I'm Probably Annoying You (and I Kind of Don't Care)

I think I'm annoying most of you.

Up until a year ago, I had never posted a single political thing on Facebook. I don't care about politics (despite the fact that I was a Poli Sci minor. In fact, that's where my apathy towards politics began). I don't care about tax reform or foreign policy or Obamacare. I mean, I care to the point where they affect my daily life (like when I have to pay $1600 in taxes every 3 months), but outside of those 4 days a year, I don't care. I actually really hated it when people posted political things because, as I already mentioned, I don't care.

In fact, I'd say I don't care about most things. I'd guess about 85% of the things mean nothing to me.

Let me make you a list of things I don't care about: sports, the Kardashians, technological advances, space travel, anything on the CW, studies that try to convince me Diet Coke will give me cancer, the show Parenthood (quit telling me how good it is, I'm not watching it), celebrity divorces, how many miles you ran today, kale.

Of the leftover 15%, I'd say I am fairly interested about 10% of that. These include things like snack foods, The Office, anything on HGTV, donuts, studies that tell me Diet Coke isn't that bad, power tools.

The last 5% are the things I actually care about. But here's the deal, because there are so few things I actually care about, it means the things I do care about, I care about A LOT. We're talking "fight you to the death if you threaten one of these things" type caring. This list includes Ben, my family, tacos, Jen, Penny & Marshall.

And people. Specifically, marginalized people.

Nothing makes me sadder or angrier than someone not getting the justice they deserve, someone being made to feel insignificant, small, or not worthy of the love we know Christ has for them. Whether it's a black person getting shot for no reason, a refugee being denied access to safety, a gay teenager who feels hopeless and unloved, a woman who's been sexually assaulted and told it was her fault, or a drug addict who has no way out, these people break my heart.

They are who I care about.

The reason you've never seen me post political things before this year is because I don't care about politics. The reason you've seen me post so much this year is because I REALLY care about people and I feel like people have been getting the short end of the stick lately.

So I apologize if my constant posts about refugees and Donald Trump and rape culture and unarmed black men being shot are annoying to you. I'm sorry if they've offended you or made you question beliefs you've held in place for years (actually, I'm not sorry about that. I take that back, that's kind of the point).

But I won't stop. I can't. Because I care about these things more than I can possibly express. My heart absolutely breaks every time I see someone spread fear of Syrian refugees. My mind reels when another black man is shot. My stomach turns when I hear people defend Donald Trump.

Just let me make this clear: it's not because I hate Trump's politics. I could not care less about his politics. To me, this election isn't even about politics. It's about people. I realize most politicians are

probably sketchy one way or another. I realize there are certain political issues at play this year. But I don't care about that. I care about the way he makes people feel. And hearing people defend him makes me sad because he is one of the single most oppressive people I've ever seen. He has said horrible things about Mexicans, Syrians, gay people, women, the disabled, veterans- the people I care about. The people I care most about in this world, Donald Trump has explicitly and unapologetically insulted, marginalized, and made to feel less-than.

And that's what I can't stand for. That's what I can't be complicit in. I cannot stand by silently while people, who often have no voice of their own, are being treated like trash. I'm sure it's annoying that I post something about Donald Trump or refugees every day. But I don't care. Because it's important.

It's important to me that someone stand up for the people that can't. It's important to me that my gay friends and my black friends and my Muslim friends see that there are Christians on their side, there are Christians that won't let them be treated poorly, and there are Christians who want to genuinely love them like Jesus does. And this is one way I can show them that.

I'm not saying you have to be active on Facebook to make your friends feel that way. I'm not even saying you have to be passionate about the same things I am. But we should ALL be passionate about people being treated with respect. Especially if we're Christians.

One of the things I'm most grateful for in life is the way my Mom taught me to see things from other people's perspectives. It was annoying as all get out in high school. I'd come home from school and tell my Mom what someone had said or done to me and while she was always sympathetic, one of the first things she'd say was, "Well how do you think that person feels? What made them say that? What do you think is going on in their lives that make them feel the need to be mean?" As a 16 year old, I hated that. I just wanted my Mom to be outraged someone would make her perfect, amazing, wonderfully talented, incredibly beautiful (too much?) daughter upset and to blindly defend me at all costs. But as an adult, I am SO thankful she didn't. It's given me the ability to see things from other people's perspectives, to see how it would feel if I was in their shoes.

I'm realizing a lot of people don't have that ability. So many people are driven by selfishness and fear (and don't get me wrong- so am I most of the time. Just ask Ben when I make him assure me 10 times

Are you sure that's not eye cancer?

in a row I don't have eye cancer because I noticed an eye freckle I didn't think was there a week ago). When people see Syrian refugees, they tend to think "I don't want them to hurt my family. I don't want them to hurt my country. My safety is more important than theirs and I don't trust them." When they could be thinking, "I wonder how they feel. I wonder how many people they've lost in this war? What would it be like to have my entire world ripped away and then be treated like a terrorist?"

When people see an influx of Muslim immigrants they seem to think, "They're going to hurt us. They're going to take away our religious liberties and freedoms. My life will have to change because of them." When they could think, "What a great opportunity for me to share my culture and my beliefs with people I would never have gotten a chance to meet before! I bet living in a new country is hard, we should make them feel welcome and show them Jesus' love."

