Dominoes

Dominoes.  For me, this week, it all came down to dominoes.  I happen to be a very perceptive person who is prone to scrutinizing things.  Better said, I am not very good at accepting things at face value.  This week, though, I seemed to be noticing more and more of the negative things around me: the way friendships were breaking, organizations were missing the point, people were failing, Christians were failing.  An all-around disappointment in life started to occupy my mind, first one thing, then another, then another.  Domino after domino fell and before I knew it I had entire path of fallen dominoes in my wake and I became stuck on this path of negativity.  And, worse yet, it was starting to manifest itself physically.  Usually I can hide it.  But not always.  I became grumpier, less animated, my conversations were forced at best.  And people were beginning to take notice.

How do I get my miserable self out of this entangled sticky web of negativity?

Well, not by myself, that’s for sure.

In those moments, I was too lost in my own vortex of sour thinking that I failed to realize the vast amount of Peace and Joy within my reach.  I was so blinded by my darkness that I failed to see the Light reaching out to me.  But then it all changed—I was lost and blind, but was rescued and given sight!  And it happened to come in the most normal of ways—a song.  I happened to be listening to Rend Collective Experiment’s version of “10,000 reasons” (listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPI_DIqICP0).  Let’s just say it was a healthy dose of spiritual reality and it brought me back to the reason I’m alive at all: my Creator made me, my Savior liberated me, my Spirit inspires me. 

Since that song, God has step by step guided me back into the joyful light of his presence, a place where I can rejoice and sing of the more than 10,000 reasons I am blessed today.  Here I’ll share with you a few of the things God placed into my life this week:

Proverbs 3:5-6:

“Do not depend on your own understanding.  Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take” (NLT). 

My devotions from yesterday:

“I, the Creator of the universe, am the most creative Being imaginable.  I will not leave you circling in deeply rutted paths.  Instead, I will lead you along fresh trails of adventure, revealing to you things you did not know.  Stay in communication with Me.  Follow My guiding Presence” (Sarah Young, Jesus Calling, p. 314). 

My Bible study on Gideon:

“Gideon could have avoided this domino effect… Continuing a vibrant fellowship with God would have kept him on course with divine purpose…Seeking God and His will must remain our constant desire and aspiration… When the dominoes of life cave in, our level of steadiness will be equal to our level of fellowship with the Father” (Priscilla Shirer, Gideon, pp. 144-145). 

Finally, from 2 Corinthians 4: 6-9:

“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (NIV). 

I stand here (or rather sit here) amazed at how God speaks to me, lending his Divine voice to guide my wavering feet.  I may not always hear His voice (I may at times listen harder to the white noise of life that drowns out His voice) but I do know that he is always speaking to me: in nature, in people, in Scripture, in art, in life.  She who has an ear, let her hear His voice calling out to His beloved children.

Stay tuned!

Honesty as Policy

Photo: courtesy of Sarah Davies

Yesterday I read a Proverb that sort of hit me right in the face with its words.  In fact, I think I still have a blotchy red mark on my forehead as evidence of the forced interaction.  The reason it hurt so much is because, once again, it was talking directly to me, right now in this very moment.  Here it is:

Better is open rebuke

Than hidden love.

Wounds from a friend can be trusted,

But an enemy multiplies kisses.

Proverbs 27:5-6

After reading this, my mind jumps first to the people around me, trying to decipher who beside me is in fact an enemy multiplying kisses.  But I can deal with people like that—in fact, I enjoy trying to understand the people around me and figuring out what makes them tick, where their motivation comes from, why they want to be with me.  I’m used to guessing between friend and foe.  It’s a task that’s as natural to me as brushing my teeth or breathing—I do it unconsciously and before I know it, I have a profile of someone in my head labeling them as “friend”, “foe” or “unknown: requires more research”. 

So that’s not what hurt when I read this proverb.  What hurt was the thought: “What if I’m an enemy?”

I think back to all the times where I held my tongue, where I guarded my silence, where I held back from telling the truth.  My reason?  I didn’t want to hurt anyone.  I didn’t want to rock the boat and create waves.  I didn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.  I didn’t want to wound my friends and become their enemy. 

But what if, because I held back, I actually hurt them more than if I had told the truth?  What if my gentle rebuke was more needed than my fake kisses?  What if they needed to hear the truth and I had denied them that?

It’s a weird thought, thinking that I have failed my friends by keeping quiet or by saying what they wanted to hear.  It’s weird that my silence effectively buried my love for them, hidden behind a façade of empty kindness. 

Apparently, to love does not equate painlessness.  Love hurts. 

