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We Never Know ...

From time to time, I've mentioned to you the value of a legacy of faith. Eugene Petersen uses a phrase originally written by Friedrich Nietzche to describe perseverance in discipleship. He calls it, "a long obedience in the same direction." I've written about my family on this blog quite a bit. I'm more than a little proud of who they are and what they've accomplished. This week, my paternal grandfather "Papa" will celebrate his 39th year as the pastor of the Rio Hondo Baptist Church. He has faithfully stood in that pulpit and preached the Good News of salvation in Jesus Christ week after week, "going, growing, and glowing" for Jesus. Unfortunately, when something becomes very familiar to us, there is a tendancy to take it for granted. Sometimes we forget that lives are being touched and even changed for all eternity because someone cares enough to stay and keep doing the same thing, the right thing, week after week.

Papa has a "cyber-ministry." He maintains a truly gigantic e-mail distribution list and faithfully sends out prayer requests and e-mails to a congregation that stretches around the world thanks to the Internet. Last week, he started sending out pictures of the Rio Hondo Baptist Church auditorium, the way it looked 30 years ago, and the way it looks today. I confess, I wasn't necessarily appreciative of having an inbox filled with emails of old pictures, and I even joked with my roommates that maybe someone should take Papa's scanner away. Well, I learned my lesson this morning. I want to share with you an e-mail that he received in response to those old pictures. ...

Bro. Gene,

Thank you so much for sending pics of the church and the aerial views of Rio Hondo. They bring back memories of the place where I was saved as a 9 year old girl in 1980. (I still have the picture of me being baptized.) Now 36 and with a family of my own, I share these with my boys. I can show them the exact seat I was sitting in the day I got saved. It gives me the opportunity to share my salvation experience with them and reenforces that God can save and change the life of a child. I got to lead my now 11 year old to the Lord a few years ago, and my husband lead our now 8 year old to the Lord last year. It all started as a result of your preaching. Again thanks for the pics and continue to be faithful in preaching the Word. I am sending you a pic - I am the girl on the top row in a yellow dress. My brother Robert is next to me.

Melissa C
Missouri

Only In Texas ...

Does anyone else find it amusing that DFW has highways named after LBJ ... George Bush ... Ronald Reagan ... and ... Tom Landry! It just seems like one of these things is not like the other. :-) I mean, I really liked and respected Tom Landry, but I do find it amusing that we'd have highways named for three presidents and a football coach!

Off to a Great Start!

When you go into the garage to leave for work (extra early because you have an appointment on the other side of town), and you notice a pumpkin has rolled away from the trash cans and ended up behind your roommate's back tire, it's always a great idea to kick it with your foot in the direction of the nearest pile of stuff, away from the tire. Just be extra careful to be sure that it bumps into the garage door motion sensor as it rolls, and that the little red light atop the sensor goes out, so that the garage door refuses to go down unless someone is physically holding the button down inside the garage. That way, neither you nor your roommate can use the garage door remotes to lower the door, and you'll both have to back your cars out of the garage, go inside and stand by the door and hold the button down before exiting through the back door and walking out the gate to your car which is now parked on the driveway. :-) See why this is such a great way to start your day?

The Horton Family

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I get to be with people I love. I get to enjoy some of my favorite foods. I get to reflect on the things that have blessed me this year. And, I get the joy of dressing in matching outfits and taking pictures with my family. ;-) So, here we are. The Hortons. I wish I had words to tell you how much I love these people, how fabulous each and every single one of them is, how much joy being with them brings me. They are incredible!

Book Suggestion

Since I had 13 hours in the car yesterday, I took the opportunity to read a book that was recently recommended to me. It's called "Same Kind of Different As Me" and it's the story of an international art dealer who befriends a homeless man from the Union Gospel Mission in Fort Worth, Texas. I HIGHLY recommend you read this incredible story. I was so challenged, blessed, and inspired. Hurry! Go! Get your copy today! I'd lend you mine, but I've already asked my mom to read it!

Giving Thanks 2006

Starting a list like this is dangerous because I'm sure to leave out something or someone important, but I believe practicing Thanksgiving is important, and here are some of the things I'm blessed by this week!

A - Angie, the best friend who knows me a little too well sometimes!

(Very Honorable Mention: Amber and the Trashy Girls who are the highlight of my week!)

B - Becchi, 15 years and counting!

C - CCWJC, I finally found a way to get paid to do the things I love!

D - Danabeth and Dia and Dirty, who taught me how to be a Wonder Woman!

E - Emma's Mama and Daddy, two of my heroes!

F - Freeman, Bonnie ... one of my (s)heroes!

G - Gera Best and Jason, Glen and Holly, and the G.Lovers, friends who feel like family! I can hardly wait to meet B.Glo!

