The Story of Our Engagement

Disclaimer: This isn’t the short version.

Those who know me know that I am rarely woman of few words, especially when telling stories that are precious to me.  This blog might seem to meander, but I assure you it’s all thoughtfully put together.

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Russell and I had marriage in mind from the very beginning of our dating relationship.  The Sunday night – of March 2, 2014 – that he came over and dissolved our platonic friendship into a new frontier, he was up front that he didn’t want to date pointlessly (neither did I!) and that he wouldn’t have broached this topic if he hadn’t seen long term potential between the two of us.

A few months into our dating relationship, although I didn’t know when Russell would propose, we both knew we didn’t want to wait long to be married and we weren’t excited about a long engagement. 

Months before Russell actually proposed, we had a date in mind for the wedding (ha, that’s how sure we were about each other – a luxurious feeling): March 1, 2015 (a Sunday).  That way, the first morning of our honeymoon would be the exact 12-month marker.  We loved the idea.

It was based on this idea that Russell chose September 1, 2014 to propose to me.  We’ve since had to change the wedding date, but neither of us knew that the night we got engaged.  Russell planned it so that his proposal would be exactly six months from our wedding day and the day before our six-month dating anniversary. 

Although our current, booked-with-PMC-wedding-date is FEBRUARY 22, 2015, I’ll always remember Russell’s thoughtfulness in how he planned the date of the proposal.

The whole time I’ve known Russell, I’ve known a man with both an amazing attention to detail and a deep reservoir of gentleness.  And it’s only gotten better with time.  Thanks to him, I’ve been blessed to know the privilege of what it’s like when the one you’re in love with becomes a student of knowing your intricacies, determined to grow in loving you and committed to defending your autonomy. 

I didn’t think a man like Russell could exist.  It’s actually strengthened my faith-in and helped heal my relationship-with God to meet, befriend, fall in love with and be loved by Russell Murnighan.  I’ve told him and now I’m telling you that his heart is made of the stuff of my wildest dreams.  I’m positive that is not a statement of “idealistic distortion” (hello, Prepare & Enrich!).  I fell for enough guys earlier on and observed even more since I was 12 years old to know what I wanted and to get a pretty decent grasp of what’s out there.  Russell is the closest summation of the list I’d never have shown anyone because they’d have said I wanted too much.  I almost thought I did too…!  He checks off an unbelievable number of my secret desires as well as fulfilling needs in my life I hadn’t even articulated yet.  But I realized they were needs as his involvement in my life gave me increasing relief and safety about some burdens I never contemplated I’d be capable of putting down.

Don’t worry, I know he’s not perfect.

No, we’re not “puppy love.”

Yes, we’ve had fights & disagreements…from early on!  And we average – in his words – about 1 significant fight per month or so at this point. 

But I’m sure that our fights don’t look like typical fights.  They are still marked by misunderstandings and alienating conflict and triggers that make walls go back up and mistakes and words we wish we could have taken back…

…but because these fights have happened and will happen between two people who love each other and genuinely want to understand each other and want to get better at being each other’s safe person, the conflicts are fewer and farther between than at first, and each new one becomes quieter and more articulate.  We have become more comfortable with conflict.  We know it’s not the enemy, but an opportunity.  Sometimes that makes the discomfort more acute early on, but it’s the equivalent of cannon-balling into cold water and getting used to its frigidity as soon as possible, rather than flirting with its temperature by wading in, then back out, then in, then back out and then who-knows-what-next.

Conflict is simply symptomatic of us both being human beings with sinful natures, wanting perfection but prone to imperfection. 

Conflict is normal in the human experience.  You will do your stress level a cooling favor if you accept conflict is not going to go away and guard your heart from being leveled every time you encounter an obstacle.

Describing Russell in the glowing tones I did earlier is not disqualified by imperfections and difficulties in our relationship, nor should it be accounted for by our love being in its early stages.  The more I get to know Russell, the more I’ve come to love and enjoy him while knowing everything about him.  I’m incredulous that the more he’s gotten to know me, he’s not gotten tired of me or used to me.  He loves and enjoys me more, even, than at first.  We take turns feeling awed that such a special relationship was spun for us in God’s mind and gifted to us in actuality.

One of the reasons, I’m sure, why being with Russell has sweetened over time is that God has used him to warm cold parts of me and ease certain pains that I’ve privately borne for years.  Pains I sometimes forgot I was carrying.  Russell’s love has aided and abetted me in reconnecting with Jesus, my First Love. 

A merciless season of loss in 2011 left me with C-PTSD and an extremely battered relationship with God.  The emotional trauma, chest pain and debilitating grief were disorienting to me in a way I will never forget.  It was a painful corner turned of irrevocable loss and a completely obliterated understanding of what I had control over.  My suffering genuinely frightened me because it literally made me feel like I wasn’t myself anymore; that I’d become someone I didn’t recognize.  It changed everything.  Books couldn’t help me fix myself, playlists of songs were bandaids covering the bullet wound, and for a while I stopped prayer journaling for a reason I couldn’t explain back then.  It felt too hard to approach God.  Too painful, overwhelming and maybe even dangerous (?) to unearth how I felt on pages. 

I quit school for a year to get my bearings before returning to finish my degree.  When I wasn’t working as a caregiver for Private Duty Home Healthcare (I didn’t know ahead of time but read later that helping others is recommended therapy for loss!), I was discovering that before suffering can deepen you, it reveals (*cough* Refiner’s Fire) how shallow you naturally are underneath the religious convictions you thought you had. 

I’m more thankful for my caregiving job than ever, because it made sure part of me, part of the time was being unselfish because out of my grief emerged subtle agreements stemming from “being kind to myself,” which became license to be as negative and self-focused as I had it in me to be.  At first, not being in school and not being accountable felt like freedom.  But then it gradually became like being stuck at a carnival, visiting the same amusements on a cycle of forced repeat.    

I didn’t feel free anymore, and what made me long to actually (!) have back the initially overwhelming grief was feeling that I’d gone dead inside; that moments of transparency were becoming brief and terribly rare, that I could only give heartfelt communication when being negative or anxious, that I got excited for the latest episodes of darkly callous TV shows (the way I once got excited about going to evening worship services and church on Sabbath mornings) as if they had life to pump into me. 

I let myself go in almost every way. 

Because of how I felt (where was my so-called faith?), I didn’t try to fight against what I knew was unhealthy in my life.  But I did try to have my cake and eat it too.  I didn’t cut God out, but I didn’t make Him first at all; I feebly tried to keep Him around with everything else I was doing. 

In His great faithfulness and endless grace, He worked defiantly salvaging creativity into the mistakes I made that year (which are the ones I regret the most), in a way that stopped my old blind life in its tracks (how He did that for me is a story for another blog).  All the changes in me that people have commented on these last few months didn’t happen all at once.  But last October 13, 2013, I finally chose to start trusting God despite my feelings, despite the initial cost and I let Him plant real submission in my heart.  The morning after I made that decision was the 2-year anniversary of when my beloved Dean Esperanza Muniz was killed in a car accident.  That has always been a dark day for me.  But in 2013, while it did involve tears, I was also revisited by genuine, quiet peace for the first time in nearly 4 years.

It was the best decision I ever made.  Although it involved breaking up with the only boyfriend I’d yet had (after a string of several messy emotional entanglements, from which I learned volumes), that decision was about so much more than an ex-boyfriend.  It was the beginning of really seeing my own sin, my own responsibility in my pain – all of it undeniable – and then working hard to change my life.  Time has given me perspective on that previous relationship and I can be grateful for it now as an experience of “the weeds growing up with the wheat and being separated at harvest time” to spiritualize it.  I don’t harbor any hard feelings or grudges toward the person I broke up with.  I am deeply thankful and liberated for what I learned, even though the experience was expensive.

