Finding Home on an Open Ocean

I’ve encountered this question playing “Would You Rather,” multiple times;  “Would you rather go to the beach or the mountains?” I can’t pick a side for the life of me. My ultimate soul rest is hiking up a mountain in my Chacos, setting up my Eno hammock, and furiously journaling in my Moleskine. Just add some campfires, stargazing, and tent sleeping to that, and you’ve got a perfect day in my mind. And yet, I equally love the beach. I have a high affinity for shells. On my recent vacation, after spending hours looking for shells, I walked away with half a sand dollar and a whole conch shell. I also love the ocean. Give me some waves and you’ll have to bribe me to come out of the water. 

On my recent vacation, I’ve found another reason to love the ocean. Paddle-boarding. After learning how to do paddle-board for an hour in a safe harbor, I spent three hours paddle boarding on the open ocean. It immediately became a passion. It has the same effect as worship for me. Out on that open ocean, I felt Jesus closer than my breath. At one point, I paddled away from everyone, plopped down on my paddle board, and starting worshipping. The lyrics of “Captain” and “Oceans” reach a whole new level when you look out in front of you and all you see is open ocean. Combine the two things that make me feel the presence of God the most (worship and paddle-boarding), and you’ve got another perfect day.

I had to take a step of faith to paddle board. I could have backed out. I could have said no. Yet I chose to do something out of my comfort zone. And almost instantly, it became one of my favorite things to do. It gave me many sweet moments, when I felt the Holy Spirit so thick around me, just by being and breathing. All because I chose to leave my comfort zone. In just a few short hours, I will be taking the biggest leap of faith I ever have. I’m headed to college. I’m moving hundreds of miles from home. I feel like just as I’ve become comfortable, just as I’ve found the church family I’ve always dreamed of having, just as I’ve found my calling here in Connecticut, I’m being uprooted again: physically leaving the people I love and look up to so much. Yet the Lord put something on my heart while paddle boarding that day. We can't grow in our comfort zones. If we stayed in our comfort zones forever, never taking steps (or leaps) of faith, we’d never move forward. We’d never have to rely on God for things. To grow, we have to keep moving out of our comfort zones. 

In my paddle board worshipping experience, the Lord also revealed to me that home is not a place. It’s a person. Being on that paddle board in the middle of the ocean, amongst stingrays and fish and sharks, I felt at home. Why? Because I felt Jesus there with me as close as ever. He made it feel like home. Anywhere Jesus is, is home. Perhaps it’s because deep in our hearts, we know that earth is only a temporary home. Deep in our souls, we know that we’re made for eternity, where simply being in the presence of Jesus, face to face with Him, is indeed Home. 

Lost and Found

This Thursday, I was driving home from a lovely morning at Terrain, one of my favorite spots near where I live. It was the soul rest I’ve been needing: filled with nourishing food, my favorite coffee, beautiful scenery, and new ideas. I was driving down a particularly windy and busy road, when in the middle of the road, was a rather fat, fluffy large dog. He clearly knew he was lost, as he kept on walking in circles in the middle of the road. My mom and I got out of the car, opened the back door, and he came bounding in. Thankfully he had a collar with a number on it, so we called and found out where his owner lived. Meanwhile, Samson (the dog) had stretched himself out on the back seat, panting happily. Turns out he had strayed about a mile from home.  

As soon as we arrived at his house, he jumped out excitedly and began running around his owner, running toward me and licking my knees, almost as if to thank me. The owner told us that perhaps he had gotten used to his electric fence, and had finally gotten brave enough to cross it and go exploring on his own. 

Upon reflecting on this, I’m reminded of the story of all Jesus followers at one time or another. Particularly my story. We decide that what we already have is not enough. We know the Father loves us and that He will provide everything we need, but curiosity’s voice is louder. We wonder if we’re missing out on something greater. So we take the jump and break through our electric fences (forgetting that those boundaries are there for a very good reason). That initial shock of leaving the Father might be the Holy Spirit telling us that it’s not a good idea, but at that point, we’ve escaped and decide not to listen because there’s a rush of adrenaline racing through our bones. We think we’re free. We go out in search of other things that could fill our heart’s desire. We seek after things that we believe might give us comfort and worth and love. It might be wonderful for a little while. However, once we’ve strayed a mile down the road and realize we’ve forgotten how to get back home, fear takes over. Once the realization that we’re lost (or that we’ve run away from the Father), leaves us wading in pools of our own shame, looking down at the ground and walking around in the same circles of addiction and brokenness because we don’t know how or why the Father would want to take us back. 

