There are some things in the world that I believe with absolutely all of my heart.
I believe in the truth, power and beauty of the Bible. I believe absolutely everything that's in it.
I believe that when I see fireworks (or balloons, or fireflies, rainbows... or basically anything beautiful), it's a sign from God that He loves me.
And right below those things, (or maybe above the firework thing) I believe in the power of a story.
I believe with absolutely all of my heart that God has given us a gigantic canvas on which to paint our lives and a complete and unbelievable set of paints with colors beyond our wildest dreams.
Every once in awhile, like a good teacher, He guides our hands, and He's set a fantastic example up at the front of the classroom. But for the most part, He lovingly lets us go to town- getting paint all over our clothes, fingers and our faces (if we should find ourselves with an untimely itch.)
I believe that with every one of our lives, we can write a story that will inspire, make people laugh and change the world. I believe that with our stories we can live out the greatest romances and the greatest stories of victory as we overcome the odds to make our dreams come true.
It's my love of story that actually inspired me to come on the World Race.
Donald Miller wrote a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years (if you haven't read it- DO) about how the components of a story and the components that make a beautiful life are the same.
In the book, his friend sums it up perfectly.
"A story is a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it."
It's this idea, this understanding of what it takes to live a victorious and meaningful story, that has kept me going through the toughest of circumstances.
It's the story that inspires me to push through the moments when I most feel like giving up. It's my desire to live a good and meaningful story that gets me out of bed and out of my pajamas and out into the world where God can use me to make a difference.
And this month has tested that theory to the greatest extent.
The best way that I can describe this month is 'sandpaper.' This month, I've felt entirely like myself, but in a nitty, gritty, romance-less way. I feel strong and free and empowered... just like God has made me to be. But there hasn't been any fluff.
This has been a month where Jesus has backed off a little bit, taking off the training wheels and telling me to get up and walk. He wants me to step out boldly in the promises He's made me, communicate the way He's taught me and stand firm on the two legs He's spent so much time carving.
Very little romance, very little fluff, no fireworks... just nitty gritty sandpaper. Walking this thing out... standing firm and strong in the heat of the Cambodian bush.
Now if we're talking about stepping out boldly and standing firm- I've done it.
But I haven't done it with style.
I haven't relished in the frustration and refinement of this month like one who understands the power of conflict in a good story.
I haven't willingly let the sandpaper do its work. I've wiggled and squirmed with discomfort, begging it to stop. Counting the seconds till it's over.
Somewhere along the line, I forgot that stories are written in victories and sandpapery parts.
I forgot that I wouldn't know what romance was if I didn't have days that felt nitty and gritty and fluff-less.
And I forgot the fact that I'm in the middle of an epic novel that God is writing with me and through me, and that if every day was perfect in my story, it would be really really boring.
I'm starting to understand today, (with 1.5 days left in the bush) that it's those moments, pouring sweat in my tent, tears rolling down my face, or trying to fall asleep as I can hear the mice rummaging around in my bag, that are going to make my story all the more sweet and all the more worth telling.
This month was no accident. God didn't fall asleep when my team's ministry was chosen for the month. I'm supposed to be here and this month was supposed to be a bit of a struggle... because God is the master storyteller.
He understands that a good character has to have endured, has to have survived something, conquered something, come out of the fire on the other end, stronger (if not a bit smudged.)
"Nobody really remembers easy stories. Characters have to face their greatest fears with courage. That's what makes a good story. If you think about the stories you like most, they probably have lots of conflict. There is probably death at stake, inner death or actual death, you know. These polar charges, these happy and sad things in life, are like colors God uses to draw the world."
~Donald Miller
I'm not saying that this month was a life and death situation... but in the lowest moments, it almost felt like it.
This season, for whatever reason, has been the hardest I've endured on the race.
I haven't come through it perfectly, but I've endured, I've survived, and I'm coming out on the other end of this blazing Cambodian heat, stronger (and just a bit smudged.)
I didn't love it, but I know- deep down in the place that my greatest convictions lie- that it was worth it.
So wherever you are in life right now... whether you're on a mountain top with champagne and fireworks, or whether you're in the trenches, each day taking absolutely everything you've got, remember that nobody remembers the easy stories.
It's the nitty, gritty, sandpapery bits that make a story worth telling.
Growing up, my family really sucked at family dinners.
My sister was the pickiest eater alive, I was constantly busy and sometimes my dad worked late. So after trying to force us to come around the table every once in awhile, my mom finally gave up. (I'm sorry we were so difficult mom!)