The breakup reopened the old grief that had never healed right.  Fall semester 2013 was vividly painful yet bearable in that a small part of me was exhilarated to have peace, despite the storm the rest of my heart was experiencing as my regrets began to seriously hound me, irrespective of all the homework and studying I had to do.

The breakup wasn’t even a week old when Russell and I had our first memorable conversation.

(I’ll bet you were wondering when I’d get back to him & the proposal story!)

Our first real conversation – October 19, 2013 - happened in the same room where we first met (April 2013), months before the previous boyfriend & I’d begun dating.  And before even that, the first time Russell ever saw me was in January 2013 when I sang backup for Alison Brook Segura at a basement concert. 

When my future husband first saw me, I had no idea he was in the room and I didn’t feel worth pursuing by anyone. 

I was overweight with an awkward haircut and there were a few other people in the room I felt uncomfortable having to interact with.  I loved singing with Alison (you should buy her new album “The Heart of the Matter” on iTunes!), but it felt like a victory when I’d got home, having survived the challenges of that social scene.

When I first briefly interacted with my future husband, it was because he spoke to me.  I had taken one look at him and written him off as a soon-to-be-a-seminarian religion department nerd who might be girl crazy.  I had turned my back actually hoping he wouldn’t talk to me.  But while I never could figure out the day in April we met, I never forgot the event because the kindness of Russell’s first words to me took me by surprise: “Do you have an album too?” 

The night I sang backup, everyone on stage had an album, so Russell thought I might have had one too, bless him.  It took me awhile to figure out where he was coming from; once I did, I felt touched he’d remembered me 3-3.5 months later and had apparently enjoyed my singing (it turns out he thought I might logically have an album as well since everyone from the basement concert had one).  It wasn’t the beginning of a crush; just a brief & sweet moment that left me feeling appreciated when I hadn’t expected it. 

After a year of being a workaholic in the realm of healthcare that involved catheters, colostomy bags, stomach tubes, changing adult briefs (often getting gas in the face), wiping bottoms, phlegm, administering pills, Alzheimer’s, strong-attitudes-I-had-to-adapt-to, complex-routines-I-had-to-learn, cooking & cleaning and after all those dark TV shows I’d been hooked on where nobody says anything nice or simple or honest to one another, Russell’s first words to me were the nicest thing I’d heard in a long time; rain on dry ground. 

And then I went on my way and didn’t think about it too much. 

(P.S. Don’t get the idea that I hate my job; I actually love it!  It just has its moments…)

And then came October 19, 2013: our first true conversation. 

David Asscherick had come to Andrews University to do a series called “This Is My Church” and it was a strong dose of pure gospel.  

It was just what I needed after a painful decision of faith. 

It was so reassuring.   Healing.  Strengthening.

But the Saturday night before he got going, he gave a talk for the religion department (and then some) on marriage, relationships & holiness as part of a second wedding reception for a former classmate who’d gotten married in Italy – we were meeting his new bride for the first time. 

I look back and I love the irony.  How God must have been smiling that after all the wrong guys and at the one time I was finally so worn out that I wasn’t looking for a guy at all, At An Evening Talk On Marriage And Relationships, I’d begin a friendship with my future husband.  A fresh interest was the last thing on my mind (and Russell wasn’t interested in me either). 

I was too sore to think about someone new. 

Being sore is actually what started our friendship.  At that same reception was an older, motherly friend of the previous boyfriend who hadn’t seen me since before the breakup.  She was sweet and meant well but the conversation stirred my tears, and I did not want to have to pull myself together for the second time that night (David Asscherick’s wonderful wife Violeta had kindly listened to me earlier and prayed with me; I’d been blubbing then already).  So I politely excused myself, spied an empty chair a ways away and plunked myself across from Russell (since he looked like someone I assessed that I didn’t know well) and pretty bluntly said, “Hey you, talk to me, tell me about yourself, distract me.” 

And he did…!

Later that night a bunch of us went out to eat and Russell rode in my car; just the two of us.  We talked more.  I can remember what I wore that night; the dark teal t-shirt, cozy duster, loose light blue jeans, pink knitted hat and glasses.  I don’t regularly wear hats, but when I don’t want to do my hair because I’m tired or sad, I wear hats.  It makes life simpler.

I just wasn’t at my feminine best, nor was I in great shape at all.  It was just a Saturday night I was surviving…with my future husband.

How God must have been smiling,   

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Russell proposed to me in that exact spot; in those same two chairs: in the room where we first met, where our friendship began.  In the same place where I’d once been barely holding in my sadness and pain, Russell later gave me cause to barely be able to hold in my surprise and joy as he shared the words with me he’d been planning, and then knelt down to ask me to be his wife.

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For me, the day I got engaged began with a baby migraine at 2:00a while I was on a night shift.  The previous week, I’d returned from visiting my parents in California and was jet-lagged when I plunged right into a new schedule of 4 night shifts per week plus a weekend a few hours away with friends.  We’d come back from the weekend and I was off to a night shift.  All the disruption in my sleep (jet lag + travel + night shifts + normal sleep + night shifts again) was doubtless the reason for the migraine.  Luckily it didn’t fully bloom and I nuked it when I got home with ibuprofen, St. John’s Wort and a nap. 

Somehow I hadn’t registered that it was a holiday (Labor Day, hello) and so it surprised me that Russell came over “before his lunch hour.”  But I never complain at getting to see more of him because of our work schedules, etc.  He went with me to take an elderly friend to lunch, then we watched a movie together, talked about it afterward and were beginning to make plans for dinner…or so I thought.  I mean, we went grocery shopping but then Russell started exhibiting a mix between squirrely, spontaneous and sentimental.  I thought he was acting funny but wasn’t suspicious just yet.  Even when I got “suspicious” later at home, Russell had gotten me so convinced that the proposal wouldn’t be for awhile yet that I was telling myself, “No… it can’t be THAT…can it?!  No…”

Russell had Rahel Schafer (professor at AU religion department) text me to ask if I could come to her office in an hour and that it was important.  Unfortunately for Russell, I hadn’t seen the text when it was sent.  Of all the times I’d left the house and forgotten my phone (very rare occurrence), it had happened when we went grocery shopping.  So by the time I read the text, there wasn’t much time left…! 

Russell had redirected our supper from cooking at home (which had apparently been my misunderstanding) to supposedly eating out, because “It’s been such a nice day with you,” which I liked the sound of but I could not shake that he was behaving SO differently!  He says now with a smile that he’s so glad his proposal plan was the last secret he’d have to keep from me.  Normally we enjoy the luxury of being transparent with each other.  I guess that’s why, when either one of us is hiding something, there are tells all over the place and we just KNOW something is up.  J

Russell then said he’d run a fast errand to a friend’s house and then meet me at the religion department.  I arrived there and all the lights in the department were off as I approached that section of Buller Hall.  I saw the silhouette of a man who looked an awful lot like Russell doing things in the religion department.  Outside Rahel’s office window, I could see that there were no lights on. 

At this point I was more and more sure that this was…what I thought it was.  (Yet how can a girl assume she knows she’s about to get proposed to??)  I texted Rahel and got no response (she was texting Russell and wondering what she should say to me in reply, haha).  So then I stayed outside to give Russell more time to prepare (if my suspicions were correct) and called him, letting him know Rahel wasn’t answering & that her office light was off.  The poor guy (so stressed!), he suggested that I call her vs. text. 