H - Hortons (mine and Danas!), a loving and supportive family

I - Inelle Barrett, a wise and talented woman who always thinks I'm funny!

J - Jesus.

K - kindness ... the warmth of knowing another's sincerity

L - Lynell, every Baptist woman needs a Jewish mama!

M - Misty, who faithfully teaches God's Word weekly!

N - newness ... jobs, ministries, friends - every opportunity to recognize God's faithfulness!

O - Overflow, wow!

P - Potters, people who patiently get on either side of me and hold me up lest I fall flat on my face!

Q - quiet places, something I struggle to find but appreciate immensely.

R - Robyn, someone who is leaving a legacy

S - Sarah, who taught me the word "interdigitation"!

T - Travis, a talented musician with a tender heart

U - unfailing love ... Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed. His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness!

V - Victory, not just coping. I Corinthians 15:57

W - Wonder House 2.0 and the Essells, tangible evidence of God's provision

X - eXamples to follow

Y - Yam Yams, women I admire immensely

Z - Zeal, a contagious enthusiasm for the work of the Lord

Honorable Mention Also Goes To: The BAT/BKT House, Solana, Grey's Anatomy, Gilmore Girls, Starbuck's on Trail Lake, HUBs, Text Messaging, tiaras, Sweet Potato Pie, the McBoys, WE time, The Fray, an assortment of wild animals, amazon.com, and Wyoming's Purple Sunsets.

A Legacy of Discipleship

Any of you who have seen me teach for any length of time have probably seen me pick my Bible up and hold it in both hands, so that the pages fall open while I talk about my firm conviction that God's Word contains all that we need for life and godliness, that there is a principle within those pages for every question I will face. I learned that from a very special lady named Robyn. She was my 11th grade Sunday School teacher, and a hero in my life. Robyn didn't just show up on Sunday mornings with her effervescent personality to teach Sunday school, she played the piano on Sunday afternoons for Youth Choir, opened her home on Tuesdays at lunch time for us to gather around her kitchen table with whomever we happened to drag with us, and spent countless Friday or Saturday evenings laughing and watching videos with us. Robyn lived on my street, and we had a special signal. Every time I passed her house, I'd honk my horn twice. Two short beeps and Robyn promised that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she'd stop and pray for me that day.

Over the years since high school, I've done my best to live by the things Robyn taught us, especially when it comes to standing firmly in the Truth of God's Word. I am thrilled anytime anyone comments on my love for Scripture because I get to tell them about Robyn. I've done my best to invest in the lives of women around me, especially younger women. And now, I have a job that involves investing in women of all ages, mostly women older than me. I was at a training conference for this new job last week and we spent a lot of time talking about mentors and mentoring. On Day One when they asked me to identify a mentor in my life, I briefly mentioned a high school Sunday School teacher. On Day Four, when we went around the room and affrimed each member of the class, I was delighted to hear someone mention my love for God's Word as it gave me an opening to tell them about Robyn. ;-)

Those days of training were difficult. I was blessed with joy over the task entrusted to me, but battled many doubts along the way. One particular day, I was being hounded by doubts about my ability to lead women older than me, and I was especially haunted by thoughts of a woman I'd been in a discipleship relationship with a few years ago. She was about 15 years older than me, and we met to study the Bible together weekly for several months but for a variety of reasons that relationship ended, and there was very little communication between us afterwards. I kept thinking, "If I couldn't make a difference in her life, how in the world am I going to make a difference in these women's lives?"

Would you believe I received a phone call from that very woman on that very evening while I was still at training? I was nervous when I realized it was her, wondering if whatever she had to say was going to be confirmation that I was in over my head and should run the other direction. But, what she said took my breath away. She explained to me that God has been doing great and mighty things in her life that she is so excited about, and she was calling to say "thank you" to me for the time that we spent together. Tears streamed down my face as I stood in the chilly night air and listened to the Lord remind me how BIG He is. I think His words to me sounded something like, "I am the Vine, you are the branches. If you remain in me, and my words remain in you. You will bear much fruit. Apart from me, you can do nothing." Yes, Lord. I can't do it. But, oh, what You can do!

The story gets better.

I came home from training and made an appointment to have coffee with my old friend and find out what exactly the Lord has been up to in her life and how she came to call me that night. We sat and chatted excitedly, picking up where we'd left off and moving forward quickly to the place where God began to reveal Himself in powerful ways. As she shared with me about the things she had been learning and experiencing and the women she was touching, she put her hands together in front of her as though holding out a book and pretended to let the pages fall open. She said, "Someone told me once that God's Word contains all the answers and principles I need to live a life that pleases Him." Tears came again. I couldn't help it. Watching her was like watching Robyn, and I realized the two had never met, might not ever meet, but their stories are inextricably linked. Robyn taught me. I taught this woman. She taught another.

