Sometimes I Forget...

...that I am a fighter, although I fight for others before I will fight for myself...

...that I love stories because that's how I get to understand a person...

...that I need details because as a whole they give me the bigger picture...

...that I get so frustrated with negativity because it feeds my own...

...that people do like me...

...that I have cried over people who are in bondage, both physical and spiritual...

...that the Holy Spirit is always in me...

....that pray continually, means that the conversation with God can picked up any time...

...that I am goofy and Jesus loves that about me...

...that I can still be a little girl with my Daddy, even in my mid-twenties...

This is true worship.  All of me, at Your feet.  I love you Abba.

Cry of the Saints

He stands the book in his hands

Holding back tears he catches his breath

From his flock his eyes rest on the cross

Raises his voice to lead the cry

Chorus

Holy, holy, holy is the lamb

Jesus Christ our sacrifice

Sin and death can’t hold us now

By His blood we are alive

Reaching for her coffee cup she smiles

He heart is lighter and freer after finding grace

With her friend who listens, speaks Truth and prays

Together in battle, their spirits’ cry

Taste of heaven in a distant land

Faith heard not by words but in passionate voice

A different culture but the same Lord

From all nations comes the cry

We wait, we hope for His coming

Anticipating the day of redemption

The multitude gathered round the throne

The marriage feast of lamb finally come

Victorious salvation, dancing in exultation

In a roar like thunder, the saints cry!

I wrote this about a year and a half ago.  Its based on Hebrews 10:19-25; Revelation 19:6-8; and Revelation 22:20; and some personal experiences of the meaning and implications of the gospel in our lives.  We wait for Jesus' return together.  

 Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.~ Hebrews 10:19-25

 Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,"Hallelujah!For the Lord our God   the Almighty reigns.Let us rejoice and exult   and give him the glory,for the marriage of the Lamb has come,   and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself   with fine linen, bright and pure"—   for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints ~ Revelation 19:6-8.

 He who testifies to these things says, "Surely I am coming soon." Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!~ Revelation 22:20

The Perfect Spot

Anyone who frequents coffee shops has their favorite "Spot."

It's the combination of the taste of the coffee, the baristas who tend the place, the food (if they have it), the atmosphere of the place, and the other people who frequent the spot.

Back in the States, my place was Cottonwood Bistro.  The coffee was great, the food outstanding, you could strike up a conversation with any of the baristas and some would know my usual order, the atmosphere was quieter than many busy coffee shops but the place wasn't ever dead, and I would usually see someone I knew or  I would meet someone new.

I spent hours there.  Reading, journaling, studying, working on my thesis, and sharing life with some amazing women.

Coming to Naju, I was on the lookout for the place that would be my new "Spot."

Dunkin Donuts, although nicer than any American Dunkin Donuts, was the really busy place. They have an awesome ham, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, but with people constantly coming and going, it bordered on chaotic.

An new place run by Australian national, that opened just down the street from my apartment.  Because of that, you can run into English speakers when you are there, but the coffee wasn't that great, and for some reason, it felt tense.

Then I found it.  Yedam Coffee.  (Actually it's Coffee Yedam, but its more fun to say it the other way)  It is run by the Aunt of one of the students at the academy.  She doesn't speak any English, but she is kind and patient with this foreigner.  The coffee is great.  The muffins are awesome and in traditional Korean hospitality, occasionally I get some free fruit or crackers.   The place is busy but there is a calm, warm feeling.  I love going there to sit, read, think, pray and journal about this whole experience.

I have my spot.  Where's yours?

Why Did Paul Say...?

(I think I may try to posts over times about the things that Paul wrote to the churches)

"...that according to the riches of His glory he may grand you to be strengthened through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith-- that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."  Ephesians 4:15-19.


Now this is an awesome prayer and I have prayed it for myself and others more than once.  But this morning, I did a double take and my brain went, "Whhaa?"

It takes strength to comprehend the love of God.  Why?


Because God's love will drive out everything I use to build my life upon other than Him.

His love goes after the fullness of my heart and worship.   It takes strength because the refining process, while having the end result that I know with every fiber of my being that I am loved fully, is walking through the fire, is being caught in the whirlwind.

And the old self fights hard for life.  So I pray for strength so that I may die, that His love may bring life in me...fully.

Beloved: Repentance

Being Beloved needs an understanding of the authority I am under and that I have because Jesus has bestowed it on me.