Thankfully we serve a faithful God, who oftentimes points us back to Him, by placing His other sons and daughters in our lives. Sometimes He uses other people to lift our heads and to take every step with us, until we find ourselves back in the arms of the Father. And when we’ve finally made it back home, the joy that overtakes us is amazing. Once we’ve realized that the Father has taken us back and loves us just the same, all we can do is throw ourselves into His arms and into the arms of the people who have helped us make the journey home. And then perhaps, life takes on a whole new meaning. We see life with a whole new perspective. We are freer, more joyful, and filled with new life and purpose, because we once we lost, but we have been found. 

This is Samson :) 

Lessons Learned From Sky Camp

I spent some time volunteering at Sky Camp, my church’s camp for young kids. The following is a reflection upon my weeks. 

My first week, I was an elementary crew leader. I had six campers, three of them were 12 year old girls. The others were boys who ranged in age from 8 to 10. Even before I met my campers, God put this love for them in my heart that I didn’t know existed. My goal going into the week was to love on my campers and to show them a glimmer of the Father’s heart for them. That was my prayer for the week. By the end of the week however, I realized I had been trying to be Jesus to them, and meanwhile, they were Jesus to me. I saw Jesus in one of my girls, as she willingly held the door for the entire camp, multiple times. I saw Jesus as my girls willingly gave up their desired job of being our crew’s “guide” for the day, to let my youngest boy have it (even though he had done it twice already). I saw Jesus in my kids when we once crawled like monkeys to our next activity...only to discover that one of my kids was excellent at crawling on all fours, with movements so fluid, at first glance you’d think he was actually a money. I saw Jesus in this monkey kid, as he taught the other kids his monkey ways, and we eventually all ended up rolling on the floor laughing (literally). I saw Jesus as one of my girls (who refused to pray out loud amongst our crew), volunteered to pray for us at the end of the week. I found myself discovering the love of Jesus and uncovering His heart for me in places I had never seen before. 

This week, I am a preschool crafts leader. Yesterday, I discovered that one of the preschoolers didn’t speak a word of English. She only spoke Spanish. Upon hearing this, during crafts, I attempted talking to her in Spanish (even though I only took a year of it). It was simple conversation. I asked her if she wanted a stamp on her hand, or what color egg she wanted. Not even full sentences. Today however, when she saw me in crafts, she came right up to me. When I led the kids outside to do some painting with their feet, she held my hand tightly and didn’t let it go. Instead of nodding or shaking her head, she told me what she wanted. She told me she wanted to paint with pink sparkly paint before I even asked her. At lunch, she started babbling to me in Spanish and whispering Spanish into my ear. I asked her if she wanted water and she told me that she did. We walked to the water dispenser and she filled up a cup of water to the top. Then she grabbed a second cup and started to fill it with water. The dispenser was basically empty at that point however, so the water in that second cup filled not even a sixth of the way. She gave me the first cup. I hadn’t told her I wanted water, but she insisted that I have the fuller cup. She took the one sip of water she could from her empty cup. 

I’m reminded of how trusting children are. “These children are the kingdom’s pride and joy. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in” (Luke 18:17), takes a whole new meaning. As soon as a little bit of the Father’s heart was shown to them; as soon as they felt the love of Jesus, they were so eager to love and serve others. They didn’t doubt that what they were hearing could be false. They didn’t doubt God’s love for a second. They were so eager to love in return, and in doing so, showed Jesus to me and revealed the Father’s heart to ME. 

"Let the children alone, don't prevent them from coming to me. God's kingdom is made up of people like these" (Matthew 19:14)

Unashamed: 2 books, 72 hours

“Breaking free from the shackles of shame is not an overnight experience or a quick-fix, ten-step process. It is, however, a grand, ongoing adventure of discovering the depths of God’s love and the huge scope of His power to transform us, recreate us, and continually renew us”

-Christine Caine

I think everyone struggles with a constant negativity. To some extent, an idea/sin/feeling, haunts your every day, and it’s a daily choice to surrender it to God and choose to believe what He says is there instead of what you see in front of you.

For me, that thing is shame. Shame used to haunt me and control my life. While its hold on me is not overpowering anymore, it is still something very present in my day to day. It’s a conscious choice I have to make more than daily: choosing to believe that my life is defined by grace now. That God puts a cloak of grace on me, and doesn’t see what’s underneath. That He sees me the same way He sees Jesus. More recently however, I’ve told God that I’m healed. That shame is over and I’m free. 

