Lesson 1: get in the truck

in the blog post right before I left for England I wrote about how I was going to “go forward,” be all in for that internship. I suddenly find the words I wrote a couple of weeks ago being pointed back at me, daring me to actually practice what I preach.

I think about the words of J.R.M “A man is made for struggle and effort, not for ease and loitering.” I have been lacking even the motivation to go forward. sometimes it is hard to fathom how going backward is the way God wants me to go forward. it’s a paradox I cannot wrap my mind around. try drawing this out, moving backwards to go forwards. the closest I came to it was drawing a circle…but that didn’t seem to make sense either. which is the point. it doesn’t make sense.

I am not made for ease and loitering but for struggle and effort; effort that makes me move backwards when in reality God is moving me forward. as I have been meditating on these thoughts over the past couple of weeks God graciously revealed the answer to me last Thursday: TRUST.

one of the pastors at my church is trying to teach his children that good things will come when they trust their dad. every once in a while he will tell one of his boys to get in the family truck. sometimes his son fights back telling his dad he doesn’t want to get in the truck. my pastor always tells his son, “trust me. daddy knows. get in the truck.” when his son gets in the truck they will go somewhere wonderful, like coldstone. one time, after telling his son to trust him and get in the truck, he took his son to Disneyland.

what does being made for struggle and effort mean? how do I seek the things of the resurrection life when they currently seem far from me? I get in the truck (metaphorically speaking). I realized that the experiences of the past weeks have shown me struggle. shown me what it looks like to continually put effort into a project that only moves backwards. it looks like trust. not a blind trust. not a trust based on feelings (or lack of feelings) which stem from circumstances. rather, a trust rooted in an understanding of God’s word and His promises. 

next week I will start working 4 days a week at my city’s local homeless shelter. I will be their unofficial intern. my duties vary, but I will learn. my prayer is that I learn why God wanted me home this summer. why God wanted me to complete my school internship after I have graduated. last week I was trying to understand and listen to God, but it was difficult; feelings of hurt kept welling up. I did not want to listen to God. then the thought hit me: God has something to teach you this summer, don’t you want to know what it is?

so, this is a summer of trust. trust rooted in a Biblical reality, not an influx of feelings flowing from circumstances.

Summer Lesson 1: Proverbs 3:5-6

the Great Deport

Oxford. home of C.S. Lewis.

C.S. Lewis. writer of “The Great Divorce”

“The Great Divorce.” a convenient title to twist and use as the title of this post: “The Great Deport”
mercy :)

I am being deported from England, tomorrow at 4:15pm. it is probably the shortest trip to Europe in the history of short trips. on record. ever. but, I am not a criminal, as the immigration officer graciously assured me :)

there was a mix up. apparently I was supposed to have a visa I did not have in my possession; even though I was told I did not need it. I did need it. it is not anyone’s fault; it is a misunderstanding. however, since I promised I would update before, during, and after my time in England, I am going to post now cause this is all there will be. of the last 12 hours I have spent in England, 6 of those hours have been spent in the London Heathrow Airport’s immigration detainment office. so here is the “during” if the trip.

the flight to London was amazing. this is not the first time I have flown internationally, but it was the first time I have been a passenger on a transatlantic flight. I got a window seat and we flew over Greenland. ‘nuff said.

where they check passports, visas, etc., is where I ran into trouble. apparently they wanted me to have a workers visa; which didn’t have. after waiting, then taking me to get my luggage, then searching my luggage, then more waiting, an immigration officer took me to the detainment office for more questioning.

the detainment office was so…something. I lost track of the doors I went through that read “Authorized Personnel ONLY.” they took my luggage into a separate room, separating me from my cell phone. I bought a calling card and called my dad to tell him what happened. he didn’t answer (cause it was 4am in Cali). I left a message telling him that he could call the pay phone in the detainment waiting room. a few min later the phone rang. It was my dad. he began calling mom, Alan and Anna, and various people who were trying to reach other various people, all wondering what is happening to me and am I ok? I was ok.

this post is not to spew about a trip that did not go as planned. nor is it to whine about how this trip was a “wasted” experience, or how miserable I was. The last two are definitely NOT true. but I felt it necessary to give some background as to why I am leaving for the U.S. tomorrow. and how the next portion of the story came about.

here’s why the trip was not miserable: I made friends. Here’s why the trip was not a waste: I shared the gospel with my new friend. Let me tell you, when you are in the immigration detainment waiting room the door only opens from the outside; you can’t leave. there were two men in this waiting room with me. stuck in there. just. like. me.

their names were Ahrija (definitely spelled that wrong) and Abraham.