And when people see Donald Trump running for President they think, "He'll give me what I want. He'll protect my freedoms. He'll protect my religion. He'll protect my party." When what they should be thinking is, "Donald Trump is hateful. Donald Trump has inexcusable views on women and immigrants. Donald Trump is the exact opposite of Jesus Christ, who tells us the #1 most important priority in our lives should be to love others and to love God, not insult others, oppress others, and protect ourselves and our lifestyle at all costs."

I know this year has been full of tough choices. I know we're all just trying to do our best and make the right decisions for us and our families. I understand that fear is real and it's something we have to fight against every day (in my case, sometimes every hour). But I want to encourage you to push past the fear, push past the uncertainties and the politics and really look at people, real people, and think, "How do those people feel?" and more importantly, "How does Jesus feel about those people?"

If you can do that and still vote for Trump or stand against refugees seeking safety in America or say "It's their own fault" when an unarmed black man is shot or a woman is raped, then that's fine, it is ultimately up to each of us to make our own decisions. For me, I can't reconcile Jesus' love of people with Trump's hatred of them. In my eyes, those two things don't go together. But if I'm missing something, if I don't see what you do and you disagree with me, that's fine. But I won't stop posting about it, I won't ignore it, and I will annoy the crap out of you with my Facebook posts.


**Quick disclaimer. I understand I might not have all the facts, that there are political reasons for you voting for Trump or rejecting refugees. If that's the case, that's fine, but as I already mentioned: this election is not about politics for me. It's about people. People are way more important to me than politics. That's just where my passions lie. If you feel differently, that's ok. Just know that's where my priorities are and that's where I'm speaking from.

Things I Don't Understand and Why That Makes Me Mad.

I don't really get into political discussions...ever, actually. Minoring in Poli Sci in college taught me one thing: people believe what they believe and not a lot will change that. So if anyone ever tries to start a political debate with me I usually make an inappropriate joke and leave the room. That's my go-to move (and it works every time, by the way).

I get that everyone has their own opinions about how healthcare should work, what we should do

Me when someone starts talking about politics

about Social Security, whether big or small government works best (I almost walked out of my own house after that sentence. Ugh. So boring). 

Republican, Democrat, whatever. Everyone has opinions based on their life, experiences, current situation, etc. And that's fine with me. I'm actually all for it. And to be honest, I couldn't care less what you (or anyone) thinks about any of those things. 

But this Syrian refugee crisis has rendered me completely powerless to avoid politics (no matter how much I might want to). I cannot sit quietly while people talk about other peoples' lives so carelessly, while they sit on their couch-thrones and feel like they have the authority to judge the outcome of someone else's life. It makes me a kind of furious I didn't know was possible.

This newfound political fury has gotten me thinking about some things. Not just about the refugees, but about people in general. What has been driving me absolutely insane is the differing amounts of value we place on life. Republic, Democrat, or Independent-- it seems none of us can decide for certain who matters most. (Spoiler alert: it's everyone. Everyone matters most.)

Some people are consistently up in arms about abortions. And rightly so. Hundreds of thousands of babies are killed every year before they're even born. Planned Parenthood is accused of dumping baby parts into landfills and selling them to the highest bidder. All of those things are horrifying to think about.

Other people are focused on animal rescue, which is also a just cause. Over 2.7 million animals are euthanized in shelters every year. No, these aren't human lives, but these are God's creatures that don't deserve to be murdered because of our lack of empathy and responsibility. 

In 2010, 1 in 4 children lived in food insecure homes (which is another way of saying 25% of America's children are hungry. Not like, I want another fruit roll up hungry. More like, someone please feed me a meal today hungry). 

Around 50,000 people in America die of drug overdoses every year.

More than 21,000 people die of hunger every single day around the world. 

Over 220,000 people have been killed during the crisis in Syria, not to mention all those who die trying to escape. Around 6 million of those who have escaped are now living in poverty around the world.

And this list doesn't even begin to cover the people that are sick, dying, and in need all around us. Single mothers who can't feed their children. Thousands living in abject poverty. Millions of people being oppressed around the world. Americans who can't afford medical procedures that will save their lives. Syrians who can't even get access to a doctor to cure a treatable condition. People who are being enslaved, trafficked, imprisoned unjustly. 

Here's the part that I can't understand... 

People who are broken-hearted by abortions are begging the government to keep refugees out of America.

The people who spend their weekends volunteering at animal shelters are donating their money to Planned Parenthood.

The ones collecting money to feed hungry children are judging and condemning all the addicts who died from overdoses. 

People who are traveling to Africa to build clean water systems are speaking out against families on welfare. 

Why? How? How can anyone look at one life and say it's worth more than another? How can one person be so concerned about refugees, but think an abortion is a perfectly acceptable answer to a pregnancy? How can someone spend their nights feeding the homeless at a shelter but think drug addicts deserve what they got? How can a person collect clothes for a needy family then say hateful, heartless things about Muslims? How can a person look at one group with compassion and another with fear and disdain? 

How does this work? I'm genuinely asking because I can't wrap my mind around it. Souls are souls. Lives are lives. Why isn't this a concept people understand? 

I have no great insight, no amazing answers, not even any Scripture to quote (because we all know

God calls us to love people, I don't feel like that's a disputable point). 

So someone please help me understand how this works. Why one person means more than another. Why one person deserves life and another doesn't. How can someone be so involved in one humanitarian effort and completely against another?

Does one life matter more than another? Am I completely idealistic to think that we should consider all life important?

If so, I think I'm ok with that. 