So I did. 

Still nothing.

So I called him again & relayed my lack of success.  At this point he was genuinely sounding hurried and basically said, “I think you should just go inside.”

That was all I needed & I was up & into the religion department to let the chips fall where they might.

Russell met me at the door in a fresh change of clothes, playing a song that had become a favorite since the beginning of our relationships – “We Shall Always Be With the Lord” by Ellie Holcomb.  It’s actually a Scripture song about death & heaven, but its music sounds like a mix between a lullaby and fairy tale.  It has always communicated comfort and hope and sweetness to me.  I loved how it sounded before I knew the words & first heard it the day before Russell asked me to be his girlfriend.  I’d been listening to it on repeat right up until he came over to my house to have “the conversation” (I thought he’d just come to pick up a book he’d loaned me).  And when you recall that the last few years of my life had had so much loss – actual death & emotional death & spiritual death, broken relationships, loss of hope, etc. – then you can probably understand why I LOVE(D) that song so much.  It was the perfect song he could have chosen for that moment, in my opinion.  It was a song he’d introduced me to, a song that had been present for the beginning of our romantic relationship, a song of hope and of a promise that would be fulfilled, a song of being drawn together…  It was perfect for the night when my old life changed and I was significantly pulled once more into a newer and better life.

I had told Russell I wanted him to propose in private and that I wanted “lots of words.” J  Words of affirmation is my 2^nd love language; the 1^st is physical touch.  The song finished before he’d gotten halfway into his proposal and I actually put him on pause to turn it back on…!  What are moments like these without background music, you know?  J

During the proposal, he sat in the chair across from me like the night of our first conversation and held my hands.  When he actually knelt down in front of me it was so much to absorb (in the best kind of nervously joyful way) that hid my face in my hands.  He took my hands away, held them, looked up into my eyes (with an eye contact that had never wavered since he began) and said, “Will you marry me?”

I nodded first and said yes, quietly because my heart was so full I couldn’t yet start squealing or talking fast like I’m known to when I’m excited. 

The room had been entirely dark and around my chair, Russell had draped a string of lights and on the table next to my chair was a beautiful purple orchid he’d bought for me that morning (orchids are my favorite flower), and my engagement watch inside the book he’d “come to pick up” when he first asked me to be his girlfriend back in March (a commentary on the book of Romans), inside the chapter dealing with Romans 6 where my favorite Bible verse is located (6:14).

We’d been kissing for awhile when Dr. Munoz and his wife came in and the lights came on.  He said, “Guys, what are you doing here in the dark?” and Russell said, “Well, it’s because I was just proposing to Chloe!” and the most hilarious & kinda complex look of shock swept Dr. Munoz’ face and he said, “Well brother did you finish??!”  Oh such laughter and joy that night J J J  The pictures of the two of us from that night are courtesy of Dr. Munoz happening to walk in on our special moment J

We changed our Facebook statuses, posted pictures and went out to IHOP for supper in Benton Harbor.  We’d gone there for free pancakes the night we made our dating relationship Facebook official back in March, but this time I had onion rings & salad, though he still ate breakfast food.  It was such a wonderful night.

I love Russell so much.  And remembering this story and its context rejuvenates my gratitude to God for His faithfulness, grace, redemption and defiant creativity.

Now that it’s February I get to say, “I’m getting married this month!”

I mentioned earlier on how our original desire for a wedding date was March 1^st, but now I’m incredibly glad it’s February 22^nd.  First of all, we get to wait one week less J and second, February 22 was the Sabbath in 2014 when I gave my full testimony for the first time.  And on that day, the friend zone got broken!  Russell had not been interested in me or attracted to me though we’d become friends.  He’ll also tell you I did a good job of not letting him know I was attracted to him (I was trying to be more emotionally prudent for a change).  While I was giving my testimony (which is not pretty about me though it’s beautiful about God), it began to dawn on him that someone was already in his life.  Later that night we had supper together – at his initiation – and his roommate Bill was elsewhere (usually it was the three of us).  When he arrived, he saw me cooking through a window and (I love this part so much!) in his own words, “I thought, ‘Oh!  She’s beautiful!  I wasn’t expecting this,’ and I had to pray for composure before going in.” 

(I didn’t know any of that last bit that night when he came over; everything felt the same to me.)

God is so good.  Seriously.  I really hope that in reading this story you get a strong sense of that and maybe get some encouragement yourself.  I’ve gotten so burned out on only doing what I felt like and excluding faith when I didn’t like what it’d mean.  But God’s grace rescued me and gave me beauty for ashes.  His heart is good.  He wants a relationship with you and He wants to bless you.  But we can never be open to God’s blessings (let alone fully appreciate them) until we’re submitted to Him on faith first.  If you can FEEL surrendered AND do surrender, I’m so happy for you!  But if you can only do surrender and are upset or worried that the feeling of surrender isn’t there, that’s no reason to be discouraged or doubtful.

Spiritual growth and real love grow slowly like plants.  You have to be patient.  You really have to be.  Patience is a mental choice, not a feeling, which creates ripple effects in your external choices if you’re committed.  When you get to see the bloom or taste the fruit, though, it is so worth it.  SO worth it – like all that time you spent waiting just fades into nothing. 

Take heart.

Great is His faithfulness.

Esperanza...Elpis...Hope...Altruism...Agape...Love

On this day, 3 years ago, a car accident forced a loss on many people by taking away one of the most beautiful souls that ever lived.  Her name was Esperanza which is the Spanish word for hope.  I only ever knew her as Dean Muniz.

The day she was killed was, I'm fairly certain, the worst and most unthinkable day of my life.  It was traumatic and planted grief very deeply in me.  But I have already spent time in mourning beyond my heart's content.  I let the pain mingle with every wound it seemed I'd ever had and it took on a life of its own.  For a long time I felt dead inside and it was worse than the freshly violent grief.  I don't want to focus on pain and sadness today, though I will Certainly Always, ALWAYS miss Dean Muniz and cannot wait to see her again in heaven.  I want to remember Esperanza in a way that uplifts, inspires and comforts whoever reads this status.

Before I graduated, when I took Philosophy of Service, I wrote my topic paper about Lamson Hall and Dean Muniz.  I was granted quotes from June Price (who was once a fellow dean at Lamson and is now the University Chaplain) and Dr. Clifford Jones, who I knew as the man who spoke at her funeral.  The following is a compilation of excerpts from my paper.

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I knew Esperanza Alvarez-Muñiz as simply, “Dean Muñiz.”  I met her in the spring of 2009 as her cancer was finally going into remission.  During our first conversation, she wore a hat because her hair hadn’t yet grown back in due to the chemotherapy necessary to save her life.  I was struck by the beauty of her calm presence.  She lived out altruism and gently poured it into my heart in that first conversation, which is still one of the most vivid I ever had with her.  To review definitions, altruism is the unselfish interest in the welfare of others, according to – again – the Philosophy of Service Handout on “The Language of Service.”  Altruism takes service to a deeper level.  Simply listening for free and giving back loving advice for free, as service, does a great deal.  But what touches a person’s life forever is altruism, which actually engages the other person’s heart in a genuinely invested way. Altruism goes beyond peaceful acceptance.  Altruism begins a relationship.

