Laura Out Loud

I have been reading a lot about Mother Teresa over the past few days.  So much of what she has done and said has really touched my heart.  Because of my deep love for the poor, I find her insight to be very thought provoking.

Never worry about numbers… Help one person as a time.

We don’t go out and love on the poor for the sake of saying we did so.  We don’t do it for the sake of being part of the latest great movement or revival.  We do it because we love the people.  We do it for their sake, never for our own.

And how should we love them?

I don’t believe there is any set way or established standard concerning loving the poor.  I do believe that loving the poor sometimes means putting aside our own desires and loving them in a way that they can receive love at that time.

So what does this mean?  It means that sometimes there should be a little less talk- a little less preaching.  Sometimes, in a specific moment, those words do not look like love to a person.  They look like forced religion.  They look like a banner that says, “I am talking to you for this reason only.”  In these times, it’s important to ask Holy Spirit whether or not you should say those words.  He might say no.  Picking up the pieces and playing a game of chess might feel like the greatest of all acts of love.  How so?  You are showing them they are valuable.  You are showing them they are worth your time, even if they have different beliefs.  You are showing them that you want to be with them, even if it isn’t according to your desires or standards.

One of the greatest poisons is worthlessness and lack of self value.  If we can bring the antidote by simply putting our desires aside and playing chess or a game of cards.. then what reason have we not to do this?  Once they know you truly care about them, they’ll surely want to hear what you have to say and they’ll surely want to know why you value them as you do.

And when they ask, you can give them the greatest reason of all.

I find myself consumed with my thoughts for the majority of time.  What a tangled web I weave.  The work is most often complete before I even realize I started.

It feels as if my heart is a slave; confusion its master.  I’ve been held back just long enough that I cannot remember how it feels to push forward.  Breakthrough.  I need breakthrough.  To believe the things I know to be truth and discard that which I know to be false, yet I have regarded as truth for so long, would be, perhaps, the greatest victory of my  life.

How do you make yourself believe something that you simply don’t believe?  They say you just have to choose to believe it.  What happens when you proclaim that you believe something, for the sake of choosing to believe, and you still feel the same about the matter?  Have you really chosen to believe?  If yes, then do the feelings come later?  If not, then how do you just choose something if choosing doesn’t even change anything?

What do we do with our thoughts?  What do we do with our emotions?  What do we do when the two are in complete conflict?  How do we know which direction to look?  How do we know what to hold to and what to toss?

Sometimes we don’t.

And when we don’t, our greatest victory, I believe, is to toss them both and start from the beginning.

And in the beginning was the Word.

My life is crazy.  Of course, when I say this, I mean it in the best way.

In March, I officially found out I would be traveling to Africa for nearly three months.  For all of March, April, and May, I gave most of my time to preparing this great adventure.  Oh, and somewhere in there I had a photo shoot with my sweet friend Emily Joy Lewin.  At the end of May, I was attacked in the face by a dog.  Three days later I journeyed to Africa with a face full of stitches.  For nearly three months I  sat with Jesus in the dirt, and lived my life as He directed.  In the middle of August I returned home.  Within two weeks I was back to work at my old job,  and I also started a new job.  Four weeks later I left for California where I was so blessed to be reunited with many of my fellow African classmates.  If you ask me, the past seven months of my life have been nothing less than crazy.

I like crazy.

You see, for me, a crazy life is rarely too much to endure.  At this point, I just keep reminding myself that.  The level of crazy I am now entering into is one I have never experienced.  Huge pages are turning in my life.  These aren’t your typical pages.  They are massive and I am now catching a glimpse of the significance of these pages.  Turning these massive pages requires a greater effort than turning your ordinary 8×10.  If you really think about it, in order to turn such huge pages, God must have really huge arms.  And if He has the arms capable of turning such huge pages, He must have the hands capable of preparing me for what is on the next page.

I want to believe that.

The past two weeks have been a continuous battle in my mind.  Upon my return from California I was informed of pretty significant alterations in my life.  This alone would be stressful, but I already had a deep well of emotions that emerged during my time in California.  While I was there, I realized that I had not taken the time to process the previous three months of my life.  I was emotional for a couple of days when i got back from Africa, but past that I basically ignored the feelings I had concerning Africa.  It was simply too painful to deal with that separation.  I realized when I was in California that I could no longer avoid that process. It simply had to be done.

Realizing it had to be done did not mean that I knew how to deal with it.  I don’t think anyone truly knows how to deal with such a major transition.  It’s like a divorce.  You live your life in relationship, wholeheartedly committed, with no restraints, and then it suddenly ends.  Everything that you knew your life to be is no longer existent.  It feels as if someone has ripped your heart out.  How do you deal with that?