** I'm sure someone will dispute the numbers I found. Here are all the places I got those stats, feel free to share a correction with me if you think any of those are wrong! That's just what I was able to find. 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/19/AR2010111906872.html

https://www.aspca.org/animal-homelessness/shelter-intake-and-surrender/pet-statistics

http://www.cnsnews.com/news/article/susan-jones/dea-drug-overdoses-kill-more-americans-car-crashes-or-firearms

http://www.poverty.com/

https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2015/09/syrias-refugee-crisis-in-numbers/

Biblical Dragons & Smoking Walruses

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote a blog post entitled "Honey Badgers vs. Unicorns." Personally, I believe this is one of my finest literary achievements (mostly because it incorporated both honey badgers and unicorns and boats). If you missed it, here it is: Honey Badgers vs. Unicorns

If you don't want to read it, let me sum it up. Last year at this time I was in a super weird place because the guy I'd been engaged to had broken up with me in the middle of the missionary convention in Kansas City after we'd made plans to get married and move to Africa and whatnot. To be completely honest, I had never been more devastated or confused about anything in my life (except for maybe the time Jen's dog ate all the donuts I'd driven a super long way to get. That was heartbreaking. But then she [the dog] bought me more so it was fine. Moving on…).  The point is, I was having a really hard time seeing how God was playing into this whole situation.  I had been so sure that God had led me to that guy, to overseas missions, to that entire life. I was so confused about what God was doing, why he would lead me into that situation and then just absolutely drop me and leave me lost and hurt and unsure about my future.

In last year's blog I wrote about Noah and how God told him to build the ark and then didn't speak to him again for like, 50 years. Then Noah got on the ark and everything flooded and God didn't speak again for an entire year while they all lived on a floating zoo. But Noah didn't give up, he kept tossing birds off the side of the boat and eventually one came back with a branch, etc. etc. You know how it ends. My point was that sometimes we just have to keep going, doing the best with what knowledge we have, and trust that God is working something out, trust that he knows best and that he really does love us and won't leave us floating forever.

I survived for months on just that promise, that knowledge that God knows better than I do, that he does love me and that he is faithful. I relied a lot on the book of Job. I felt a lot like him (in a much less dramatic "my whole family died and my friends are the worst" type of way) in that my life was completely changing in ways that I had no say in and I didn't feel like I'd done anything to deserve it. I just kept telling myself that, like Job, I wasn’t there when God created the world, I could not, in fact, "pull in the leviathan with a fishhook or tie down his tongue with a rope." I'm not even sure what a leviathan is, which would make it that much harder to find him and tongue rope him.  (Sidenote: in Job 41:19 God's definitely describing a dragon, right? I mean, "firebrands stream from his mouth" and "smoke pours from his nostrils" and "his breath sets coals ablaze and flames dart from his mouth" That's a dragon, no? I want more than anything for that to be about dragons). In any case, I continually reminded myself that I might be afraid and lost and confused, but God isn't, God is still there, God is still guiding me and he won't just leave me floating forever.

This dragon is my favorite because he looks like Marshall

And he didn't.

My bird throwing (read the blog) paid off. Just like Job, God gave me back twice what I had lost (I'd say more like 1000x what I'd lost but you get the idea). Here I am, a year later, working in a job that I love that fulfills me more than I could imagine, attending an awesome church with awesome people that I absolutely adore, and engaged to the most incredible man I've ever met that makes me realize why it never worked with anyone else. In four months I'll get to marry a man that loves me more than I thought possible, who treats me better than I thought was realistic to expect, who has the most genuine and loving heart I've ever seen, who loves Marshall almost as much as I do, who is as awesomely obsessed with TV shows as I am, who is hilarious and fun and doesn't care that I only wash my hair every 4 days and not only lets me hang up pictures of walruses smoking pipes, but buys them for me because he knows how much I'll love them.

I literally have this picture hanging in my house. And it's awesome.

The most amazing part of all of this (well I don't know if it's the most amazing because a lot of these things are amazing and it's really hard to categorize and rank amazingness, but this part is also very amazing) is how clearly I see the way God worked things out in my life to be so incredible. If I hadn't gone through all of that last year I wouldn't know and trust the Lord like I do now. I wouldn't have the same perception of who God is. I wouldn't know myself as well as I do, either. I learned so much during those months about who I really am, what I want, and what God wants for me. 

But if I hadn't gone through all that there is absolutely no way I would've met Ben (not just because I'd be married to someone else, although that is a fairly large part of it). Ben and I met online (Match.com, to be exact) which is hilarious to me because 1) I never ever thought I'd do online dating and 2) Even when I signed up I very specifically told multiple people I wasn't going to actually seriously date anyone I met online, I was just going to go on a bunch of dates to meet new people and have fun (which is also hilarious because Jen bet me like, $1000 I'd find my husband on Match.com and I assured her multiple times that would never happen. I will pay my debt in cookies and hugs, Jen). If Ben and I hadn't met online there is almost no chance we ever would have met at all. And if I hadn't gotten dumped in the middle of the missionary convention in Kansas City I never would've signed up for online dating. 

It's also kind of crazy because Ben and I had both been engaged before (something that came up on the first date, which is funny because I'm pretty sure that's like the #1 thing you're not supposed to talk about on first dates). The fact that we'd both been engaged not only helped us relate to each other, but it really helped us understand what the other had been through (or in my case, was still going through). Ben really was instrumental in helping me work through a lot of the issues caused from my breakup; he literally knew exactly what I was going through.

So my point is this: not only was God faithful and loving and caring, not only was he watching out for me and orchestrating something better than I ever could've imagined, he did it all in an incredibly clear way that gives me the ability to look back and see exactly how he was working in my life, exactly what he was planning and exactly what he wanted from me and for me.