I find it humbling then, that God sent me two books this week, with the title “Unashamed.” The first sent by a stranger I’ve only talked to once in my life over Facebook...someone who had written a book called Unashamed and felt led to send it to me. The latter by a friend, who knew that I’d been dying to get my hands on this book. Two books called Unashamed. Both sent to me in the span of 72 hours. It’s almost as if God is saying (in a little more than a whisper): “Shame still haunts you. You think I’ve healed you, but I have so much more in store. I have so much more to give you.” Ironically, the second I told God I was healed, that my life was all victory all of the time, those exact same feelings of shame began to creep right back to where they’d been before.

And I’ve come to realize that this weekend. Shame is a monster that doesn’t go away overnight. It is not a quick fix. It is not a ten step or twelve step process. It’s an ongoing adventure. It’s pressing into the depths of God’s heart and letting His love continually affirm who we are in Him. Only God is capable of taking away shame. People can point me in the right direction and people can point me towards Jesus, but only Jesus is my Healer. Only He knows how to make me into who He created me to be. So let’s start pressing in. Let’s start listening to what He says about shame and what He says about us. It’s an ongoing adventure that will never stop renewing us, recreating us, and transforming us. I’m about to hop on board, and I’m so ready for the ride. 

When CPR Doesn't Work...

I had a 10 AM brunch date with a good friend of mine who recently moved back to Connecticut after a couple years of living 1000+ miles away from me. I left my house a bit early, as I have the “to be on time is to be late” mentality drilled into my head from my high school choir director. I got there 10 minutes early and sat in my car, deciding to wait for my friend there. My parking spot was facing the main road, and I kind of zoned out, watching the cars fly down the street, way above the speed limit. That’s when I witnessed something that now, I would much like to erase from my mind. A car pulled out of a driveway directly across the street from me, and onto the main drag. Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking, and happened to hit a car flying down that main road. They had a T-Bone collision. At a solid 45 mph. I saw everything unfold right in front of me. RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. The car get jolted a good 4 feet in the air upon impact. Smoke rising. Noise after noise, screech after screech. I could almost feel it from my car. I immediately went into shock. What if my friend was in that car? What if my friend wouldn’t make it out of this alive? I was too traumatized to cry or scream or pray. I was frozen in shock. I watched all the surrounding store owners call 911, come out of their stores with hatchets and fire extinguishers. I watched them extricate a woman from her car and put out the smoke. I watched EMT’s perform CPR on this woman who was severely injured and clearly unconscious, for multiple minutes. They weren’t able to get her conscious again. After getting a text from my friend, I relaxed a bit, knowing it was not her. But it was still the craziest thing I’ve ever witnessed. And I’m still slightly traumatized as everything happened directly in front of me. I feel attached to this woman now. I witnessed her pain. 

Coffee (the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life....perhaps because my soul has never needed it more than at that moment) and hugs from my friend calmed me down and began to warm my heart again. But we immediately started talking about the accident. How I had witnessed the whole thing....witnessed her pain and had felt completely helpless. How witnessing anyone’s pain immediately makes me feel helpless and trapped inside, because I just want to make it go away. We started then to talk about our own pain. Physical and emotional pain and scars...some of them still wounds needing to be healed. 

If there’s anything I’ve been reminded of today, it’s that life is fragile. It’s that we live in a broken world. Which means that sometimes, CPR doesn’t work. Which means death. And pain. And brokenness. Truth is, things are not okay right now, and they won’t be until Jesus comes back. Yet at the same time, that’s our hope. Life is broken, but I’ll venture to say that it’s beautiful too. This beautiful painful confusing struggle of a thing called life only leaves us longing for more of Jesus. Longing for our true home. It leaves us cracked, but only able to let Jesus shine through those cracks. Because even though pain is here, hope is here too. There is death, but there is also life. There is pain but there is also rescue and redemption, because Jesus is still in the business of redemption. Letting Him lift you on His shoulders and walk through valleys with you suddenly becomes a less daunting task. So let’s embrace this broken life. Things are not okay right now but until then, this life leaves us looking to Hope and living in Hope, knowing that one day, things will be okay again. 

Stepping Into the Light

Earlier this week, I experienced debilitating fear about going to college in 102 days. In the course of 24 hours, I went from being excited about college, to absolutely convinced I could not go. I told people I was going to take a gap year; my brain coming up with irrational reasons why I wasn't ready. I wasn’t healthy enough yet; people wouldn’t love me in this state; people would see me at my worst and I wasn’t ready for that. 

