Seasons

Psalm 126:

When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion,

We were like those who dream.

 Then our mouth was filled with laughter,

And our tongue with singing.

Then they said among the nations,

“The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us,

And we are glad.

Bring back our captivity, O Lord,

As the streams in the South.

Those who sow in tears

Shall reap in joy.

He who continually goes forth weeping,

Bearing seed for sowing,

Shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,

Bringing his sheaves with him.

Next week I will begin my ninth year of college ministry. For me, August is every bit as much a New Year as January 1. It’s that way for those of us who live by an academic calendar. We have two New Years and really, the January one is just for show. For us, reality hits mid-August.

This time, my New Year is starting with a different view. I’m typing this from my desk in the assistant director’s office of the Conway Baptist Collegiate Ministry. If you were to cut me open and examine my DNA, you would not find the Ds, Ns and As. You would find instead Bs, Cs and Ms. The ministry of the BCM changed me to my core; that’s how deeply this ministry affected me in college, so much so that I have dedicated my life to it. My heart beats for college students and campus ministry.

The older I get, the more I’m able to see how different seasons weave their way into and then out of my life. Over the past two years I have deeply missed doing the job I love in campus ministry. I asked God, ‘did I hear you wrong? Should I not have taken this job and moved to Conway? What should I have done differently?’ But I knew I had heard him. I knew how perfectly he had worked out the situation I was in. So I waited. I pleaded with God to move me or make me content. I got angry with him for putting me in a place that felt a lot like purgatory. Just waiting. I even gave him the silent treatment for awhile. 

After that, I did my best to remain faithful. I clung to my personal Bible study and devotions as desperately as if they were the air I needed to breathe. I clung to friends and family who understood my heart and prayed over me while I cried in frustration and despair. I clung to my church family and to the words of truth and hope I heard each week from the pulpit. I clung to moments spent praying in the altar, telling God, “I don’t know. But here I am.” I clung to ministry opportunities that came along, wanting so desperately to be used even in a small way.

But mostly, I clung to Jesus. Through his word, through his servants placed strategically in my life, and through his spirit at work within me, I experienced his peace.

In January I sat down and thought about what I wanted out of 2013. I knew something had to change. I began noticing how Jesus’ teaching did not make much sense to the world. Love, instead of hate? Mercy and grace, instead of punishment? Poverty, instead of wealth? And so when I began praying in earnest about whether or not to take the BCM job, I could hear logic saying, ‘this doesn't make sense. Why leave a secure job with secure benefits and a comfortable atmosphere?’ Leaving CBC for the BCM didn't make sense. And that’s exactly what gave me the courage to make the move.

I trust Jesus more now than I did two years ago or even a year ago. I trust him in ways I cannot put into words. Without this season of waiting, I might not have learned to trust him like this. And if that's what it took to shape me more into the person he’s crafting me into, then I'm thankful for every frustrating moment and every tear. One of my dearest spiritual mothers always says, “God will not waste your pain, if you’ll give it to him.” I believe nothing I have endured in the past two years will go to waste.

He is my faithful provider, orchestrator, and father, and I have hope he will redeem even my darkest moments for his glory and my good. What I spent two years sowing in tears I am now reaping with great joy.

One week ago today I began a new adventure, a new season with the Baptist Collegiate Ministry. What season, you ask? 

I’m calling it the harvest.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6.9

CC

A Big Adventure

I'm excited to share with you about an adventure I'm getting to take part in! I have been given the opportunity to join a team of women who are headed to Northeast Asia with a ministry called Pure Joy International. Pure Joy is a ministry of women, for women who are serving God overseas. Basically, Pure Joy takes a team of women to countries around the world and puts on a retreat for the missionary women and missionary wives who come. The women who come to the retreat are showered with love and gifts-they receive encouragement and rest in every way: spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically. The founder of Pure Joy, Vickie Arruda, writes periodically about the ministry and the upcoming trips at http://purejoyinternational.blogspot.com/. 

I’ve never done long-term international missions, but I will say from my time spent ministering outside the South, a little encouragement is always appreciated.  It’s easy to feel you’re the only person you know who loves Jesus. The loneliness that comes from being the only believer in your area coupled with the strain of learning a new culture/language and laboring under a burden to share Jesus in what is often a hostile environment puts a lot of strain on a person.