I know not every situation will be like this, where something awful happens and then God completely redeems the entire situation in a year, leaving you way happier and better off than you were before. I know that God doesn't always "fix" things that seem broken and that he doesn't always leave a clear path of where he's been. I know that. But I also know that God did all of those things for me, and for that I'm incredibly grateful. Looking back over this past year is an amazing testament to who God is, how faithful he is, how much he loves me, and how incredibly well he cares for me, even when I can't see or understand it. 

I still can't believe how awesome God has been over the last year; how much he's given me, taught me, showed me. I can genuinely say I've never been happier than I am right now. God brought the perfect opportunities (and the perfect people) into my life at exactly the right times. It's bizarre to look back and see how precise God is in his timing and his choices for us. I will forever be thanking God for this past year. But right now, I'm mostly just thanking him I'm no longer floating.

India: Part 2

Ok as promised, more blog posts about India!

One of the things that really stood out to me during my time in India was our interaction with kids there. I mentioned it in one of the picture comments on Facebook, but I'd like to tell you more about who these kids are and why we were spending time with them.

*Disclaimer: This blog post is sad but true, it contains some slightly graphic descriptions of persecution in India. Just wanted you to be prepared.

There's a region of India called Orissa, which is near the eastern coast of the country. I don't know much about this part of the country (I don't know much about any parts of India, let's be honest). But this section of India is mostly Hindu, though they did have a small concentration of Christians.

From what I learned, there were 2 main Hindu priests that worked in this area. One of them was the head guy and the other was jealous, so the lower priest murdered the other one in hopes of being elevated to head priest. He needed a scapegoat, and since tensions were already high between Hindus and Christians, he blamed the Christians for murdering the Hindu priest. This sent the entire region into a chaotic frenzy. People started persecuting Christians everywhere. They set fire to villages and churches, chased Christians from their homes, and murdered and raped the ones that didn't get away fast enough. 

I have no idea how many people were killed or how many families were displaced, but I know it was in the hundreds, maybe even the thousands. Many of the survivors fled into the jungles where they stayed alive by drinking out of puddles and eating whatever food they could find. Many of the survivors living in these awful conditions, unfortunately, were small children. These children had been through more than I could ever imagine. These children (many of whom I met) had seen their parents murdered, their houses burned. One little boy saw his mother raped. One little girl saw her parents cut into pieces in front of her. These kids were traumatized, terrified, and often incredibly ill from their poor living conditions in the jungles. It was horrendous. 

These kids were brought to the attention of the ministry we visited in India. Their main focus had always been church planting and evangelizing, never orphanages, but they realized they couldn't let these kids continue to suffer. After an overwhelming amount of work to get the right paperwork and permits, they started a home and a school for these persecuted children. It started with about 20 but now there are around 50 kids that live together, go to school together, and play together. 

I've never met such an incredible group of children before. They blew me away from the moment I met them. They're not only sweet and smart, they're incredibly well-behaved and fun. They're like a giant family; it's an amazing sight to see. These kids, who just a few years ago were living in poverty, many as orphans, are now healthy, happy, smiling little people who love the Lord with their whole hearts. 

Just like O, these kids humbled me beyond belief.  We spent some time with them on Monday afternoon and got to know them and play with them. One of the things that was so humbling was how much these kids loved us. I didn't speak their language, I didn't know their games, I didn't do anything for them but play and hug them and smile, but they still showed me so much love.  They were still so excited to see us. They were so happy we were there. It was incredible to know that our time and attention meant that much to them.

The next day was my birthday and we had planned to go over and spend more time with the kids. We showed up in the afternoon to a fully decorated classroom, complete with balloons, streamers, and a Happy Birthday Kelsey Didi sign (Didi means big sister). The kids gave us (there were 2 others whose birthdays were that week) flowers, made us cards and a cake, and sang Happy Birthday to us. They all were so excited to hug me and tell me Happy Birthday for the rest of the day. It was the sweetest thing I've ever experienced. 

As I stood there in front of these kids I thought about what they'd gone through, what they'd seen. Their short lives have been full of more heartache and terrors than I've even dreamed of in my 27 years. By the world's standards, they have no reason to be happy, no reason to feel joy. I was once again overwhelmed with the thought of "Who am I to deserve this?" I'm no one. I came here to help strategize a new church planting movement in India, I came here to serve where I could, to show love to these kids. But instead, I'm being served, I'm being loved, I'm being shown what the love of Christ really looks like. I'm getting to see how the hope of the Lord can truly change a person's heart, can help a child overcome any sort of trauma or hardship they've endured. It would be so easy to be angry at the Lord, to be angry at others, because of what they've gone through. It would be easy to shut down, to feel like a victim and to lash out. But they don't. Their love for the Lord is apparent in everything they do, from the way they worship Him to the way they play together. They are incredibly strong, incredibly loving, and incredibly joyful in Christ. 

So once again, I was overwhelmed with humility. I'm no one. I've done nothing special in my life. I don't deserve anything I have. But these kids, just like O, just like so many others in India, helped me to better understand Christ's love for me. I don't deserve it, I didn't earn it. I should be serving and loving these kids, I should be going out of my way to serve O, but instead they served and loved me. I should be serving the Lord, loving Him, but instead He loves me, He gives me amazing gifts I don't deserve. I'm no one, but He loves me more than I can fathom anyway. It's such an incredible thing, to see the love of Christ through other people. I'm so thankful I was able to experience it in so many ways in India. 