And, if the love is true, love hurts both the giver and the receiver.  Think about it: in the moment where a friend gently rebukes her friend, both are pained by the experience.  The giver of the rebuke has exposed herself and has put herself in the vulnerable position that’s open for rejection.  The receiver of the rebuke has more obviously been hurt as the words of truth delve straight into her heart and mind, a sword of truth that pierces through the strongest armor. 

Knowing this, it’s no wonder we hold our tongues and say nothing!  It’s no wonder we hide our love and multiply our kisses.  We do it out of self-preservation and fear of rejection, even if the life we begin to live is full of lies. 

But words of honesty shouldn’t hurt in a way that is harmful or destructive.  I’m reminded of Eustace in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series.  Eustace had built up such a thick skin around himself (manifested quite literally in the form of scaly dragon skin), a façade of superiority and selfishness that masked his true inner self.  Only Aslan, with his claws of Truth, could shed him of the skin.  “The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt.  The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off “ (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader).  Shedding lies and accepting Truth hurts, but it’s what we need. 

So, be a truth-bearer today and be honest to your friends and the people around you.  Tell them how much they mean to you; warn them against temptation; admit how they have hurt you; encourage them to be better; pray with and for them.  Love them by saying the Truth.

And ask them to be the same honest friend to you. 

Stay tuned!

More passages about Truth-speaking and gentle rebuking: Matthew 18:15-17, John 8:32, 2 Timothy 3:16-17, Ephesian 4:15-16 and 25, Galatians 6:1, 1 John 3:18, Hebrews 4:12, Revelation 3:19.

The Power of Eye Contact

Let’s admit it, I stick out.  I may know my way around the city; I may speak Spanish with ease and little accent; I may know how to order my favorite food; I may know how to drink juice out of a bag; I may cross the street without getting run over by a bus, bike, or car; I may live here and have made friends with the neighbors.  BUT I still stick out.  Why?

I walk too fast.  I dress differently.  I smell of sunscreen.  I act more reserved and controlled.  Most of all, I have bright blue eyes.

And, though I love my blue eyes, those little twinkling gifts can actually turn out to be little curses sometimes.  Why?  Because it makes me stand out even more than I want to.  Guys on the street flirt and cat-call all the more at me if they catch the blue glint of my eyes.  Children frequently ask me if I would trade my eyes for theirs.  Every time I wear contacts instead of my glasses women are so surprised by the intensity of the blueness of my eyes and it end up being a frequent conversation topic.  There was even a little girl who was afraid of me for a while because of my blue eyes.  Here, in a land of dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes my blue orbs are foreign invaders.  They don’t belong. 

But you know what?  That’s ok.

Why?  Because I’ve learned to use my eyes instead of being ashamed of them.  With a short nod of my head, I can catch a taxi, tricycle, mototaxi, or bus.  With quick eye contact I acknowledge the presence of my neighbors, those I pass on the street, my friends.  With a smile of my eyes, I can get the cashier, the market vendor, a child to return my smile.  My eyes, combined with my accent, can even give me some power in a bartering situation (I mean, who wouldn’t want to give me a lower price?!)

Truly, eye contact can be very powerful.

Think of it in the reverse: if I never looked at anyone, what would that be like?  Well, that Kelsey would walk down the street, looking at nothing but her toes hitting the uneven and cracked pavement.  She would be oblivious to the world around her, the many families and friends sitting on their doorsteps, chit-chatting away.  She would miss the opportunity to amicably say “adios” to her neighbors and those she passed on the street.  She would stick out as an unfriendly gringa who didn’t have the time or care to even make eye contact with other human beings.  By withholding her gaze of others around her, she would be quietly yelling to everyone that they are not worth her time or acknowledgement.  That Kelsey would be “fría” or “cold”.  In the end, she would be alone in her own self-inflicted bubble of isolation.

Needless to say, I do not want to be that Kelsey.

So, I will shamelessly walk this Nicaraguan city with my blue eyes wide open.  I will unabashedly make eye contact with friends and strangers alike.  I will look and smile and see and be a part of this world around me.  I will get more whistles, more looks, more comments BUT I will also look back, make comments and acknowledge the life, the people, that God has placed in my life today.

Stay tuned!

Sunrise, Sunset

This past week I had the opportunity to spend a few days living in the campo (or countryside) here in rural Nicaragua in a community known as la Manantial with the SPIN students.  The lifestyle of the campo is one of simplicity, dependent on acres of crops like maize and wheat to sustain them throughout the year.  Rain is scarce, especially during this time of drought.  Time in the campo follows not a watch but the sun and the rain.  Neighbors are a short walk away, church an hour away, and high school twice that distance.  It’s a very different world than that of urban Nicaragua. 