I have always loved retreats. There is something about getting away with a purpose that has always resonated deeply with me. My own call to ministry came at a girls' retreat my senior year of college. I don't think the value of taking some time away for reflection can be overestimated. 

I am PUMPED about getting to go to literally the other side of the world to minister to these women. I can't think of any woman in ministry who couldn't use some pampering from time to time, and that is exactly what we are going to be doing for the women coming to the Pure Joy retreat. I'm anticipating a meaningful time, both for the women to whom we'll be ministering and for those of us doing the ministering!

So if you would, I'd love for any of my friends, family (strangers?) who come across this blog to join me in praying for every aspect of this trip. If you're into specifics, here they are:

1. Pray for our team (there are 10 of us) as we prepare mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually to leave the U.S. Trip dates are September 13-22.

2. Travel safety. Planes on time, luggage issues, jet lag, etc. I can't be specific about the country where we're going because not all the missionaries are there as "missionaries." It's for their protection. (So if I've told you the country, please don't post it anywhere publicly.)

3. That God will bring to the retreat each woman He has chosen to be there. We currently have 32 women signed up. We also need each woman to be sponsored so her only cost of attending the retreat is travel to and from the conference center.

4. Join me in thanking God in advance for providing the finances needed for each team member who is going. (This is sometimes a challenge for this worrier.)

I'll post more as the trip gets closer. As of today, we're 58 days out! I have my excited face on!!

CC

When You're Needy

Do you ever hear a song that resonates to your very core? You can’t get it out of your head, you blast out your speakers when it comes on the radio, you find yourself singing it at random moments. That’s how I feel lately about the song “Lord I Need You.” Here are the lyrics:

Lord, I come, I confess


Bowing here I find my rest


Without You I fall apart


You're the One that guides my heart



Lord, I need You, oh, I need You


Every hour I need You


My one defense, my righteousness


Oh God, how I need You



Where sin runs deep

Your grace is more


Where grace is found is where You are


And where You are, Lord, I am free


Holiness is Christ in me

Teach my song to rise to You


When temptation comes my way


And when I cannot stand I'll fall on You


Jesus, You're my hope and stay



Lord, I need You, oh, I need You


Every hour I need You


My one defense, my righteousness


Oh God, how I need You



(The internet says Matt Maher wrote this. If that’s wrong I apologize.)

This song wrecks me every single time I hear it. I heard it in the car last night and found myself unable to sing along because I was overcome with emotion.

I love this song because it doesn’t pretend. It doesn’t say, “Lord, I’m good. I’ve got this. But once in awhile, I need you.” No. It says OH GOD, I NEED YOU. I won’t make it through this day, this very hour, without you. That word “Oh” conveys emotion. Not, “what’s up God, I need ya!” but “Oh, God. Oh, God, I need you.” Can you feel the depth of the emotion behind the word?

It’s slightly terrifying to admit you need someone. At least, it is for me. In my life I’m afraid the moment I admit to needing someone, they’ll disappear. Maybe I’m the only person who feels this way. But it’s precarious to put your trust in people. Eventually they disappoint you. Admitting you need someone—especially admitting it to that person—feels like taking a giant step off a cliff into nothingness. No one wants to be thought of as a needy person. Being independent and self-sufficient is valued and prized in our culture, and needy is the opposite.

But in God’s upside-down kingdom, needy is the thing to be. God wants us to live in constant dependence on Him. He wants us to reach for Him every hour. He wants to know every detail. We can’t be too needy for God. There’s no way to need Him too much. It sounds strange and backwards, but God designed us to need Him.

And so singing the words to this song is the truest thing I can say to God. I need Him. OH. I need Him. Every single hour. We have permission to express our deepest desire for God. There is no deeper need, and I sing this song with abandon because it is freeing to come before Him and admit that at my core, I am not okay apart from Him.

His invitation is comprehensive: we can bring Him all of our hopes and hurts. There is enough of Him to go around. There’s enough no matter how needy I am in a particular moment, and there will still be enough for the next time. There’s enough for you, too. If you don't know the deep, abiding peace that comes with knowing Jesus Christ, I would love to tell you about Him.