Ahrija lives in England. he was Indian (from India). he did not speak very good English and did not talk very much. but he was nice; we first began to talk when I was having trouble with the phone. he tried, in broken English, to help me. we both did our best, but I had to figure the phone out on my own.

Abraham, or Abie as his friends call him, has been to and lived in more places than I thought possible in one lifetime. San Francisco, Asia, Brazil, Spain, Canada, all over the UK, England previously, most recently Germany, and now he is back to England. he is Iranian, but speaks English, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese. he can read French. he plays the dobro. he writes and records his own music. he is back in England because it is easier to make records there than in Germany. he was more talkative that Ahrija.

after all of that conversation with Abie, I realized I had a captive audience for the gospel. Literally. he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. perfect. I began to ask him if he went to church while in England?

“Sometimes. I play in churches, sometimes.”

I asked him if he liked it [church]?

“Yes, I respect them”

I asked him if he believed what the church said and taught?

“Some of it. There are too many restrictions. Not as much restrictions with Protestants/Evangelicals, but still some”

He told me that he did not want to place any restrictions on people.

I began to share with him why Christianity was distinct from all other religions. Christianity has a God who loves us. Christianity is the only religion that says that we cannot save ourselves from the bad things we do. but not only that, God has plan to save us. God loved us and He sent Jesus to die and save us. All we have to do is admit we are sinners and ask Jesus into our heart. that is why I loved Christianity. why this God who loves blows me away. 

I, regrettably, used “christianese.” but I take comfort in the fact that God can use anything, even my nervous babbling about Christianity, to plant seeds. hopefully this conversation planted some seeds.

More to come…for now it is late. the “after” part will come soon. I will, after all, be home on Thursday.

this is my prayer for my summer

VERSE 1:
This is my prayer in the desert
When all that's within me feels dry
This is my prayer in my hunger and need
My God is the God who provides
VERSE 2:
This is my prayer in the fire
In weakness or trial or pain
There is a faith proved
Of more worth than gold
So refine me Lord through the flame
VERSE 3:
This is my prayer in the battle
When triumph is still on it's way
I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ
So firm on His promise I'll stand
VERSE 4:
This is my prayer in the harvest
When favor and providence flow
I know I'm filled to be emptied again
The seed I've received I will sow


the song I copied above is all four verses from a song called "Desert Song" by Hillsong. it's my favorite worship song right now. I feel like every verse is speaking to my life. especially the first two. and the last two. so, yes, the whole song.

but this is where I am at now. the first verse talks about God providing when I am dry. keeping faith in the fire.
the next two verses talk about waiting. praying for triumph in the midst of a battle still raging. remembering that in the end, we are co-heirs with Christ, conquerers because of Him, even though literally the only thing we have is a promise from God.

I also love this song because it ends with hope and purpose. as its starts with prayer in the desert it ends with prayer in the harvest. but it is, still, a call to faithfulness. sometimes it is easier to remember to pray to God when we are dry, than when we have much.
the song is also a call to purpose. a reminder of our task as Christians. what we are given we are to spread. a glass of water is not filled to look pretty. it is filled to be emptied. a farmer does not buy seed to show at the fair. the purpose of the seed is to be planted.

sometimes I feel dry. sometimes I feel like I will be keeping faith in the trials for forever. sometimes I feel like there will never be triumph in this battle. then I sing songs like this and I remember that when I am dry, God feeds me. when I am in trials, the Lord will use it to refine me. when the battle rages around me and I pray for triumph I feel might never come, I know that I am a conquerer with and because of Christ. and in the end Christ is my purpose, the filling comes so that I might be poured out again. and again. and again.