Being Beloved carries the weight that God has placed a calling on me life.  One that is unique to who He created me to be.  It is also the place where God reaches into my heart to reveal His heart.

But after a week of daily grind, sickness, disappointment, I threw His love and "Beloved" away from myself.  I rejected His love in a tantrum.  I took up old habits of comfort.  Ones that I am ashamed of.

And I was reminded that I am still Beloved...as He spoke my name, and asked me to look into His face.  My actions cannot nullify His faithfulness to me.  They don't void the mercy and grace He bought for me.

So from my childish position on the floor in angry tears...He showed me to the cross.  Back to the place where Jesus poured out His love...and I turned.

I turned to face the one who saw His perfect union with Father broken, so that I may be united with them.  He was rejected, so that I could turn back.  Repentance is turning back to the One who loves me.  Opening up His heart to me so that every...time... I...repent.  He. Is. Waiting. For. Me.

Stream of Consciousness

I feel like there is a cinder block sitting on my chest.  It might be the cold I'm battling, but it is more likely the weight of a sudden change of plans...ones that don't just changes days but years.  It isn't my decision, but depending on God's timing:  it changes everything.

Just the way the phone call ended tonight, I only want to sit here in silence.  

Sit in God's presence, where I don't feel like the ground is shaking.

Goodnight.

Out of the Shadows

Most of us had been living the shadows for a long time, but it wasn't like we had a community there.  We stayed separately in our own dark misery.  We lived in proximity of each other, because no one wanted us around.  The black sheep so to speak.

Then He showed up.  We didn't know what to make of Him.  He would seek us out in our dark alley caves, just to talk.  He'd tell us about His father the King, and that the King wanted us to come to Him.

Some cursed Him and told Him to shove off, and they would turn away.  A few of us, with a spark of hope that someone might actually call us out of this place, started to meet with Him each night.  We asked questions.  He told us stories.  Even in our shadows, there was light, and we shared our darkness, but with Him, there wasn't condemnation, but a call forward.  

Then one night, he said, "Tomorrow I am returning to My Father.  I want you to come with Me."

Hearing stories are one thing but now we all had to make a decision.  I got up and walked away from the circle, stunned.  My thoughts raced, "Is this King for real?  Can He really make a new life for me out of the Shadows?" 

I heard Him walk up behind me, as I stood staring out toward the palace, that I always thought was unattainable.

"You know you don't want to stay here.  It will always be hard to believe that the King would call His greatest servants from the dark places."

He put His hands on my shoulders, and my heart let go of its reservations, and I admitted, "This is all I have ever known.  And I know it is not what I want, but being here so long has taught me not to hope."

As tears began streaming down my face, He pulled me into an embrace, whispering into my ear, "I love you, and I delight to show you My Father's Kingdom.  He's real and waiting for you."

We walked back to the rest of the group, everyone excited but nervous.  For the first time, we stayed together that night, no one returned to their own place, but fell asleep wondering what the next day would bring.  In our little circle in the darkness, with Him, it actually looked brighter.

Dawn came, change was upon us.  He told us to pack nothing.  Everything we would need would be provided.  Again, some of us felt the chains to this place, but trusting in this One who loved us, we obeyed and followed as He led us towards the King.  

The farther we trekked the lighter it became.  None of us realized until we started coming out from the shadows, the heaviness of that place.  Slowly smiles came on our faces, which turned into laughter.  

People watched as we made our way past.  Some rolled their eyes at our unkempt bunch, others smiled knowingly; we were on the way to see the King, a place they had once stood before.

A different, glorious weight fell upon us as we approached the gate.  The guard saw us coming and shouted a joyful greeting to our Leader, "So the Son returns with lost sheep!  Your Father is waiting in the throne room."

The two embraced like old friends, and we could only marvel as He whispered something to the guard, and then slipped a pouch into his hand.  The old man smiled and choked out, "Grace upon grace!"

As we journeyed forward, awe fell on us at the beauty of the palace.  Our eyes had never see such incredible things.  It only seemed to grow more majestic as we went farther in.  A kind of dread fell on us.  We knew what He had said about His Father's love but the grandeur was more and more intimidating, as we wore only the threadbare clothes we own.

We approached a large entryway and we heard a trumpet call, and a thunderous but warm voice say, "COME."

