Jack up my life.

A prayer.

 

Reorder.

Father, reorder my affections; reorder my aspirations.

Reorder what I crave,

Father God, reorder where I find affirmation.

 

I look in the mirror and desire beauty,

Not the inner kind that lasts,

But I want the physical like it’s my duty.

How I disdain over my appearance

and wonder longingly upon others’

How twisted, how sickening,

Lord, reorder this want that smothers.

 

I fear man more than You

I cower when I should speak

Open my mouth, reorder my words

May fearless Truth from my lips continuously leak.

 

Reorder where I find joy

Not in beauty, fame, or boys…

May You be my highest prize and my greatest Treasure

Give me love for You that grows, grows, and GROWS…

exponential growth without measure.

 

Reorder my idol of self

Replace the idol of me on my giant pedestal with You

You increase, I decrease

in all I think, say, and do.

I’m prideful, I’m selfish, I’m arrogant, I’m unkind

Reorder these characteristics

Take my lustful sinful heart and leave Christ’s behind.

 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.

The old has passed away; but, still in sin I find elation

Father, empower me to put on the new self , Father, reorder it ALL

Dead to sin, alive to righteousness

Daily, God,help me to follow Your call.

 

Reorder my dreams,

make them align with Your will

Make disciples of all nations

To the ends of the earth, You are with me still.

You are good, You are faithful, You are God and I am not.

Help me to never belittle the Cross

Where reconciliation to You was bought.

 

Reorder.

Satan and his minions desire to destroy;

To disorder my affections, to take away my Joy

Put on the whole armor of God,

Paul proclaims

Praying at all times

to extinguish the flaming darts Evil aims.

 

My prayer is that You will reorder.

Father, jack up my so called life and help me bid my old self adieu

And, may I like the Psalmist proclaim from the rooftops

There is nothing on earth that I desire besides You.

 

 

2011.

I had the privilege of sharing life stories over a cup of delicious coffee last night with a long lost friend.

I love talking about life. I love talking about the funny stuff, but, I really love talking about Jesus stuff.

As I shared a brief overview of this past year, I realized I hadn’t thought about all that had happened in so long…recapped the big picture of 2011.

My goodness, the Lord has been faithful to me.

He proved Himself over and over and over as Jehovah Jireh.

He never stopped surprising me.

My favorite verse of this year has been:

“If we are faithless, he remains faithful– for he cannot deny himself.” 2 Tim 2:13

It has continued to rock me and challenge me, convict me, and astound me. There were times this year I’m not sure how I would have survived without the knowledge and the truth that radiates from this verse.

By His infinite mercy and grace, the Lord has continued His process of breaking me and molding me.

There was so much beauty in my brokenness, to the praise of His glorious grace.

I asked Him to break down my pride. He did.

So much pride fills every facet of my being. He is working on me.

He has taught me numerous lessons, many of which, are typed out on this blog. Some of which, are scribbled out in my journals.

I have so many more lessons to go. I’m excited for the ones 2012 will bring…as well as nervous!

I was stretched. I was angry. I laughed. I cried. I was well. I was sick. I was joyful. I was sorrowful.

I don’t look back at 2011 and see many great things that I did or accomplished. I couldn’t write a list or tell you any stories.

All I see is me learning a whole lot about how it really isn’t about me.

Lay down my crowns.

It’s been awesome.

Thankful for the countless memories, the challenges, the beauty in the ashes.

As scary as the unknown is for me (…all of 2012), I rest assured in the knowledge that God is already there. He knows every detail of every moment of every day of 2012. I know I can trust Him.

May 2012 be ALL about You, my King.

Loved ya, 2011. Thanks for those 365 days.

-Shara.

New Years Resolution: John 3:30.

(…and to finally, after 4 years of wanting it, get that verse tattooed)

BLESSINGS!!

Home is where the heart is.

Well, I’m home.

I stepped foot on American soil December 13th.

The first thing that caught me off guard was how tall everyone was. I went from feeling like…

to feeling more like…

It was strange understanding all of the conversations happening around me and not just picking out words here and there. However, after over-hearing a few of the conversations, I began to wish I didn’t understand what they were saying.

The flight over was quite an ordeal.

The day of departure, India bid me farewell with a lovely gift of food poisoning.

Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.

My fellow comrades laid hands on me and prayed for healing before the long flight home.

About 10 minutes later I had my head bent over the toilet….5 bouts later…I felt some relief, loaded up in a taxi, and headed off to the airport.

It all started going downhill pretty fast. I had to run out of one of the lines to get to the bathroom, and when I finally got through the line, the man checking my passport didn’t believe it was me. Among many things, he said I was far too pale, and I was not pale in the picture.

I kindly said, “Sir, I don’t feel well…perhaps that’s why.”

(What was running through my head?)

“PROBABLY BECAUSE I’M GOING TO PUKE ALL OVER YOU IN ABOUT 30 SECONDS!!”

I’m not a very nice person. That’s why I need Jesus.

A LONG time later…He let me through.