These kids showed me that it's never hopeless, no future is ever bleak. I know these kids still deal with a lot and I'm sure most of them will have to deal with what they've seen and experienced for the rest of their lives, but you'd never know it by spending a day with them. They showed me that your circumstances have no bearing on your love for Christ. Being a Christ follower doesn't mean things will go easily for you. Oftentimes, especially in places like this, it means things will be harder for you. A lot harder. That fact, that idea that Christ loves us no matter what our circumstances are, they get that. They know it. They've lived it. And they've come out on the other end more full than any of us. They're so full of joy, so full of hope and love for the Lord, love for each other, and love for strange Americans that they barely know. These kids get it. And I'm so thankful I was able to learn that from them. 

India: Part 1

I'm not sure how many parts there will be to my India blog post series. Maybe 1, maybe 15. It'll be a surprise to all of us. But I thought I'd try to break my trip into different parts so as not to overwhelm you with a 12 page blog post about my entire trip. So here goes part 1...

The 10 days I spent in India were probably the 10 most humbling days of my entire life. I've never felt more unworthy (or more eternally grateful) of the love and service of others as I did over there. I have about 1200 reasons as to why, but I'll start with this one. Then maybe the later editions of India blog post can include the others.

My trip started out kind of rough, as most of you know British Airways lost my luggage on my flight over and it was incredibly difficult to get back. They kept saying it was in cities it wasn't in, they told me it was being delivered and then later say I'd have to pick it up in person, they told me they had it when they didn't have it. It was a mess.

While I've never been overly attached to any of my stuff (excluding a few deer heads and lawn gnomes, that is) I discovered I am extremely attached to clean underwear and my hair dryer. India, as it turns out, is an extremely hot and humid place. I also learned that India is one of the worst places to not have any clean clothes because you sweat through like, 3 shirts a day (unless you only have 2 shirts for 5 days in which case you sweat through the same 2 shirts every day). Being gross and feeling insanely unattractive is really humbling in and of itself. It's an odd feeling not even having the comforts of clean clothes to make you feel secure as a person. But it was really awesome to see how God used this situation to teach me about the love and sacrifice of other people.

The people in India are incredibly and amazingly kind. I've never been treated better in my entire life. People were constantly opening doors, carrying our bags, helping us in and out of cars; it was kind of bizarre, to be honest. I'm used to people being kind and friendly, but not like this. For the first 3 days I wondered if they had mistaken me for someone who was much more wealthy or much more famous because there's no way they treat regular people like that. Turns out they do, in fact, treat regular people like that.

The staff of the hotel we stayed at in Bilaspur (our first city on the trip) was insanely amazing. It's the Courtyard Marriott in Bilaspur, by the way, in case you wanted to know. From the moment I got there they did everything they could to get my luggage back to me. They called British Airways all night trying to get someone on the phone. They offered to send someone to Raipur to pick it up (it ended up not being in Raipur so that didn't work out). They worked on it constantly for days. They even got me and 2 others in our group a cake because they noticed on our passports that our birthdays were that week! I realize this is part of their job and it's a newer hotel so they want to provide good service, but what they did was certainly more than I ever expected.

Us with the amazing staff of the Bilaspur Marriott

Not only did the hotel work on getting my baggage back, our hosts did as well. There were 2 different guys that were our hosts/guides during our trip that did everything they could to get my bags back. They made phone calls, called in favors, made complicated travel plans, all so I could get my luggage. When it still wasn't back after 4 days, without me ever asking or mentioning it, our host's wife and daughter went out and bought me new underwear and gave me a whole bag of clothes to borrow until I got my bag. They even washed the clothes I'd been wearing. It was incredibly sweet and thoughtful and meant to so much to me that they would go out of their way to do all that just for me.

This one's the kicker. There's an evangelist named O that works with our host's ministry. He's a young guy, probably in his late 20s/early 30s, with a wife and a little boy. O works in a village near Bilaspur telling others about Christ. The last pastor who worked in this village was murdered by extremists who didn't want Christians there. O knows this (and even has to live in a different village for the safety of his family) but willingly chooses to go back to this same village, day after day, knowing his life is in danger, knowing he'll be persecuted, to spread the love of Christ.

On Sunday morning, when my luggage had already been missing for 4 days, we had to leave Bilaspur and head 14 hours north to a new city, Damoh. We had been hoping they'd send my luggage up to Damoh but that morning we found out the luggage had already been sent to Raipur (2 hours south of where we already were). I had no idea what to do or how I would get it back. I told our host and he started making phone calls. They ended up having a guy they knew who worked for another airline claim the bag and then said they'd send someone to get it. In comes O. This guy drove 2 hours to pick up my bag, 2 hours back, then took the overnight train up to Damoh so I could have my luggage the next morning. Bags are sometimes stolen on trains, so he stayed awake with my luggage all night to be sure nothing happened to it.

Who does that!?

Seriously. Who does that? Who spends 24 sleepless hours traveling so a stranger they don't know can get their luggage back? Would you do that? I probably wouldn't, to be honest. Not without complaining and resenting them the entire time. But O didn't even make a big deal out of it. I thanked him as much as I possibly could considering I don't speak Hindi and he didn't speak English, but he waved it off like it was no big deal. He only said "It's my privilege to do this, I'm happy to be able to serve you." He actually said that. That it was his privilege to travel for 24 hours and not sleep all night to bring my bag back to me.

