A Sweet Longing

At the beautiful creek
which flows from the smooth,
straight cut angles of
The Place Under the Bridge
into the weathered rocks of
Time,
I am not there;
I am sitting on Jesus' knee,
still, quiet, content.
The cars passing by see
me sitting in the grass
among the wild flowers;
but I myself am not there.

In my own solitary room,
at 5:47 am,
I am not sitting in my pink bowl chair;
I am in Africa
smiling
holding the babies
that I have found
or maybe, they have found me.
They smile, laugh,
and I am overflowing with joy.

In the car, watching
the trees rush by
just beyond my window,
I am not there;
I am in the Amazon jungle,
breaking the chains of
injustice,
poverty.
I am making necklaces with
beads of sky, charms of silver
alongside Thai women
who have come from a
life of enslavement.
Now, they and I are equal.
We work
and are paid fairly.

It's not that I don't like
the creek,
my room,
the car.
But why can I not be there?

To Be Honest...

To be honest, it's been very tough lately. 


I don't understand anything. Really, I don't.

I'm truly coming to terms with how much I need JESUS. My own strength is not enough. It was never enough.

Trust? It's a hard concept for me to swallow.

But how else would I have faith?

See, faith is an action. It doesn't take much to say, "Okay, God, I believe that you're there."

But putting your whole life in His hands? That's hard.

But it's worth it. On my knees, crying out for Him. It's the most beautiful place to be. He swoops down, pulls me into His lap, and says, "Darling, you are mine."



When I can't feel You
I have learned to reach out just the same.
When I can't hear You
I know you still hear every word I pray.
And I want You
More than I want to live another day.
And as I wait for You
Maybe I'm made more...faithful.

You Are So Much More Than All Of This

    Rather painful realization: Just because I'm putting my entire self into loving everyone doesn't mean that the people that I am ministering to won't be mean.
    I mean, some of the stuff that I hear people say about each other is just awful. I don't have a clue how you can say something so terrible and hurtful about another human being, to their face, behind their back, at any time! Whenever I hear gossip or people putting each other down, I just sit there and think, "That is a beautiful child of the Lord. How in the world can you think that, let alone say it loud enough for anyone to hear?"
    I know, I can't expect everyone to have the same convictions as I do or realize that they're doing wrong, but seriously? Come on now, get into Jesus love and stop putting energy into stomping on other people's emotions.
    At one point on this Friday, I had to go somewhere to be by myself. What I heard coming out of mouths was so narrow-minded and hateful that I couldn't bear to listen to it. Worse, they were laughing about it, enjoying simmering in their horrid words.
     I stood outside, feeling the cool breeze, looking at the beautiful sunset, and cried. I know now that God has allowed my eyes and ears to be connected right to his heart: It hurt so bad, the insulting jokes that they were making, and they weren't even about me! If that's how it feels to be compassionate to someone who's being made fun of, how does it feel to God when he watches his beautiful children (Ecclesiastes 3:11) killing each other? 
    Fortunately, God takes moments of my brokenness to blow me up with HIM.
    On the way back from a band competition, we stopped to eat at Western Sizzlin'. In the middle of us laughing, talking, a man busted up in the room that the forty or so of us were sitting and loudly informed everyone that Jesus had literally saved his life and that he was walking with the Lord that day. I clapped along with everyone else, but since I didn't catch everything that he said, I, along with several of the other band members, went over to his table to ask him to give us his testimony. Man, was it a testimony! This guy had been called by the Lord about 6 years ago to leave EVERYTHING that he had, his family, his job, everything...to ride around in a trailer with Jesus painted on it, witnessing to everyone he comes into contact with. He just shows up wherever the Lord leads him to go and tells people about Jesus. That blows my mind! It attests to the Lord's faithfulness that he called this normal guy out to do something so completely insane and stick with him through it. Not only that, it confirms how much God cares for me that he would orchestrate this huge encouragement on the day that I felt so far away from him. Gathered around an ordinary table at an ordinary restaurant, many of us were so overcome with everything He is that we cried together! How amazing is that!
    On the two and a half hour drive back, me and God had some alone time. I have to admit, there were tears and anger (from me, of course). But, God simply asked me a question: "Sarah, don't you think that I'm bigger than all of this? Against these gossipers, these feelings, this sense of disconnect, even Satan, I have already won!"