Long story short…I puked my guts out on the first plane in a barf bag. So embarrassing. There is nothing not embarrassing about walking to the bathroom holding a bag filled to the brim with your vomit.

On the second flight from London, I got puked ON by a little girl in front of me with some serious projectile vomit.

On the last flight…well, I reeked of vomit.

Welcome home.

Home.

Strange.

Jet lag was the worst. It was completely miserable. I was so jacked up. I’m still not sure I’m back to normal.

I knew it would be hard. I was told over and over that no one would understand. I knew that. I knew it would be frustrating. I knew it would be hard.

But, alas, it’s different knowing it in your head and seeing it translated out into action in real life.

Not going to sugar coat it. It’s been tough; really tough.

Random things have made me angry.

I fight getting horribly annoyed when people ask me how my “trip” was…and don’t really care what I say afterward.

I pray for the Lord to give me grace. Grace upon grace. I can’t expect people to care. I can’t expect people to understand. I can’t expect anyone to listen. And…that’s okay. That’s normal.

But, it sucks. Pardon the slang, but it sucks.

I feel very lonely most of the time. Very…very lonely.

I think it’ll be therapy just to have one person ask me about my life in India…life, not trip…I didn’t spend a weekend at Disney World…and, actually, genuinely, want to know about what happened. Just one. It would be such  sweet therapy.

I haven’t had one person ask me since I’ve been home.

I know I haven’t been home long, but, it hasn’t made it any easier.

I never cried once while in India strictly about being in India. But, I’ve cried at home about being home.

Home.

I’m thankful for the hot showers, the comfy bed, and the fact that I don’t smell like all kinds of death…and look like it too.

I’m thankful that men pee in bathrooms here and not all around me.

I’m thankful for Chick Fil A…and the readily available amount of cheese everywhere.

And, of course, the many luxuries of daily life in the US.

But, I can easily do without all of the above.

Home.

It doesn’t feel like home.

Yes, my parents are here, as well as my brother and sister and dog.

But, I think I left my heart scattered all over a certain country.

I think I left it here…

or here…

Maybe here…

Or there…

Maybe in the overcrowded bus I would ride…

Maybe in a cup of tea…

In the stories…

Or these faces…

I long to “go”…and I hate the idea of not “going”.
But, I also hate the idea of living somewhere else in my head, and not living to glorify God right here right now, wherever He places me.

My Father in heaven is infinitely GOOD.

By His grace, He has my heart.

I long for Him and for Him alone to own my deepest affections and my deepest desires. He alone is worthy of them, and in Him alone will my soul find ultimate satisfaction and fulfillment.

Wherever He leads me, He will be with me. He will never leave me nor forsake me.

Wherever He places me,  I will live “all there”. I will be all there.

As hard as it is. As scary as it is. As uncomfortable as it is.

Father, take my heart and let it be, consecrated Lord to Thee.

Home is where the heart is.

With You, Lord, I am home.

You are always with me.

So, wherever I am, I am always home.

By His Grace,

Shara

(***Photos NOT taken by me. Mine did not look this good. Taken by my two awesome friends Jennifer and Liz who are both incredible photographers and receive ALL CREDIT )

 

“I want to go home…but, I don’t want to leave.”

(This is the final update I emailed out. I haven’t blogged in awhile, so, thought I’d post it as a blog…will blog more when I get a chance/formulate a way to put something into words on a page)

 

I glanced over a November calendar and I braced myself for the end. Each month had flown by so quickly, I knew November would be no different. I would choke back tears contemplating the end; therefore I often tried my best to block it from my thoughts. But, alas, time slipped away from the clutches of my hands, and now I am left writing you this final update. I am, with both sadness and joy, writing to you… the end.

Let’s see…November…I will cover the “main things”. In November, my partner and I had a plan. I’m not sure why. One day I wrote the following in my journal:

“Today I made a plan. Nothing happened according to that plan.”

More often than not, that seems to be the theme here in South Asia. Nevertheless, contrary to every natural instinct I possess, I have learned to roll with the punches.

After a bit of “miscommunication” (Grrr…also a theme here in SA) two days before our long anticipated Anti-Trafficking Drama Workshop, my partner and I found ourselves devoid of a workshop and devoid of a plan. Thankfully we work alongside a team possessing of people who are far from quitters. My “desperately-need-a-planned-out-organized-overly-prepared-schedule-for-all-events” self has much to learn from them. A schedule, PowerPoints, videos, nametags, phone calls, and two freaked out “leaders” later, voila; we had our very own “Human Trafficking Drama Workshop”. Over 20 participants joined us to learn about trafficking in the world, India, and, more specifically, in the Northeast; the trafficking that is happening all around them. They also gathered to learn what they can do about it. We exposed them to the “street drama” awareness tool that is being used in India. We had them share stories that they knew, showed them some tools for turning those stories into dramas, then had them work on doing just that. God is faithful. He is sovereign over cancellations and miscommunication. Nothing catches Him off guard.

Thankful for that.