You surrender.  Surrender does not mean to ignore your problems.  It never means that.  It doesn’t mean to choose to be okay.  What good does that do?  It doesn’t mean to step above your circumstances and just “be okay.”  No.  Surrender means accepting the place you are in.  It means being willing to receive what God has for you, even in a place of so-called funk.  It means asking God what His purpose is in the place you are in.  Yes, we choose how we respond to our circumstances, we choose to be grateful, and we choose to always praise, but sometimes, you can’t just choose to step out of a difficult place.

I believe God gave us emotions for a purpose, and His desire is for us to experience emotion in a real and raw way.  If we choose to not feel these emotions, allow ourselves to process, and allow God to respond to our process, then we just might miss out a beautiful gift that God wants to give us in that place.

So I am not saying that you should choose to be in a funk, I am simply saying that you should allow God to meet you in that place instead of trying to be in a different place.  Eventually you will have to return to that place to deal with those feelings.

Thanks, Ashley Warren, for your Truth Mobile.

Wow, so may things happened while I was in Africa that I am finding it hard to decide which things to write about.  Instead of just choosing something, I just have not written anything because of my recent indecisive nature.  I realized today that instead of not writing at all, I should just write about as many things as possible.

As I was thinking about Africa today, one thing continued to pop into my head- The Westbrook Family.

Jonathan, Liza, Me, Cindi, and Elliott

The Westbrook family arrived in Pemba about one week after everyone else.  I was instantly drawn to this family.  They were so unique and beautiful.  Jonathan, the father, was one of the strong sort, but not intimidating and scary.  It was the same with Cindi, his wife, but she had an extra bit of flare that was released via her beautiful confidence.  Their children, Liza and Elliott, were the most precious children I had ever seen.

Very soon after their arrival I asked the Westbrooks for  a dinner date.  During that time, I heard their testimonies and shared mine as well.  I knew, from that point, that God would be using them in my life.

About three and a half weeks into the school, Patricia Bootsma came to teach and impart to us.  During that time, she called for students who had struggled with sibling comparison to come forward and receive prayer.  In the beginning she was breaking off rejection and shame, but then she called for all mothers and fathers to come forward, as she felt it was a time for us to forgive our parents.

At this point, I felt someone embrace me and begin praying for me.  At first I was not sure who it was.  When I realized it was Jonathan, everything in me wanted to escape.  Why?  I knew that God wanted to use Him to do a work in me that I was afraid of.

After a few minutes, Jonathan said to me, “Do you want to forgive your dad?”  I was surprised at this because, to my knowledge, no one knew that I had never actually forgiven my dad.  You see, I spent many years saying I had forgiven him, because it was the right thing to do, without actually releasing the situation to God and truly forgiving him.

I knew that somehow, by the grace of God, I truly wanted to forgive him this time.  I did not want, however, to repeat some silly prayer to forgive him.  Those never worked.

“I’m going to lead you in a prayer to forgive your father,” stated Jonathan.

Dang.

Somehow, I could not say no.  I knew that Jonathan’s wisdom was greater than mine in this moment.  He led me in a prayer to forgive my dad, and it was so very powerful.  Instantly, I knew something was different.  I began to question myself.  ”Could I really have just forgiven my dad, for real?  Is it possible that I actually broke through twenty years of bitterness?”

Then Jonathan walked away, and God answered my questions.  I literally felt as if I was going to blow away.  Everything in me was attempting to anchor myself to the floor.  I seriously felt so light that I could not reason with myself that it was not logical to think I would blow away.  And that was when I knew- An entire lifetime of bitterness was lifted in an instant, and the weight was gone.

As if this was not enough, God continued to use this family in my life.  I watched Jonathan and Cindi love one another with a pure and holy and honoring love- a love I have never seen before.  I watched them love their children with such sweetness and joy.  I even watched their children pour out to every single person around them.

Near the end of the school, I received a prophetic word that rocked every false belief I have about myself over the past few years.  As I was receiving the word, and immediately after, I kept thinking that all I wanted to do was run into Cindi’s arms.  I thought about her for about twenty minutes as people were standing around me, praying for me.  I was simply to wrecked to look up to see where she was.  The very first moment I was able to look up, she was standing across the room, right in front of me, looking in my direction.

The journey across the room to her embrace was seriously like a dramatic scene from a movie.  She welcomed me into her arms with such love- a love that comes only from a mother.  And for the first time, I felt as if I deserved that love.  I cried more in that moment than I think I have ever cried.  She spoke truth and beauty over me, something I needed desperately.

I knew that my life was changed because of her that night, but I did not even know all of the details of the work God had done.  A few days later I had the chance to sit with Cindi and talk to her about my experience.  As I was explaining to her my feelings of deserving the love I felt that night, she said to me, “So, a better way to put that would be that you felt like a daughter.”