He went before us and knelt at the throne.  We all dropped to our faces.  My heart was pounding in my chest, certain that death was immanent.

"Son, welcome home."

At these words, I dared to look up again.  The King caught my gaze and before I jerked my head back down, I saw the tenderness in His eyes.  "Rise beloved.  Everyone stand up.  You have the rightful place to stand in this throne room.  My son has purchased that for you."

Standing up, we saw that our old dirty clothes had been replaced by clean, white robes.  On the Man's hands I saw the scars for the first time.  It was clear the sacrifice He had made that we could be here.

Amazed, the King walked up to each one, speaking quietly into each person's ear.  I was the last.  He placed His hands on my shoulders, leaned in, and said, " Beloved, there is no condemnation, no shame.  You now have both and inheritance and an authority in My Kingdom.  For a time you will remain here and learn My Kingdom, be with me, then I will send you as I sent My Son.  You will bring others back.  This is the new life I offer you, will you accept it?"


Humbled and assured, I nodded my head.  I took my place.

I glanced up from the fire and studied each of the other faces in the circle.  Each one sat silently.  I told my story and I knew that some of these would return to the palace with me in time.  Others would reject the King and slink back into the dark recesses, either way, I was new, and filled by His love for me as I told of the day that I was brought out of the shadows.

Flashes of Light

My friend Becca loves thunderstorms.  She loves watching the lightning as it flashes across the sky.

We've had a couple adventures together in storms.  One was an incredible storm that we navigated through in a car.  As we drove, the storm was always ahead of us, behind us, or on either side of us.  At first it was west and ahead of us as we drove north.  We turned into the west, but now it was ahead and on either side of us.  We turned back north and now it was on every side.  But we never were directly under the storm.  Lightning flashing everywhere.

Then in the second to last time that I saw Becca before I left for Korea, we sat in the parking lot of her apartment, watching the storm, talking about life and what was ahead of both of us.

As we watched those displays of power, there was awe...and peace.

At this also my heart trembles and leaps out of its place. Keep listening to the thunder of his voice and the rumbling that comes from his mouth. Under the whole heaven he lets it go,and his lightning to the corners of the earth. After it his voice roars; he thunders with his majestic voice, and he does not restrain the lightnings when his voice is heard. God thunders wondrously with his voice; he does great things that we cannot comprehend. Job 37:2-5

We could see the power in the storm.  The light illuminated the space around us and the thunder shook the ground.  And it was like God was speaking to us as we talked about the future:

I AM powerful.  Have no fear of the days to come.  I will speak, and I will light up the path, if only in flashes and pieces.

Beloved: Calling

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. Isaiah 43:1


The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands. Psalm 138:8


In this year of Beloved, I have been memorizing scripture, that impress on me the ways God loves me.  Isaiah 43:1 and Psalm 138:8 are two of the verses I have memorized so far, and I begin to see how God's love for me includes a calling and purpose that is distinctly mine.


And this morning while sitting in my favorite coffee shop (Yedam Coffee...yep), I was reading Ephesians 2 and I just stopped.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body^[ and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

I was redeemed with purpose in mind.  God loved me showing His kindness me and seating me at His right hand with Authority and then calling me with purpose to do good works.  Works that God prepared for me...to love others in the ways that Jesus loved me.  That as I love others...I get to experience God's more.


And I don't get to pigeon hole myself on how I serve, because the Holy Spirit is good at all the gifts and God loves me fully in every way.  But there are definitely the times that God designs specifically for me to love Him back and love His church that feel like a hug from Jesus.  

Why I Love People's Love Stories

Some of my friends have the most amazing love stories.  They are not fairy tales, but they are awesome.

One dear friend got married this weekend and some couples have been married for years, weathering life's storms together

I love having witnessed the love between them.

I'm humbled by the love they share with one another.

It raises hope in me. 

It makes me smile when I get to see the moments they share that demonstrate the uniqueness of their relationship.

To know that love is a verb, and love is laying down your life for another.

It's no coincidence that God uses the relationship between husband and wife to describe Christ in the church. It's meant to be an intimate, life-giving relationship like none other.  Because we are creative works of our Creator, what brings life to each individual is different.  And while I'm not sure I believe there is a unique "one and only" for each person, I believe the sovereignty of God dictates that He knows exactly what we will need.