I thank the Lord for wise people who are able to enter the chaos and shame of these moments and gently coax me out of my pain cycle. As I poured out all the reasons why I essentially wasn’t good enough for college yet, to one of these people, her simple answer shattered my perception of what I thought college would be like. “If college for you is like taking that first jump while cliff jumping, it doesn’t matter how long you wait. That cliff is still going to be there. You’re going to have to jump eventually. My fear, is that if you took this gap year, we’d be having this exact same conversation next year.” Her words were a piercing arrow of truth. I had this built up perception of college. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be proud of who I was. I didn’t ever want to be seen at my worst. And then I realized how impossible that was. We’re human. We’re never going to be perfect. And I can guarantee you as sure as I’m sitting here (drinking an almond flat white coffee and eating gluten free cake outside my favorite hipster coffee shop...ultimate white girl status here...the sun and shadows creating awkward tan lines on my arms), if I’d taken the gap year, I’d just keep on coming up with reasons why I shouldn’t ever go to college. 

As the reality of college hit me this week, it dug up some of the fears and lies I’d buried months ago. I was putting the fear of what others would think of me before the way Jesus already thinks of me. I was seeing myself through the eyes of my past, through the lens of shame. I assumed that as soon as people discovered who I’d been and the things I’d struggled with, that they’d hate me. That they’d refuse to be around me. That was shame. Shame says I am my mistakes. Shame says that I am my past. It says that my past is my whole story. Shame keeps me running away from the dark (who I used to be) instead of stepping into the light (my present; who God made me to be). God has been making these things increasingly clear. If I keep running from the past and hiding from the inevitable, people will see me through the lens of my past. If I give shame the power to define me, it will. And others will define me by that too. But if I step into the light, the present that God has for me: it is there where I will experience abundance, nurturing relationships, and grace. It is in stepping into the light that we find we are loved for who we are at our core. Children of God. It is there where people long to be around us because of our compassion. Our laughter. Our hobbies. Our personality. Is it there where we find LOVE because the mistakes we’ve made in the past have nothing to do with what’s in store for us in the future. What we’ve done has nothing to do with our identity, with who we are. 

So let’s quit hiding and running away from the dark. Let’s start stepping into the light (which looks different for all of us). For me, it’s deciding to define myself as Natalie. A Jesus follower. A Child of God. Fully known. Fully loved. Clothed in grace. Sensitive. Tender Hearted. Slow to complain. Alive. Worshipper. Lover of Jesus, worship, coffee dates, intentional conversations, chacos, Enos, bumper stickers, jam sessions, moleskins. 

Cedarville University, see you in 102 days :)

From Immense Pain to Incredible Purpose

I wrote a couple weeks ago about lions and their hunting tactics. A female lion doesn’t have a mane, so that she can camouflage herself in the bushes. It’s the male lions who make those terrifying roaring noises, and as the prey run away from the noise, they end up running straight towards where the lionesses are hiding. Lionesses lack a mane. Their purpose is found in something they lack. 

My sweet friend Dana, is the embodiment of this principle. She is a senior at my high school and more importantly, a friend of mine. At age 13, she started to lose her hearing, from a genetic disorder called Neurofibramatosis Type 2. Non-cancerous tumors grow on her auditory nerves, keeping her from hearing. One day, she will eventually lose her hearing completely. Yet even amidst all of this, she is the happiest person I know. When I am around her, I can’t help but be joyful. We laugh about random things. We communicate in the little sign language I know, and the little sign language she has taught me...and laugh about that too. 

Dana is an amazing photographer. Through suffering, she has found her purpose. She is the photographer for many sports teams at the high school, and for Young Life. Dana says her  “photography is a gift [she’s] been given as [her] way to communicate and connect with others”. She is able to feel and connect with people’s emotions through her camera lens. 

Getting to know her better this year has been such a privilege, as it’s dramatically changed my perspective on life. As I have lost a lot due to some health issues this year, being around this beautiful soul who finds her purpose in things she has lost too, has been an encouragement and an example. Because the truth is, we will all experience loss. Whether it be our hearing, our health, our energy, our friends, it will come. The more we focus on the loss, the more our lives will be shaped by negativity and grief. It is up to us to choose what we want in our frame. In Jesus, we have all the strength we need to kick loss out of the frame of our lives, and find our purpose through it, like Dana has. 

Because God is never cruel, there is a reason for all things. We must know the pain of loss; because if we never knew it, we would have no compassion for others. Even God lost His only son for a while and Jesus lost His father. And in that, Jesus found His purpose. Saving us. In the incredible pain of loss, comes incredible purpose!

Here are some of Dana's photographs! All credits go to her!