I've never been so blown away by someone else's desire and ability to serve so wholeheartedly. And I felt so incredibly unworthy. This guy is a hero. He faces persecution and danger daily in the name of the Lord. He works in a village that is known for killing Christians. He has brought dozens of unreached people to Christ. He has dedicated his life to serving God no matter what happens to him and his family. And this guy, this amazing guy who does more for the cause of Christ in a week than I've done in 27 years, this guy spent 24 hours awake, in cars, airports, and trains, just so I could have my luggage back.

This one needs no caption.

O showed me the love of Christ in such a real, incredible way. He showed me true humility, what it means to love others more than yourself, to put others above yourself, and to serve the way that Christ did. I felt so humble, so unworthy of everyone's attention and efforts. Who am I that all these people would be so kind to me? That all these people would go so far out of their way for me? Don't they know that I'm absolutely no one of any importance? I'm not even one of the ministry's financial supporters! I have nothing to give back. I can't even thank them in their own language. I realized this is what it's like to have Christ's love. To know that you've never done anything to deserve it, that you never will earn it, you'll never be able to thank Him enough. You just have to accept it, be ok with how unjust it is, and learn to live in humility and in awe of Jesus.

I can never thank everyone for how wonderful they were to me during my time in India, and there is absolutely no way I can even begin to thank O for all that he did, for how far out of his way he went to serve me. But there is one thing I can do; I can pray for him. This is how I've decided to attempt to repay O for all he did for me, for his beautiful servant's heart, and for his dedication to the Lord. I'm going to pray for safety and protection for him and his family, I'm going to pray for fruitful and productive ministries, and I'm going to pray for blessings beyond belief for him. Will you pray with me? I'm not asking you to pray for him every day or for the next 3 years, but just right now, while you're reading this, ask God to bless him, to protect his family, and to do incredible things in his life and through it.

If 5,000 people pray for him I think I'll be about half way to being even with him.

Uncomfortable Grace

You know how, during the whole wandering in the desert bit, the Israelites kept forgetting how awesome God was? They kept forgetting how he brought them out of Egypt, the amazing, miraculous works he performed, the way he constantly led and provided for them. It was like every week and a half they'd forget everything that happened and freak out and start sacrificing their favorite earrings to make livestock gods out of shiny metals. I don't know if religious amnesia is a thing, but if it is they had it. Sometimes I read Exodus and all those other Old Testament books about the misadventures of the Israelite nation and I think to myself, "Seriously guys? God just parted some waters and you walked through. Shouldn't that be enough to keep your focus for at least a few years?!" But it wasn't. And despite my annoyed judgment toward their ridiculousness, I've realized lately that I too, suffer from a pretty severe case of religious amnesia (which was a terrible conclusion to come to because I really enjoy sitting in my ivory throne of righteousness, eating my donuts and watching The Office and judging the insanely asinine life choices that others make. But it's much harder to do that when you realize you make those same life choices. Not impossible, but harder…)

As many of you know (because I quite often broadcast my panic attacks on Facebook), I've been in some pretty stressful predicaments as of late. The major ones were the fact that the IRS is trying to make sure I never rise above the poverty line (mission accomplished IRS, you get a gold star) and the other was the whole "I may or may not be homeless at the end of May" deal. Both of these things sent me into a downward spiral of panic, fear, more panic, utter despair, an overwhelming desire to give up on life, and then an even stronger overwhelming desire to get 8 more pugs and wind up on Animal Hoarders (I still haven't ruled out that last one).

The IRS business is pretty self-explanatory. They made me give them a solid $3000 more than I really wanted to. I don't think I need to expound on why that was upsetting and stressful. The housing situation is slightly more complicated. My roommate is moving when our lease is up at the end of May, meaning I needed to find an affordable apartment on my own. Turns out, living alone is crazy expensive. I had a super hard time finding an affordable apartment where I didn't feel like I might get stabbed every time I walked out my front door (which, surprisingly enough, was mild to moderately important to me). I finally found a great, affordable apartment in a neighborhood that didn't make me feel like I was on an episode of Law and Order: SVU, but apparently lots of other people have the same criteria I do when it comes to apartment hunting (cheap and not murder-y), so there were zero openings in the only apartment complex I loved.

They told me there was a 1 week period at the beginning of April where they'd get notices of who was moving out and told me to call back then. Well I did call back. I called them back hard. I called twice a day for about 8 days in a row (annoying or refreshingly persistent? We'll never know). They had nothing available. Around Thursday of that week I really started to panic. If nothing opened up, because of the time lines of when I had to be out of my apartment and when their apartments would be available, I was going to be effectively homeless starting May 23. Yes I have people I could stay with, I could put my stuff in a storage unit and try again next month, I could live out of the backseat of my car, I could live out the lyrics of Reba McEntire's "Fancy." But believe it or not, none of those options were my first choice. It seemed so stressful and so much more difficult (I want you to know that I recognize how whiny that sounds. I'm aware and I don't care), I really wanted the stress of not knowing where I was going to live to be gone.

So Thursday came and went. Nothing opened up. They said that any notices they would get should be in by Friday, but possibly Monday at the absolute latest. So my chances were dwindling and the time crunch panic was growing. I had been praying about it for weeks, I had other people praying about it, but I still thought that God was forgetting about me, that he wasn't helping me, that he was making things difficult for me. It may sound silly because I realize other people have much more significant, life-altering issues than this.  I know my life wasn't in danger; nothing permanently damaging was going to happen to me. I know that the worst case scenario wasn't that bad. I know all that. But it didn't make it any less stressful or anxiety-inducing at the time. I can honestly say that by Thursday night I was in full-blown panic mode. For whatever reason, I was really going crazy about this. I was panicking, I was crying, I was super negative about everything. I couldn't see any positives, any silver lining, all I could see was what I didn't want to happen. All I could see was the worst case scenarios I'd created in my head (some of which were wildly impossible but also fairly entertaining).