Not just what we need during the dating and engagement period, but the person we will need through out the seasons of life.  So as each story is written, it is to the glory of God.  It is beautiful because, in those ways that are as unique as the people and the couple, God reveals His redemption and desire for relationship with all of mankind.

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body. "Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh." This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband. Ephesians 5:25-33

And the Rain Came

It was a glorious, summer Saturday.  And nothing could calm the stirring in my spirit.

The sanctuary that is my Dodge Neon that I named "Hammie" (after the squirrel on Over the Hedge), roamed up and down the streets.  Prayers lifted to heaven, asking for outpouring and understanding.  Petitions for loved ones.  Aching for those, unknown, but trapped in all kinds of oppression.  Seeking for strength to keep walking in a path that seemed at a standstill.

The tires crept to a stop at a familiar green on campus.  I could see the storm front coming.

Driving up to the track that had become a place of redemption, cells of dark clouds moved overhead once again.  Broken up by scattered rays of sunlight, the stirring was nearly wrenching my heart into pieces.  More of Jesus was the only thing that could satisfy the questions and yearnings I had.

I started walking the oval.  From a distance I could see the torrent coming.

Both times God let it rain.

Both times I danced in the downpours.  Others could watch and think I was absolutely nuts, but I would have gone nuts, if I had stood still.  My whole being, had to to have Jesus, had to worship Him or I would have lost my mind.  The Holy Spirit met me and filled me with the love of God that words can only try to express.  

I needed the rain like a tree in a desert.  I needed the saturation of the Truth of Jesus.  I needed the sign that as I was in need...God responds to my heart cries.

And the rains came.

NOT Offended

Love is not easily offended...

Oy!  Please stop staring at me!  I know I look nothing like you, but seriously, do I look like a freak or something?

Smile.  Let them see your heart.

Everyday your response to "How are you today?"  is "Angry and crazy."  Why? "Teacher!"  Really, I want to like you, but I'm really tempted to ring your neck when you babble at me in Korean and expect me to know what you are saying.

They need to know you love them.  The culture has already held so much bitterness for them.

There is no way these people will relate with me.  They may be Americans, but they don't get me.  We may be all Christians, but they're off in their own little worlds.

When you live with your walls down, you give them permission to take down theirs.  Even if you still have little in common.

Your pride and arrogance is shocking.  I have read the Bible for myself, more than once.  I don't want to be talked down to, especially because you have a tendency to leave Jesus out for a willpower morality.  Get some Holy Spirit already.

Remember the plank versus the speck?  Hold yourself to my standard alone.  Do you want Me more than you want to be right.

Miracles, signs and wonders?  Not so sure.  I've heard other's testimonies but, I still think they may be a little crazy.  Uncontrollable laughter?  Healing?  Shaking?  Visions?  Dreams?  Phophecy?  Is it real?  Does this really happen?

To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.

I am far too easily offended.  I don't love those who desperately need love.  I'm irritated and I want people who think and act just like me.  What would a smile hurt?  Lord, I don't want to be rejected so I just don't even offer the kindness of a smile.  Can I laugh with children?  Yes, they may be trying to push my buttons, but I have also seen how some things in the culture teach bitterness.  I don't want to contribute to that.  Can I accept the various backgrounds of the small group of foreigners, embracing the commonalities, opening myself to them.  Not focusing on the differences.  Can I thoroughly disagree with the theories of ministry and some of the theology of others in the body of Christ without rejecting the people themselves.

I also know that if I am easily offended by these things, how will I ever have my heart open to the lost of the lost and the broken?  Because, they need Jesus, not be told to get their act together. 

Like prostitutes....homosexuals...prisioners...lepers...idolaters...adulters...

Like those abused...oppressed...victimized...beaten...

Those Jesus called the least of these.

Why should I be offended by these?  These are the ones God wants to take His redemption

To be easily offended now...means I would hold myself off from what God is doing.  He, in His holiness, is reaching out to those the world, and in many cases the church, has forgotten.

To be offended is to forget...I'm a liar...a cheater...an adulterer...   I have been taken advantage of and left powerless.

To be offended is to forget that grace is a daily needed gift.  That the gospel is more than a one time thing, but new mercy every morning.  I am speechless to know that Jesus bore all my sin, my shame, and when the Father looks at me...He is NOT offended.

Beloved: Authority

My word for 2011 is Beloved.

