All We Can Do

I have really been blessed in the grandparent department. My childhood was a steady stream of sweet memories with four of the sweetest people. Four very different & distinct personalities that really blessed my socks off. They all in their own way always pointed me towards Jesus. I can't put into words or even try to measure the impact of that---their examples have really set the bar high in my life. Such blessings.

I always miss my mom's mother a little more this time of year. When it reaches that point of winter for me when it just seems like it can't get any colder and I'm overly tired of snow, my heart always turns to my grandmother. It's hard to believe that she passed away seven years ago. The last five years of her life, I found myself spending a lot of one on one time with her. I would drive to her house and spend a few days with her a couple times throughout the year just to help her out with cleaning & shopping. Those were the end of my college years and the beginning of my full time ministry years and those 48 hour trips with my Grandma always seemed to be just what I needed. In those days together, we pretty much talked non-stop. I felt a new openness to share everything with her...my fears, my struggles, my joys and she would do the same with me. I loved the stories she'd tell me about my grandfather and there were usually tears from both of us. It was a closeness I had never had with her before and it led to one of my very favorite memories with her because after a few years of my Grandma visits, she started calling me on the phone.

At first, I remember being a little surprised to hear my Grandma's voice on the other end but as it became more regular I grew to love these conversations more and more. One night, in the dead of winter, I found myself home alone and roommate-less. No ministry events or students slamming through the front door to see what was for dinner. It was unusually quiet. I was sitting on the couch watching the snow fall from the huge picture window in my family room, when my phone rang, it was my sweet Grandma. She wondered if it was snowing in Hillsdale, just like it was in Greenville, where she lived.

For some reason, I have no idea why, I burst into tears, I started sharing with my Grandma all my fears and uncertainties about ministry and God's plan for me. I have no idea how she understood me. I remembered when I stopped talking that I expected her to maybe be emotional or upset too. But calmly, on the other end of the phone she said "Sometimes, Stephie, all we can do is just turn it over to Jesus," and she began to pray for me.

That was the last time we ever talked on the phone. She lived another year  and I had visits with her but for some reason neither of us ever called each other. In some ways, I regret that, in other ways I feel like that last phone conversation was the exactly the reminder conversation I would need for the rest of my life.

I was reminded of it very early this morning after I crawled out of bed, dreading to turn back my curtain to see how much snow had fallen overnight. I found myself just starring out at the falling snow--and instead of starting my day with a spirit of thankfulness found myself worrying about a lot of things in my life right now I don't have tons of control over--or any control over.

All of a sudden, I could hear my sweet grandmother's voice. I could hear her prayer for me to turn it over. A beautiful reminder, again and again that sometimes all we can do and all we need to do is simply turn it over to Jesus.

"Cast all your anxiety on Him, for he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7

Mismatched.

Whenever I host a dinner party there's about 10 minutes right before guests arrive where I have nothing to do. Everything is clean. The table is set. The food needs to stay in the oven just a couple more minutes. Usually, in those 10 minutes I take a moment to sit down and wait. This often gives me just the right amount of time to over analyze the meal and my preparations. If only I had taken time to get fresh flowers or if only I would have dusted that picture frame above the TV. I can be a little obsessive over the details in that small window before guests arrive.

Last night, just before youth leaders filled my tiny home for dinner, I took a second to over analyze the assortment of chairs around the two tables I had set up for dinner. It's easy to dress up a table. Throw a table cloth and some center pieces on it and it's a little more pulled together. But there's not a whole lot you can do about ugly folding chairs and mismatched kitchen chairs from Ikea.

For a second last night, I longed for a beautiful formal dinning room with one long table filled with perfectly matching chairs. Images of Pottery Barn show rooms flashed through my mind. For a second all I could focus on was the ugly metal folding chairs instead of the beauty of the meal I had prepared for a group of people I cherish. For that moment, I wasn't focused on the blessing of being able to host dear student ministry volunteers and friends instead all I could see was the mismatched and the tiny apartment.