Although I think that we've turned out more than fine, I can see that in missing that daily time around the table, my family missed a great opportunity for intimacy.
There's just something about the dinner table!
In Uganda my team had a table for the first time all race. There was room for six around it and it was always piled with delicious food or littered with the coziest mugs full of tea and milk.
So much happened around that table. We laughed around that table. We made ridiculous plans and jokes and played card games until we were all cross eyed and half asleep.
But we also had some really profound things happen around that table.
Breakthroughs were made around that table, issues were resolved around that table, growth happened around that table, and ultimately... love grew around that table.
If you should know anything about the World Race, you should know that it's all about relationships. It's building and maintaining relationships with the people we're meeting around the world, but honestly, one of the biggest focuses is our relationship with each other.
There's a really strong belief that out of our intimacy and love for each other, we're able to pour out to the rest of the world.
I love this. I love it because I can genuinely say that I have 42 brothers and sisters that have seen me at my worst and actively been a part of the creation of me into my best.
It's as if there's this gigantic proverbial table that we're all sitting around, working out our crap together.
But I have to tell you that although it is beautiful... it IS NOT EASY.
But what I'm learning is that love never is.
Deep in my brain is growing a new understanding of love and circling it, swimming in and through is the idea of the table.
And of course...(having nothing to do with the lack of family dinners Mama) I've realized that I have some issues with sitting at that darn table. I think in some way or another we all do!
There are several times in my life when I've settled into my seat, determined to love and risk no matter the cost, only to realize that the person across from me never came back from the 'bathroom.'
The cry of my heart for my whole life has been "PLEASE FIGHT FOR ME!" It hurts like crazy when you're settled in for the whole dinner, the whole relationship, and the other person is quick to be excused... wanting to escape rather than stick it out.
Then there are times when I feel like my dinner invitation is danger of being revoked.
For a lot of my life, I've operated out of the thought process that if I do something wrong, if I'm messy or crabby or do something stupid, that my place of love and acceptance at the table will be snatched out of my hand. I wont be wanted there anymore.
I fought through this a lot in Uganda because sometimes I'd just have a bad day.
I'd be snappy or messy or cry for whatever reason... and showing back up at that table after what I felt to be 'deal breaker' behavior was terrifying. I was certain at times that when I came to sit down, that someone far less messy and far more well behaved would be sitting in my place smiling up at me placidly. Or if they had the pity on me to still let me sit at the table- they certainly wouldn't want me there!
And sometimes I don't even give them the chance to decide. For most of my life... when it comes to my own mistakes and my own flaws, the second they're revealed, I am so filled with shame that I want to get up from that table as quickly as possible and run. If I don't get up fast enough, I'm afraid they may ask me to leave.
Accepting love when you feel that you don't deserve it is a tough lesson to learn. It's incredibly hard to understand that people aren't going to give up on you or throw in the towel (or their napkin) when it's happened before. It's hard to come back to the table when you've just thrown a plate (or just a temper tantrum), and know that you'll still be loved and accepted there. It's a journey that has taken a long time to walk.
The third thing that I'm realizing about my 'table issues' is that there are times when I'd rather sneak out the back door than sit at the table and fight.
Last week we all sat in a room, anxiously awaiting the our teams for the last three months of the race.
I absolutely loved my last team. Those six girls changed my life, changed my heart and I fell in love with them in a deeper way than I ever thought possible.
So why was I sitting in that room hoping for a brand new team?
It was because I was afraid to go back to the table. I wanted to get up early, peace out, run, because I knew that the work that had happened there was deep and raw and hard, and I knew that going back, love would be even deeper and harder and more work.
I wanted the easy way out. I wanted a brand new group of girls that I could laugh with and share testimonies with and go feet deep instead of miles. I didn't want to go back to the table because it felt like that kind of deep love would just be too hard.
Love is scary. Love takes effort.
But it's worth it...
Here's the thing that God's showing me through all of this. It's the depth and length and duration of the relationships that make them beautiful.
Someone reminded me yesterday about how beautiful old couples are. They're beautiful because they chose to love each other long after the butterflies wore off. They sat at that table for better or for worse, probably fought a lot about silverware and butter vs. margarine, but they loved each other. They chose not to get up.
I know that in love, there are days when the butterflies are gone and you're sweaty and annoyed and hungry and have your feelings hurt, and you don't WANT to love anymore!
But I know that on the other side of that tough spot, when you've hunkered down and fought for each other- fought for community- fought for love... that the reward is rich beyond belief.