But in the midst of my panic stricken freak out, God used someone else to remind me of his truth. In 1 Samuel 23 Saul is in the middle of his attempts to hunt down and kill David. David had been running for a while at this point. He had been running and hiding and fighting and running some more. He was scared and exhausted and unsure of his future, unsure of what God was doing. At this turbulent, uncertain time God sent Jonathan to him. Jonathan was his best friend, his hetero-lifemate, if you will, and in 1 Samuel 23:16 it says that Jonathan went to David and "helped him find strength in God."

As we all know, David is mentioned more than once as a man after God's own heart. He's one of the most turned-to biblical characters when it comes to looking at what a true relationship with God should be. David knew God. Well. He loved him. But during this time of his life, David needed help. He needed someone else to point him in the right direction, to re-focus him, to remind him of God's truth and love and faithfulness. He needed Jonathan to help him find strength in God. And in my (much less traumatic, much more first world problem-y) situation, God did the same.

As I complained and cried and panicked, my friend kept reminding me that it was ok. That it was going to be ok. That God wasn't forgetting about me, that he wasn't ignoring me, that he wasn't punishing me for some made up sin I'd committed a month ago (yes sometimes that's how my mind works. And you wonder why I have anxiety). He reminded me that God loved me more than I could fathom, that his timing and his plans are perfect, even when we don't understand them. He told me it was ok that I was scared and that I didn't necessarily like God's timing, but that I needed to try to accept it and trust that he knows what he's doing. He helped me realize I needed to give up my false sense of control and let God work, whatever that meant for my life. Just like Jonathan, he helped me find strength in God when I needed it most.

Thanks to the Jonathan-esque encouragement of my friend, I calmed down. I thought about it and prayed about it and realized that whatever God did would be ok. I gave control over to him. But I also decided I would start praying very specifically about what I wanted to happen. Instead of just praying for "all the apartment stuff to work out" I prayed for the specific type of apartment I wanted to become available before Monday. I prayed that Thursday night and all day Friday. Friday morning I sent out a prayer request to all of my supporters asking that they pray for the situation, too.

At 4:45 pm on Friday afternoon I got a phone call telling me the exact apartment I wanted had opened up.

Less than 24 hours after my friend re-focused me, less than 24 hours after I started praying specifically, and less than 24 hours after I gave control over to God, I got an apartment.

God is so good. And I don't mean that he's good because I got what I wanted. That's really awesome and I'm so thankful for his kindness and his timing and his direct answer to what I asked. Those are all reasons to say he's good, sure. But that's not all it is. He's good because he makes us uncomfortable.  He makes us wait. He makes us remember how awesome he is. God has done SO many things in my life over the past 6 months. Amazing, difficult, messy, indescribably wonderful things. He taught me so much. He showed me so much. He changed my heart and my focus and my motivation. He transformed me. But when push came to shove and stuff got difficult, I ran as fast as I could to throw my earrings into the livestock mold with everyone else. I lost faith, I lost hope, I forgot who God was, I forgot what I'd learned. I had a pretty severe case of religious amnesia.

But God doesn't let me stay that way. He loves me too much to allow me to forget what he's done, to let me move too far away from him. If I had gotten the apartment I wanted right away, if I hadn't had to pay half my savings over to the IRS, if I had gotten everything I wanted exactly when I wanted it, then I wouldn't have recognized God's hand in it. I might've thanked him for letting it be so easy, but I wouldn't have cried out to him, I wouldn't have had the chance to be strengthened by a friend, I wouldn't have realized how awesome he is, how perfect his timing is, how incredibly mind-blowing it is when he directly and powerfully answers my prayers. God loves me enough to challenge me. He stretches us to remind us that he's good, that he's there, that he loves us and he's faithful.

Paul David Tripp calls it "uncomfortable grace." And that's exactly what it is. God's blessings and grace aren't just poured out in ways we like. Yes, God giving you a new job or healing a friend or working a tough situation out, those are all blessings. But so is being stretched, being broken, going through hard circumstances and difficult situations and uncertainties. Those are all blessings. That's God's grace, too. He loves us too much to let us stay where we are, to let us be complacent and unchallenged and slip farther away from him without realizing it. He loves us enough to make us uncomfortable. And while I hate it and fight against it and whine about it while it's happening, there is nothing sweeter than looking back on a situation and seeing exactly how God was moving in it, how he worked through it, what he taught you. God's here. He's always here. Always working. Always moving. Always changing us and maturing us and growing us. And I'm learning to be very thankful for that awful, painful, uncomfortable grace that God loves me enough to show me. I'm also very thankful I don't have to live out "Fancy"...

Blissfully Unhappy

Being happy is overrated.

You may think this sounds like the ramblings of a cynical, embittered spinster (can you be a spinster at 26? I'd like to try) who has surrendered herself to the overwhelming misery and loneliness that life has dealt. While one of my goals in life is, in fact, to be called a spinster (I think it's a really fun word) and I may be more cynical than some (on the Muppet scale, I'd say I'm somewhere between Kermit the Frog and the angry, old theater guys) I promise that's not what's about to happen. So relax. This will be fine.