And then as quickly as those 10 minutes came...guests arrived and they were gone. No one mentioned the mismatched chairs. When I crawled into bed last night I opened up my devotional to my Advent reading, Luke 2:4-8,

    

 ^"So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a signto you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

How many times have I read this scripture? Dozens and dozens of time. It hit me in a whole new way. God brought His Son into the world in the most mismatched and humble way. He used teenagers and shepherds. There is nothing pulled together or Pottery Barn show room about being born in a barn filled with animals. It reminded me how often I  get so caught up in the details that I forget about the joy God brings into the world through the most mismatched & unlikely of situations. 

I started thinking about what if the Church looked a little more mismatched? I think about the big churches and student ministry models that we sometimes feel stacked up too...if only we had a Starbucks in the Narthex or a multi-million dollar youth facility...and don't get me wrong, I know those tools are used to further the Kingdom. But I'm wondering instead of looking up to those huge pillars of ministry...we started with what we have. If ministry began in our homes & our neighborhoods and moved up from there. If adoption & foster parenting wasn't so foreign but something we talked about and prayed about more together in the Church...if our internal ministry events look more like outward opportunities to love those who live all around us. It could be a little messy. It may not match up to what we've always been before. 

But I'm sensing an urgency in my own heart to not be okay with the norm. I'm thankful for this season of Advent that serves as a reminder that as we wait there's still room to let God move and work in our hearts. I'm praying that I can surrender the need for it all to be pulled together & that I would recognize the joy in the mismatched. 

One Of Those Days

I'm having one of those days in student ministry where I don't have any programming responsibilities or commitments with my students today & yet I woke before the sun was up feeling a heaviness to cover them with prayer. To surrender them one by one to my Father because I feel the burden of their struggles and of being a teenager and know that there's no way I can protect them from the pain of this world. A heaviness in knowing all I can do is surrender them in prayer & strive to lead a ministry that points them to Jesus.

Days like today are an honor. Their faces fill my heart & my mind. So much to thank God for in the gift of each of them. Days like today are also hard. It's a reminder of the type of calling student ministry is and the weight of opportunity it brings to further the Kingdom.

I ended up at the gym this morning when I could no longer sleep. As soon as I climbed onto the treadmill I thought about how much I'd rather be back in bed. My God who knows every thought in my head, filled my heart in that instant with this verse: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Hebrews 12:1

Student Ministry. Teenage Years. Growing nearer to Jesus. All of these wonderful and hard gifts are not a sprint. They require perseverance and prayer and surrendering. Heartache doesn't heal overnight, a close walk with the Lord doesn't happen instantly after an alter call & youth groups don't go from 50 to 500 in 3 years...and not on our own accord.

I'm thankful for the reminder on the humbling and hard days that my Father can handle it even when I get tangled up in my own sin of worry and struggle to surrender. That He's designed me for the long haul with Him and He can use a treadmill & an unexpected early Saturday morning to help remind me of His care for me and each of the students I'm so honored to know and love.

Bubbles

I've been thinking a lot about the bubbles I find myself surrounded in. It's easy to take everything that's important to me and isolate those things in their own bubble. Whether it's my ministry life, my personal life, the way I spend my time & my resources. I often find myself protective over what's mine.

I don't think I'm the only one, right? I look around at the culture around us and there are silos everywhere. Family time. Work time. Even my down-time for the most part is a bubble of my life that is about me...whether it's spent cleaning or doing laundry. It seems easiest to put a big cone around it and call it my own and move on.

Friday mornings are one of my favorite weekly bubbles. It's time spent with a group of Lawrence North students through the Radical LN--Campus Life group, led by Chris Rickelman. I love those early mornings, despite what my glasses, messy pony tail & running clothes might be saying, I really do love beginning the day with this group & God's Word.

Last Friday, we read together in Mark 2 about Jesus healing the paralytic. I've read this story dozens of times throughout my life, but when we studied it last Friday morning--God connected his message in this miracle of healing through Jesus with this thought of life bubbles that I've had rolling around in my heart.

The part of the passage that struck me in a new way, was the boldness and determination of the paralytics friends to get him to Jesus. These guys were willing to cut a hole in the roof of a house to lower him down to be near Jesus.

"And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.  And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay.  And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” 

There's a lot we don't know about these men who brought the paralytic to the feet of Jesus. I'm pretty sure it's safe to guess that they all had other stuff going on in their lives. They all had bubbles filled with different obligations and priorities. But they got it. They had the boldness, heart and desire to bring their friend to Jesus no matter what it took. They knew that through Him came healing and redemption. It was worth it to take the time & energy to see this through.