Heading into these last three months, and actually into the rest of my life, I'm choosing love. I'm choosing the scary road, the intimate road, the vulnerable road. I'm choosing love and that gosh darn table because it's worth it.
I'm choosing to sit there and duke it out and love as hard as I can because Jesus designed us for community and He IS love!
The magic and beauty of the trinity is that God exists in three parts that are also one. He's the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit and they exist in perfect unity- perfect community. He models this kind of intimate community for us because that's what He wants for us.
That's the way it was designed.
So yes it's scary, yes it hurts sometimes, and yes it is MUCH easier to walk away and slip quietly out the back door... but I'm going to choose not to. Because I want to experience the fullness of God's love that he is able to pour out through the beautiful people in my life.
I choose love. I will continue to come back to the table.
Thank you that life only gets lovelier by the minute.
Thank you for surprise weekend get-away's- EXACTLY when we need them.
Thank you for a team that loves each other.
Thank you for the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore.
Thank you for giving me sandy toes and salty skin for my birthday.
Thank you for Birthday surprises.
Thank you for seashells.
Thank you for Mexican food and facials and big plates of hummus.
Thank you for manicures, pedicures and fantastic fake Ray Ban's all for less than 10 dollars.
Thank you for olives and feta cheese and crispy French bread.
Thank you for perfect dinners under twinkly lights and lanterns.
Thank you for cheesecake and romantic serenades by Michael Buble.
Thank you for the best friends a girl could have.
Thank you for my beautiful mama, my fantastic daddy and the most wonderful sister I could ever ask for.
Thank you for long Skype sessions and for finding out that although they're a year older and a year wiser, my home is exactly the way I left it- beautiful and full of love.
Thank you for emails from my loved ones and loving encouragement from people I don't even know. (yet!)
Thank you for the crazy and amazing dreams you've knitted in my heart, and for giving me the 'go ahead' to start chasing them.
Thank you for stripping away insecurity from me this year... leaving me with nothing left but love. ☺
Thank you Jesus for teaching me to shower grace instead of demanding perfection- and thank you for doing the same for me.
Thank you for loving me exactly as I am, but loving me too much to allow me to stay that way.
Thank you for months of refinement and struggle- and thank you that I'm going to look back with joy and gratitude on every sweaty moment.
Thank you for bringing me on the World Race Jesus- it's one of the best gifts you've ever given me.
Thank you for 24 years of beautiful life Jesus.
And thanks for being there to enjoy it all with me. ☺
If you haven't noticed, I tend to write from a very specific time in my 'lesson learning curve.'
I write at the end.
I don't like feeling messy at all and more than that, I don't like sharing my messiness.
I feel guilty for it. I feel guilty not having it all together.
This has made it hard for people to fully get to know me. They know me, but there's a sort of facade I put on when things get tough.
I'm fine with sharing struggles, as long as they're over.
That being said... I'm going to take a leap, get a little bit Naked and tell you that this last week has probably been my worst on the Race.
I've been at my ministry in Cambodia for three days and I'm ready to get the HECK out of here.
It is 114 degrees on average. We practically live outside (sleeping inside of our tents) and we have about three breezes a day, no fans and DEFINITELY no air conditioning.
The heat and my head seriously don't get along, and so I've been toting around a constant headache since arriving in Southeast Asia.
There are seven of us in our 'bungalow'... but thousands if you count our other roommates: Bats, mice and a wide array of bugs.
We teach English for just a few hours a day to the most adorable kids you've ever seen.
But none of the teachers really speak English (making things complicated), and we're left with hours upon hours to sit in our tents in puddles of our own sweat.
Two nights ago, I sat up in my tent, trying to sleep (laying down was just too sweaty), and wiped a salty mix of tears and sweat off of my face every few seconds. (It was 11pm)
I have no hope. I have no joy and no energy to do anything but feel sorry for my sweaty self. It's pathetic. And obnoxious. And I hate it.
I haven't ever been so physically uncomfortable, and it's really hard to be in a spiritually, emotionally, or mentally good place when that's the case.
Needless to say, this month is a FIGHT.
And on top of that, the temptation to mentally CHECK OUT is drawing me close, wanting me to partake in it's destructive sweetness.
I have two and a half months left. I get to go home soon. I get to see my family soon. I get to see my friends and decide what kind of food I eat. I get to drive a car, go places by myself and sit in air conditioning in just two and a half months.
And honestly, right now... it's hard not to want to speed up that process and just GO HOME.