For me, the trip brought me back to my roots, not necessarily of my heritage back in “the boonies” of Michigan, but instead of my humanity.  For these few short days, I was stripped of many things I had become dependent on, things I’ve even gone so far as to incorporate into my identity as Kelsey.  For who is Kelsey without electricity, 8 hours of sleep, two pillows, a hot shower and internet?  Well, come to find out, Kelsey is still Kelsey without all those things.  I slept in a hammock and shared a bed; I ate beans and rice for three days straight and fresh baked bread out of an earthen stove; I used an outhouse and a bucket shower; I weeded, dug in the mud, and spread fertilizer; I went to bed with the sunset and woke up with the light.  Being in the country where the sun was the only source of light and where food was grown in the fields nearby, I was reminded of who I am and what I truly need.  Turns out, I don’t need as much as I thought I did.  In fact, I think I like this simpler Kelsey.

(Left to right): Guillermo, Marta, Douglas, Me, Bethany, Alma, Juan Carlos

And so I want to thank Marta, Guillermo, Ismael, and little Douglas (who stole my heart) who were so generous to accept me into their home for a few nights and take me under their wing.  It was a great experience, one I’d be happy to repeat.

A while back, while I was spending some time traveling around Guatemala last year, I wrote a little something after I briefly glimpsed the lives of people living near the city dump.  Though very different, their story reminds me a little bit of the stories I heard of those living in la Manantial: a story of simplicity (at times true poverty) and a story of community (of being with those you love).  So I’d like to share with you what I wrote that one evening:

“Sun glistens, a dazzling display of energy dancing on the rooftops, blinding those with a mere glance.  The metallic tin now a mosaic of reds, oranges, blues, grays, and browns, stained by time and rain.  The walls it protects below stand sturdy, their dusty gray selves supporting the artwork above.  To the front, a sandy brown path caresses the walls, ruts and ravines washed away here and there by foot traffic and heavy waters, its uneven surface wavelike and wild.

Within those stony blocks, beneath that sun-warmed roof, beside that well-worn path, there lives a family of many.  Children with eyes bright and wide, filled with questions, hunger, and laughter.  A mother with hands wrinkled deep with love, wisdom, and hard work.  A grandmother whose every gray hair holds a story of pain, laughter, love and loss.

Their veins run fast with the blood of the forgotten, the lost, the hurt.  Their lungs expand as they breathe in a deep breath, second by second living the reality that faces them.  Today, a day so bright and beautiful and alive, holds within its grasp dark threads of doubt, abandonment, abuse and death, threads that cannot be cut from the loom of life.  

Stepping back, those strands etch a deep beauty in the colorful display of the woven masterpiece, their inky rivers flowing to and fro, cutting a striking current among the blocks of reds, blues, yellows and greens. 

In this masterpiece there is joy and sadness, light and dark, life and death. 

And though difficult, the darkest parts make the brighter parts shine. The dark gives the light its name.  Its fuel.  Its hope.  Its beauty.

But what if I live in a world surrounded by the chaotic swirl of a rainbow?  What if my life is enveloped in the colorful embrace of life?  What if my world doesn't extend to the darker strands hidden afar on the horizon?

Am I really living then?

Can I truly appreciate the beauty I'm immersed in every day if I have not yet tasted the other?

And what if, because of this, the colors around me are fading, disintegrating as the seconds pass?  What if instead I am trapped in a world of grays, bonded by the monotone dullness of apathy, suffocated by nothingness?

In truth, the only color in this masterpiece lies next to the inky rivers, the places linked with those dark strands.  Only those who've tripped on those strands, whose feet have blackened in those waters, whose lives have been ripped, torn, infected have within their grasp those colorful strands of life.  Only those who have been lost, hurt, abandoned, or broken can see the hope and beauty in the rainbow around them.

Only their eyes have been opened.

For they were lost but have now been found.

They were once blind but now they see.

The sun glistens again, radiating in its setting brilliance.  The metallic roof joins in the light dance, reflecting the rays in a blinding display.  The walls begin to cool, their source of heat returning to its slumber.  The path grows quiet, its dusty shores darken with the approaching night.

The children curl up together in their nest of blankets, feet, hands, and sleepy eyed faces.  The mother coos a gentle lullaby, rocking to a steady rhythm of love and peace.  The grandmother joins her daughter, head resting ever so gently on her shoulder.  The night comes, weary eyes flutter and close, chests rise and fall in their nightly drumbeat of sleep. 