My song-writing MBBs (Mus.lim Background Believers) travelled back over to my city, and we spent a day recording the ten songs that they had written. I’m not much of an audio engineer, BUT, I do have a college degree in theatre, so I acted like I knew what I was doing, ha . This entire time didn’t go as expected, and was quite a mess at most parts, but, again, the Lord is so good and so faithful. The recordings turned out wonderfully, and many CDs have been distributed. Also, booklets containing the lyrics to the songs are being made for use in house churches. I have some Mus.lim friends I am excited to give copies of the songs to. As a quick reminder, the songs were crafted from a Bible story set that has been specifically contextualized for Mus.lims. For example, they use “Allah” for God and “Isa” for Jesus. The MBBs worked to put the stories into a popular musical style called “Zikir” music, which is a very popular form of music amongst the Mus.lim community. Mus.lims will hear Truth in the form of familiar tunes they already know and love. Awesome.

Next up was the women’s conference. The women of the “A Team” planned a weekend retreat for national women who were in some way, shape, or form involved with our NGO. The theme was “Masterpiece: Created by God”, stemming from Psalm 139. Some examples of the sessions were studying Scripture (Psalm 139/1 Corinthians 12), learning about prayer, bracelet making, Zumba dancing (AKA the funniest thing…ever), playing games, discussing what the Word says about marriage/singleness/and mentoring, etc. I led a henna storying session, teaching the women a story from the Word, leading them in a discussion about the story, helping them learn the story by telling it to others, and ending with practicing the henna design for the story on each other.

The weekend was so much fun. National women never do anything like this. They don’t get to leave their husbands and children for a weekend to “hang out with the girls”. They don’t get to play silly games, be creative, or win prizes. They never get a chance to be goofy or dance around like a fool. The women were like giddy school girls, sneaking out of their rooms late at night in their pajamas begging us to teach them more dances. I am now a professional teacher of the “Macarena”, the “Hokey Pokey”, and the “Electric Slide”.

I pray the believers were encouraged and spurred on, and I pray that the unbelievers would be awakened to the Truth.

We ended the month with a very special treat. We traveled to Kaziranga to go on an “Elephant Safari”. I slept in a bed with fluffy pillows, had my first hot shower in over four months, ordered room service (for the first time in my life…and totally ate it up because it’ll probably be the last time I ever get to do that, haha), and watched…TV! Not to mention, waking up at 4AM in the morning and riding elephants! We spotted many of the “one-horned rhinos” which are indigenous to Assam. It.was.awesome.

I have four days left in this city. I’m not sure how that happened. I leave for Delhi on the 8^th for debrief, then I’ll be back in the States on the 13^th.

I’m learning to rest in the fact that before the beginning of time, the Lord ordained for me to be here for this specific time for His glory. I know that I don’t know and may never know the exact reason why He chose me…but, I know it wasn’t by accident. I’m learning not to measure “success” on my terms or human terms. I’m learning to trust Him and His wisdom every day, knowing that He is my Father and His plan for me is much better than anything I could dream up (why is that so hard??) I’m learning every day and I’m excited to discover along the way all the different things I have learned during my time here that I’m not yet aware of.

I’ve struggled with the thought of going home; mostly, because I am afraid. But, I cling to grace and His promises in the Word.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

            One year ago I graduated from college.  In the time since, I didn’t get a great job, make lots of money, and become wildly successful. I didn’t become a famous actress, or beautiful, or popular. I didn’t marry some handsome fellow or even get asked on a date. I’m not sure I did anything you’re supposed to do…but, I do know one thing. I know Jesus more than I did last year… and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Thanks so much for reading/keeping up with me/praying for me over these few months. So thankful.

I will miss India every single day.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

 

Blessings,

shara.

 

When I don’t understand Your perfect plan, I will trust in You my God.

The title of my Tumblr says it perfectly:

“Diary of a Wimpy Chick”

Yeah.

Still rings true.

I’m a wimp.

I thought that boarding a plane to travel across the globe was scary…but, my stomach twists and turns when I think about what’s going to happen in just a few weeks…that is, boarding a plane that is going to take me home.

In July, I headed across the world to experience the great unknown. In December, I will head back across the world to the greatest unknown to date…the rest of my life.

I would be dishonest if I said I was not afraid.

Should I be afraid? No. My Father in Heaven is sovereign. “[His] eyes saw my unformed substance; in [His] book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”

He knows every step I will take. He knows every detail about every instance that will every happen to me.

Fear is unbelief.

The root cause of anxiety is inadequate faith in our Father’s future grace.

My faith is so small.

My journal is riddled with endless amounts of passages and verses about trusting in the Lord.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green; and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” Jeremiah 17:7-8

 

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.” Psalm 56:3-4

I know everything will be fine; more than fine. As I have written so often before, God is my Father, and He will not allow anything to happen to me that is not ultimately for my good and for His glory. (Rom. 8:28-30) It may not be my idea of what’s best for me, but, that doesn’t make the statement above any less true.

As I was preparing to teach another story, the Lord graciously led me to a well-known story that will never lose its power.

“And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Matthew 14:28-33

I was brought to tears as I read.

Vs. 27- “Take HEART; IT IS I. Do NOT BE AFRAID.”