In Christianity today, regardless of denomination, our statistics of debt and divorce are – so I’ve heard – the same inside the church as outside in the secular world.  There are atheists whose love and charity put Christians to shame and sadly news cycles don’t seem to be at a loss for stories about religious leaders who don’t represent God at all.  These days, for the most part as far as the secular world is concerned, Christians are not known for their love.  Altruism is another word for agapé, which is God’s brand of love.  According to the Strong’s Concordance, agapé means love, benevolence, and goodwill.  At Dean Muñiz’ funeral, Dr. Clifford Jones gave the eulogy and said near the end, “Esperanza was love.”  That sounds like possibly high praise, but to those of us who knew her it was utterly apt.  We’d never known anyone like her, yet we didn’t worship her above Jesus.  She showed us Jesus in her person.  Also, it’s not impossible for a human being to make choices to refine oneself into a transformed human being.  Like practice can make a beginning “Suzuki twinkler” into a virtuoso over time like Itzhak Perlman, humans can learn to be altruistic in an Olympic sense and maintain such a personality and lifestyle.

1 Corinthians 13’s passage on the definition of love is a series of choices – not feelings – that actually go against the initial grain of one’s feelings in the moment; therefore love is something that can be learned and practiced.  Making choices against the grain of one’s feelings is what makes true love so stunning to receive; that is what makes it a service.  Love is altruism.  Altruism is practicing love for other people.  Loving one another well is a labor that creates loveliness in our lives, which we desperately need in the twenty-first century wherein secularism and self-focus is at a shameless height.    

I collected comments from two individuals who knew Dean Muñiz via email and interview: from June Price who was a fellow dean of Dean Muñiz’ at Lamson Hall and still works there; also from Dr. Clifford Jones, the associate dean of the Andrews University Seminary.  In her email, Dean Price shared, “I first met Dean Muñiz when she worked as a student dean for us.  I first saw her humility and kindness.  As I grew to know her deeper, I saw a gentle, compassionate, funny woman of God.  Espi’s life was a great lesson in joy, perseverance and surrender.  In the good and on the bad she would always run to God, not away from Him.  She would take her very real hurt, pain, disappointment and despair to Him, knowing there was no one better to take it to and be totally honest with.  She was a warm and loving human being full of joy and perseverance. I believe she left a legacy of integrity, inspiration and encouragement.”

One might argue that I am straying too far from service and delving more into too much spirituality, but I am convinced that true service – which doesn’t fade and impacts permanently – is born out of a relationship with God.  In my first religion class at Andrews University before I ever became a religion major, Professor Susan Zork taught us a crucial principle I’ve never forgotten: “If I don’t have five dollars in my pocket, I don’t have five dollars to give you.  You can’t give what you don’t have.”  We can’t give service if we’ve never experienced the phenomenon of it.

Service is grace.  And we certainly cannot give altruism if we’ve never had a connection with God of some kind.  There are atheists who represent God better than Christians and Christians who won’t be in heaven, because of their state of heart and how willing they were to be pressed like grapes into sweet juice for others.  Romans 2:13-15 refers to individuals who have not heard the law, yet “who are righteous in God’s sight” because they “show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts…” This makes me think of loving atheists as opposed to Christians who turn the gospel into another system of behavior, devoid of authentic connection.  I am not saying it is unnecessary to be a Christian in order to give what the world needs.  I am exhorting the more potent combination of having a compassionate heart coupled with a relationship with the God who created us and best understands what paths we are to take and how, with the hearts of others.  And in our cluttered, rushed, power-grubbing century, we need this more than ever.  

“Women who are stunningly beautiful are women who have had their hearts enlarged by suffering” (Page 143, Captivating).  “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love” (Mother Teresa).  There is a pang of truth to these poetic quotes, but the praxis of them seems veiled.  A simpler metaphor is in building muscle.  You have to exercise in a way that challenges and discomforts you in order to ultimately become strong, otherwise there’s no value in the exertion.

Christian culture writes feelings off too much and secular culture worships them; both are problematic.  But what will cultivate service and altruism is to begin laboriously embracing the dialectic of valuing both feelings and principles like a parent embracing two children who are in conflict with each other for the purpose of reconciliation.  Our culture both in and outside the church talks a great deal about the value of our choices and debates are often themed on our right to choose.  It’s why we have sin (separation from God) in this world: God created human beings with the capacity to reject Him.  That same capacity of will can help us return to service and redeem lost time.  How we exercise to become fit for service and capable of altruism is through making choices to engage with community and with God.  This engagement will feel awkward at first, but it’s a universal truth that transition periods are never graceful.  Perseverance is the key; it was one of Dean Muñiz’ frequently listed attributes.  Perseverance is a choice that inevitably churns out results.

I was so powerfully moved simply by Dean Muñiz’ friendship that I’m repeatedly amazed at the many new things I continue learning about her, from just the week after her death to years later.  When I went to the seminary to see if I could get a statement from Dr. Clifford Jones, I was told, “He’s a hard one to catch,” which I could understand.  And so I was surprised that when I told him what I was writing a paper focusing on Dean Muñiz, he invited me into his office, shut the door and gave me a generous twenty minutes of his busy day, unrushed and completely present.  I think it is yet another testimony of the lasting impact altruistic lives have; their memories are cherished ones.

Dr. Jones shared with me, “Esperanza was a gem of a human being…she was deeply spiritual as you know; she loved God…she was passionate about mission and ministry.  She was an advocate for those who were marginalized…she was a teacher – elementary school level in New York City; that also sensitized her to need, working with children in the inner city.  Her caring and compassion and spirit and soul were formed and developed in New York City…I have nothing but good memories of her; she left a legacy of caring, authenticity, she lived a life of integrity, she was transparent, she was always encouraging whenever you spoke to her; very positive.  Her outlook on life was very positive. … This might sound almost cliché…the way she responded to, reacted to and engaged her illness [cancer]…I think she left a lesson for people who struggle with a terminal disease or diagnosis at a critical time in her life.  Indefatigable…she just kept fighting back with her cancer.  She was a fighter.  I think that was the irony of her death.  That she had won that fight [cancer], yet the tragedy of a [car] accident…  I think hope encapsulated her life.  She was always about hope.  Fitting that her name ‘Esperanza’ meant in English hope.  Because she was all about hope."

“But hope that is seen is no hope at all.  Who hopes for what he already has?  But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently” (Romans 8:24b-25).  According to an average dictionary, hope as a noun is “the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.”  And as a verb, hope is “to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence…to believe, desire, or trust.”  According to the Strong’s Concordance for hope in the book of Romans, the Greek word is “elpis,” which means expectation, trust and confidence or to anticipate and welcome; expectation of what is sure.

A woman whose name meant hope touched my life forever through service.  Her ripple effect on my life – especially after coming out of extremely difficult years due to grieving her death and other losses – has taught me how crucial hope is to service.  It is concrete to me now, not cliché anymore.  Getting involved to serve our mess of a world is to sign up for a high risk of disheartenment.  Only hope can sustain continued service in such a broken, needy world full of shallow sarcasm, numbness, abuse and terror.

Hope comes from altruism’s brand of love, which comes from God, which fuels service indefinitely.  Galatians 5:6b says, “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love,” and 1 Corinthians 13:7-8a drives home why that is the case: “[Love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.”  Of course the one thing that will never fail is the only thing that counts.  Pure logic.