Now...I absolutely hate that I just told you that... because I absolutely HATE feeling that way!
And even tougher is sharing this foreign lack of joy and hope with my team. I want to be positive and build them up! I want to give them a pat on the butt, encouraging them to keep going and pressing through the times that are hard and uncomfortable.
But how can I do that when I'm in a place like this?
But of course through all of this, Jesus is teaching me a massive lesson about nakedness.
He's teaching me a lesson about security that goes so much deeper than I can even comprehend.
He's reminding me that I AM secure wherever I am, and however I am, because of Him.
I can be where I am, and who I am, no matter what that looks like, and that's OK! I don't need to strive or put on a facade of having it all together, for anybody.
And scariest of all- I can even let people see me in my messiness.
By admitting the depth of my heat-induced misery, my teammates got to admit that they've been feeling the same way. By revealing that every once in awhile I daydream about booking a one- way ticket to normal life and air conditioning- my team gets to do the same.
None of us have to sit in shame for feeling things that we seriously never intended to feel, and instead we can fight it out together.
There's a quote from my favorite author that hit home like crazy in this season.
"We have to give up our ability to control what people think of us. We have to overcome our fear that when they see the depths of who we are, they'll leave. Friendship is about risk. Love is about risk. If we can control it and manage it and manufacture it, then is something else, but if it's really love, really friendship, it's a little scary around the edges."
-SN
It feels like a monumental risk for me to let you, and my teammates see me in such a raw, naked way when I'm feeling so gross and messy.
But as I open up more and more... I'm finding out that my vulnerability only invites vulnerability. It doesn't scare anyone away, and I'm not ruining anything by going through a tough season.
There's a reason that God talked about Adam and Eve being 'naked and unashamed.' That's the way God intended it to be. True, vulnerable, community- messy or not.
The truth is that everyone is messy.
Everyone has moments where they feel like they just can't do it anymore.
This just happens to be mine.
But by allowing you (and my team) into my sweaty mess... I'm allowing you guys to help me through it. I'm inviting you to pray for me and encourage me- the way I desperately need you to- and we are going to get through this thing together!
And then when it's your moment to want to buy an emergency ticket home, then I get to do the same for you.
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
Breathe in... Breathe out...
Jesus, I'm tired. I'm SO tired. I don't want to be around
big groups of people- for five minutes I just want to be alone. I need you. I
need just time alone with you.
Breathe in... Breathe out...
I don't want to learn any more. There is too much
information flooding my brain. I'm trying to keep up on my Chronological
reading plan, read 15 recommended books, listen to the 20 sermons I've
downloaded onto my iPod, journal, worship, pray, pour out, be poured into, and
be silent and still- resting with you all at once... I don't even know where to
begin!
I want out Jesus! Learning the meaning of deep, intimate,
'don't give up or back down' love is so hard! Learning the true meaning of
grace when you or someone else has done something monumentally stupid is
uncomfortable!! Isn't there a 'get out of love free' card that I can pull?
Breathe in... Breathe out...
I'm a team leader again Jesus. I have a team of 6 other
girls that I'm supposed to lead into these last three months. They're months
that inevitably carry the feeling of winding down, but I want them to be the
best yet! I want to go out with a bang. How do I make that happen... especially
when I have absolutely nothing left to give?
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
Our ministry from last month is still hanging thick and
heavy on me. Sex everywhere, men looking at you as if they wished you were on a
platter, the stench of alcohol hanging in the air, schedules that we can't
possibly begin to keep, and less sleep than I've had all year... the heaviness
hasn't gone away... the exhaustion is still holding onto my ankles, trailing
behind me into Cambodia.
Breathe in... Breathe out...
Lord, what the HECK am I going to do when I get home? Where
am I going to live and WHY do I keep having this vision of me having a
monumental breakdown in the middle of a Chili's restaurant? Why do I keep
picturing myself having a serious allergic reaction to America and everything
that goes along with it? I never thought that a smelly market in the middle of
Cambodia would start to feel like home.
I know that the World Race is only a season of my life... but
how do I even begin to think about taking a step into the NEXT season?
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
Jesus- I legitimately have 20 dollars in my bank account. I
CANNOT keep asking my parents for money. I need to become an adult...
self-sufficient... but how in the WORLD do I accomplish that from all the way out
here?
Breathe in... Breathe out...
Plane tickets, weddings, shoes, schedules, dates, future,
plans, locations, people... My head is swimming.