CC

"Even to your old age, I will be the same,

And even to your graying years I will bear you!

I have done it, and I will carry you; 

And I will bear you and I will deliver you."

Isaiah 46.4

20(ish) Lessons Learned in my 20s

Today I turn 30. I'm an introspective person and have spent some time reflecting on this milestone birthday. I'm slightly sad to say goodbye to my 20s for a number of reasons. I will always look back on this decade of my life with tenderness and much affection, because so many of the lessons I've learned and people I love have come into my life in the past 10 years. 

So in the interest of encouraging any who will read this, and in the interest of being introspective, and honestly, mostly for my own enjoyment, these are some of the lessons I've learned over the past 10 years, in no particular order.

1. There is a Steel Magnolias quote for every situation in life. Shopping? “the only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize!” Don’t know what to say to a grieving friend? “I don’t know how you’re doing on the inside but your hair is just holding up beautiful.” Feeling confused? “I don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt. “ I could go on. You get the point.

2. I don’t ever, ever (ever) want to guilt someone into acting a certain way. It’s fake, and what's worse than false motives? Would you want to hang out with someone who’s only with you because you’d made them feel guilty about it? I’d rather be by myself.

3. The older I get, the less I say. When I was younger my response to wrongdoing or rudeness was a sarcastic retort. I am learning that for the most part, silence is best. It doesn’t feel great but that whole don’t-sink-to-their-level thing is actually pretty true. Which leads me to my next thought…

4. My parents are/were/will be right about pretty much everything. I don’t think that needs any further explanation.

5. Some relationships can’t be saved. I hate it. But sometimes the healthiest thing to do is open my closed fist and let a relationship go. You can still love someone from a distance.

6. Not every relationship is forever. Yuck. I really hate this one. There are people I thought I could not live without who are no longer in my life. It hurts, but it didn't kill me. Sometimes you don't have a choice, because you can't make someone be your friend. Sometimes you have to make the choice yourself, which is not easier by any stretch. 

7. Life happens in seasons. My seasons have been clearly defined as I have lived in 5 different cities and three different states since high school. But make no mistake, nothing is permanent. This is both good and hard. 

8. Sometimes I find myself feeling terrible about life, depressed, sad and lonely. And then I realize that I have forgotten to eat lunch. I say that to say, hanger is a real thing and it's important to know yourself and your own body.

9. I need alone time to function. I’m a textbook extrovert, energized by people. But eventually I need what I like to call, “a minute.”

10. I need to be around people. I can handle no more than 24 hours of alone time before I start talking to the couch cushions for company.

11. If you ask God to make your desires the same as His, you will feel like a spoiled child when He does just that. It’s pretty neat.

12. God almost never speaks to me in the same way more than once. He has given me a literal sign, He has spoken through His word, He has spoken to me through music and prayer and other people. Sometimes He uses the same means but almost never the same specific way.

13. God sanctifies us in different ways. For me, growth happens most and best through trials and difficult times. Interestingly, I look back on these wilderness moments with great tenderness. My wounds and resulting scars are more precious to me than I ever could have imagined.

14. Experience trumps education nearly every single time. Some of the wisest people I know never went to seminary or even college for that matter. But they have a lifetime of experience walking with Jesus; therefore, I can learn much from them.

15. I learn the most from people who are nothing like me. That seems obvious, but so often we gravitate to those who look/act/sound like us; I love the fact that some of the most meaningful relationships in my life are people I never would have expected to be close to.

16. Absolutely everyone is insecure about something, and no one is as perfect as they seem on the surface. This levels the playing field when I feel paralyzed by my own insecurity. It also makes me more compassionate.

17. The quirks that bother me in other people are oftentimes the same things I am guilty of.

18. When you’re little you think “being a grown-up is awesome!” and the adults in the room go “grumble grumble work grumble insurance grumble taxes” and make you think it’s no fun. But sometimes being an adult is awesome! Sometimes you really get to do whatever you want.