A great deal of this paper is from Scripture and is of a spiritual nature, but it is so crucial that we don’t miss this, because what this paper is about is the lifeline, fuel and enhancer for all other types of service through avenues of medical care, political aid, financial donations, transportation, starvation relief, dismantling of the sex trade, and more.  The tools of service and altruism will be kept sharp and effective if we pursued a transformation of our hearts through a relationship with God to have real, tangible love to give and a hopeful belief and expectancy that goodness is truer to life than evil, which would fortify all we do with the trustworthy security our global community both craves and needs so deeply.  This security would nurture others to mature, grow and share the same thing with others in the ripple effect that would truly make the world a better place.

The Sore and Gaping Need for Compassion

Many Christians have lost the true meaning of compassion.  I wonder if some of us ever really knew it.  Before someone re-read the actual definition of it to me back in February (2014), I had made a more generalized assumption about its implications.  It's not just looking at someone hurting or someone in need and thinking to yourself, "Aww, man, that's too bad," which is the most minimal kind of responsiveness.

No.

Compassion is a word of compound meaning that profoundly pummels the person experiencing it.

Compassion is a feeling of deep sympathy or sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

First of all, compassion is:

1. Deep. // Extended far down from the top or surface. // When you are affected deeply, what affects you doesn't leave quickly or easily and it takes a lot out of you and bleeds into most of your thoughts and actions consciously and unconsciously.

2. Sympathy or Sorrow. // Sympathy is harmony of or agreement in feeling between persons of like tastes or opinion or of congenial dispositions. // Sorrow is grief, sadness, or regret; distress caused by loss, affliction or disappointment. // When you experience sympathy, you experience a similarity with the person in pain; you're not at odds with what they're going through. // When you experience sorrow, you experience a strata of pain and loss that literally and genuinely burdens your heart; you are not detached.  You are not okay.

3. Another. // Further, additional, distinct, different. // Not for yourself.  For someone else - a person outside yourself.  This word does not say whether that person knows you, loves you or benefits you; this word only says it is someone else, freeing it to be anyone.

4. Stricken. // Wounded, beset, afflicted. // When someone has been stricken, they are functioning at a diminished capacity and a pained one.

5. Misfortune. // Adverse or evil fortune, bad luck, affliction, accident, disaster, calamity, catastrophe, blow, an unfortunate or disastrous event. // Misfortune is something they didn't want; something you wouldn't want either.  Misfortune is universally undesirable.

6. Accompanied. // To go along with or in company with, to join in action, to associate with, to escort, to play or sing with, shadowed by, attended, escorted, chaperoned, consorted with, led by. // To be accompanied is to not be abandoned, to not be neglected, to not be left alone, to not be ignored, to not be lost, to not be left, to not be disregarded. 

7. Strong. // Having, showing or able to exert great power; robust and vigorous, forceful, especially able, competent, firmness, courage. // If something is of a strong quality, it is not brittle or temporary or malleable; it is dynamically capable and indomitable, which is to say: unconquerable.

8. Desire. // To wish or long for, crave, want, as for something that brings satisfaction. // Desire can be understood as a need, a hunger, an ardor, a motive, urge, proclivity, devotion or yearning.

9. Alleviate. // To make easier to endure, lessen, mitigate, to lighten, diminish, abate, relieve, assuage. // To alleviate something is to - at the core - do something about it to change its current state so it is better than when you first were exposed to it.  Alleviate is not a passive, abstract word; it implies action and engagement.

10. Suffering. // Agony, torture, pain, distress, torment, misery, ordeal, anguish, hardship, discomfort, grief, sorrow, dolor, sadness, affliction. // Suffering is universally feared.  Suffering is something you would want alleviated.  Suffering is so undesirable that the avoidance or alleviation of it is the selling point of manipulative & money-making marketing.  Suffering does not feel good.  It gives God no pleasure whatsoever: "It is a mistake to entertain the thought that God is pleased to see His children suffer" (Ellen White, Steps to Christ).

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If you read all that ^ word for word, does your brain feel a little overwhelmed?  If so, I think that's appropriate.  The true meaning of compassion puts us to shame in contrast to how we live our lives, even with those we love.  It is a struggle to not take our loved ones for granted at a certain point, and an even bigger struggle to cultivate such a proactive sensitivity to strangers as what compassion compels.

Almost a year after I left England...

My last blog was a venting session.

I was a very different woman before I went to England than when I left it, and even more so now.  A huge amount of draining (positive/negative) life events happened after I left England.  Re-entry anxiety wasn't really allowed in my life situation, so my last blog was I think the biggest show of re-entry.

I was a lot more neurotic before England.  I had a lot more static and some stuff I just couldn't wrap my head around.  Now I get it.  And now I miss it.

I've been back on AU campus where I was spoiled before I went to England.  But the gloriously rough time I had in England spoiled AU for me.  There's something about a campus run by ideals that's a relief from the "crunch time" of reality.  But within this educational institution is a lot of time to argue over this option and that one, when what matters is actually pretty simple.

I had so much dissonance when I first went to England because I used to do all that "shades of gray" arguing and being an SM at Stanborough was baptism by fire into how the real world works, how fast you have to think on your feet and what matters in the long term vs. what doesn't.  The culture in England didn't have time for my nerves and preferences, but you know what, I'm kinda glad they're gone.  I like the changes that happened to me in England even though I hated the process (who wouldn't?  It hurts).

I miss England, I want to go back.  I'm entertaining fantasies about not just visiting but working there.  This could be just huge pangs of missing England, but I'm not so sure.  The loves that are true you never get over.  Withdrawal pains eventually cease.  Some people you're happy to stay in touch with through the internet but it doesn't kill you to not be with them in person.

I do love Andrews University, I do.  I love what it stands for and it's filled with precious people.  People are precious everywhere; God made them that way.

But there's something about American culture that no longer makes me feel really at home here.
I haven't quite put my finger on it yet.

I just know that right now, when I think about what I'm going to do over the summer and what classes I'll take next year, my reaction is pretty numb.  But when I think of going back to England and getting back into the hard work I came to embrace, and the people I lived, loved & worked with, I light up...!

Again, I'm aware that this might be just that I'm missing England badly.

But what if it's not?

Lots of people are born and raised in one country and then they transplant to another.

My parents won't be thrilled about this next part, but even while my grades are better than I've ever had (like wow, hello Dean's list), I'm struggling to find motivation to keep taking the classes I need to graduate.

Since I'm studying to be in ministry, yet I did ministry as a student missionary in England, why do I need to finish?  I know it's a stupid question, but I feel moody and I'm just putting it out there.

One thing that could very well be affecting my motivation towards getting degrees, certifications & whatnot is that the last year of 2011 had a lot of loss, shock and heartbreak.  Way too much.  I was in heavy grieving last fall and I'm still not over everything that happened, but at a certain point I felt I needed to suck it up so others around me wouldn't feel uncomfortable.  Sometimes I think people treat grief like a mental illness, like if someone keeps grieving past a certain point (and who the hell gets to decide that point??), then there's something wrong with them.  No.  Grief shows love.  How long and hard you grieve is how deep and wide you loved.  It also shows the nature of the loss.  Last year I had one gradual loss that finally finished and then two shocking, sudden losses that were beyond my control. Horrific to me.

Maybe loss has simplified my life too much.

It's certainly made me feel like a lot of my old "ties" to this world have been cut and all I want to do is kiss school goodbye and just work with people.

Yeah, if/when my parents see this, I'm sure they'll flip.  Daddy wants me to get a doctorate in something and Mom agrees.  Ugh.  Doctorate.  Ugh.

I feel like getting a super-duper specialization in something means that then I'll be in a super-specific place and be able to see & interact less people because my specialty makes me in demand.