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
I'm tired Jesus. I can't pray one more prayer, I don't have
any encouragement to give, I don't have patience or love or energy. I've got
nothing left!
Breathe in... Breathe out...
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
Since arriving in Asia, I've been on a roller coaster with
the highest most unbelievable highs I've ever experienced. I've been basking in
my Daddy's love, seeing growth and progress, and the fruits of my labor- seeing
community beautifully lived out among my squad and my teams, and feeling
unbelievable outpourings of love from everyone in my life.
But between those peaks- in the moments where the whirlwind
stops- I'm dragging.
I'm exhausted, worn out, burned out, poured out.
I've never felt simultaneously so filled up and so empty at
the same time.
Does that make sense? I'm sorry if it doesn't.
Jesus is so REAL in this season of my life. He's so present,
speaking so loudly and bringing about beautiful gifts, surprises, and amazing
demonstrations of his intimacy, his love and his power.
But in the moments in between, I'm so, so tired.
But his response to me has been a consistent:
"My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect
in your weakness"
Breathe in... breathe out...
He's trying to make a point.
I don't have anything to pour out.
HE does.
I have no energy to lead my team into anything- and no
divine wisdom as to how to do it.
He'll lead me... He'll tell us.
I cannot possibly take care of all of the logistical things
that are popping up in my life, much to my amazement, excitement and
dismay.
He's a God that not only cares about the details, but is
fully capable of taking care of them all.
His words for me are constantly:
"Rest baby girl, I've got you. I've got it all under
control. Delight in me and enjoy my presence. You don't need the energy or the
power or the wisdom to take care of any of this, because when you're weak, I AM
strong."
So tonight, with nothing left to give, I'm going to breathe
in... and breathe out... and let his grace wrap around me like a warm blanket on a
cool night. I'm going to cuddle up like a little girl while my Daddy's power is
made perfect in my weakness.
I love video because for a moment, it allows you to walk into someone else's shoes seeing what they see. It's not a split second click of the shutter- it captures more. Video captures movement, it captures laughter, it captures hurt.
With video, it's like you were there... almost.
Walking down Bangla Road is an experience unlike any I've had before. It's one of those places that you have to see to believe.
And I want you to see it. I want you to see it so that your heart can break for these girls too. I want you to see it so that you can't live one more day without them holding a place in your heart.
Too many people walk by. Too many people don't ever stop to find out their stories.
An older man sits in McDonalds by himself and orders a burger. A teeny little Bar Girl walks in- teetering on sky-high heels and orders a coke. The man stares at her backside without blinking. He doesn't care who sees him looking. He can't seem to decide which looks more appetizing... the cheeseburger getting cold on his tray or the Bar Girl who will heat up for the right price.
A younger man sits at a table and makes eye contact one too many times. He has a coffee in front of him and seems to just be observing the sexual chaos around him. I almost thought he might be fighting for the girls, right along side us, until my teammate got up to go to the bathroom. His eyes consumed her- drinking her in from her sneakers up to her chest... not even bothering to notice her beautiful face. He looked like he wished she were for sale. He smiled at me. I smiled back- determined not to be angry. Determined not to make this man, so clearly a slave to his desires, the villain. I couldn't look back to see if he was hungrily devouring me too. I just didn't want to know.
As I stepped outside, 15 fliers were instantly shoved in my face. Each flier was attached to a pushy man or woman, hell-bent on convincing me that the answer to my prayers is free entrance to a Ping-Pong Show. They even have a menu. For tonight's entertainment, the women will not only put ping-pong balls inside of herself, but also a variety of other items. Chop sticks, a frog, a mouse, a balloon or anything else your little heart desires.
I walk down the street quickly and with purpose- trying to calm the sick feeling rising up in my stomach- when yet another flier is shoved in my face. This guy doesn't seem to believe me when I say "no thank you," and he follows me down the street. After a few moments he yells after me- "you got a boyfriend?"
I walked past a street that we go to often. In front there is a set of steps where girls stand to usher you in... promising you cheap drinks and cheap girls. I pause just in time to see a guy snuggling close to a half-naked woman, while his girlfriend took a picture. There was nothing that laughed in his hungry eyes... and his hands lingered on her waste too long for it to be just a souvenir photo. Did his girlfriend not notice? Or just not care?
There is a woman wearing a mask in a cage above the crowd. Around and around and around, she twirls around her pole, confined in a glass cage, not making eye contact with anybody below. She looks dazed. Is she on drugs? Or is her heart just too deadened by what she's endured to show emotion?