I am ashamed at how often I miss how much refreshment, comfort, triumph, and purpose that is found in Christ.

Help my refreshment, Lord, be only found in You. thank you for your comfort and refining work in my life when I go through trials. when triumph is still on the way, and the battle seemingly has no end, I will rest on your promise that I am a conquerer because of You. when your favor and providence fill me to the top, pour me out again. the seed you have given, I will sow.

when "Jesus" rejects your help...

Matthew 25- literally one of the most terrifying passages in the Bible. for me at least. especially vv. 31-46. I have recorded it below (shout-out to BibleGateway.com )

The Final Judgment

³¹  “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. ³² Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. ³³ And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. ³⁴ Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ³⁶  I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ ³⁷ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? ³⁸ And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? ³⁹ And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ ⁴⁰ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers,^[f] you did it to me.’
⁴¹ “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. ⁴² For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, ⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ ⁴⁴ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ ⁴⁵ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ ⁴⁶ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

the most horrifying part of the whole passage is that those who were condemned had no idea they had seen Jesus in need and did not help. this passage sometimes haunts my thoughts and, right or wrong, is sometimes a major motivating factor for helping those in need. why? because if those who were condemned had no idea Jesus was right in front of them needing to be fed, clothed, comforted; how much more those who know? I know. 
  
like I said, this verse sometimes is a major motivator when my world collides with the world of someone in need and I all I want to do is move my world forward. But this past weekend my hermeneutic of Matthew 25:31-46 was shattered; my theology of helping scratched out with red ink, waiting to be conclusively re-evaluated. here was my experience:

I was walking to Chic-fil-A with a group of friends for a last Friday night dinner in Chicago. the school cafeteria had officially closed for the summer so we were all eating out guilt-free (in other words, the mood was light and the company was merry). on the way to Chic-fil-A is stretch of sidewalk usually taken up by a group of homeless people. this day was not any different, especially as the weather had been warm and was still warm, all day. as me and my group walked past the local YMCA I noticed a lady standing, closer to the street than to the building, wearing only white plastic trash bags. I have lived in Chicago for two years now. I have seen a lot. I have never seen this before. ever. 

I walked past her and tried not to stare, but the picture of her standing there, eating a salad (of all the random things) had burned into my mind, even as I tried to shove it out. then Matthew 25:31-46 came to mind and threw a grenade into my heart which exploded and shook me to my soul. what was I supposed to do? help her? what? I broke into a cold sweat thinking about how I had just walked past "Jesus" according to Matthew 25. Jesus, in desperate need of clothing. I thought about the huge pile of clothes I had thrown away a couple hours earlier in a last ditch attempt to make room for books in my summer storage space. I whispered all of these thoughts to my friend Kari who was walking next to me. "what should I do?? I don't know what to do!!" I told her. Kari looked at me and said "if you want to ask her if she needs clothes, I will go with you." encouraged, I said "yes" and we began walking back towards the woman, calling out to our group we would catch up with them in a bit. I walked up to the woman and asked her if she was ok? did she need clothing? I just wanted to see if she was ok...

she looked at me, drew herself taller and said "I'm fine. NO. I'm fine." and turned around.
WHAT?? IS THIS REAL LIFE? <--- (I wanted to scream that.)

as I turned around to walk back towards Chic-fil-A and my group of friends, I struggled to process what had just happened. she said "no." she said she was "fine." my help was not needed. not wanted. not welcome. what I had to offer in the way of any physical assistance had just been rejected. 

Where do you fit that into Matthew 25:31-46? the reader of this passage sees that there are unmet needs among people. the reader sees the needs met by those who fed, clothed, comforted. and when they did this, it was as they were doing it to Jesus; their help was, presumably, accepted. "so," I thought, "Jesus did not want my help?".... "Jesus rejected my help? is that what this means?" Process. Process. Process. I tried to rationalize that this woman was not actually Jesus.....but it didn't help. 