“It IS I”—Greek EGŌ EIMI, LIT. “I AM”. May RECALL Yahweh’s VOICE FROM THE BURNING BUSH (Ex. 3:14), WHICH WHEN SPOKEN NOW BY Jesus PROVIDES ASSURANCE TO THE DISCIPLES OF THE Lord’s PRESENCE IN THEIR MIDST AS Savior.” (Isa. 43:10-13)

I heard…

“Oh, Shara, how little is your faith. Why do you doubt? I’m not going to let you drown. Have I ever? When you go home it will be no different. Next year will be no different. Keep your eyes on Me, though the winds and the waves roar. Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness. Run from the deceitfulness of sin and run to the promises and truth of the One who made you. I love you. My hand is right here for you to hold onto. I’m not going to let you go. Have faith in me, my child. I won’t let you go.”

Oh, Father God, I desperately need You to help me trust You. I am selfish and wish to trust in my own wisdom, and not the infinite and sovereign wisdom of my King. Forgive me, Lord, my impatience and lack of trust in You. You aren’t going to let me go. You will be with me every step of the way. I have no idea where I will be a year from now…but You do. Help me to place my faith in future grace. Help me to know what it truly means to trust You with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding. You will make my path straight. I resolve that You are good.

 

-Shara

To Break Every Chain.

The sound of our noisy, squeaking fan fills my ears as I roll over on my bed and reach for my cell phone to check the time. Early. Always. Even if it’s not, it is. I contemplate keeping my eyes shut for a few more minutes or so to try to enjoy that weird in-between- sleep –and-awake state. That usually doesn’t last long. I get up and trudge to the kitchen. Cereal and some white liquid substance South Asians call milk await me. I click the “on” switch for the water filter and wait for the light to turn green. It does, and I fill up a small pot with a broken handle. I turn the gas on, turn the knob on one of the stove tops, grab my handy dandy clicker thing, and voila, fire. I get a mug, sprinkle some Nescafe at the bottom, add a small amount of dry milk, two sugar cubes, and semi boiling water. Coffee. Yum. I don’t think it actually qualifies as coffee, but, I like it. I sit down on our couch and grab my Bible and journal. Next comes a (super quick) freezing shower. My clothing options for the day are few. I choose from one of my salwar suits. I grab my things, stuff them in my ripping backpack whose straps are currently safety pinned on (reminds me…I need to buy a new one…ha), grab my iPod, slip on my sandals, and head out the door.

It’s bright. The sun hurts my eyes, and I squint. It’s hot, but, not as hot as usual much to my glee. I walk out the gate, smile at our favorite street dog who my roommates and I have named “Diggory” (yeah, I don’t know why). He’s pretty rough looking and always looks like he just get attacked or hit by a car (which is most likely true), but, he loves to see us and wags his tail. As always, there’s a group of men across the street at the tiny chai hut. I keep my eyes to the ground as I head off down the street.

Good morning, India.

I think about how strange it is that my current surroundings have become normal to me; the people, the cows, the dogs, the trash, the noise, the buildings, the smells, the constant staring, etc. Yeah, all normal now.

The walk down my street is a long one. I stick my purple buds in my ears and click to a new favorite, “Break Every Chain” by Will Reagan and United Pursuit Band.

There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus to break every chain, to break every chain, to break every chain.

                I walk passed dozens and dozens of people. I wave at one of my little friends who grins largely up at me as he yells “Byeeee!” I pass by what seems like millions of men who stop and stare as I walk, and I pass by women who do the same.

            There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus to break every chain, to break every chain, to break every chain.

                Chains.

Endless amounts of chains.

Millions of people in this city.

In chains.

Invisible chains they cannot see.

 

I pray. My mind swarms. I begin to ask myself if I really do believe in the power of the Name of Jesus. Do I really believe that there is power in the Name of Jesus that can break every chain? That can break any chain? That can break every chain?

I speak the Name of Jesus over my enslaved street.

Do I really believe there is no one beyond His reach?  (Is. 59:1)

If I do…do I live like it?  Do you?

There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus. There is power in the Name of Jesus to break every chain, to break every chain, to break every chain.

“I believe! Help my unbelief! Mark 9:24

-Shara.

Hearing.

“How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to your word.”

Psalm 119:9

 

The following is nothing new. It’s not an epiphany I’ve just had, or anything I conjured up—just age old truth that gets me through my days.

God is for me.

                All things that happen to me are for my good.  There is nothing that has ever happened to me, and nothing that will ever happen to me that has not ultimately been for my good and for His glory. Nothing. My Father in Heaven has known every hair on my head and every step I would take since before the beginning of time. Nothing catches Him off guard. Nothing surprises Him. There is nothing that is out of His control.

Most days I don’t know what I would do without that knowledge.

A week ago, I got water stuck in my ear after an, apparently, unfortunate morning shower. I was disheartened to discover that no matter the length of time I lay on my side pleading, it wasn’t coming out.

I decided I was going to try my very best not to complain about it. On this side of the world, problems like getting water stuck in your ear just seem rather petty. No one feels good, so you’re not to be singled out as anything special.