I walk past a group of boys laughing with a bar girl, maybe a lady-boy (it's impossible to tell sometimes.) I walk by just in time to see her lift up her shirt showing them everything that plastic surgery can buy you.
A grown man is upside down on a pole, clenching it between his legs he slides down and lands on his head. Without skipping a beat he stands up and grabs his date by the hand, expertly twirling her. A tourist showing off. Is she impressed?
I'm in a bar talking to the most adorable Thai girls in the world. They're sisters and have been working in the bar for just a few weeks. They're women but working in the lady-boy section of the street. All of a sudden there's a shadow behind me and I turned to see a lady-boy towering over me in her heels. She wanted to take a picture together. I smiled and agreed, wrapping my arm around her like we were old friends. My teammate snapped a picture, but as she did her jaw dropped. The lady boy had pulled down her dress, flashing the camera as the camera flashed on her.
A man in a wheelchair sits in a bar... a Bar Girl on his right. She giggles and laughs as she caresses his leg. When was the last time he was loved? He surely didn't dream it would be like this...
My teammate sits across the bar next to her new friend. "You're better than this! You're smart! I have friends that can help you!" She insists. The girl can't come tonight because we would have to buy her. "Tomorrow morning," she says. "Come for me tomorrow morning. I want out."
The ocean. My heart can unwind when we step on the soft sand. It's unbelievable that something so beautiful, so pure and so reflective of God's glory and power could be at the end of such a street. Or maybe it's perfect that it is. My heart breathes as the warm waves wash over my feet. Finally- something that makes sense- a reminder of who I am and why I'm here. I'm here because He's here- and because his heart beats for his loved ones, so lost on this street. I know that as I walk down that street- witnessing his children completely destroy themselves- watching them sacrifice everything to idols that don't have a prayer of fulfilling them- that as much as my heart beats hard with disgust and pain- his heart beats harder. That's why I'm here.
I prayed the prayer 'break my heart for what breaks yours' and I don't regret it. Not for a nauseous, dark, heavy, disgusted minute. Because through all of that, one thing remains: The ocean.
His might, His beauty, His love, His consistency, His faithfulness. The waves wash over my feet, one warm cleansing wave after another, and I am restored. Ready to take that restoration back down the road.
Walking down the streets here in Thailand we're surrounded by women who sell their bodies to provide for their families. The women we see on the streets expect to be abused.
They legitimately don't know that there's a different way- a way of life where their bodies (and their hearts) are respected and honored.
And for awhile... WE didn't either.
We see the chains on the women because we have felt the weight of them as well.
This is the story of our redemption... theirs will be coming soon. :-)
Here in Thailand, beauty is a publicly traded commodity like pearls or Pad Thai. Women parade themselves around, checking their reflection in car windows to make sure they're reflecting nothing short of perfection. But for them... beauty isn't just a matter of confidence or worth. For them, beauty is their lifeline. Without beauty, their kids don't eat.
Men don't buy 'ugly.'
But the women on Bangla aren't the only ones fighting for beauty. As they'd say, we're all 'same same.'
In the past eight months... I had begun to really believe that I'm beautiful. Not that I LOOK beautiful, in a 'nice make up, hair done' kind of way, but that I AM beautiful.
But this month, I walked into the bathroom and came face to face with two problems.
1. For the first time in 8 months, I'm living in constant communication with a mirror.
2. Satan, the beast that he is, has decided to exploit and twist the fact that I'm actually beginning to see myself (in more ways than one.)
I walked into this country more confident about my body than I've been in my entire life. For some reason, the cuisine of the world (strange and random as it is...) agrees with me.
Yet, the second I stepped into the bathroom and saw my body in something more detailed than a window, in an instant, I was overcome with fear.
To me, my body was 'perfect' and so fear gripped my heart about how in the world I was going to keep it that way. Fear, desire for control, and dissatisfaction began to sneak it's way in... leaving confident beauty back there in the dust.
This has been a struggle of mine for years. At times I've struggled with my body image so much that it's scared me. At times I just honestly just forget about it. Sometimes I feel fantastic and sometimes I feel disgusting. It just depends.
Since being on the Race, I thought this issue had disappeared, but there... in the bathroom, staring me back in the mirror was my old enemy- ugly as ever.
But as have been praying about all of this (and you better believe I'm fighting against this mess...) I've noticed that there's a much bigger attack going on than just the one being waged by my bathroom mirror and the liar standing behind it.
This is an attack on beauty as a whole. Not just for me, but for all of us.
And it is under constant siege because God IS beauty.