When I got in my car to leave that encounter, I called my mom and asked her to look up Robyn's phone number for me. I'd tried to dial what I thought it was and gotten a disconnection notice. But, when Mom looked it up for me, I realized I'd been one number off. Considering it's been 10 years since I dialed that number on a regular basis, I felt pretty good about getting so close! Anyway. I called Robyn. Her husband answered the phone and said the garage door was just going up, signaling she'd arrived home. I heard him say "It's Kristen" as he handed her the phone, and the sound of her voice made me smile and tear up all at the same time. I quickly told her my story, told her I just had to share with her what was happening. She, of course, gave all credit to the Lord as is His due. She kept saying, "It's not me; it's Him." And, more than ever, I knew that was true because when I thought about my own role in the story, I could so clearly see that it was not anything of me but all of Him that impacted others near me.

Before we got off the phone, I told Robyn I just wanted her to know that something she'd said had stuck and was still making a difference. She sighed and told me she's got 12th grade girls in Sunday School this year and that she's really been wondering if she was getting through at all, but hearing from me encouraged her to keep trying.

I don't know that I have ever been a part of a more exciting story. My heart is so full heading into this week of thanksgiving.

Thank you, Lord, for godly men and women who keep speaking Truth. Thank you for your Word which is powerful and effective, living and active, which does not return void and contains all that we need for life and godliness. Thank you for using broken vessels.

Wonder House 2.0 Costume Party

I Know It's Been a While ...

This is just a quick post to let you know that I am still here. It's been a crazy month since my last post. The day after I wrote the blog about paintings and prayer, I interviewed with Cornerston Christian Women's Job Corps for their Site Coordinator's position. Many of you will remember, I interviewed with them back in August also, but the job did not work out at that time. In October, I refused to get my hopes up again, but just four days later, I was giving my two weeks notice to my beloved Meals on Wheels, and making plans to join the Cornerstone team. My first day in the office was Wednesday, November 1, and it's been a whirlwind week of learning! Thank you so much for your prayers and interest in all that God has been up to in my life. Cornerstone Christian Women's Job Corps (CCWJC) is a ministry of WMU which helps women who are unemployed or underemployed develop life skills to prepare themselves for the job market. It's an incredible organization that I am so excited to be a part of. If you know me at all, you will laugh when I tell you I've found a place where I get to spend half my time working with women in need and the other half doing marketing/public relations in the community raising support and awareness for this ministry. :-) In January, I prayed God would give me a job/ministry I would love and be passionate about once I graduated in May. It was nearly six months after graduation before I started here, but I can already tell you, He does all things VERY well. I look forward to sharing more with you along the journey.

Paintings and Prayer

My senior year in college, I discovered a painter whose works captivate me. Not knowing a thing about art to this day, I couldn't tell you what it is about Jack Vettriano's style that moves me so much, but I quickly decided that I wanted one of his prints to hang in my home. Of course, I couldn't afford such a thing on a college kid's budget, so I put that wish on my Christmas list that year. Having never shown any interest in art before, I'm not certain my parents took that request very seriously, especially since it was such an extravagant request. However, I put it on the list again the next year. But, that year, I had a degree that needed to be framed, and that took precedence. I think I asked for it one other time, but I don't remember what I received instead. Over the next couple of years, I continued to admire Mr. Vettriano's paintings from afar. I purchased a calendar with some replicas of his works and enjoyed the print that hung in the home of a dear friend (though, I admit, I was jealous).
The Summer of 2005 was a difficult time for me. I was experiencing a lot of loss and grief while being stretched spiritually in a variety of ways. I was having a difficult time understanding what God was up to in my life and working hard at learning to trust Him whether I understood Him or not. There was a series of prayers I'd been praying that year that came directly from Scripture but appeared to be going unanswered, and I was frustrated. Yet, through His Word and through His Body, God seemed to be speaking to me about persevering in prayer, sticking with it even when I couldn't see the answer coming.
As that summer drew to a close, I made a trip to Plano to visit my parents and see what they'd done at the house since they'd been remodeling. When Daddy walked me back to my old room, things were drastically different, and as my eyes scanned the room, they quickly fell on a large print of my favorite Vettriano leaning against the wall. I looked quickly to Daddy with all sorts of questions in my eyes. He chuckled and said, "We've had that for a while now, but you quit asking for it." I didn't cry exactly, but I know that tears pooled in my eyes and my throat constricted tightly.
In that moment, God spoke volumes to me about persevering in prayer, about believing that He hears me and that He desires to fill my life with good things, that just like I can trust my earthly parents to love me and to desire to bless me, my Heavenly Father is abundantly more patient and perfect in His rewards for those who seek Him diligently. There are still prayers from Summer 2005 I am waiting to see fulfilled, but now, I wait expectantly. And, that beautiful framed print hangs in my living room as a reminder to me that God grants the desires of my heart, and I should never stop asking Him for them.