Along with Beloved, a word that has repeated itself lately is: authority.

As God's beloved I have authority.  The authority of a co-heir with Christ.

I've always hesitated to take authority.  Even in the place where that is the expectation of my position.

Why?

I don't see myself as being strong, of having the proper credentials.  I might have some of the tools, but I am always focused on what I lack. 

And to be honest:  I don't want to fail.

But knowing I am Beloved reminds me that even when I fail, God does not withdraw His favor.  Because He bestows His authority on me now and I am nowhere near understanding His love or authority.  It's a gift of His love.  Like the disciples in Matthew 10, Jesus sends them out with His authority, cause He loves them and those they would lay hands on to heal and deliver from demons.

Its not about what I lack.  Its about what he has given.  The authority I received generations and generations down the line from the first disciples who received the Great Commission

Love and authority.  Security and power.  Both life changing.  For me as I learned to be Beloved, and for those I am charged with the authority of declaring, "You are His beloved too."

Being a Foreigner: An Analogy

I have a friend who loves using analogies.  They help him picture in his mind how things work, especially when it comes to more abstract ideas.

I was reading Galatians the other day and I had one of those moments of clarity that actually leave you kind of dumbfounded.

I know no matter how long I live in Korea, I will never be Korean.  In the same way, no matter how strictly I follow the letter of the law, I cannot be justified by it.

So how exactly are those two things connected?  I'm gonna try to explain.

Living in a foreign country, you learn the food, the language, the fashion, even some of the thought processes.  The longer you are there the more you assimilate.  But make no mistake, you will never be a native.  You will always have a former way of life that influences how you live now.  Complete transformation is impossible.

Here's the connection.

I can follow the letter of the law, and the more I know about the law, the more I look as though I am conforming to it.  I do the right things, say the right things, but the thing is, my heart is still stuck in the former life of sin.  The law can teach me, but it can't justify me, because its like I am still a foreigner to God.

Here is the beauty of the Gospel.  The Spirit brings life and a new birth.  I can grow up like a native in God's kingdom, with a new, transformed mind and heart.  I'm a true citizen.  I grow more like my Father.  Not because of the law, but because His Spirit draws me and changes me from the inside out.

I'm no longer a foreigner in God's kingdom, although I am a foreigner now in this world, to its values and culture. 

I have no idea if that makes sense to anyone but me, but I needed to write it out.

I Raise My Glass to You

To the women whose kindness drew me towards our Heavenly Father;

To the man who boldly shared the call follow Jesus;

To the woman who gave me permission to ask for help;

To the man who let me make mistakes without fear of shame;

To the women who taught me to love God's word;

To the Bible study that weathered the worst storms and became some of my best friends;

To the man who demonstrated dying to self that others might find life;

To those that passed into my life briefly but profoundly changed my perspective;

To the man who shared God's love for the nations;

To the couple that taught me to pray for the impossible;

To the woman who held me when things fell apart and I had no idea what to do;

To the faithful shepherds that have kept this sheep from wandering;

To the woman who sat across for me countless times and we learned to fight for each other;

To the woman who mentored me to the point that I don't need her, but I still love to talk to her;

To the couple who opened their home to me when I was in a bad spot;

I lift my glass to you.  And I know that my worldly recognition doesn't mean much.  I pray that Jesus will multiply rewards to you in Heaven.  That He will raise His glass too.

Faith to See

Now I have to remind myself exactly how bad it was.  The pain shootin through my legs as I tried to stand.  Walking slowly with a limp because swelling in my knees and ankles prevented the joints from going through a normal range of motion.

I stood on top of a mountain in South Korea on Saturday.  I climbed it.

God is amazing. 

I have gone from searching for answers of how to cope with that kind of pain, to now forgetting those moments I wanted to just stay in bed.

What if God hadn't brought healing to my body?

I remember talking with a friend at the time and knowing that I would not stop believing in God's love even if I never felt relief.   My growing belief in the goodness of God would not allow me to stop asking for healing, while trusting for the grace to follow Jesus' calling on my life in the midst of pain.

I didn't always see at the time.

I got angry.  Hot, fierce tears would stream down my face.  I begged.

I learned to declare the truth of scripture.  I surrendered my will. 

God met me.

Jesus, showed me over and over again, how by His stripes I am healed.  How his love was poured out and I could claim it as my inheritance.  That shrinking back in fear was not what He called me to, because HE loved me and HE commanded me.