As the week progressed, the health of my ear regressed.

It’s funny the little things you take for granted back home, like the ability to run to Walmart or CVS and pick up whatever you need for whatever is ailing you. Something goes wrong here, and you feel, for lack of a better term, well, screwed.  I tried various supposed remedies, but, all ended in more pain and lessoned hearing. By Saturday morning, I could barely hear anything out my right ear. The pain, especially when sleeping, was excruciating, I started to become dizzy at points, and every morning I would wake up, frighteningly, with less hearing than the day before.

I had a few minor panic moments. I choked back (quickly and determinedly) tears once. I grew frustrated. I was frustrated nothing was working. I was frustrated it was getting worse. I was frustrated that I couldn’t hear anyone talking to me. I was frustrated that it made me think about myself constantly. I was frustrated I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like a complaining obnoxious brat.

Life is hard here…I was frustrated that on top of the difficult and the hard, I was unable to hear, and my roommates were plagued with lice.

But, my goodness, the Lord is so gracious to me. Instead of being weighed down by the frustrations that arose, He quickly and repeatedly brought me back to the truth mentioned above.

On the 23^rd, I wrote in my journal:

“…ALL things that happen to me are for my good. If I had not gotten water in my ear, that would not have been the best for me.”

I know getting water in my ear isn’t a huge deal. And the above statement would be both true and most likely much more meaningful if “water in my ear” was replaced with “cancer” or the death of a loved one.  But, even something seemingly so small, brought me to my knees in desperation and led me to the Cross where there is hope and grace.

I continued…:

“…You are for me. You are for me. You are for me. You are for me….And if God is for me, who can be against me?”

 

“For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole

earth, to give strong support to those whose heart is blameless

toward him.” 2 Chronicles 16:9

 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” Psalm 23:6

“For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly.” Psalm 84:11

 

“I will make with them an everlasting covenant, that I will not turn away from doing good to them. And I will put the fear of me in their hearts, that they may not turn from me. I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul.” Jeremiah 32:40-41

“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.” Isaiah 64:4

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

“He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:32

God is GOOD. He will never cease to be good for in that moment, He would cease to be God.

No matter the circumstance. No matter how hard it may be. No matter how devastating. No matter how painful. God is working it for my good and for His glory. Always.

Praise Him.

“God is ruling the world. He is ruling history. And it is all for the good of his people and the glory of his name.”-Piper.

Last night, when I felt I could no longer endure the pain, all I could think of was the following verse:

“Rejoice ALWAYS, pray without ceasing, give thanks in ALL

circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

1 Thess 5:16-18.

I wrote in my journal:

It is God’s will that I rejoice always, and that I give thanks even in circumstance of pain and discomfort. For God is in control My Father in Heaven loves me.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love…” Jeremiah 31:3

 

So, yeah…life is good. I may never know why it was the best thing for me to be unable to hear for a week…but, maybe it was so I wouldn’t be so distracted by all the India noises…and take time to listen to the still small Voice…to meditate all week on the goodness of God…and to learn to rejoice always and pray without ceasing.

 

He is so gracious to keep working on me.

Yours truly,

Shara—A.K.A. Always a mess.

 

“Oh taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.”

Psalm 34:8

 

“The cross must rise and self be slain”

 

Death to self, my prayer has been.

Lord, teach me what it means to pick up my cross and follow you.

Father, help me to die to my wants, my desires, my self-centered universe my sin has placed me in.

Rid me of myself.

Father God, I long to get to the end of myself where I no longer matter…and, all that matters is Your glory of which you are infinitely worthy. For in living for Your glory, I will find true satisfaction and joy.

Teach me to die.

Be careful what you pray for.

I had a difficult week last week. It would be much easier and less embarrassing for me to shorten the story and wrap it up nicely with a pretty big bow at the end…but, it didn’t much involve a pretty side of me. But, praise be to God that there is grace for the ugly, in which I possess an overabundance.

It’s a long one, but, hang in there if you so please.

I adjusted my ever shifting out of place dupatta as I sat down eagerly behind a desk with a group of national believers. Three men, three women, and one precious little boy stared wide-eyed at me. I smiled, and they smiled back, saying various things I couldn’t understand. I stood and introduced myself in their language, muttering off random facts about myself, attempting accurate pronunciation and accent. They laugh, of course, impressed if any American says one word in their language. One man stood and thanked us for learning their language.

Music. Songwriting. Beautiful loving people. A sure recipe for an amazing week.

Well, there were other plans in store for me.

There were so many moments of pure joy and excellence.  Various times I was emotionally moved to tears. There was laughter. The time was saturated in prayer. Though the language barrier, there was such unity. The Church.

But, the days were long and exhausting. I was amazed at how fast I deteriorated from the long hours. I had caught a bug the week prior and was still very much feeling the effects of it. Feverish and, at times, coughing uncontrollably, my energy was low.

Lack of sleep and exhaustion often have the terribly negative effect on me of what I call, “going inward”.  I was very much aware of this, and fought it hard, but, felt I was losing the battle.