Wow.  All summer I contended for the Father’s heart- to know my identity as a daughter.  I kept wondering if and when I would receive that.  Cindi helped me to see that I received something beautiful, and that God was answering my prayer.

Her love and commitment to see me grow was a vital part of the work God did in me.  When I ran and put up walls, she chased after me and broke them down.  She didn’t let me get away.  She saw the potential and ran after it.

That changed my life.

All of this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the deep amount of treasure that this family poured into my life.  Their children wrecked me.  They made my heart leap for joy.  They showed me the Kingdom of Heaven through beautiful eyes.  They loved me without hesitation.

I am forever grateful for this family.

As I am attempting to process everything I experienced over the past three months, my thoughts consistently go in the same direction.  My life was changed in so many ways, and I experienced so much love.  I carry so much of Africa in my heart, and I will never be the same.  One of the most powerful things I experienced during my time there was my friendship with sweet Denesio.

I met Denesio one afternoon as I was standing beside a truck eating my beans and rice- you know, the daily routine.  As I was eating, Denesio walked up with a group of friends, took my spoon and began feeding me.  It happened so fast, I didn’t even realize what he was doing until he stuck a large spoonful of beans in my mouth.  I knew, instantly, that this kid had to be my friend.  For all of you that know me, you know that is just like something I would do.  I loved him from the beginning.

He said to me, “what you doing?”  I responded, “eating beans and rice, silly boy.”  He questioned, “Beas and ricey?”  I began singing to him, “beas and ricey! beas and ricey!”  He joined along and we sang the same words together for at least five minutes.  For quite some time after that, we sang the same song together each time we saw one another.  Each interaction, though, was so special.  He became so much more than a kid I sang a song with; he was one of my best friends.

Denesio has the biggest heart of any child I have ever met.  He consistently made every effort possible to make sure that I was doing okay.  If I looked even the least bit upset or if I was really tired he would always ask, “you okay?  you good?”  He translated for me when I couldn’t understand the language and made sure that the other village kids never said anything to me that was unkind.  He was my sweet little African brother.

Denesio was one-of-a-kind.  Everything about him made my heart melt.  The things he did and the ways he displayed hi love for me were so precious.  One day, I was in the ocean with Lauren, and  Katherine was sitting on the beach with Denesio.  From the ocean, I heard a voice saying, “Laura!  Laura!  I go now!”  I looked to the beach to see that it was Denesio.  He was waving violently to me that he was leaving.  As he was walking away, he stopped every three feet to yell my name.  Each time I would look up to see that he was blowing me a kiss from the beach.  It never got old, even after the ninth time.  His heart was so huge and so precious that I could not even imagine being annoyed.

Then there were the times when I would hear his voice from far off, shouting, “Laura!  Laura!  I loveee youuu!”  Needless to say, this absolutely melted my heart.  As the summer came near the close, I realized the impact he had on my life, and the difficulty of saying goodbye, which was inevitable.  I talked to Denesio about the fact that I had to leave on several occasions, and each time, his response broke my heart.  ”You come back, please?” he would ask.  I responded, “Denesio, I don’t know.  I hope so.”   Every time, he would simply look me in the eye and say, “I pray you come back to me.”  This broke my heart, in a beautiful way, each time.  In these moments, Denesio would simply rest his head on my shoulder and say, “is okay.”

Denesio waited for me in the mornings.  He waited for me after class in the afternoons.  There was never a moment when he was not searching me out.  There was never a time when he was not looking for my attention or longing for my affection.  He wanted to do everything with me, and did not want to go anywhere without me.  No matter how big or small the occasion, he desired to be in my presence.  He would drop anything he was doing, simply to be with me.

If you ask me, this sounds sort of like what God intended our relationship with Him to be.  What if we lived liked this?  What if we waited for Him in the mornings and in the afternoons?  What if there was never a moment when we were not searching Him out?  What if there was never a time when we were not looking for His attention or longing for His affection.  What if we wanted to do everything with Him, and never wanted to go anywhere without Him?  What if we desired to be in His presence, no matter how big or how small the occasion?  What if we would drop anything, simply to be with Him.

…Because the truth is this…

He is waiting for you in the mornings and in the afternoons.  There is never a time when He is not searching you out.  There is never a moment when He is not looking for your attention or longing for your affection.  He wants to do everything with you, and never wants to go anywhere without you  He desires to be in your presence, no matter how big or how small the occasion.  Get this:  He would drop anything, simply to be with you.

Thank you, sweet Denesio.

“This is what it sounds like when you sing Heaven’s song.  This is what it feels like when Heaven comes down.  This is what it looks like when God is all around.  Let it come.”