I've been thinking a lot about how many missed opportunities I've had to bring others to Jesus because I've been so isolated within my own bubbles. Even my own ministry. I love that in this story it doesn't say that one dude carried the paralytic to Jesus--but 4 men came together to bring their friend to him. And Jesus saw their faith instantly. I love that reminder--we weren't called or designed to be in this on our own. God has called us to boldness in our faith together. I want more of that boldness. I'm praying for it...I'm clinging to God's grace to help change my heart, to let down the walls of selfishness of my own stuff...the bubbles that fill my life.

I want to be ready to get up on that roof...to be aware of the opportunities I have to lead others to the feet of Jesus.

And when he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. And many were gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door. And he was preaching the word to them.  And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.  And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”  Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts,  “Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”  And immediately Jesus,perceiving in his spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them, “Why do you question these things in your hearts?  Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’?  But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he said to the paralytic— “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.”  And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We never saw anything like this!”  Mark 2:1-12

Less

I have not been many places in this world. I have only spent 36 days total outside of the country that is my home. That's not a whole lot of time. Let me begin by saying how thankful I am to live in America. How thankful I am for the freedom and opportunity that comes with being born and raised in such a blessed nation. Every time I sing a patriotic song, I have to fight back tears. I was blessed to attend a college where I was required to read and study the Constitution before graduating. I don't take lightly what a blessing it is to call the United States my home.
If my 36 days outside my country have taught me anything--they've opened my eyes to how easy it can be to become caught up in the wrong set of priorities.

A new car. A bigger home. A new outfit for a big event. A cup of coffee handed to me in a matter of minutes. The newest apple product. More and more. My 36 days outside of the land of plenty have taught me that less is enough. What a gift it is to spend time in another country, in another culture and learn from the lives of others. It has been humbling to me to learn time and time again how little is really required to experience joy. When the culture around me in my every day often shouts "upgrade...make more money...buy more stuff..." my time outside of my own culture has reminded me how silly that message can be and how often I buy into it. Friends and others sometimes say to me "I could never do a mission trip like that," or list off the dangers or expense of travelling out of the country. And I can understand where they are coming from. Maybe it isn't for everybody. But I find myself wondering what I would be like without these experiences....without these wake up calls & reminders to help realign me with what is really important. When I study the life of Jesus and the parables he taught, over and over again his followers and disciples didn't fully understand the truth He was pointing them too. It was easy for them to get hung up on the way things should be--or the things he should be saying as a teacher. Don't we get a lot like that ourselves? The church should be teaching this...or preaching this...when often the heart and the truth of where we should align ourselves is right in front of us. I am not pointing the finger here at anyone other than myself. My challenge for myself is to allow the lessons I've learned about joy & selflessness to now become the root of my daily decisions. The way I spend my resources and my time. A friend asked me yesterday, if I would recommend a trip to a developing country to absolutely anyone and without hesitation my answer is yes. And if out of the country seems too far fetched then start with a small step out of your comfort zone...get to know the neighbors on your street, volunteer within a ministry of your church family or within your community. On my bathroom mirror is a post-it note, with this reminder "Joy doesn't mean more." 36 days have helped me with this wake up call...I have a long way to go but am praising God for His grace in the midst of striving..."Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. Ephesians 5:1-2"

Estefania.

                                           





























I remember sitting in the office of my college prof advisor picking the schedule for my first semester of undergrad. It was time to select which foreign language I would study. I had taken  5 years of French in middle school and high school but suddenly I heard the sentence "Sign me up for Spanish 101," come out of my mouth. I remember the look on my parents face when I told them my decision. I think they were confused as to why I would begin a new language at a time where I'd have a lot of other academic transitions ahead. I also, remember the tone in my Dad's voice when I called after a semester of Spanish to ask if I could drop it for a semester. (I didn't end up dropping). Learning a language is not easy for me. I had to work hard for every B, I squeaked by with during those college semesters. But somewhere, deep in my heart I knew that there was a reason I wanted that base knowledge. As a high school senior I remember spouting off the phrase "wanting to do mission work."