I began hearing lies…and believing them. I felt attacked. All of a sudden, I felt like the exception to every promise of God. Surely, they were, of course, for others, but, not for me. God wasn’t even listening to my prayers. He answers others’, but, not mine.

So selfish am I.

Let’s backtrack. Over the course of the past year, the Lord pretty much flipped my world upside down.  Everything I thought I wanted, all of a sudden, I didn’t want anymore. The future I had mapped out was obliterated. He pointed to the Nations, said “Go”, and I went.

I knew without a doubt that that’s where He wanted me to be… But, I’d be lying if I didn’t say there weren’t thoughts of the future floating around in my head. You see, last year I lost my “heartbeat”. I always knew what I was going to do…then it was gone. I used to look into the future and see something, now I look and see absolutely nothing at all. Although far from the reason of my being here, I know that somewhere in the back of my mind, I hoped to possibly regain my lost heart beat while over here.  In my mind, I had two “technical” jobs this semester…perhaps one would spark something inside of me and revive my flat lined heart.

Well, as I sat in my seat for hours on end doing virtually nothing…I felt useless. I wanted to feel needed, necessary, useful…but, I felt the exact opposite of those things. There was little I could do to help during the process, and as I sat there, the selfish thoughts began to brew inside of my head. I grew annoyed, and at times, angry. Mostly, I was frustrated. I was frustrated that I wasn’t needed. And I was frustrated I didn’t “love” it. The Lord blessed the group incredibly, and it was amazing to watch it happen…but, I wasn’t crazy about “ethnomusicology”. Yeah, it was cool, but, I didn’t love it…and that disappointed me.

My journal entries throughout the week discuss the confusion and frustration and “funk” I was in, all along tinted with repetitive entries of “John 3:30” scribbled in ink on various pages.

Father, help. I’m afraid I’ll never find my heartbeat. I’m lost. Incline your ear to me. Help me to be selfless. August 24^th.

I have my wants and my desires—many of which I am probably unaware—but, Thy will be done. Thy will be done. Whatever the case may be…Be it exhausting and trying, or lovely and easy, Thy will be done. August 25^th.

Pursue love. Die daily. Be with God. John 3:30. August 25^th.

I am selfish. August 26^th.

The Lord graciously had been revealing to me my selfishness, yesterday, and this morning, really showed me the depths. August 27^th.

I wanted something tangible I could see and talk about—to measure my usefulness and my success in this job. I wanted to be praised in some way for helping these people—but, I wasn’t “doing” anything, so, I wasn’t going to be able to. I was upset because I felt like I wasn’t needed.

My battle with the idol of self crept in viciously.

The Lord shook me a bit today. After I led a short devotion on 1 Corinthians 12, thus concluding our week, various members from the group stood up and lavished their love and gratitude on us. I felt overwhelmed and shocked. After all, I had done absolutely nothing worth being thanked for. With tears in one man’s eyes, he expressed his gratitude towards us and called my partner and I his sisters.

The Lord uses us in various ways. Sometimes, it’s by simply sitting in a chair for hours on end, reading a book, tapping a foot in time to the music, swaying my head, smiling, clapping, leading two small devotions, –just being. That was all.

All I did was sit there, but God was working and moving. My Father asked me to sit. That was all. He wanted me to sit in order for six of His beloved children to be encouraged in their work. Sit. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I, probably selfishly, want to do huge, gigantic, mind blowing things for God. I desire them all to be for His glory, but, know I struggle with wanting some of my own to go along with it. But, in one of the blessed moments of Him destroying my love of self, He asked me to just…sit. I wasn’t going to get any glory. I wasn’t going to have a cool story to tell about what and all that I did. But, His Kingdom was furthered.

It’s not about me at all. I know that, and learn it so often…yet live it out miserably.

The day before I left, I met with a pastor at my church. He asked me if there was anything I was afraid of. I told him that I was afraid I would get home and realize that it had all been about me…and, I didn’t want that.

Through tears, I told my mentor here all of the above. She said she once heard a speaker ask the group if they would still be willing to [go] if they knew no book would ever be written about them, no newsletter or article, they would be long forgotten, nothing would come of their work in their lifetime, no one would know their name…no one would even care…

That is my ideal…but, I can’t honestly say I’m there yet. But, I long to be. Oh, to be at the end of self.

A friend, unknowingly, sent me Hebrews 11:13 that week. The sermon at HC expressed “getting over our painful selves”, and asking “If it wasn’t until you left your work and ministry that incredible things took place…would you be okay with that?”

I couldn’t help but wonder if throughout the entirety of my time here…I will do…nothing—if others will prosper, and nothing will come of what I do. If others will share Truth and the dead come to life…but, the same will not happen for me.

Would I be okay with coming to the end and not having a bag full of stories that would impress the grandest of them all? Stories of others, but, not of myself?

Father, it’s no fun, but please continue to help me die to myself. Help me to gladly be the one who is simply sitting, and not necessarily the one doing and doing and receiving the praise. If nothing I do or nothing happens to me the entire time I’m here that would point to any success or greatness on my part—may I rejoice in that. May I be honored and humbled that my King counted me worthy enough to simply…sit.