Hidden Saints

Every so often in my job I come across some of the most amazing saints tucked away in small, dingy apartments. They have little contact with the outside world, and sometimes, their family doesn't even realize the treasure that they are. I cannot tell you what a profound pleasure it is to sit in their presence and know with utter certainty that God is making Himself known to me as they speak. Today, I met Mrs. T. She was a Katrina evacuee last year. She and her daughter and grandson escaped New Orleans just hours before the storm hit and have relocated their entire lives to Fort Worth. Only, you can't really bring your "life" with you. They left behind family and friends and a community they'd known forever. I felt guilty (and elated) as I entered Mrs. T's bedroom this morning because her daughter told me as I headed down the hall that Mrs. T was "just" reading her Bible. What I found in that room caused my eyes to water before she ever uttered a word. A precious, aged, black woman in a rumpled house dress sat in a wheelchair facing her nightstand with her Bible laid out, halfway in her lap, halfway on the table under the lamp, open to Psalm 52, her crooked finger tracing every word as she read. I sat beside her and efficiently asked all of my job-related questions. As I finished the interview, I just couldn't help myself. I folded my papers and set them aside before smiling at her and asking what she was reading. I wish I knew how to convey the light in her eyes or the tenderness of her voice as she began to speak to me about the Psalms. She loves the Psalms. She meets God there, in those pages. She quoted to me from Psalm 121, Psalm 91, and many others. When I mentioned to her that I was involved with a group of college-age girls, going through the Psalms and seeking to learn more of God's character through them, she grew so animated. She spoke to me then of the goodness of God and of His good plan for all who would believe on Him. She spoke the entire message of the Gospel to me quoting Scripture, running precious passages and promises of the Bible together, weaving the beautiful story with such confidence. She told me that she'd been trusting Jesus since 1962, and He's never let her down. She talked to me about how she trusts Him and how He speaks to her, interjecting "'Cause you knows His sheeps hears His voice. That's in John." Oh, don't I know it. She told me how she learned a long time ago not to question Him, just to obey, and how she knew that faith in Him is what helped rescue her and her family from Katrina last year. She didn't question the prompting in her spirit to leave, she just obeyed. It would have been an imense honor just to sit with her and hear her story, but there was so much more to it than that for me today. You see, all week, the Lord's been speaking to me, telling me that I am going to have to trust Him beyond what I can see, to believe Him even if circumstances appear otherwise. I'd been feeling convicted about having an unwaivering obedience. Then, this morning, I had a song based on Lamentations 3:22-24 stuck in my head. It says, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness!" As Mrs. T finished her stories of God's goodness to her, I spoke the words aloud, "because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed. His mercies are new everymorning," and she finished for me with a triumphant grin, "Great is His faithfulness!" I knew then that it was time for me to go, and I kissed her cheek and thanked her for sharing her story, for speaking wisdom to me from the Word of God, for being a faithful saint. She held my hand, invited me to come back again soon, and spoke words of blessing over me as I left, and I passed her nurse coming to check on her as I moved back down the hall and out the front door.

Follow Me?

In Philippians 3, the apostle Paul wrote this ... Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us. I am so challenged by this exhortation. What is it like to follow the Lord so wholeheartedly that you can confidently say to others, "Hey, follow me while I follow Jesus!" Whew! I'm getting ready to launch into a couple of new areas of ministry and the joy of being used to serve others is absolutely thrilling, but the sense of responsibility, of knowing that others are watching even if Ididn't tell them to, often leaves me trembling. I've spoken with several friends recently about what it is to lead a live that others can imitate. What does it mean to strive for that obedience? What does it mean to trust the Lord, to truly count his lovingkindness as better than life? To let go of all that I hold dear in order to reach for a Reward I do not fully understand? Tonight, as I prepare for sleep, I am reminded of a song I only vaguely remember the tune to. I haven't heard it in years, but the lyrics make me want to be bold.

Let It Be Said of Us: Words and Music by Steve Fry

Let it be said of us that the Lord was our passion,
that with gladness we bore ev'ry cross we were given;
That we fought the good fight, that we finished the course,
Knowing within us the pow'r of the risen Lord.

Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song, by mercy made holy,
by the mercy made holy, by the Spirit made strong.
Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song 'til the likeness of Jesus be through us made known.
Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song.