Want proof? Look around.
Romans 1:20 talks about how God has littered the world with miraculous evidence of his existence and character- leaving us with no excuse but to believe.
Well, I am going to take that one step further and say that if you look around at WHAT he created, and what it LOOKS like, there's NO WAY you can claim that our creator isn't into beauty.
Last night I looked out the window and saw, out of nowhere, the most STUNNING sunset I've EVER SEEN.
I realize that there's an explanation for how sunsets happen, but the point is that He took something that could have been ordinary and made it spectacular.
Today I got to take a boat through the islands off of Phuket. We drank in the bathwater- aqua ocean, and the powerful green islands jutting into the sky with amazement.
Beauty isn't in the heart of those islands... those islands are full of rock. The beauty is on the outside, to be enjoyed, soaked in and delighted in. (we were happy to oblige.)
But the same is true for us.
When God was creating the earth, each creation was more intricate and amazing than the last. He created animals and then Adam and then finally... as his last act of creation, God created us. Women.
We were the crowning achievement of God's creation of the whole earth. We were the last thing he made, His masterpiece.
And he made us beautiful.
We smell good, our hair is soft, we have curves and long eyelashes and smiles that light up a room. We are beautiful. And God created us that way for a reason.
Beauty is powerful. Beauty changes things.
There's something about a beach, or an amazing piece of art, or a sunset, that warms our hearts and helps us to find hope again. It makes us believe in things that we never before believed to be possible.
Beauty invites us to rest.
We are so inundated with bad news, stress, phone calls, and requests made of us, that when we get to just bask in beauty for even a few moments, we find rest. We're restored.
It touches something deep in our hearts because God IS beauty.
It is in the act of drinking in his beauty that we get to interact with him. And so in stepping out onto that beach, you're stepping into Him.
And the most amazing thing about this... the fact that beauty inspires, invites us to rest, brings us hope, and brings us into communion with the ridiculously incredible and creative living God... is that WE ARE BEAUTY.
We as humans reflect the image of God, and we as women reflect the BEAUTY of God.
We are living, breathing, walking, yummy smelling, flowing haired, curvy, masterpieces of God. We embody his beauty.
And the coolest thing is that through women, you can interact with beauty.
You can talk to a beach, but it can't talk back to you. And you can kiss the ocean, but you'll end up with a mouth full of salt.
The allure, and the beauty of a woman is the fact that she invites and draws us into the beauty of God, AND you can hold her hand.
So in that, we find out that we as women are incredibly powerful in our beauty and therefore our beauty is a MASSIVE threat to the enemy.
He hates the fact that our beauty reflects God's character and invites people into His presence, and so he fights it.
And it's not hard. It's a sensitive area for us and he knows it.
With a simple lie, or a suggestion of comparison, the Beast attacks.
And before we realize it we've been distracted, shaken, confused, brought into chaos, comparison and shame... and all of a sudden our beauty that was once so powerful is no longer so.
We can't inspire beauty in others when we can't recognize it in ourselves.
And that's exactly what Satan wants.
On our last day of Training Camp last summer, I was sitting on the floor eating cereal and talking to my new friend Carly. We weren't talking about anything particularly profound, but all of a sudden, I had a revelation that seriously has CHANGED MY LIFE.
Beauty isn't linear.
We're all different shapes and sizes. Our eyes are a varied palate of blues and greens and browns, all unique and all beautiful. Our hair is short, long, curly, straight, blonde and brown, and it's all beautiful.
(just a small sample of the beautiful women I've met this year.)
And the incredible thing is that not only are we beautiful even though we don't look the same. We're actually beautiful BECAUSE we don't look the same.
Beauty isn't linear! There is no such thing as ugly and beautiful.
Ugly doesn't exist in God's kingdom!
And as I've stepped into this more and more, I've found a RIDICULOUS amount of freedom.
Without comparison, and without the fear of 'ugly' or not measuring up- Satan loses his grip. He just can't win.
So after saying all of this, I have to tell you that I'm still mid-struggle on this one. Lies are still waiting for me in the bathroom, and taunting me everywhere I go. But I'm fighting those lies in every way I know how.
One of which is inviting you into the fight with me.
I want us to reclaim beauty. I want us all to walk down the streets free of comparison, shame and fear. I want beauty to once again be the gift that it was intended to be, and for us to walk in the power and confidence of knowing we wear the Glory of God and wear it well.