I realized that the passage never says those who fed, clothed, comforted were successful. it says that they were people who fed, clothed, comforted. put forth the effort. went out and did what needed to be done to feed, clothe, and comfort. however, might their help have been rejected? maybe. this experience made me want to quit. what if my help was rejected again? how can I help if they will not take it? 

I realized that the first step is offering help; to try is the first step in serving. I know this was not actually Jesus rejecting the assistance I offered; but the experience rocked my world. when I offer someone food, will they take it? maybe not. if I visit someone in prison, will they be happy to see me? not necessarily. will those who need to be clothed, accept the offer of clothing? no. but Jesus does not say to force it. The passage just says that those who did it, were helped as if their assistance was being received by Jesus. success in this area perhaps should not be measured by if help is accepted. failure does not equal rejection.



because I did not make a difference, does not necessarily mean I did not make a difference.

Thoughts on Waiting?

I found a water bottle today in the kitchen cabinets, in on my floor. It was the cabinet above the sink, which is almost completely empty except for a few lone cups that have cracks and such, or are ugly beyond what a girl, who is a eating an Easter pancake dinner with her beloved 10west, could possibly stand. I noticed the cup when I was washing a cookie pan. I had, in a moment of love, and a lapse of good judgment, promised a girl (a snarky girl named Deryn who challenges me) on my floor I would bake her cookies. Whenever I bake it is chaotic. I searched almost every room on my floor for the random ingredients I needed in order to craft one of the most basic cookies known to America: the chocolate chip cookie. After forgetting the measurements and attempting numerous times to call various family members in order to obtain recipe specifics, I gave up (like a good soldier) and just guessed. I guessed wrong. On the baking soda, I think I put too little, I think… or perhaps the mistake came when I got distracted talking with an intelligent girl named Sarah about her upcoming summer internship and forgot to add the last of the flour mixture to the wet mixture (and then kicked it over and had to vacuum it up), either way, the cookies look like gumdrops and are currently sitting in the kitchen, behind the door, and out of sight; a failure I am hoping will disappear if I choose to ignore their existence. Back track to the water bottle. It was there and it was alone. And it was pink. It was obviously home by the mere fact that it was on Houghton 10, but it was not with its rightful owner it was in a strange place, yet, it was still at home. I took it, rinsed it (rule #1 when you take a dish from a community kitchen), filled it up with water, and now it is sitting next to me as I write.

Application to the ramblings? I feel like the water bottle. I have a habit of giving inanimate objects names and feelings, and although I did not name the water bottle, I felt an emotion come up within me, one that I felt the water bottle would be feeling had it had the ability: lost, yet at home. That’s how I feel. Lost, yet at home. Waiting, wating for the next event to come and bring me into a new phase of life. Perfectly content to be in the one I am in now, but waiting, with a lost sort of feeling, even though I always feel at home. I think about plans that have fell through and changed and morphed and squished into what only God wanted, not what I felt should happen. This semester has been a waiting semester. Tonight I wait until tomorrow; tomorrow I wait for an email that could change the course of my spiritual, emotional, social, physical, etc. (all the “al”s ) life. But, it IS Easter, and I am no longer waiting for the spiritual heaviness that has been on my soul since Friday night’s church service. He is risen, He is risen indeed. I think about how my life is one that is a bit lost and in transition; but there is a place where I know I will never feel lost, or broken, or alone. And God’s arms are always open. This phase of life, when it comes, will be a good one. But for now, I am a pink water bottle, sitting in a community kitchen cabinet, lost, yet at home.

So we meet again...