Let it be said of us we were marked by forgiveness,
we were known by our love and delighted in meekness;
We were ruled by His peace heeding unity's call,
joined as one body that Christ would be seen by all.

Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song,
by mercy made holy, by the mercy made holy, by the Spirit made strong.
Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song
'til the likeness of Jesus be through us made known.
Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song.

Let the cross be our glory and the Lord be our song.

He Does Not Disappoint

A few weeks ago, I was having a particuarly difficult day of struggling with contentment in life. I was feeling restless about absolutely everything and frustrated that life wasn't going the way that I thought it should. I was reading and journaling that morning, doing my best to honestly confess my frustration to the Lord, when I heard these words so clearly. "I do not disappoint." I knew it was the Lord. I was home alone, and they hadn't come from anywhere else. I'd heard a similar message about a year ago, and it was sweet to me then, so oh so much sweeter this second time. And, I knew it was true. I may not like how things are going today. I may not understand the way something is working out. But, I can know with utter certainty that when the final story is written, I will not be disappointed in the least with how God has done things. He does all things well. I shared this experience with a couple of friends the next day, but I'm always hesitant to explain those "knowing" experiences. It didn't come from anything I'd read, scripture or otherwise, so how could I be so certain it was from God? Then, two days later, I was reading in Psalm 22. You know what Psalm 22:5 says? Let me tell you what it says! "To you they cried out and were delivered; In You they trusted and WERE NOT DISAPPOINTED." I shared that reference with another friend that night, and he pointed out that his Bible said "they were not ashamed." You know what? Either translation is encouraging, but how precious it is to me that God would allow me to find it that morning in the one that used the words "not disappointed." He's so sweet to us. So generous with his patience and grace. Last week, I was still mulling over some of these issues of contentment as Chip Ingram was sharing a story on his radio program. I don't remember the whole story, but I remember when he got to the part where he talked about Romans 8:32 ... "He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?" And, the lesson in it for me was this. If God did not hold back His own Son from death in order to bring us into right relationship with Him, why in the world would I ever worry that He might deny me any thing that He deems good for me? No, indeed, He does not disappoint!

Hallelujah

It's been a while since I posted the lyrics to a good song for you. Every now and then, though, a song grips me in a special way and the musician sings the words in my heart back to the Lord. I met with a dear friend for coffee this morning, and as we shared the things on our hearts and turned them over to the Lord in prayer, I was so encouraged. Of course, such conversations are also an opportunity to disect all the things that have been rumbling around in my heart and mind over the last few weeks. Because we talked about everything from work and church to relationships, school, and exercise, I walked away with all kinds of new things to surrender to God's good plan for my life. I've been struggling with that recently, choosing to rejoice over His answers, even when they aren't what I want to hear. It's so easy to get excited about His good faithfulness when He says "Yes! That's a great idea, Kristen! Go for it!" But, shouldn't I be just as greatful when, in His sovereignty, He steers me clear of something that is less that His best for me? Is He any less good and faithful when He says "No"? Of course not! It is in those times that I rejoice just to know and hear His voice. So, as I got in my car this morning, these are the lyrics that were playing ...

"Hallelujah"

Who can hold the stars
And my weary heart?
Who can see everything?

I've fallen so hard
Sometimes I feel so far
But not beyond your reach

I could climb a mountain
Swim the ocean
Or do anything
But it's when you hold me
That I start unfolding
And all I can say is

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
I'll choose to sing hallelujah

The same sun that
Rises over castles
And welcomes the day

Spills over buildings
Into the streets
Where orphans play

And only you can see the good
In broken things
You took my heart of stone
And you made it home
And set this prisoner free

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
I'll choose to sing hallelujah