The last couple of months have (for obvious reasons) been weird. I've felt angry, hurt, sad, awkward, embarrassed, furious, confused, and uncomfortable. But not really happy. I've always operated under the assumption that in order for me to be happy things had to be going well in my life. I was constantly striving to make all the pieces of my life come together so I could be happy. Then once I was, I was anxiously waiting for the one bad thing to happen that would ruin my wonderful bubble of happiness. So my entire life has basically consisted of me waiting to be happy then being afraid my happiness would be taken away. I felt like Smeagol with the Ring, constantly chasing the one thing I thought would make everything perfect (I've found that everything necessary to know in life can be traced back to Lord of the Rings). Happiness was sort of like the ultimate goal of my life (that and joining the Norwegian curling team. Have you seen these guys?! I need these pants).

But over the last 2 months I realized something. Happiness is totally and completely overrated. I haven't been very happy the last few months, but I have been introspective and thoughtful and humbled. I've been teachable and vulnerable and hungry for God's word (almost as hungry as I've been for donuts...almost). Part way through the last few weeks I discovered I kind of like being like this. I'm not happy, but I'm learning. I'm growing. I'm becoming more like the person I'd always hoped I'd be (a mix between Marshall, the inventor of Pajama Jeans and Liz Lemon). I've learned more over the past 8 weeks than I'd learned in the past 8 years. I've learned more about who I am, who God is, more about people (which has been both good and bad), and life as a whole. I've learned about trust and faith, patience, acceptance, forgiveness, humility and love. And it's been kind of awesome.

I've been reading the book Jesus Feminist by Sarah Bessey (don't worry, I won't bring up the whole "Jesus thought women were people too" discussion....not yet...) and I've learned so many awesome things from it, but one of my favorite lines is a quote she got from Jonathan Martin's book Prototype.  While his context isn't the same as mine, I feel like the sentiment is the same. He says, "Far from being a punishment, judgment, or a curse, the wilderness is a gift. It's where we can experience the primal delight of being fully known and delighted in by God." I'd say the "wilderness" is an accurate description of where I've been over the last 2 months. And I'm starting to realize Martin's right. For a long time I wondered what I'd done to deserve this, what I was being punished for, what was wrong with me (I know what you're thinking: clearly nothing, as I'm obviously perfect. I know, we all question scientifically proven facts [like my awesomeness] in dark times). While I don't believe God purposefully causes people pain, I do believe he's taken this dark, painful period of my life and turned it into a gift. A wonderful, messy, enlightening, beautifully transformative gift.

In another part of her book, Bessey likens emotional pain to childbirth. She says that the pain you experience during childbirth is related to your own fears and resistance to the pain, called the fear-tension-pain cycle. Because you're afraid, you tense up, which makes the pain worse, which makes the fear worse. In order to interrupt the cycle, Bessey suggests we "lean into the pain instead of resisting it." One of my favorite parts of her book is when she writes, "I have learned to lean into some pain-- to let the pain be there, part of me, without fear, without judgment, without refusal, because this is all part of the struggle of birth and life." So that's what I'm doing. Instead of fighting it, I'm learning to lean into the pain, to let God use this pain to transform me in any way he sees fit. I don't want to resist it or pretend it isn't there, I want to embrace it, I want to enjoy this time God has given me to be close to him, to learn from him, to be changed by him.

Psalm 34:18 says "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in Spirit." I always took that to mean God was there to comfort us in difficult times, which I still believe is true, but this verse took on a different meaning to me lately. Not only is he there to comfort us, but the brokenness in us during these times is what brings us closer to God. He's close to the brokenhearted because it's those who are most humbled, most ready and willing to be used and molded by him; it's those who have nowhere else to turn to make sense of their lives.

While being happy is fun and relaxing and nice, it's not my life goal anymore (at least not today. I'm feeling very spiritual and enlightened today. Tomorrow I'll probably go back to my donuts equal happiness life strategy). I discovered that I will probably never be truly happy (at least not by my own definition). Things will always be bad in one way or another, whether it's work or life or family related, there will most likely never be a time when everything in my life is absolutely as I want it to be. If that does happen, then HOORAY! That will be a glorious day. But I can't chase that down forever, I'll waste my life waiting for something that never comes. I need to be ok with my life as it is. It's not what I wanted or what I chose, but it's my life and I need to accept it and enjoy the beauty of what God has given me.

I've never seen the movie The Odd Life of Timothy Green, but one of the trailers shows Timothy walking to school with his parents. His dad yells out "Have a good day!" and his mom says "That's too much pressure!" followed by, "Have the day you have!" (I find this especially hilarious because this line is what we use to make fun of my sister for being, well, like that.) It may seem ridiculous, but I think there's some wisdom in her school yard declaration.  I'm choosing to have the day I have; happy or sad, fun or monotonous, difficult or simple, I want to enjoy every part of it and learn what God's teaching me in every circumstance. My life may not be what I planned, but that's ok. It doesn't have to be. Since when did being "happy" become more important than anything else? I have the life I have and it's still pretty fantastic, even if it's fantastic in a completely different way than I'd expected.

I may not be "happy" but I am content, I have joy and love and trust that God knows what the heck he's doing even when I don't get it. I don't have to get it. I just get to sit back and enjoy the ride (however bumpy and unpleasant it may sometimes be). Being happy is nice, but growing and learning and changing is way more satisfying. So today, I will choose to be blissfully unhappy and enjoy every minute of it.