So for the time being, my secret little blog has changed. Secrets will still be shared (hopefully more frequently), life experiences will still take place and explored, but it will all happen with bits and pieces of France and French mixed in.
I am going to France. I am scared. I am excited. I am panicking during urban class. I am holding back squeals of joy during chapel. My life is a conglomeration of mixed emotions that bubble up and various moments. Life triggers feelings. Feelings trigger thoughts. Thoughts carry my imagination abroad, to France.
As I sit in a coffee shop writing this, a French speaking family has just walked in; this is a quintessential moment of the past couple of month of my life. I have wanted to go to France for a long time, for no particular reason, other than the unexplained desire in my heart. I decided on taking French for my foreign language here at Moody; I also picked up the habit of watching movies in French, listening to French music, and drooling over French books in the window of a European book store a couple blocks from campus, etc. As I began to explore internship options to France at the beginning of the Fall 2011 semester, I found AVANT ministries and filled out a mini application expressing interest in doing an internship with AVANT (listing France as one of the countries of interest to me). I didn't hear back from AVANT and (in classic Stacey fashion), did not follow up on AVANT until forced; my internship paper work was due to the head of the Missions Department at school and I had not yet applied. Even as I was considering France, the country began to pop up all over the place. Literally, all over. Student Mission Fellowship (a club at school that supports missions all over the world), chose as this years mission project to support a camp called Les Plage, LOCATED IN FRANCE. Recently, a camp director from Les Plage came to speak in Chapel and agreed to meet with me just to talk about France and what it is like. France has been popping up all over the place. I am excited.
So my application to AVANT is in. I am waiting to hear back from them. God knows what they decision is. Prepare for more updates as I live and breathe as much French life as I can in preparation and anticipation of an internship close at hand, geographically far.
life as a French strugglebus. I'll let you know what happens.

For love of God and secrets...

    It is 12:39am. Lately, I have not cared that I stay up so late. Not. One. Bit. Like when a child is afraid of the dark, then they hit a point when they suddenly get over it. Now, they are invincible. In fact, they enjoy the dark spaces of life; one will find them hiding in their toy chest or under their bed, just sitting there, perhaps contemplating the joys of life. That's how this is.
   So yes, it is late. But lately, this is something I have wanted to do. Start a blog, that is. As I sat on a couch, in probably the grossest place in my dorm room, finishing my application to become an RA, I got a sudden urge to make this blog. right now.
   Let me explain AmedeeLiraz. It is a name that speaks to where I am in life. Amedee is French. A language that has a been an on-again, off-again love affair for me this past semester. Amedee means "loves God," and is probably one of the more beautiful names of the French language. If I ever own or love something that is mine alone to name, I will use Amedee. The next name is Liraz. Liraz is Hebrew and it means "I have a secret." I think it's beautiful. Hopefully the full meaning, at least my intended reasoning, for the joining of those two names, will soon be seen.
   So here are my, now 12:54am, thoughts. Like I said, I was filling out my RA application, and one of the questions is as follows: "Share 3 life-defining moments/events and how they have shaped who you are today." I will share one with you now.  I am loved. Deeply, unconditionally, personally, faithfully loved- by a family.     Please don't get me wrong, I am not trying to undermine the love of God. Yes, God loves me. But that is a tangible love. I love I can read about. I love I can see in the deep, profound, and ancient words of the Bible. A solid love that has existed in all of eternity. It will always be here, it will not leave. But the love of the family, that is different. Think about it. How often are families torn apart because they "no longer love each other," or go YEARS without seeing each other because of a deep wound that was inflicted, perhaps by both parties. Some families love each other, some do not. Mine loves me. they always will. Although the love may not always be tangible because they are not always with me. Although there are no deep, profound, and ancient words to affirm their love to me. Although their love only started from the day I existed. it's still there. It's my secret. a secret I cherished so much, I thought I would share it. love should be shared. at least a love like this one.    Still don't get AmedeeLiraz? Allow me to explain. I love God; I have dedicated my life to proclaiming that. Here's my secret: I have secrets. Some of them are worth sharing, some of them are worth protecting; all of them are worth cherishing. Amedee comes first, because my love for God must come first. Liraz comes next, because my self must always be second. My thoughts must be subject to God's thoughts.     And so that is what this blog is about. First, my love for God (Amedee). Second, my love for secrets (Liraz). Not just secrets about myself. But, secrets none the less.    This first post is long. It's 1:22am. Eh, who's afraid of the dark? Not I.