By Bethany Dillon

The Hillton Horhouse

Ten years ago, my parents, The Hortons, embarked on a grand adventure with my best friend's parents, The Hillhouses. They agreed to mentor or "coach" engaged couples through a Before You Say I Do curriculum, then direct and teach a Sunday School class for nearly/newlyweds at Prestonwood Baptist Church. The nearly/newlys soon became young marrieds, then parents of toddlers, and now, that first batch of babies are headed to Kindergarden. Last Friday night, I sat in a room filled with over a hundred people who had gathered from all over the metroplex to honor the Hortons and the Hillhouses for the impact their investment has made in their lives and marriages. There was much laughter and a few tears as person after person stood at the microphone and recounted the ways that their lives and homes and families have been touched for the glory of God by four humble servants determined to do what they knew to be right according to Scripture. Four servants who made it their ambition to lead godly lives, to speak truth to all who would listen, to get involved in the people God led their way. It is really, really difficult to tell you how inspiring this event was. I am convinced that Friday evening's banquet was only a glimpse of the eternal fruit to be produced by this 10 year adventure. The evening included several noteworthy moments. One of my dad and Jim's dreams has always been to see the men and women under their care grow to spiritual maturity and become leaders themselves. When asked how many of those gathered that evening were actively involved in leadership in their own classes and churches now, nearly 20 hands were raised. That's not to count those who were unable to attend because of their commitments elsewhere that evening! Another noteworthy image was to see the multitude of children running freely through the room after the event had concluded and they'd been rescued from the nursery. To think that the class began with engaged couples and now proudly sported more offspring than anyone could keep track of was humorous and glorious. My favorite moment of the evening was at the end when they gave Daddy and Jim their turns at the mic. These precious servants, two of the most humble and godly men I have ever known, stood with tears in their eyes and gave glory to God and used that last time before their flock to issue a final challege to be godly men and women, leaders in their homes and guardians of the next generation.
I assure you, no daughter has ever been more proud of her parents. It was a joy and an honor to participate in the celebration of lives well lived. And, as I told the crowd that evening, the most awesome thing I can think of to tell you about David and Stephanie Horton is that it's all true. They are exactly who they claim to be, who they seem to be. They practice the things that they preach. They are servants with godly integrity in their home and marriage. And, I am blessed beyond measure to be the life most impacted by their faithfulness. I teased with them a few weeks ago on their 30th wedding anniversary, calling and very off-handedly thanking them for staying together all these years. Their love for the Lord and commitment to one another has made all the difference in my life.

Lessons In Missions: I Can't Do It ... And That is Okay!

After spending three months as a student missionary in Guadalajara, Mexico in the fall of 2001, I returned home to Texas unsure I ever wanted to leave American soil again. Guadalajara was the scene of many incredible lessons in God’s faithfulness, but on the whole, I felt like a failure as a missionary and did not relish the idea of repeating the experience. There are plenty of people who need to hear the Good News about Jesus right here in the good ol’ U.S.of A. after all, right? I came home. I moved to Fort Worth, and I started seminary. I was determined to be the best home missionary there was. I would show the Lord and anyone else watching that I could be useful, faithful, successful right here in my own little comfort zone. For three years, I did not leave the state of Texas. My heart beat wildly at the thought of being too far from home and all things familiar. It’s not like it was all that hard. I mean, I was a graduate student after all. I had important things to do. I was putting myself through school. I couldn’t be expected to spend money on frivolous things like mission trips. Then Caleb called. He was taking his youth group on a trip to Morelia, Mexico and needed another female sponsor, preferably one who spoke Spanish. I think I probably laughed at him. If I didn’t laugh out loud, I am certain I chortled inside. He must be crazy!, I thought. I knew I’d told him what a terrible missionary I was. Crazy or desperate, those were the only possibilities. Like any godly woman, I told him I’d pray about it. I was quite certain there was no way God was sending me back to Mexico. I’m not so sure I prayed about it as much as I fretted about it and spent my time before the Lord telling him all of the reasons we both knew this was such a bad idea. Certainly He had to agree with me. Right? Silence. I couldn’t believe it! Finally, I was running out of time to give Caleb a solid answer. I woke one morning telling the Lord I needed an answer, and I was willing to hear whatever the answer might be. I went to work that morning only to be passed a string of Spanish-speaking clients needing my help. I got to my desk and found the “time-off” request form I’d filled out just in case, laying there … approved. I got home and checked my e-mail, only to receive a word of encouragement from a friend I’d met three years earlier in Mexico. It felt like a conspiracy! I don’t remember what all happened that day, but I was certain at the end of it that I was going to spend 10 days in Mexico that summer. And, when Caleb called the next week to say he was purchasing airline tickets and needed an answer, I flatly told him, “Yes, I’ll go. Buy my ticket.” Not having shared any of this struggle with him, I’m not certain he caught the resignation in my tone. I was resigned, though. Not happy, not sad, just resigned. The next two months passed quickly, and soon, the trip was just two weeks away. I woke with a start one morning with just four words flashing like a neon sign inside my head, “I can’t do this!” What had I been thinking? This was nuts! I couldn’t go back to Mexico! I certainly couldn’t go back with a group of students in my charge! What in the world could I possibly show them? How to be a failure at missions? No, this idea had disaster written all over it. I emailed Caleb and told him of my new conclusion. I entreated him to understand what a big mistake we were making. He laughed patiently at me and told me I was going, the ticket was purchased, the plans were made, the kids needed me there. I shared my trembling with another friend, repeating the flashing words over and over again, “I can’t do this.” Finally, with more patience than I deserved, he said, “No, Kristen, you can’t. It’s good you realize it now.” Those were the first words to penetrate my heart in mind in days. And, in their place came a new set of words, a memory verse taught to me by a Spanish professor in college. “Todo lo puedo en Cristo que me fortalice.” I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I was right and so was my friend. I couldn’t do this, but Christ in me could accomplish anything when I submit to Him. Through the next two weeks of preparation, another verse became dear to my heart and brought me much comfort as I sought to take each thought captive and make it obedient to the will of God. John 15:5, “I am the Vine, you are the branches. Apart from me, you can do nothing. If you remain in Me and My words remain in you, you will bear much fruit.” There is was in black and white, clear as day. I could do nothing apart from Christ, but when I chose to let His words abide in Me and I in Him, I could bear much fruit. I don’t know why I was even surprised to arrive at our final group meeting before the trip only to hear one of the leaders pray that very verse over those students. It’s amazing how many times those verses come to mind as I face life’s daily challenges. Every time I am tempted to cry out a defeated, “I can’t do it!” I am reminded that I indeed cannot do it, but Christ in me can do all things!