The day has come to an end; tomorrow shall begin anew."

Stay tuned!

#GodisWithMe

Yesterday was Independence Day here in Nicaragua, a day the whole country takes time to fully celebrate.  Everyone has Monday and Tuesday off of work and school, providing a great opportunity to take part in the celebrations and spend time with family and friends.  Hundreds upon hundreds of people lined the streets as parades wandered through town all throughout the weekend.  These parades featured every school in the city with school children walking and performing in marching bands.  The deep rhythms of the drums and the loud bangs of fireworks could be heard everywhere.  As the saying goes, the louder things are the happier it is!

On a different note, I have recently joined a women’s Bible study and I have to share with you what a blessing it has become for me during my week.  I was a bit dubious at first, considering I’d be the youngest participant by quite a bit, but I decided to jump in feet first and see where it would take me.  Well, I didn’t quite expect to be so surprised, that’s for sure!  The reason: we are studying Gideon.  You know, the guy who challenged God with his whole fleece thing and got away with it.  And then there was something about some guys lapping up water out of a river and then only some being chosen to fight against a big army and win by tricking the bad guys into thinking they were goners.  Or something like that.  Basically, my idea of Gideon going into this was that he was one lucky (and recklessly bold) guy who valiantly saved his people. 

Come to find out, he wasn’t the valiant warrior type.  Not at first anyway.

In Judges 6, we first meet Gideon while he is threshing wheat.  In a winepress.  Which is kind of like a cave.  Ok, so Gideon was in hiding from some bad guys who were picking on Israel in the hopes they wouldn’t steal his food.  But the angle of the Lord nevertheless chooses to visit with this man: “… The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.” (vs. 6)  Um, did I miss something?  Isn’t the angel of the Lord talking to Gideon, a lowly man (he says this himself in verse 12) who is acting a bit cowardly right at the moment, hiding in his bat cave?  I wonder how Gideon reacted.  Did he cough in surprise?  Snort in derision?  Scoff at the preposterous nature of it?  Stare in stunned silence?  Well, we don’t know how he reacted physically but we do know he doesn’t say anything.  He sort of ignores it and then goes on to complain to this mighty angel that God couldn’t be with them if all this bad stuff was happening.  Take that, angel of God.  What do you have to say for yourself?

If we keep reading, we see that Gideon gets a quick lesson in just how wrong he is.  God had never abandoned Israel—they had abandoned God. 

I have to say, I’m a bit jealous of Gideon.  Not that I necessarily want to be oppressed by enemies or thresh wheat in a windless cave or be chosen to lead an army into battle or anything, but it would be nice to hear from an angel’s mouth that God is with me.  That would be sure to calm my doubting mind.  But, even if I don’t hear those words like Gideon did, I have faith that the truth of them still rings true today.  God is with me, through the power of Jesus’ sacrifice and the gift of the Holy Spirit.  “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 20).  I experience God in a whole different way than Gideon did.  I wonder if he’d be jealous of me…

At the end of each lesson, we are given the opportunity to create hashtag statements of things we learned.  A hashtag (popularly used on social media outlets like Twitter) is simply a word or group of words that express something.  Like #KelseyRocks or #VivaNicaragua or #WaylandCRC.  So, I’d like to recap today with a few hashtags of my own of things I learned from Gideon:

#GodIsWithMe

#GodUsestheOrdinary

#BeAwareofGod’sVoice

#LessonsfromGideon

#StayTuned!!

Time Flies by Slowly

Time is kind of funny, I think.  We as humans (a.k.a. wannabe control freaks of a universe beyond our understanding and control) like to pretend that time is linear.  You know, like past, present, future.  Yesterday, today, tomorrow.  Before, now, later.  We break down our linear friend into simple pieces that can be controlled and manipulated to our liking: years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds.  And this is a great comfort to us because this way time makes sense. 

But what about those times where time doesn’t follow our rules?  Like when the minutes seem to drag on, as if its feet are trapped in sticky molasses preventing it from moving forward?  You know, like when you’re in math class and you’re waiting for the bell to ring, or when you’re waiting for a bus and you keep checking your watch every three seconds in exasperated “patience”.  The seconds seem to tick by ever so slowly, laughing at your impatience.  Or, what about those times where our lives flash before our very eyes and we seemingly jump from one moment to another?  Like when we’re driving long distances on familiar roads or when we swear we’ve only fallen asleep for “three seconds” on the couch in a quick cat-nap.  In those moments we begin to think that time travel is indeed possible.  Or what about those moments where time seems to be moving fast and slow at the same time?  Like when you’re in an accident or when you’re getting married or when you are giving a speech in front of an audience.  Every detail becomes so clear and unclear when times flies by slowly like that.