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own."                             
                                  -Philippians 3:12

In Honor of Holy Toothpaste

    When I'm in a bad mood, most likely, I don't have any reason whatsoever to be so. I mean seriously, usually nothing bad has happened, no one has yelled at me or hurt my feelings in any way. I just so happen to be in a terrible mood.
    This was the case last Thursday. I had a day off of school, so in the morning, I was pretty excited about having an unexpected sabbath that I hardly ever get to have, what with school work, afterschool band practice, keeping up relationships. And at first, it was fairly nice, just lazing around the house for the day.
    But then, I got insanely bored. And Sarah does not deal well with boredom; I'm restless and full of energy without being able to think about what I want to do. I actually ended up crying out of frustration.
      So there I was, laying on my bed upside down, crying out of boredom, frustration, confusion, and other feelings I don't even have words to describe. All through this little episode, I was trying to figure out why I was feeling so very bad, attempting to place comforting words into God's mouth that would make me feel better. But I ended up trying to comfort myself and figure out how joy worked and all of these hardcore issues, and that just made my brain go even more crazy. I was having a legit problem with "being still and knowing that he is God".
    (Yes, I know, this post has been kind of whiny so far. But I promise, there is a point to this story!) 
    After several torturing minutes of all of these feelings and thoughts swirling around in my brain like a merry-go-round, God finally did speak to me. He said..."Go brush your teeth."
    Okay, God, you are nuts! I'm trying to figure out some serious issue about trust and joy and thankfulness, and you're telling me to go brush my TEETH? At that point, however, I was so desperate to feel better that I just did what he told me to do.
    Brush brush brush, breathe breathe breathe, be still still still. It was so easy to focus on those three simple tasks that my dizzying merry-go-round thoughts slowed down and gave me a break.
    I'm pretty sure that I used some holy toothpaste (Crest with Scope Outlast for anyone who might be wondering), because God spoke right to me somewhere in the middle of all that. He said, "Sarah, you can't try to process everything yourself and figure it out logically, and then claim that I did it. You've got to shut up and listen to what I have to say. That's the only way that your words will be clean and pure, because MY words are clean and pure."
    WHOA. You know that God is taking over your life when he gives you revelations over toothpaste.
    Since this event of brushing teeth, I've been listening more and more to what God is saying instead of saying what I want to say. And you know what? Friday, Saturday, and today have been completely amazing. I am at peace about everything I have done throughout these three days, because I asked God first what I needed to do, and I did it with joyful, clean hands. He, and only he, has purifies the words of my mouth and the works of my hands. I couldn't be happier.

"Give us clean hands
Give us pure hearts
Let us not lift our souls to another
Oh, God, let us be
A generation that seeks
That seeks your face
Oh God of Jacob."

Asking

"For your nearness, Lord, I hunger.
For your nearness, Lord, I wait.
Hold me ever closer, Father
With such a love I can't escape.


For your nearness I am hoping.
For your nearness, Lord, I long.
I have no need of any other;
I have found where I belong!


So draw me nearer, Lord;
Never let me go!
Closer to your heart,
Just draw me nearer, Lord."


    At a first glance, Draw Me Nearer by Meredith Andrews doesn't seem like the kind of song that could wreck you.
    Believe me. It does.
    When I first heard this song, I automatically loved it. I mean, who wouldn't? Meredith Andrews is kind of amazing. It helped me be grateful for the nearness of MY Jesus. To have an intimate relationship with him, to hear him whisper in my ear just when I need it...it's pretty awesome.
    But. Being near to Jesus? Not always a picnic. I am called out to talk to people I don't even KNOW to tell them about him. Whaaaaaat? He yanks me, somehow gently, out of my comfort zone. He makes me fall in love with him, which makes me fall in love with other people, which ends up with a squished heart. I liked my heart when it was whole and I didn't have to put it out on the line for anyone to come along and stomp on. That whole "taking up your cross" thing is much harder than I would have anticipated.
    However, there is wholeness in my brokenness. I still have not really figured out how, but when I'm crying my eyes out, I am somehow pulled up out of my ugly pit and cradled in my Father's arms. When I straight up tell God, "I physically cannot do this", I find that I can.
    I guess it's the humility that I need to get a hold of. I've always been very good at whatever I do. I am great at owning the illusion of control. But I, Sarah, can't do anything that he calls me to do. I have to learn how to become nothing so he can fill me up to be everything.
    Asking God to draw nearer to me is a dangerous request. I'm daring to ask.


"Where you are is where I'm home...there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

One More.