Teach us, O God, that nothing is necessary to Thee. Were anything necessary to Thee that thing would be the measure of Thine imperfection: and how could we worship one who is imperfect? If nothing is necessary to Thee, then no one is necessary, and if no one, then not we. Thou dost seek us though Thou does not need us. We seek Thee because we need Thee, for in Thee we live and move and have our being. Amen.

-Shara

The Story Behind Their Hands.

They were all so young.

The oldest, maybe half my age.

The youngest and tiniest, perhaps four years old at the most.

She was full of life. Placing a book on my lap filled with pictures of various animals and objects, she proceeded to point to various pictures and say words in her language. I would respond in English, having not the slightest clue as to what she was saying, but, loving it just the same.

They all stared at us wide-eyed, taking every part of us in.

I often tire of the staring, but, this I didn’t mind.

I smiled, and they beamed back at me.

There was so much hope in many of their eyes.

Outright joy beamed in many brown eyes.

There was slight hardness and reluctance in others’.

We did some stretches.

The young girl next to me marveled at how I could get my head to my knees.

They begged to do the “Hokey Pokey”.

We shook it all about.

We sang songs in English & and in their language.

The girls laughed and laughed at Ashlyn’s and my facial expressions, dancing, and hand motions.

We were regular comedians.

A national partner shared the story of the “Feeding of the 5,000” in two of their lanaguages as the girls sat in a circle listening intently.

How I have taken for granted knowing these stories since I was young.

They were asked questions about the story.

The girls were then given roles to play, and acted out the story.

So many giggles.

My role  was one of the hungry members of the crowd. An overdramatic one, of course. The girls laughed and laughed when it came time for the members of the crowd to “be hungry”, and Ashlyn and I moaned and groaned, holding our stomachs, and acting ridiculous.

In their language, they told our national partner, “They make us laugh!”

Henna time.

Oh, the excitement could be bottled and sold.

The girls ran to me and grabbed onto me, eagerly holding out their hands.

Swallowing down the fear of my first time doing henna, I gently took hold of my first eager hand, and began drawing out the design that beautifully tells the story of the feeding of the 5,000.

They loved it.

They held perfectly still, watching as I drew. When I was finished, they grinned widely saying, “Thank you!” in their best English.

I wanted to say so many things to them, but, I knew they couldn’t understand me.

Language barriers make you realize how much you take for granted the fact that the vast majority of people in America can understand you, and you can understand them…appreciate that. Tell people things. It’s when you can’t tell them what you want to …that you wish desperately that you could.

As I held their tiny hands in mine, I couldn’t help but wonder what their story was…the story behind their hands.

Hands that have witnessed more horror than I could probably dream up.

Hands that have possibly done horror.

Hands that have been mistreated.

Hands that have been abused.

Hands that have been used.

Hands that, perhaps, have rarely, if ever, been gently held.

I never wanted to let their hands go. I wanted to hold their hands, and I wanted to hold them as well.

These girls live in a recue home for trafficked women.

These girls were rescued from sex slavery.

Sex slavery.

The home works to rescue more and more and more from lives of slavery.

I can’t even begin to fathom their stories.

I’m not sure I could even stomach them.

“Bido, bido!” They lovingly shouted (means, older sister), holding out their arms to me, asking for various letters and words to be written in henna on their arms.

One girl even asked me to write my name on her arm. (she might regret that later )

Three girls came up to me, asking repeatedly for me to write “Mommy” on their arms. That was my interpretation, at least. They possibly could have meant a word in the language (one, that I think, means “Auntie” possibly, which is something they would call me), but, I repeated it back to them multiple times, and they insisted on, what I heard to be, “Mommy”.

So, with a heavy heart, I drew out “Mommy” on their arms. I choked back tears. I thought of my mom, and how much she has selflessly and unconditionally poured forth endless love on me my entire life…I wondered about these girls…I wondered what had happened to their mothers. I wondered what sort of love they knew…or didn’t know.

I also thought of a Father who knit them together in their mothers’ wombs.

Who was and is sovereign over all of this…all of their pain.

Who loves them so much.

I couldn’t tell them that, but, I prayed over them as I held their hands.

I pray they will know Him.

I pray they will know His Son.

I have nothing to offer them of any good except Him.

I pray the Father’s hands will work in their lives.

I pray they will know the story of redemption mercifully written in the pages of scripture.

That it will become their story. The story behind their hands.

South Asia is hard.

This city is hard.

It’s not an instant love affair.

I beg for genuine love for these people and this city that stems from Him.

He is faithful.

He brings these moments.

He brings the moment,… after I finished with my girls, when one takes my hand, takes the henna and draws her best design on my palm. It may look silly to anyone else, but, it’s beautiful to me.

He is faithful.

“If we are faithless, He remains faithful…for He cannot deny Himself.”

 

Less than 1% believers.

30 Million people.

Revelation 7:9.

These people are there.

That’s a fact.

 

Father, help us.

-Shara.

 

 

Idols and such.