Lessons In Missions: God's Concern for My Holiness

As I sat on my unmade bed, journal and Bible open, I poured out my heart to the Lord. I was not respectful. I was not humble. I was not reverent as I entered His presence that morning. I more or less burst into the throne room, stood before Him in utter frustration and spewed forth the uttermost thought in my mind. “Why?! Why in the world am I here?! What are you doing?!” I cannot say for sure now, but I think I cried these words allowed as I sat on my bed. I may have even been yelling loud enough for the neighbors to hear. They weren’t far off, of course. There is little private space in Mexico.
I’d been in Guadalajara, Mexico for seven weeks by that time. I was more than half way through my thirteen week term. Thirteen weeks, 91 days … I counted every one of them. I knew the minute I landed in that place that I was not going to be a good missionary, but I truly was giving it my best. Unfortunately, my best wasn’t much at that time. I signed up for this trip with a lot of unmerited confidence. I’d just finished a four year degree in Spanish. I’d been leading college Bible studies for two years. Of course I knew what I was doing. Of course Mexico needed me. I landed in Guadalajara the evening of September 10, 2001. I didn’t count on leaving my heart back in Texas. I didn’t realize how much I would miss my friends, how I would long to be with the college students in weekly Bible study, how I would feel so cut off from my country in a time of great disaster. But, I’m not sure any of those things was the reason I wept so bitterly that particular morning. It’s much more likely that I wept that morning in sheer selfishness. I had a picture in my head of what this time was supposed to look like, all of the Mexican students I would be leading to the Lord and how popular I would be with the mission board back home. Now, a little over halfway through my term, and I had to send my partner on to the campus by herself because I couldn’t pull myself together and stop crying long enough to get dressed and be presentable. Then, as I sat in the quiet and pulled out my Bible and my journal, seeking solace, I read the verse. “The fields are white unto harvest. Pray to the Lord of the Harvest that He might send workers.” I am not sure there are words for the frustration I felt in that moment, the confusion that brought me bursting into the throne room of the Almighty in a near state of rage. “I’m here!” I yelled. “I’m ready to work the harvest!” I announced. “Why won’t you use me?” I collapsed at His feet in supplication. I needed an answer. And, as I wept bitterly, it came. Softly, in a whisper so loud it was unmistakable. The Almighty was more concerned with my holiness than with any statistic I could post back to the folks at home. He wanted me, my attention, my utter devotion, and if He had to remove me from anything familiar and plant me in a small, unairconditioned bedroom on the roof of a Mexican family’s home, then He would go that far. He had things to say to me, and He wanted to be sure I was listening. You see, back home, I was too busy to listen. I was too important, to confident, too arrogant to recognize how crucial it was that I prioritize His will above my own. I was busy with good things, but they were not the best things. I had charted the best course of my own understanding. But that was precisely what He’d told me not to do. Proverbs 3:5-6, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean NOT on your own understanding …” A light bulb came on for me that morning, sitting in the midst of my unmade bed, staring at an open Bible and journal. A weight was lifted from me as I realized that God was responsible for the success or failure of my journey. I was responsible to obey. I confessed. I spoke aloud what God already knew, my arrogance, my misguided attempts at doing His job for Him, my selfish pursuit of my own fame. Even as I sit her, five years removed from that place, I can hardly put words to all that I understood in that moment of clarity. Most profoundly, I understood a very simple truth, God loves me. Serving Him and obeying Him is for my best. He does not ask those things of me to punish me, to make me miserable, to break me so that He can boost His own ego. He takes me through valleys and into dark places only to show me more of Himself and remind me that He truly does care for me. His faithfulness is beyond measure. This week, our Sunday School class was discussing 1 Peter 5, “Cast your cares upon Him for He cares for you.” As we discussed our tendencies toward worry and fear, it occurred to me that I am most tempted to be anxious when I forget this simple truth. He cares for me. I laugh at myself, at how quickly I forget. He cares for me, and He wants to be known by me. He took me to a roof in Mexico just to show me how much.