I read the gospels and I am utterly stunned at how Jesus ministered to people.  And how much I was like the Pharisees (And still am). I thought I could see who God was.  I would say God loved me.  I would say that God is a healer.

Now:  I know, have experienced, the massiveness of His love.  I know, have experienced, the Great Physician.

I had to ask for that which I could not see.  More than just safe prayers that I could make sure by my will could be accomplished.  I'm thankful for God's grace that has granted me faith to see Him, in the things that I cannot physically see. 

  Thank you for the presence of Your glory on my life. I ask for more, my Lord.  I ask for boldness, for faith.   Do what only You can do.  Do not forsake the work of your hands (Ps 138:8).

Stream of Consciousness

Today has been better than yesterday, but I am still so drained. My voice almost became non-existent, even though my throat doesn't hurt at all.

I'm thankful that it is the weekend. I'm tired but I also want so badly to spend some time on the mountain tomorrow.  I may try to see if I can get farther up the one mountain than I did the first time when there was still snow on the ground.

The simplest thing today is the most profound:  God's mercy is unending.  I get to wake up and try again  tomorrow and the day after that...and so on.  I can and must ask for what I need and my Father is eager to provide.  Yes, I have nothing right now to give but I'm loved... this is enough.

He's Alive!

"Goodnight teacher!" 

Little Leah walks toward her apartment building and I turn up the hill to cross the street and find refuge in my own apartment.   This day has stretched out more than others and the shouts, screams and chaos still swirls around in my head.  Student fights, parents upset, and accusations of teachers not doing their jobs.

Just 8 hours before, I walked through the school and God's presence was so strong.  He spoke that His favor on me, and I almost couldn't stand for the weight of that grace beyond measure.  I claimed His favor for me, for the other teachers, for our boss and for the students.  I know that His grace is far more abundant than even that.

A different weight settles on me as I make my way upstairs.  This one carries the fragrance of death and not the fragrance of life.  I slowly muddle my way through the dirty dishes in the sink and manage to make myself a sandwich for dinner, but nothing pushes away the heaviness on me.

Checking email, facebook and blogs only serve as a distraction.  I open up my journal and begin to jot down a few thoughts.  Clarity comes slowly;  mistakes happened but I can stand to fight another day.

I had put on some music in the background and as I pray, it pushes itself to the foreground.  And the weight begins to ease.

Death where is your sting? Grave where is your victory?  He's alive... now I will never die.

The resurrection power of Jesus is on me.  I chose to die to myself, that Jesus may bring His life in me.  That is what I carry in with me everyday.  And while most days feel like a warzone instead of a classroom, He's alive and I never have to accept the death that comes with words of condemnation.  I can rise to go in and fight with all the fierceness of the Spirit, giving all I have to what I am doing.

Even more so, I find the refuge with my Father.  He washes away the remnents of the daily attacks of the Enemy and I see more of His fullness than before.  His life multiplies and His love revives me.   

No fear of death...no fear of sin binding me to the grave...

The only death God asks of me, brings life to me and to others...and tomorrow's another day to carry Jesus and His resurrection with me. 

Tales of a Waygook

"And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD, and to be his servants, everyone who keeps the Sabbath and does not profane it, and holds fast my covenant  these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples."

I am a foreigner. I'm the one looking for peanut butter and ranch dressing.  I'm also the one who doesn't understand why the heck you can't just throw the toilet paper in the toilet. Not to mention that the only Korean I really understand besides "Hello, Goodbye and Thank you."are the words that come from English.

It's a wonderful life that is strange and fascinating.  Along with the other waygooks (foreigners) we have a third culture that seems both crazy to the Koreans, as well as, any of the people from our home countries.

The last week and a half I have been memorizing the passage above from Isaiah.   The more I say it the more I get this:

We're all foreigners.

The only place I get comfortable and joyful is in God's presence.  Every other place feels foreign. 

When I talk about Jesus to others, its talking about the one place that is home.  Cause home is where I feel safe.  The more I get to know Jesus, and He asks me questions that open up my heart, draws me into His holiness and righteousness, and no one else gets that deep and leaves me that at peace.

So when I walk about town or when I am with other foreigners, the feeling isn't that much different.

I want others to know Home too.  I want be with peoples from every nation in the house of the Lord.  I want to welcome every person and join together in worshipping Jesus.

