time over looking this beautiful scene. The air was fresh, I could hear the clashing of the waters below me, and these sweet little birds were a chirpin' away. It was oh so peaceful. During my time with the Lord that morning, He began to reveal to me the flaws in the ways that I looked at my relationship with Him.
I was seeing my relationship with Him as severed. As in, we were separate beings. I am a sinner and He is Jesus. End of story.
But that wasn't the end of the story.

That was the BEGINNING of the story!

I was a sinner. Dead in my sins and headed for nothing more than a life of abandonment, loneliness and eternal emptiness.
But then, Jesus began to draw me to Himself, opening my eyes to see that as humans, all we are capable of doing is what is natural to us - Sin. No matter how many "good things" we have done or will do. But God loved us so much that He gave his son Jesus as a sacrifice to become our sin, take the penalty for our sins, and put its' power over us to death.  It is only by believing that His sacrifice was sufficient for my sins and trusting that it is only through Him that I can be made right with God.  And if I am made right with God through Jesus, that would require us to be one, or for some sort of identity exchange to take place. And it did. What is mine is now His, and what is His is now mine. We are ONE! My identity is now in Him and who He is.

Galatians 2:20 explains this exchange perfectly: 
"My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me."

Being the visual person I am, I had to draw it out :)

** In this picture, we are two separate people. This relationship would require me to do things by myself, call on Him when I need Him to come to me and help me, and ask and ask and ask until He comes. This is not the relationship I have entered in to.

It is this one:

** In this relationship, Jesus lives in me and I in Him. Because I have received His Spirit by believing He is who he says and that He lived, died and was raised to life by God's power-- I no longer have to strive for Him to come to me-- He is with me. Christ is the head, and I am His hands and His feet-- Where He goes, I go.**


Through these truths, I began to realize that I often tried to live for Jesus by trusting in my own effort-- by being my own salvation. God gently showed me that we were one-- And that I was to continue walking in this journey by trusting not in myself and what I could and could not do, but by "trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me".


With this new truth, I felt a little more assured about being in Africa, because it wouldn't be me at work, but it would be Him. Still I was super afraid. 



Every morning, we would all worship together, pray over one another, speak over one another and just build one another up! I have never experienced anything like this before.

I know in the Bible it talks all about building the church, and after seeing the way this community of believers encouraged and interceded on each other's behalf-- It clicked. 

During our worship and prayers times, there would be multiple people that came up to me and to others and would say, "Hey! God has a word of encouragement for you that He has told me and I would like to speak it over you" or " I feel lead to pray for you" or during worship, somebody would speak up after the song and tell about a revelation that God had given them during the song. These visions and revelations were just so beautiful, pictorial, awe inspiring and so full of truth.  I just kept shaking my head at God saying, "What in the world...This is so friggin cool... YOU are COOL." 

And. It. Just. Got. BETTER!

Before our expedition team left, the whole base prayed over our team. And right in the middle of the prayer, the man leading the prayer ( I forgot his name!) spoke up and said, "Which of you here is afraid?" 

Ha. Crap. THAT would be me! 
Right over here
PRAYING no one will raise their hand and we can move the heck on so I won't be found out!

I just wanted to shrivel up to the floor and crawl on my knees out the door-- I KNEW that was me.

So I awkwardly raise my hand, and a few other people did to. 

"Stand in the middle. We're prayin' that fear away and off of you."

Eeesh. Well alrighty!

So this man and all of our base friends surrounded us and began praying bold things over us commanding that spirit of fear to leave and to never return and all these other things that made me bawl like a baby. But dang- It was so good. In that moment I felt the Lord's presence come over me and bring the very comfort I needed to step forward in faith.
Little did I know that those very prayers lifted up by our friends would be answered in full measure by the Lord on this trip and continue to bear fruit in my life.

He came up to the three of us afterward and he looked at us and said "Now. I want to talk to you when you get back from the bush."

We all nodded our heads in agreement.

Then! Off we went-- 5 hours to reach the village called Siatchitema!

To be continued....
:)

** I will write more stories and more "parts" to this!**