But I see somebody with "doctoral material" as having more effect by spreading themselves around.

I'm cursed with being good at whatever I put my mind to.  Picking one thing to hone in on is hard.  It makes me feel like I'd have to get rid of other things.

I've already said goodbye to violin.
I'm not a voice major anymore and I barely have lessons anymore.
I've studied early levels of Spanish and have great pronunciation but I haven't traveled overseas to get fluent yet.  I'm good at communications but it's only my minor.  I'm good with psychology too, yet it is also a minor.  Religion is also something I'm conquering, but even in class I feel like we're arguing over details that don't matter.  In a Biblical studies class the teacher said jewelry is a social issue, not a moral one.  So why the hell do we discriminate against people by appearance since God looks at the heart?  In Theology, we learn about how "what we believe" has developed to what it is now, and I'm learning all these complex theories for how to understand the cross, etc., but when you're dealing with a church member who is emotionally abused, how does the different between Karl Barth and Martin Luther help them?  I feel like we have such complex things to study, because we left simplicity in the first place.  How do all the theories and systems and facts we have to memorize help at all when the most serious things that affect a person (pain & loss in their various forms) are best ministered to NOT THROUGH WORDS?!

Why do I need to get such a costly education to learn other people's opinions when the love of God is now?  When the love of God is simple?  When the love of God is already available for me and for others?  When God's love led Jesus to choose uneducated men to spread the good news?  When God's love is best communicated through friendship, an embrace, a listening ear, a tender touch, and a helping hand, not an exegesis paper few people will read or a sermon people can walk away from and forget, why do I have to do this to myself?

It is so difficult to keep your personal faith alive going through the system of religious education.  It's a process that makes many people (I've seen) as good for the world as PROCESSED FOOD is for your body.  But those who were least "refined" and more simple & raw - like fruits & vegetables - may not look like gourmet dishes with an awesome resume, but boy do they get results!  Boy do they know how to make people feel loved!  Those "least refined" people are the real people living in the real world.  Today so many people going into ministry want to shelter themselves from the things of the world, yet they want to be successful in ministry.  How can you be in the world but not of it unless you are exposed to it?  If you want to be successful in ministry and not see the crap that's out there, all you want to do is preach from a pulpit to people who will already agree to you.  The early church grew because people were telling others about Jesus and embracing them as their own, sharing things, mourning with those who mourned and rejoicing with those who rejoiced.  Mixing classes and cultures.  Coming together.  The continued fusion became growth.  And then instead of growing, it started branching to the point that there are tons of various denominations to choose from, all of them offering the truth.

What is it with all this class-taking just to share God's love?

I don't have a conclusion.
I have a bad mood.

I miss England.

And more than England, I just want the Great Controversy to be over so we can all go Home.

Can you tell that I'm tired?

I am.

But don't worry I'm not going anywhere.

Except maybe England, later, I don't know...

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Pray for me, I am not happy with my life these days.

Repressed not so much anymore.

Though I missed most of it, since I had 2 church services of choir I'd committed to, I caught the end-of and just got back-from our student missionary re-entry retreat.  Food, talking, activities, SM-produced on-the-spot worship service (product of us being numbered off), etc.

Beforehand, I attended a social or two for those of us who were getting ready to leave, and I'd seen SMs on stage being involved, etc.  They all understood each other a certain way, they made it look like a good thing and like you'd definitely be changed, but the huge changes we were all about to go through just ... it wasn't gotten across.  It was mentioned, but I wasn't aware of the upcoming ... total & utter reconstruction.

These pre-trip & post-trip get-togethers are nice, they're fun, there's some light bonding & whatnot, but I honestly feel as though there's pressure for there to be a certain kind of experience.  Some things are easier to talk about than others; certain aspects are almost glamorized.  What about those of us who have tough things to talk about and who'd rather use factual anecdotes to fill in the gaps between the positive stories because the difficulties of our experience would make others uncomfortable, because there's a surplus of negative stories?  It's just as possible that a great good came from a great difficulty as it is possible that a great good came from a student missionary experience where you "didn't want to leave" at the end, which so many seem wont to say.  What about those of us who - as much as we bonded with where we traveled to and the people there - were eager to return home?  What about those of us who don't seem like poster children, necessarily?

What about the life of a student missionary without its makeup on?

It's not just that it's hard.

What if there are some things you went through or witnessed that you feel were wrong and need changing?  Not just forgiving?

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I've refrained from full disclosure on this blog - both regarding events that transpired as well as my reactions - because I was quickly informed upon arrival to England that they get to know the student missionaries by reading their blogs.  There was hardly ever a place to let my guard down for the sake of being a good SM.  I don't even think I started venting fully to my own mother until several months after I'd been in England.

I will continue to refrain & use discretion, but this I will say (since it's started to eek out in skype conversation with understanding British friends).

I have and always will be committed to seeing the silver lining whenever possible.  God is good.  But people ask me about my experience in England - somehow thinking I was in London, not Watford - grinning at me and assuming it was kickass rockin' awesome, and I respond "It was good.  Really hard, but very good.  I'm glad I did it.  I don't regret it."

All that is true.

But.

The "really hard" bit came from a huge spiritual allergic reaction I had to the atmosphere the entire time I was there.  It wasn't the culture shock; in certain homes and in the company of certain people, I felt more at peace, but I'd just like to say that churches are maintained by humans, no matter their degrees or titles. These humans can get as tired and worldly and insensitive as those merely attending or not even part of the church at all.  Now of course, that's a given (though I feel that some people need to be reminded, since they think they've got a free pass to holiness because they're in ministry), but there was a lack of energy & personal evidence to make sure they were all personally taking Jesus in and breathing Jesus out vs. making events happen.  And because my private relationship with God is a priority to me, the friction I regularly got made life extremely difficult; in a church of all places, you'd think spending time alone with God wouldn't be viewed as a frowned-upon luxury.  Jesus wasn't always with the masses.  He withdrew often to solitude.  He needed to replenish.  We all do.  That's one of the MOST needed ways we have to replicate Him, not one of the ways that was "uniquely Jesus."

There are some who might read the above paragraph and then hotly respond as though I spent too much time in my room and it's necessary to be available.  I was VERY available as the majority of people would say so.  I was polite through the times when certain people made me feel slow and stupid, which silently infuriated me since I'm not good with quick comebacks and since I never was unkind and since it's downright thoughtless and foolish to make judgments on a person because they're different, nevermind that they're just as capable; it's like a form of emotional racism and I hated it.  I had gifts that can't be replicated and I did things nobody would have stretched themselves to do, yet those things were taken for granted as part of me "being a nice person."  I was shocked at what got laughed at and what people shrugged their shoulders over.  Shocked.  I took care of the people who had greatly aggravated me.  I Took Care of them.  I made a point of doing so, because whatever misunderstanding they had, I didn't want to give it any credit whatsoever even though sometimes helping them unnecessarily (aside from my assigned responsibilities) felt galling.  The amount of affirmation I received still makes me blush when I remember.  Service is felt by those on the receiving end, not by the critics on the sideline and according to those who received what I had to give, I got an A+.  Nobody can possibly get along with everyone and even those who love each other can't get along perfectly 24/7.  Sometimes all it takes for some people is a small blip on the radar for them to lash out with paranoia rather than seeing the big picture, taking it in stride and - oh I dunno - nurturing & defending those they work with rather than turning on them.  Whatever happened to unity being important?  It's like asking someone to chop wood with a sprained wrist when "teams" function that way.  You may work through the pain, but how is that good for you?  The wood gets chopped, but your sprain just might be worse off and if this sort of thing keeps up, you just might wish it were as small a problem as a sprain.  When constructive criticism is necessary, it needs to be given with tact, not like a tractor otherwise it does more harm than good to someone with less fortitude and even though I've got a lot of fortitude I felt like there were plenty of moments when I did NOT need the extra dose of character development lab.  Thank you very much.