So, that being said, I want us to do three things:
1.I want us at the top of our mirrors to put a sticky note with Song of Solomon 4:7 on it. "All beautiful you are my darling, there is no flaw in you."
Truth is the ultimate antidote to lies... and THAT is the truth. So allow yourself to be reminded of it every time you look in the mirror.
2.Pray for your bathroom and for your mirrors. Pray that as you look in them, that you see the Glory of God reflected in them, and that they would not reflect any lies- in the name of JESUS.
3.I want us to regard ourselves as we'd regard a masterpiece in a museum. Admiring it with tenderness and appreciation.
So let's do the same and honor our Creator for his ridiculously amazing masterpieces- complimenting God on how perfectly he knit us together. "Hey God... NICE WORK BUDDY!!"
"Jesus... I love you. I pray that you give women all over the world victory in the battle for our beauty. I pray that you give us eyes to see ourselves as you see us... the perfect creation of the perfect creator. Father, please help us come to a place of confidence and satisfaction in our physical beauty. Help us walk down the street confident of our beauty- knowing that you crafted us perfectly and beautifully and on purpose, just the way we are.
Father, please help us be good stewards of our beauty. Please help us use it to invite to rest, to bring peace, to inspire and to bring a breath of your heavenly, Glory-filled, fresh air to the world that so desperately needs it.
Thank God that Jesus has made me a writer because it seems that the second I write something... the second it comes out my fingertips... it also comes out of my heart.
A few hours after posting my last blog... words that I labored over and a battle that I've been fighting for weeks... my team came together to worship.
We began singing the song "Come Away."
Come away with me- come away with me,
It's never too late- it's not too late- it's not too late for you.
I have a plan for you- I have a plan for you,
It's going to be WILD, it's going to be GREAT, it's going to be full of ME.
And I knew that tonight was the night. I was ready to surrender.
I walked outside, I put my hands up and I started to pray... out loud.
Words poured out of my mouth and out of my heart faster than I could even think to formulate them.
And standing there, overlooking the mountains of Phuket, in the moonlight, I surrendered.
With tears in my eyes, I apologized to my sweet Jesus, and told him how sorry I was for not trusting him.
And then I repented.
I gave up my pride, I gave up my control, I gave up my fear and I gave up my doubt.
With my hands up, and my favorite Green Tea in my hand, I told Jesus that I'm in.
I'm in for whatever crazy, amazing, unpredictable plan He has for my life. I don't need answers, I don't need a back up plan. I trust him. I'm in... for real.
And then we headed out for ministry.
My friend Daniela had a feeling that we needed to walk to the end of Bangla road (the red light district where we hang out with the girls) and go down to the beach. We thought there was someone we needed to meet, someone we needed to talk to. Little did we know that our 'meeting' was with Jesus.
The second our feet hit the sand, a pink firework exploded right above our heads.
My jaw dropped and my heart skipped a beat.
Jesus and I have an understanding that our love language is the ocean and fireworks. And in that moment, through the pink light glittering in the sky, Jesus reminded me just how much he adores me. I instantly felt like a woman romanced, pursued... loved.
And then I saw it... a tiny lantern rise up from the beach and into the night.
In coming to Thailand, there was one wish that I had above all the rest. More than anything, I wanted to release a floating lantern. (Yes... I love Tangled... but that's not the ONLY reason.) It's been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.
And so we began asking everyone we knew about the floating lights, and how we could get our hands on one.
We had just about given up when we turned around and there he was; the man with the floating lights.
He lit the lantern, and handed it to me. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest with happiness.
And then with the joy and giddiness of a little girl wrapped up in her daddy's love, I released it.
As I watched it float away, I walked towards the water. And as the ocean lapped over my toes I just could feel Jesus sigh- happy and satisfied.
All He's wanted for me, for my entire life, but especially this month, was for me to just trust him.
He adores me... He adores you too... and He's good.
He's always good, and so is his plan for our lives.
He's a God that works everything together for the good of those who love him. And in the midst of chaos, and options and plane tickets being purchased, I forgot that.
He's been sitting back, watching me, waiting for me to turn back and remember who He is and what He's done in my life. And the second I turned back around, caught his eye and let trust flood my heart, He handed me the loveliest present I've ever received.
Tonight was beautiful. But it's just the beginning of the beauty he has in store for this next season of life, and for the next, and for the next.
He reminded me tonight that a life with Him is definitely going to be wild, but it's going to be great, and it's going to be FULL of Him.
"Look at the Nations and watch and be utterly amazed; for I'm going to do things in your days that you wouldn't believe, even if you were told."