    I always thought that to be on the mission field, you had to be in a different country, or working with a ministry, or serving food to someone that had none, or praying with someone. I always connected the term "missions" to having incredible experiences all the time.
    Now I know. That's not the case.
    To be on the mission field is to put yourself completely out there. And that doesn't always giving you unicorns and rainbows or a fluffy feeling in your heart.
    Not to say that those fluffy feelings where you just KNOW that you've served the Lord to someone that day aren't real.
    But the pain, irritation, anger, frustration, loneliness is so real, too.
    To be on the mission field is to learn to love people that physically cannot love you back. That hurts.
    To be on the mission field is to love those people that hate you. And when you do love them, when your heart reaches out to them, that gives them power to harm you. They may not even do it on intentionally. But you see them choosing the path that turns them away from the one who loves them the most. Your heart breaks with compassion. You cry for them often, because you know that no matter how much you love them and try to show it to them, you can't make their choices for them. That hurts. A lot.
    To be on the mission field is to want to lash out in irritation when someone gets under your skin, but can't because that's not the way to show love. That is some kind of trial.
    To be on the mission field is to feel as if nothing that you're doing is making any kind of difference. You serve and serve and love and love and pray and pray and see nothing changing. That's frustrating.
    To be on the mission field is to feel completely alone at times. You've built up a team that you know has your back, but they can't be with you to experience everything. You are forced to rely on God in every situation. That's so hard, because when you're right in the thick of everyday goings-ons, you don't have time to sit there and listen to what God tells you to do. There are moments when you even feel abandoned by God when you don't know what to say. That's scary.
    To be on the mission field is to tear down every concept of "normal" that you've built for yourself your entire life and start living the way that Jesus calls you to.
    My mission field? High school. Yikes. Sometimes, I wish I could just love on some orphans. At least they hug you back.
    BUT. I know that I can't go back to who I once was. Even though this life that I've chosen is a million times harder than it would be if I were to just be a normal 15 year old girl, it's so much more fulfilling. I own the freedom that my classmates have not even experienced. I know how it is to let go completely. I am able to be filled up by love so deep that it brings me to tears to get just a taste. I have total confidence in the Lord's plans for my life. I have no idea what I need to do with my life, this year, even tomorrow. But I am positive that it will be shown to me, and that plan will be so much bigger than I could have ever come up with on my own.
    More than that, it is an honor to be chosen to be a light to the class of 2014. It is a privilege to pour love into my peers. I am planting the seeds that will be harvested 10, 15, 25 years from now. I will have affected someone's life, even if they don't know it right now. I will be someone that they will look back on when they're changed by the love of a Savior and say, "OH. THIS is what that weird Sarah girl was all about in high school."
    I remember all of this. That doesn't mean that I don't get discouraged a lot (every day...). But when I see transformations start with the people I have been pouring into, transformations that God has worked through me and all the ones that have poured into that one person, I am more than satisfied. One more has come to a relationship with their Creator. One more has experienced love in a new way. One more is chasing after their Lord.
    This is my mission field, right here in Mississippi. I don't have a ministry or a mission statement. But I have a calling and a God who gives me so much love that I have to pass it on. How can I not be a part of that?

Praying Small to Learn to Pray Big

    As I arrived at WeWillGo, I could already feel the prayerful presence. Crunching through rocks while the prayer went on with linked hands, I let out a happy sigh and felt my anticipation rise. For a beautiful half hour, the one hundred or so of us gathered came before God, truly "putting ourselves in the offering plate."
    After the last amen, we received instructions, divided up into groups, accepted a handful of chapters to read from the Holy Book, were handed a sheet with specific prayers to pray, and got sent out to the streets of Jackson, Mississippi.
    Okay, explanation time. The idea was to read the entire Bible in an hour, to this city where you can physically see the need for the Word. Honestly, I was a little bit hesitant when I first heard what I was going to be doing. I mean, reading the Bible when no one was listening? Reading the Bible when people driving by stopped to listen? That's pretty out-of-the-box stuff for this little white girl who quite enjoys The Box.
    But when I got myself situated on the side of a nearly empty road, took a preparation breath and started reading from Jeremiah, my words took on a power that I KNEW did not belong to me. The meaning behind the words that I was reading didn't matter too much to me. Just reading them was a cup of cold water not only for my spirit, but the city as well. I imagined the words reaching from Lamar Street up to the skies and blossoming, spreading far over the city, covering it with the love of Christ, changing as it bloomed.
   After a while, I handed off my worn pink and brown Bible, and started walking up and down the cracked asphalt, looking at abandoned, broken down houses. Growing up in "good" neighborhoods, I had never seen these sorts of buildings before: ones with burn marks on the ceilings from fires that homeless people had set inside the house to get warm; ones that had broken windows; ones that had overgrown lawns with beer bottles strewn all around; ones that quite possibly had been used for terrible acts of violence, prostitution, crack houses. Seeing them with my own eyes ingrained it into my brain: This really happens. This really happens a couple minutes from home. 
    But as I prayer walked, I began to see them with different, hopeful eyes. After all, the staff at WeWillGo has taken houses exactly like these and restored them into vessels for passing on the gift of grace. Why can't God reach down and redeem these, too?
    You see, he not only CAN. But he DOES.
    With the simple act of going out and babbling some written words on the street corners, many were blessed. People were stopped dead in their tracks by the word of the Lord; people heard the name of Jesus for the first time EVER; people learned how to pray; children stepped out of the protection of their parents into the eternal protection of their Father, to read and pray by themselves. The change was felt by all. 
    Coming back to the outdoors worship center, I was dared to pray bigger. Don't just pray for that house; pray for the street. Pray for Jackson. Pray for Rankin County. Pray for Mississippi. Pray for America. Pray for the world. Pray that God will save the whole thing!
    And he will.