The Whirlwind.

Walking once again along the river, in what has become my favorite place to retreat from the world and pray. Occasionally, I have to dodge cars, and more than a couple questioning looks from the locals who find the mi-gook(American) a very odd sight.

Father, I discern the resistance in my own heart to you.  I need You Holy Spirit to break down these walls and shake everything, that can be shaken.

In my mind and my spirit I get a picture so vivid that I swear its real.

The Whirlwind.

He shows me the whirlwind. Like the Pillar of Fire that led the Israelites through the wilderness.  And I know this:  it consumes everything.

He jealously wants my resistance to His love to come down more than I even do.  And though the thought of being wrecked by the whirlwind of the Holy Spirit leave me down right terrified, I know that asking God to do this, will set me free and bind me even closer to the Holy One's side. 

So I stare at the whirlwind of Holiness.  I fear His awesomeness.  I know that I need everything that hinders love: sin, fear, condemnation to be consumed.  And He will do it, to the end that I find myself learning that I am truely His Beloved

What Would Happen If I Stopped Writing?

Since the middle of October I have written nearly 100 pages, front and back, in a large 5 subject, college ruled notebook. I've written 11 blog posts, which is alot considering I only wrote 22 posts all of 2010.

The thing is...I could have written so much more. I censor myself.

Even in my journaling, which is supposed to be just between me and Jesus, I will hold back, I will let myself be destracted by other things, I tell myself I will do it later...

Except later never happens, and things that God brings to my attention, things I need to have record of, slip away, and I lose the more that God wants to give me.

I don't write here on my blog very often because it requires me to focus and feel like I have to have something profound to say. And sometimes I wonder if anyone even read this or does everything I pour into a post, never find anyone's eyes and heart. Maybe that is a prideful motivation. Maybe I need to remember that ultimately I write because it has drawn me closer to Jesus.

And if the Holy Spirit uses it with others, well, that is His work not mine.

I want to be a good steward of my talent. And not bury it.

So I'm going to make an investment. Starting now, I'm going to try to post everyday for a month. Pictured is my list of ideas.

Entering Into The Land

I wrote the first part of this 3 weeks ago.

I've been in South Korea for 4 months.  I've been living here, working here, doing church here, my life built around being here, but until this weekend, I didn't feel like I had fully entered into this land. 

Something about Korea drew me here, I had alot of seperate pieces as to what I was doing here, but it was like I was still wandering around like the Israelites in the wilderness.

I took a 3 hour train ride north and met up with two friends who were passing through Seoul and a now friend, who lives just outside of Seoul.  We spent an afternoon catching up, getting to know each other, we then went on a crazy adventure into the heart of the city.  With another new Korean friend (to me) for a guide, he shared about some Korean history as we walked around and as we shared a delicious meal together.

In all these conversation Jesus was already revealing that my heart was both confused and closed off in places .  I was trying to be enthusiatic and passionate in the way that drove me through all the hurdles it took to get here but I didn't know what I was doing.  It was like trying to ride a bicycle in mud and in many ways I was about to call it quits, put my head down and just survive the rest of my time in Korea.

I saw how I was taking offense at so many little things.  I let them bother me, irritate me so that I didn't want to understand the poeple and the land.  But I watched my friends see this place and people with joy.  They prayed the heart of God over me and in that I could see the places I had hardened.

The more we talked, the more they prayed, my heart got set free, and I could see more clearly.  I felt welcomed into this land.  To explore it, to love its people, to pray for it.

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Now 3 weeks after I first wrote this I am still seeing God open my heart to this land.  Especially the region where I live in Naju and Gwangju, which has its own story.  A story of fighting against injustice and oppression.  Something that resonates with my own story.

I stood on the mountain today overlooking most of Naju and God spoke to my heart of how the heart of this place and my own heart are intertwined.  As their voices begin to cry out, my own voice cries out for Jesus as never before. As I begin to yield in a new way to God's authority and understand the measure that I carry His authority as a co-heir, At the same time in this land I see a spirit of rebellion that has risen up in the place of the spirit of contention that marked their uprising against injustice and oppression.  I pray, God's true authority will be revealed.  And we are both called to a new level of surrender in God's sovereign plan. 

This is my place.  Not striving but living and breathing.  Come Lord Jesus,  show me more of this land.