Quick (? Haha, Shara’s “quick”)  thoughts.

“The root of sin is the failure to value God above all things, so that He is not honored and praised as He should be. Human beings are foolish, not in the sense that they are intellectually deficient, but in their rejection of God’s lordship over their lives.”

Idolatry.

It’s crazy how the Word comes alive here in South Asia. You may or may not have sat in “Sunday School” classes as you watched your teacher place various floppy characters on a flannel board (I personally love flannel boards, and if I ever reproduce, my children will be forced to love them too…just kidding…but, seriously…) .

You hear the stories in your ears. You picture the stories in your head. You read the stories. You ponder the stories. You are taught the stories. You teach others the stories. You know the stories. You believe the stories. You see Him in the stories. You grow to know Him and His characteristics from reading and studying the stories. You are changed by the stories. Life is found in these stories.

But, I think you can hear and study many of these true stories from His Word all day every day, and never really come to a certain understanding that happens when it comes to life right before your eyes.

In America, we don’t truly have a concept of a lame beggar sitting outside of a Temple who has, more than likely, been there his entire life, having been told he was nothing; a man of no importance. As my heart aches, I can see Peter and John walking up to that man declaring, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!”

Or the blind man sleeping under the only shade he could find. I see Jesus spitting in mud and placing it over his cloudy eyes, and as he wipes them clean…his dark world suddenly is illuminated.

Simply,…life here.

Walking many miles daily on dirt roads, passing cows and goats, men and women carrying a plethora of different goods, fruits and vegetables, balancing sacks of rice on their heads…

There’s a man to your right sitting on the ground next to a box filled with eggs he’s selling…on your left, men are chopping the heads off of chickens…live fish awaiting their doom, splash around in little buckets of water in another shop.

Idols.

We hear the word and we probably picture a little statue and someone bowing down to it. We may feel indifferent towards those who do it, or just don’t think much about it. We might think it to be a bit strange. We may find nothing wrong with it.

Not sure I can vouch for everyone, but, it’s hard when you see it. Honestly, it far surpasses the smells and the filth and the language barrier and the entirely different culture in your face all day every day, in the tough factor in living here. It’s beyond hard to watch. They’re everywhere. I pass them all day long; little booths with various different gods people can throw their money to.

I know I touched on it a little in my other blog, but, it literally physically hurts me to watch people bow down, offer sacrifices to, pray to, light incense to, dance for, sing to, worship…idols.

These gods they have created with their own hands.

But, I’m not here to write and bash these people.

“And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled only to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” 2 Corinthians 4:3-6

These people are not dumb. They’re not stupid or ignorant. They are blind. They are blinded by the “god of this world” and it is my deepest longing that He will “let light shine out of darkness” in their “hearts” that they will know “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

But, I’m writing this blog more so for me.

Because I’m an idolater too.

What is constantly brought to my attention as I watch people bow down to plaster, is not simply how anguished I feel for them, but, how sick and disgusted it makes me feel about my own idolatry.

It looks different in my life. I don’t physically prostrate myself before physical objects, but, an idol is simply something or someone that one treasures, prizes, and values more than Him.

And, I bow down to many idols.

Every single day.

Last year, the Lord graciously and painfully revealed to me many idols in my own life ( Check out all my issues! :  “…and [I] left [my] God to play the whore.” & “Love and Golden Calves” )

Idolatry is the very essence of sin.

Viewing creature and creation more valuable and more lovely than Creator.

He is the greatest good. There is nothing and no one more satisfying. How could there be? He is God. How could He create something more perfect than Himself? For God to desire our worship is for our best interest…because He knows we will be the most satisfied and fulfilled in Him. To desire for us to worship other things, would be cheating us out of what is TRULY great. He created us for Himself, and it is for our good, for our joy and for His glory. And, that’s AWESOME.

“Thou hast created us for Thyself and we are restless until we rest fully in Thee.”-St. Augustine.

Our hearts are Creator shaped holes that only He fits perfectly.

We try to fill it with ourselves… things…people…physical statues…but, they don’t fit.

Sin has disordered our worship. Sin has disordered our affections. Sin has disordered our desires. Sin has disordered our behavior. (Romans 1:18-32)

My idolatry.

The idolatry of this city.

The idolatry of the world.

 It’s not the way it was supposed to be.

I’m so thankful for the “But God”s in the Word. (Personal fave…Ephesians 2:4) Oh, how I need Him. How prone to wander I am. Prone to leave Him, and pour forth my affections on myself, my pride, my money, my selfishness, my future, my things, my friends, my family, etc…

Father, by Your grace, reorder my worship. In Your infinite wisdom and mercy, reorder the worship of these people. Become our passion. Become our deepest longing and our sweetest satisfaction. Become our one and only God.

To You be all the glory now and forever.

Amen.

-Shara

P.S. Start henna storying next week. Super excited. Will let you know all about it…if the internet is kind to me J

P.P.S. Be lifting up my new friend, “Sarah”. She’s a cousin. She’s a seeker. And she’s awesome.

Love you all and miss you with all my heart.

Check out this link for some awesome