Moveable?

Have you ever prayed a prayer, and then wondered later, as your prayer seemed to be answered, if that was something you really meant to have? I have several of those prayers in my life. They are prayers I prayed in my youth, prayers I prayed as a high school student who was determined to change the world. Prayers prayed in rebellion against what I perceived to be the status quo lifestyle of adults around me. I am not certain when I first prayed that God would keep me moveable, but IÃ?m guessing it was sometime during or directly following a short term mission trip during my senior high years. Short term trips changed my life, and after participating in several of them, it seemed inconceivable to me that there were people in my church who have never been on one! I prayed then that I would always been moveable. That if God needed me, I would never be so tied down to a job or a debt or any other thing that would keep me from being available and obedient to whatever He had for me. I prayed that my heart and mind would be moveable, too. I did not ever want to be so hardened that I could not learn new lessons, and I never wanted to be so stiff necked that I could not be humbled by a new revelation of God?s sweet grace. I am twenty-seven now. Not old. But not terribly young anymore, either. Most of my friends are married. They have full-time, paying jobs with sizeable incomes. Many of them have purchased homes. Some of them are having children. I am still moveable. The first few years out of college and into seminary, I was so thankful for that prayer. I wore it as a badge, I think. But, I confess, as so many people around me begin to put down roots and my life remains so flexible, I wonder if I really meant that prayer. I doubt there was any way I could have fully appreciated the ramifications of God's answer, what it would feel like that no one thing holds you to a place and that any day, God could say "move" and you would have no basis to argue. I laugh inside even as I try to articulate these thoughts. It's not an easy concept to explain. There is such a part of me that is still grateful that God didn't give me enough insight to truly fathom what I was asking of Him when I first prayed to be moveable. There is a part of me, especially on the lonely days, that would take it back if I thought I could. But, truthfully, I cannot, and I am reminded of so many promises of Scripture about God's trustworthiness. He does all things well, and if this is the life He has chosen for me, who in the world am I to think I could have chosen better?

Flannel Board Lessons

It’s common in Christian circles today to make fun of “flannel board Jesus” and all the flannel board characters and stories of our childhood. I grew up in a small First Baptist Church in a rural community in South Texas. Some of my earliest memories are of lessons taught with the aid of a flannel board. For the uninitiated, a flannel board was set up on an easel, must like a blackboard, and the various characters and necessary props for storytelling were cut from other flannel pieces and affixed to the board as the stories progressed. I must have heard most Bible stories for the first time in that room with the flannel board. We would sit on miniature chairs, at a large round table decorated with a patchwork of colorful shag carpet pieces covered by Plexiglas. It’s in that setting that I first remember hearing about Solomon. King Solomon. Wise Solomon. Solomon who knew better than to cut babies in half, but told two fighting women that he would do just that if they didn’t tell the truth. Mrs. McElroy, “Mrs. Mac” for short, told us that God gave Solomon permission to ask Him for anything the young king desired. Solomon could have asked for great wealth and prosperity, for health and length of days, or for victories in battle and great fame. But, Solomon asked God for wisdom, and it pleased God very much. I didn’t know it when I first heard the story, but James 1:5 says that “If any man lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault.” Wisdom is a greatly esteemed virtue throughout scripture. I can picture my preschool age Sunday School self sitting in a miniature plastic chair around the shag carpet table studying a flannel King Solomon kneeling before the Lord, asking for wisdom. I am not at all certain how in the world I comprehended such things from such youth, but I remember being so impressed that Solomon’s request for wisdom pleased God in such a way that God granted Solomon wisdom … as well as fortune, health, and fame. That’s the first time I remember praying for wisdom. God, make me wise. God, give me the wisdom to choose the things that please you. God, help me to be someone you can bless. I’d be lying if I told you I “feel” wise. I don’t. But, sometimes, when I’m visiting with a friend in crisis, my heart repeats those early petitions for God to grant me wisdom from above, and I hear myself offering counsel that could only come from His very Spirit. Friends say to me, “You are wise beyond your years,” or come to my home specifically in search of wisdom. It might seem tempting to grow arrogant about such things, but God has been gracious to me. Each time I hear someone comment about the wisdom they have gained from me, I am humbled. I see a child in a frilly dress with matching hairbows, head bowed over folded hands asking God to grant her wisdom just like He did for the flannel board King Solomon.