It's part of what influenced me to make the language switch in college. Never could I have known the sweet faces that would embrace my small amount of Spanish years later in a small hillside community in Guatemala. For the first day with the children I spent a week with, all I could say over and over again was my name. I wanted them to at least know, they could call me by name and I spent the day working hard to memorize each of theirs...Axel, Kimberly, Jorge, Oliver, Juan, Mary, Deena, Adelita, Archely, Clara, Diego, Diela...the list went on and on as the numbers of children grew over the week I spent in their community. We were tied together by each others names. Although, I would often lack the sentences I wanted to say to them. I could wrap them into a huge hug or pull them into my lap to say "Bueno, Deena" after receiving another crayon drawing or handmade rubberband bracelet. They taught me Jesus Loves Me in Spanish and I taught them Deep in Wide in English. We would skip in a circle with the parachute and they'd just yell over and over "Estefania, Estefania!"

What these sweet children taught me over and over again last week is that love doesn't require many words. Affirmation sometimes means the most through a smile or the look of gratitude from one set of eyes to another. I couldn't say everything I wanted to say to the children, but as tears streamed down my face as I prepared to give final goodbye hugs on the last day, they huddled around me wiping my cheeks and hugging me. They knew how much I had grown to love them. Isn't God's love such a beautiful gift? He ties us together no matter what the barrier between us when we strive to love others in His name. He bridges our differences. Suddenly, Indiana and Guatemala don't seem so far apart & a piece of my heart remains with each of the sweet faces I know and match with a name in my daily prayers.

No matter what happens, always be thankful, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:18

A Reminder

My beloved prayer journal broke. The 3 ring binder that I bought at the college book store my sophomore year at Hillsdale, literally snapped apart the other night. It's a binder that I have hauled with me all over this country. It survived the move from Michigan to Mississippi & then made it back from Mississippi to Indiana, over 3 years ago. I thought it may last forever....and then it snapped and the notebook pages of years & years of prayers were strewn all over my bedroom carpet.

As I sat down to reorganize them and stick them in a file folder until a new binder can be purchased, this page from 2004 was staring back at me. A reminder. A glimpse at my past self. The unknowns of what waited ahead of me. And here I am, 7 years into full time ministry later, reading these words that I wrote. It seems clear why my journal broke.  I needed to read these words & be reminded of God's faithfulness and provision. I've never shared anything from my prayer journal before, but perhaps the words of a college junior can bring some encouragement to you in that God's plan for your life when it may seem uncertain & hard at times...HE is the author worth trusting in. I'm in awe of this journal entry and all the many blessings God has brought into my life through full time student ministry. Thanks, Father for being so good to me.


October 14, 2004

 Dear Jesus,

I'm scared. I feel you moving and working in my heart in ways that are new and uncertain. It's scary because I'm the girl who has been writing down a wish list of names for my future babies since I was a little girl. I have dreamed and longed for motherhood for as long as I can remember. I have hoped and prayed that college would bring my husband and that chapter of my life. I think I actually came to Hillsdale planning on you to unfold all of that for me the way I'd like that...right now. In some ways, it seems that you are. 

But here's the scary part, Jesus...and I know you know how scary this is for me to even spell out on this page tonight...I am falling in love with youth ministry. Like, really, really falling in love. It's like you are opening doors to my heart and stretching me in ways I never even knew that I could love you--through the ways you are at work in these kids. I want to do this. I feel your call and your nudge for me to say yes to this. 

That's scary. I have a midterm to write and three Collegian deadlines ahead of me tonight & all I can think about is how much I'm falling in love with youth ministry and that I want to follow you down this road. What does this mean for my plans, Lord? What does this mean for the desires of my heart? 

Thank you for knitting me together and for loving me and for placing this on my heart even though I'm not sure how to answer this call. Help me to be faithful. Father, help me to say yes, when I need to and surrender when I need to surrender. 

Lord, I want to pray for the students you will bring into my life. I have no idea what lies ahead but I can sense that there are teenagers who I have yet to meet that you have called me to know and to love. Wherever they are right now, whoever they are, Lord, I lift them to you. 

Help me to have strength & courage in this...thank you in advanced for all the grace you will shower over me as I navigate where you're leading. 

May Your will be done. I love you. Amen.