I did realize and say this to - again - try & diffuse the idea that I have a personal vendetta; I don't.  I made the connection that people in ministry are very tired because needs are 24/7 and personal and ministry is against the grain of sinful nature.  Of course we're going to rub each other the wrong way.  But I didn't see hardly any conviction that people realized they needed to take extra care of themselves, since they're in a position to so greatly influence others.  Church is a HUGE influence for life, for good or evil.  We don't take that seriously enough.  We're not humble enough to embrace our need and some of us won't come down off our high horses to remember that church is about Jesus, not about the location or style.  Issues of the heart transcend location & style of worship.  I'll be bold and say I think there's the existence of church politics at all because of how little we genuinely call upon the Holy Spirit's presence; I think we just say we're praying for Him and I think it's tantamount to taking His name in vain, except it's worse than someone swearing on a street in London.  People who are humble don't get their hearts hardened and if groups were praying like in Pentecost, with hearts truly open and ready to obey and ready to be changed if necessary, we'd have the unity and successes that Pentecost had as well.  The Holy Spirit hasn't left us yet; He's still close by to walk alongside us and hear & respond to our prayers.  And I'll be bolder still and say that my beefs with church politics are addressed to both Parallel & Main Service committees.  Y'all gotta work together and not talk smack about each other behind closed doors. "Whatever you say/do to the least of these," Jesus said, "you've said/done to Me."  By this standard, I AM guilty too.  God forbid I get on a high horse while I'm delivering criticism and venting honestly at last.  If I got on a high horse I'd deserve what would come to me, because I have bad luck with horses as it is.  It's an issue we all have, and if more of us aspired to better things, well then the majority just might become a good thing rather than a negative pun.

I made many good friendships, I left a lot of people behind whom I love greatly and miss.  But you can love people, and develop relationships while having huge issues with the regular choices & effects of said choices.  I think that helps explain the complexity of abandoning repression of these issues I have while still saying I don't regret the experience and I did come to love the place & its people.  It DID become my second home.  God set me free while I was in England.  Its geography will forever be precious to me.

But for most of the time I was there, I was shocked by the ugliness & hypocrisy that doesn't just exist but almost thrives in a religious institution.  By what is allowed.  By what is either not at all considered or what is glanced at and belittled.  By where priorities are.  They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  Please try and understand, I didn't feel personally shot at - nobody over there had personal vendettas against me, but I feel as though my heart and my faith struggled to stay alive like no other time in my life.  There was a time in March when I felt like I was losing my mind and I remember sobbing in a friend's lap that "I can't live like this anymore, but I don't know what to do!"

This year changed me to have far more respect for God giving you energy for the last little push - to reach a little farther for that vital grip - than I have for the sweeping emotion that makes you feel like skipping through a meadow with elation.  That last push, that last stretch is far more important, especially if you're rock-climbing and that inch or two involves your soul staying in one piece.

In an earlier blog I described the differences between the UK & USA as a delicate hopscotch, because they're both so urban & modern yet so different.  It was tricky.  The mass of negativity I experienced is like that as well; it was here & there but not quite everywhere.  And repeating situations didn't mean the negativity got repeated.  This led to a lifestyle of feeling as though I always had to be on edge personally, not just on-call professionally.  Someone might say, "Trust God and you won't be on edge."  Not necessarily so.  Sometimes your circumstances don't allow you to not be on edge, but it's ONLY trusting God that keeps you sane and even successful.  You do not know how much it killed me that when I was struggling the most on the inside, when I was regularly asking what the point of my faith was, that the "public opinion" about me was the most positive; I was getting along well with nearly everyone (finally) and was having professional breakthroughs, my tasks were getting easier, etc.  It scared me.  That I could feel so disconnected from God yet have people telling me that I was so wonderful.  Now, I know it'd be disrespectful to God to be totally scared about that, since it's clearly an evidence of God's grace despite circumstances.  But it scared me nonetheless and I know it wasn't stupid fussing.  I know it was valid.  God was good and He is great about making sure the glory goes to Him no matter how His children are doing.  But I've never felt like such an empty shell.  Except the emptiness was because of so much that I'd repressed and shoved WAY down and put lots (way too much) unhealthy food on top of.

Praise be to God I haven't felt like that for months now; God led me out and has continued and is still leading me to better places.  This year broke my pendulum swing.  I can't possible think everything's either total hell or absolutely wonderful.  My eyes have been opened.

I RECOMMEND that people give a year of service.  I had a year that put my heart through hell, but it was paradoxically a great good.  There's a song lyric that says, "If I'm never broken, how can I be restored?"  We're born with a sinful nature and Oswald Chambers says that our spiritual journey isn't about God teaching us new things, but about helping us unlearn the bad things.

This year was hard and while I could go back to Stanborough Park Church and willingly, happily do another year there, I never want to go through the mental dissonance and emotional pain a second time.  But you know, there was a medical case of Grey's Anatomy Season 7.  Their theme was "Let the healing begin," because at the end of season 6, there was a mass shooting in the hospital.  This metaphorical medical case is as follows: a young man has a brain tumor in a very difficult place.  If he doesn't have the operation, he will most assuredly die.  But if he does have it, he has a chance at life though the risk is still quite high.  They have to split his entire face (skull included) open to access the tumor.  Recovery will be long and painful.  I found it ironic that the surgery split open his face; a personal place, crux to one's identity.  The man survived and when he became conscious, he was indeed in serious pain, but Dr. Shepherd (McDreamy as some of us know him & all the ladies go "Aww!") rushed to his side and said,

"Hang on.  This is victory pain.  This is healing pain."

Lately the working summary of my year (Dad suggested "Messy Church," which I thought was great) is as follows: all the key relational & atmospheric props for my faith were jerked away and I had to rough it with God.  You make it or you break.  Somehow, I got through.  I never would have made it without Jesus.  He was the one relationship I was able to take with me over to England; and over there we went way deeper.  You can't truly go deep with anyone unless you go through the ugly, depressing, angering, oppressive areas inside of YOU and in the world.  You may think you've had a bad year or the worst one yet, but it's the year when you nearly lost your faith, when you ate ripe disappointment with God; that's the worst year of anyone's life.  And when you go through it, you KNOW it.  All past, present & future difficulties pale in comparison.

As for me earlier saying that it scared me that one of my most successful seasons was when I felt like a shell, I just heard a song lyric that spoke to me while typing here:

"Glory is putting others before yourselves." (Jaeson Ma)

God took care of His glory, and even though I felt I didn't deserve praise I received because of my internal status, maybe it was His kindness that people thought I was so wonderful as a tender touch on my obedience.  A touch I'd one day receive as a comfort, even if at first it made me sick.

It is an overwhelming beauty when you slowly, daily experience God restoring your faith back to you, except this is a true faith; not your natural talents or aptitudes being mistaken as faith.  You've been broken so now you're unbreakable.  Faith isn't about what you have, it's about what God has.  It's not about your heart, it's about His.  And because of this, we have the most amazing assurance.

Praise God.

From Survey to Blog

I was filling out one of those surveys - mostly it's just us girls who do them - and it struck me when I was done that I should copy/paste one or two (or three?) of the questions & answers here since they are so strongly tied to my student missionary experience.