19. I’ve found that when I’m in a bad/sad/depressed mood, the quickest way out is to help/minister to/encourage someone else. The hard part is choosing not to sit down and wallow in the sadness. (I’m not talking about clinical depression here, but the occasional blue moods that we all sometimes get.)

20. It is what it is. I say this a lot. I find it helpful when I'm in a situation I would like to change but can't, or if I'm dealing with difficult emotions or frustrating circumstances. It gives me permission to feel what I'm feeling in that moment.

21. God can be trusted. He's tested me in this and continues to give me opportunities to trust Him for more and more. God has proven Himself faithful and sufficient over and over in my life. 

22. The only good in me is Jesus. I have a friend who says this all the time and the longer I walk with Him and experience the failings of my own flesh, the more I know it's true. Really, legitimately, completely, I'm a total mess apart from His redeeming work in my life.

A Tribute to the Tough Nuts

Janis Morrison was a legend at Oak Grove High School. A legend, I’m telling you. As early as 9^th grade we began hearing from our English teachers, “Mrs. Morrison won’t accept work like this!” Wide eyed, we struggled through our essays and papers, fearing that once we made it to Mrs. Morrison’s senior English class we would be found wanting. And it was true: she was hard to please. Our rough drafts came back looking like her pen had exploded all over the paper: scribbled notes, corrections, even admonitions scrawled all over the margins. (“Corley!” she once wrote on something of mine. I didn’t need an explanation. I knew what she meant.)

Janis Morrison was a brilliant woman. I don’t think there was a book she hadn’t read. The woman knew things. She had the sharpest wit of anyone I know; her jokes and comments would fly over your head if you weren’t paying attention. Her humor was subtle and quiet, but you leaned in to listen because she was hilarious. She was my favorite.

Today is the fifth anniversary of the day she died.

I’ve written about her many times in the last five years as I grieved her passing. A remarkable, extraordinary, caring educator. A brilliant woman. A wonderful mother and grandmother. We kept in touch after I graduated and moved away, emailing back and forth and getting together for visits. I loved her and she loved me. Knowing that is what has brought me the most comfort since we lost her.

But you know what? She wasn’t easy to get to know.  I had to make an effort: be on time for class. Meet deadlines. Demonstrate to her that I wanted to do well. It helped we shared a sense of humor. But she wasn’t exactly sentimental or sweet. She was what I like to call a ‘tough nut.’ She didn’t accept any lame excuses. She didn’t apologize for demanding excellence. She wasn’t afraid to say the hard things if it helped us in the long run.

Have you ever shelled a pecan? You have to crack it open before you get to the good stuff on the inside. You enjoy the taste more because you have to work for it. That’s what I mean by the term tough nut. If you’ve ever read To Kill a Mockingbird, Miss Maudie Atkinson is a perfect example. Or if you’re a Harry Potter fan, Minerva McGonagall is a total tough nut. They both come across as hard-nosed but occasionally give us a glimpse that there is some tenderness underneath.  If you’re willing to get past the imposing exterior, more often than not you have found a treasure.

I’m not a tough nut; I never will be. But I love stumbling upon them. One of my favorite seminary professors absolutely qualifies. When I first had her for class and realized she was a tough nut and that I absolutely adored her, I naturally wanted to hug her. This probably doesn’t make sense to you. Looking back it doesn’t make much sense to me either. But class had dismissed for the Thanksgiving holiday and I was feeling sentimental. So on the way out of class I told her goodbye and asked if I could give her a hug. Her response: “If you want to.”  I can’t even type that without laughing! What’s even funnier is I then went in for an awkward side-hug that would make Jon Acuff cringe. Now when I see her, we hug and it’s no big deal. But I had to work for that privilege. And I didn’t mind a bit, because she’s worth it.

I don’t know what it is about these unique people: maybe it’s knowing somewhere under the tough exterior is a softer side reserved for the very few. Maybe it’s knowing I’m one of the few who get to see the softer side. Whatever it is, I know my life is richer and I’m a better person for having known them, these tough nuts. And so today, when I’m remembering Mrs. Morrison and her impact on my life, I honor them all. Thank God for allowing me to learn from such a beautiful variety of people.

Any tough nuts in your life? I’d love to hear about them!

CC