Seriously, time doesn’t seem very linear or controllable in those moments. 

Flooding at the Nehemiah Center
(pic from Centro Nehemias Facebook page)

One of the peaks at Volcan Masaya

Well, this past week has been a great lesson in how weird time can be.  The week literally flew by, with activity after activity after activity.  Wednesday evening the SPIN students (from Dordt and Geneva) flew in to Managua, where we were there to greet them.  However, our plans were thrown into flux as the Nehemiah Center experienced some serious flooding from storms the night before.  Some of our resources were muddied and ruined by the flooding, but thankfully not all of them.  We also needed to move the students and the days of orientation to a different guest house in Managua—talk about last minute planning!  But everything went well despite the many challenges we faced.  We spent several hours orienting the students to their new lives here in Nicaragua, everything from schedules to culture shock to living with host families.  We tried to break up the monotony with fun ice-breakers and games, like a relay race doing some very typical Nicaraguan activities like drinking pop out of a bag and making tortillas by hand.  I would say the highlight of our orientation time in Managua was the small tour we had of the capital city: we saw the Masaya volcano, Somoza’s ruined mansion and the Sandino statue placed atop it, the lake front and boardwalk at Puerto Salvador Allende, and the old Cathedral and plaza.  

SPIN Welcoming Party

On Sunday after church we traveled to León and introduced the students to their host families with a great welcoming party, a fun time for the families to come together and welcome their new son or daughter to their homes.  Yesterday, the students were divided into exploration teams and spent the day in a Scavenger Hunt of León, racing the other teams to find key landmarks and information.  It was a fun (and hot) way of quickly getting to know the city they’ll be spending the next 3 months in.  By the end of the week, we were all exhilarated by the new sites, people and information but also exhausted by it.  I feel like I’ve lived an entire month in just one week!

In fact, I might just go take a siesta.

Stay tuned!

Foreign to Familiar: A Strange Journey

Here I stand, a foreigner in the midst of a joyous throng of Nicaraguans.  Hands raised high, my neighbors sway and dance, much like an anemone under water (though less tranquil I suppose).  They sing praises to the One above, thanking Him for life, love and hope.  I join in song, my tongue stumbling on the Spanish words that are on the projector screen.  I clap and I sway just like my neighbors, but I know that in reality I stick out like a sore thumb. 

My eyes become momentarily distracted by the elderly man sitting next to me: skin dark and leathery with age and sun exposure, his eyes closed in prayer, his mouth moving in song, his hands raised high to feel the Spirit in this place.  He does not notice me, a stranger, sitting next to him.  He is completely absorbed in the moment, worshipping the God he loves.  Inspired, I decide to join him.

In this moment, I feel peace.  I don’t feel awkward that I am an outsider; I don’t feel weird that this is definitely not my style of worship; I don’t feel unwelcome in the slightest.  In this moment, I know that this is where I need to be. 

The church I had this experience at is my host family’s church, Rosa de Sarón.  It’s a large church with a few hundred members, and is located right next to one of the biggest outdoor markets here in León.  To put it simply, it’s a bustling center of energy and movement, both inside the church and outside.  For the next while, I’ve decided that this is the church God wants me to be at.  The 3 hour long services seem daunting, as does the heat, but when I feel that sense of belonging I’ve learned not to question it :)

I have to say, I still feel like a traveler in a foreign land.  But, each and every day I feel myself growing used to my surroundings.  I’m no longer startled by strange sights, like 3 people on a motorcycle.  I am no longer taken aback by strange noises and smells, like fireworks and outdoor markets (which are smelly, let me tell you).  I am no longer unnerved by strange places, like my room, my home, my neighborhood, my city.  Nicaragua is growing on me, folks.  And what a strange feeling that is!  To know that I am on this journey of living a new life here, waiting patiently until the day where everything seems familiar.  My journey from foreign to familiar is a long and sometimes strange one, filled with many curves and hills and sudden detours.  But, I know that if I stay on this path, I will eventually reach my destination: belonging.  So, lace up your boots!  There’s a long walk ahead of us :)

This week, the Dordt students arrive for their semester abroad here in Nicaragua.  To say the least, I am excited!  This is what I’ve been preparing for these past 2 months and I find myself giddy with anticipation and worried with last minute details.  These next two weeks or so are going to feel like a never ending marathon, running from one obstacle to the next.  

Please pray for safe travels for the students as well as for endurance, patience, and joy for all of us during these exciting moments of change and newness. 

Stay tuned!