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What is something you've learned about yourself recently?  Hmm... I'm gonna go for a big picture sort of analysis and define recently as this past year: I've learned to own my faith in God without the props and relationships that usually nurture and comfort it.  When I went away to England as a student missionary, it was one of the hardest years I've ever had, though I still call it one of the top 5 best things to ever happen to me.  Stuff was happening with loved ones outside England that gave my faith a run for its money and frankly, all the things that made me most comfortable in Michigan were lowest priority in England.  I suppose I've been learning the power and value of my own ability to choose and learning more to not care what other people think.  For too long I've been catering to the people who don't have my best in mind and not giving my best to those who love me so well.  There was something wrong with that picture - no wonder  I had painful growing experiences ahead.


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What is one thing you've learned about life?  That we shouldn't expect life on this side of heaven to be LIKE heaven; that's just setting yourself up for perpetual disappointment.  Life one earth until Jesus comes is love during wartime.  God's love for us, ours for him and ours for each other.  And we all know how both overtly & subtly wartime expresses itself.  And I'm speaking in spiritual terms, not just literal terms.  If you accept that every once in awhile life is going to upset your apple card, you won't be so blind-sided and you'll actually be better able to protect who & what you love when the hits do come.


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What's your worst experience?  When people you care about turn out to not be real friends at all and they play mind games to control you.  That is the worst manipulation & messing-up ever.  And what's worse is when the people doing it claim to be Christian examples.  Jesus once compared the pharisees to white-washed tombs filled with dead men's bones.  I think the bones were from those poor souls who got "eaten alive" and then put through the meat-grinder.  So often we only practice Christian values in doctrine but not in relationships.


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How many things in your past do you regret?  I wish I'd tried to draw out the deep waters in people rather than talking as much as I have.  I also wish that I'd learned more of what I know now sooner.  But the experiences that were once so hard... they propelled me into the arms of Jesus in a way I never would have known if I were in a "peace time" bubble, so I'm actually thankful for how other people failed me.  I know it sounds weird...


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If you could change anything about your past, what would you change?  I would have been more personally responsible/independent and thoughtful about the needs of others.


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What are some of your biggest fears of your life?  Letting my lessons learned slip so that I have to go through another unthinkably hard year to get back on track.  Just because last year was a top-5 doesn't mean I ever want to experience the same pain & struggle a second time.  Never again, please.


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What's the one thing you hope to accomplish in your life?  I want to do what God's called me to do.  Yes, it'll be high risk sometimes, but that's also where my conscience feels most safe, where my soul rests the most (not the same as numbing the angst with food), and where I feel most alive!  Like I'm doing what I was meant to do; what nobody else can do but me.  It's a challenge AND a pleasure.


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Are looks important?  To a degree, but looks do fade and fluctuate.


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Do you believe in love?   Ah, the real question is: what kind of love do you believe in?  But stepping aside from silly hair-splittings like that, yes I believe in love.  Love comes from God.  God IS love.  If the church has given you a bad taste, I don't blame you - been there, done that.  If life events make it seem impossible for a good & all-powerful God to exist, it's then that you either have to abandon God altogether or voyage into the tempest to find Him personally, because it's at that point where nobody can tell you what to do or answer your questions.  We're made for love and made in the image of Love.  It's a big deal, a lifelong commitment even if you're just trying to be a good single Christian friend & family member, aside from the bigger leagues of relationships & marriage.  Love is hard as well as good; people only want the good - they don't want to deal with the hard, and so they bail and then paint love in ugly colors.  The people who don't bail, even if they get left behind, actually don't stop believing in love even if they have wounds to recover from.  Those stories aren't told enough.  The way God sustains you through loss - if you ask Him to - is one of the most binding and strongly bonding experiences a person can have with God.  'Ever notice how God created the world primarily beautiful and secondarily functional and therein lies His divine genius?  We were made by love and for love.  People say that love isn't a fairy tale, but we forget that the fairy tales had some high stakes and epic challenges.  We always know the ending and so we yawn that all's well that ends well, but the characters (yes I know they're fictional) didn't know the ending.  And reaching back before the fairy tale we have BIBLE STORIES.  Full of miracles, the magical presence of our powerful God and impossibilities become hysterically funny realities and images so stunning that you can only bow and worship and obey.  God experiences emotions like we do - He gets us; He didn't just make us and walk away.  Even after we screwed up, He hunkered down to pursue a relationship with each of us if we'd only be willing.  Hopeless romantics are more noble and special and a class to be preserved than we know; I think that God loves to work with hopeless romantics, making them into passionate Christians just like He runs to the prodigal son but is sadly put off by "the good son."  God gets us, but He's not like us, which is EXACTLY WHY He's dependable.  He's wild and He does things we can't always understand, but He never fails to bring out a greater good if you never let Him go.  There are answers we'll never have here on earth, but I don't want a God I can explain with my finite mind.  To have the God you want, you have to embrace not having all the answers for yourself.  Do you want a genie in a bottle with limits - even if he is there at a simple rub - or the God who is mighty to save, forgiving, mysterious and loves you with an everlasting love?

Yes, I believe in Love.

Further Ripples

Some randomly occurring bits for you...

A few weeks ago on Sabbath, I had a treat!  A visiting (married) couple at our church turned out to be ex-student missionaries.  When they heard I had just gotten back from my SM posting, they brightened up and told me they'd been SMs together in South America - 'twas where they met & fell in love.  I, in turn, brightened up at seeing two people who understood "what it's like."

We talked about the basics; where we'd been and what we were doing as SMs...  It was short and sweet, but it felt like taking the lid off my Pandora's Box of my struggles.  These days when I notice that I have trouble with reverse culture shock, it's not a constant awareness.  It surprises me.  I think it's been so important for me to get control over my emotions because when I got back to America, my life was so busy for a solid month (in many different places) that my emotional ups & downs were unwelcome complications for memorial & graveside services, weddings, graduation weekends and all the road trips & plane trips in between during which I had to be pleasant (preferably).

My encounter with the ex-SM couple gave me a quick preview of what a relief and pleasure it'll be to be reunited with all the other SMs when we go back to school.  Japhet put it very well: "Everyone is going to want to hear about your experience, but they're going to want to hear it in 2 minutes and then they quit listening."  Most people - with a few delightful exceptions - want what we've all gone through and how we've changed to be a pithy, quaint testimony in the form of a fortune cookie.

Even family, with whom it's wonderful to be back with, don't quite understand, and it does feel lonely sometimes.  A blessing, though, is that having introverted needs means I don't mind the solitude; I need it, actually.

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Also, I wanted to share that while certain changes were inevitable and will always be, some of the better ones wear off if you don't deliberately nurture them.  Basically I mean tendencies towards service.  Those tendencies were very fresh when I first got back, but then I caught myself acting kinda ugly after about a month.  The instances were extremely minor and before I was an SM, I would have labeled them as "taking care of me" but not anymore.

Beforehand, the SM environment was the set of supportive stilts for being unselfish.  Now, we don't necessarily have supportive stilts, but we do have opportunities that are just as frequent to be loving and helpful.

I say that I caught myself acting ugly.  I use the word ugly, because it just wasn't appealing.  Not necessarily repellant, but unappealing, and you know what else?  I didn't feel like myself when I acted that way.  When we keep trying to live a life of loving kindness to others, the person God intended and designed us to be shines through.

This thing is bigger than the year of service we gave.

Let's not waste it.