As I am lying in a comfortable bed, with pillows all around me, all I can think about is how much I miss Africa.  I have been home for less than twelve hours, yet it seems as if I have been away from africa for so long.

I have a deep and burning desire to share of my experiences with everyone.  As hard as I try, I cannot seem to come up with the right words to describe everything I feel.  I am certain that no one, no matter his or her skill, can accurately explain such an amazing experience.  With that being said, I will give my best effort to describe what I have experienced over the past few months.

This is what it feels like when Heaven comes down…

Over the past three months I experienced what it feels like when Heaven comes down.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like the warm embrace of a nine-year old boy, walking on clubbed feet, who simply wants to be held.  It feels like his hand in yours, walking side by side with no destination.  It feels like his warm breath in your ear, as he whispers sweet secrets to you.  It feels like his beautiful feet, kicking you from underneath the table, simply to make sure you are still paying him attention.  It feels like his legs, wrapped around your waist, as you give him piggy-back rides up and down the beach.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like tears running down my cheeks as he, Ensermo, says, “I love you and I want you to come back here.  Promise me you will come.”

When Heaven comes down, it feels like fresh rain pounding down after weeks of boiling sunshine.  It feels like the mud beneath your feet as you run in open space.  It feels like puddles splashing all around as you dance wildly before the Lord.  It feels like water streaming down your face as you look boldly to Lord and praise Him for the rain.  It feels like the gripping of hands as you try your hardest to keep your best friend from falling.  It feels like wet clothing, sticking to you as run to bring everyone out into the rain.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like the crisp air and cool breeze that come over you after an unexpected shower.

When Heaven comes down, it feels like a child pouncing on you from behind when you least expect it.  It feels like his grip around your shoulders as he makes every effort to climb onto a truck to make sure he gets to tell you goodbye.  It feels like his arms around your neck as he looks you in the eye and reminds you of his name for the twenty-third time.  It feels like his elbow in your face as he scrambles to get off the truck before he gets in trouble.  It feels like his hand squeezing your hand as you help him to the ground.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like your heart racing as you anxiously await the next time you will see him.

When Heaven comes down, it feels like the hands of precious friends, praying blessing over your next year of life.  It feels like a dozen taps on the shoulder, as friends receive prophetic words for you, one after another.  It feels like a friend placing a pillow beneath your head so you don’t get hurt as you get wrecked.  It feels like your stomach turning with excitement as your friends gather around and sing songs for your twenty-first birthday.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like the radiating warmth that comes from the deep love of precious friends.

When Heaven comes down, it feels like an explosion of emotions, none of which can be put into words.  It feels like three months worth of experiences that cannot be explained.  It feels like deep emotional wounding and healing.  It feels like your heart beaming with compassion as you live your life in the poorest nation in the world.  It feels like the rush of excitement as you pray for the blind and see them healed.  It feels like embrace of beautiful friends when there are no words to comfort one another.  It feels like a child’s head on your shoulder as he begs you not to leave.  It feels like a hundred little hands, tapping you on the back, begging for bread.  It feels like the waves of the ocean crashing over you in the afternoon heat.  It feels like the dirt beneath your feet as you chase children down the beach.

When Heaven comes down, it feels like you are home.  It feels like you are in the center of God’s will.  It feels like you are fully alive.  It feels like no attempt of the enemy can take you down.  It feels like you are full of the strength of God.  It feels like you are on fire, like you could burn through any sickness or disease.  When Heaven comes down, it feels like you could never imagine your life any different; it feels like everything is just as it should be.

I plan on updating all of you in detail as soon as I have better internet connection, but I will give you what little I can right now.

So many things have happened in the past ten weeks of my life.  I honestly have no idea how to even put any of my experience into words.  It seems crazy to think that this experience is nearly over.  It seems like just yesterday that I was on the plane, not knowing what would happen with my face, hoping the Lord would protect me, and praying I would make it through.  In one sense, it feels as if I just arrived here yesterday, and in another sense, it feels as if I have been here for at least a year.  I have learned so much and seen so many things, and yet it feels like I have seen so little.  I just know there is so much more!  There is always more!!!!!

Being here has felt so normal.. so ordinary.  At first, I was confused by this.  I thought maybe I was missing something, maybe I was not receiving the fullness of His purpose for me this summer.  He finally revealed this to me:  This is not some mountain top experience.  This is not a church camp that you come to get on fire, then burn out when you get home.  This is how my life should be.  This experience is simply a launch pad for me into the mountain top experience, which is my life laid down for Christ.

I want to tell you so much more.. There are so many jokes, so many misadventures, so many testimonies, and so many memories.  I promise to share in detail as soon as get home!!!!