Small

Have you ever felt how big the world is?  No, not thought.  Felt.  I’m talking about the feeling that you get when you imagine you are just one drop in an ocean, that feeling of immensity, of infinite.  It’s the feeling you get when you look down into an abyss, or up at the stars, or into the eyes of the person you love.   There’s just something hugely indescribable about it, isn’t there?  There comes a moment where you have to pause, look around you, and marvel at how BIG everything is. 

Ok, take a deep breath and come back to normal.  Everything is as it was before.  Now, this time, I want you to feel how small the world is this time.  Think about how easy it is to fly across the ocean.  Think of how many times we’ve visited the moon.  Think about how fast you can hop in your car and drive to the nearest coffee shop.  Think about your loved one whom you Skyped with not moments ago.  I am 3,200 miles away from most of you and yet here we are chatting. 

My mind jumps to all of the people I’ve met in my life, years ago or moments ago, and how suddenly they’ve connected me to places I had never been before, places I never even cared about.  Now, I have friends living in Houston, Abuja, Târgu-Mureș, Mexico City, Cairo and Santo Domingo (and many others!) and those places mean something to me.  I also now care about Sioux Center, Iowa because of all the Dordt people I’ve come to know and love.  I think about my friends spread throughout Central America and Mexico, their pueblos meaningful to me.  I think about my family all around the globe, and how strangely their homes are important to me.  Me, little ol’ me, is connected to places everywhere.

So in my mind, the world is small even though it is big.

This week I had the opportunity to feel just how small the world can be.  I had the privilege of attending the international conference Synergy 2015 in Guatemala City (http://cmtguatemala.org/synergy-2015-realities-opportunities-challenges/).  It was a gathering of men and women from around the world to talk, discuss, dive into and celebrate one thing: God and the City.  Voices that spoke a variety of languages came together to talk and to laugh and to share.  We walked the streets of Guatemala City, experienced the love Guatemalans have for their people, and participated in loving their city with them.  We learned of the pains Guatemalans continue to endure, but we also saw the joy Guatemalans have in the abundance of their beautiful country and their God.  I can’t speak for anyone, but I daresay that we all came away from this conference inspired.

What truly took my breath away during this conference was the diversity of the people gathered there in that conference room, eating meals and drinking coffee together.  Bangladesh, Egypt, Kenya, Nigeria, South Africa, Romania, Korea, Central America, North America—faces from many places.  We prayed in Spanish, English, Creole, and a myriad of other tongues and dialects to the same great God above.  And in that moment, the world didn’t seem so big.  In the hands of God, the world seemed very small indeed. 

Secret to Life

I’m super giddy right now.  Filled right to the brim with energy.  Kind of like champagne that’s been shaken up in a bottle and the cork is stuck.  Why do I feel this way?  I’ve stumbled upon a secret.  The secret to the universe as it were.  I seriously feel like I’ve just unlocked the mystery of this thing we call life.

And before you go on and say “good grief Kelsey, you became a Christian a long time ago”, that’s not what I mean.

It’s much simpler than that.

And it all comes down to this: relationships.

We were created—from dust or a rib bone or however—for relationships.  That’s it.  Period.  Amen.

We weren’t created to learn the alphabet, or to master our times tables, or learn how to swim, or to memorize the Apostle’s Creed.  Forget school, forget college, forget work—those are all just time fillers. 

No, we were made for each other. 

Stop and ponder that a moment… how does this make you feel?  How does it make you feel to be so tied to those around you?  Your very essence important because they too are important?  Not because of anything great you’ve ever accomplished; not because of what great work you do; not because of the spotlight you’ve fashioned for yourself.  But because God created us to be in community, His community.

I learned a new word this week, one that only makes sense if you believe what I just told you.  The word comes from Zulu: Ubuntu.  The concept of Ubuntu can be boiled down to this punchline: I am because you are; you are because I am.

Isn’t that beautiful? 

At the end of life, you are going to look back and be measured not by what you managed to accomplish while here on earth—no you are going to be measured by your love and how you loved others.  That’s it.

And guess what?  We were created for this!  That means that to love is as natural as to breathe.  It isn’t something that can be graded or taught—it’s ingrained in our very DNA.

Unfortunately, society today has made it so hard for us to not only find our identity in love, but to be that love.  Individualism creates barriers between me and you, keeping me from reaching out and loving the person beneath all those layers of self-protection.  Society doesn’t want us to embrace the vulnerable—it wants us to buy insurance plans so we never have to feel vulnerable!

And that is life’s greatest lie.

So I dare you today to love.  I dare you to trust your instincts and reach out to someone.  I dare you to be who God created you to be.

Full

For just a moment, I want you to sit down in a place that’s comfortable to you.  Shut off all distractions, things that will take you away from this very moment—no phones, books, TVs, computers, tablets, nothing.  Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. Feel the air fill your lungs, expanding and contracting as you breathe in deeply.  In... and out... Breathe in again.  Take a moment and pause all your wandering thoughts.  Ask yourself one question: how do I feel?

As I take a deep breath, I feel many things.  Slowly though, I let those cacophonous thoughts and feelings leave me, in their wake something much more centered, calm, and relaxed.  Sadness and pain wander at the periphery of my attention but, at this very moment, I feel tranquil.   

Another word comes to mind: full.  Not full as in I just ate a hearty breakfast.  No, I feel full in the sense of wholeness, peace, Shalom.  Full as in rain and smiles, stars and silence. Full as in immersion and a connectedness to something much bigger than me.  Full as in I am more than I appear to be, that we are more than we appear to be.

These past few weeks, God has given me glimpses of his Fullness, the depths of which are fathomless. He has led me to people and places who have every right to feel broken, abandoned, empty. And yet, jars of clay that they are, God's light pours out of them.  I see a community, crippled by loss, and yet they don't cower in the shadows—they dance in the light. I hold a family in a prayerful embrace and, instead of empty silence, we are filled with the Spirit’s life.  Tears are filled with stories of not only pain, but also of God’s grace.  God’s abundance takes on a whole new form, growing not out of plenty but out of fullness. 

Fullness. Abundance. Life.

These are words my heart so desperately wants to hear right now…  I have witnessed too much loss and death in the past days than I care to think about.  My very heart beats loudly in my ears, an ever constant reminder of my life, and yet also a never-ceasing ironic reminder of those who have lost theirs.  But I find that I cannot stay too long resting in my grief and sorrow… just as I feel broken by loss, I can also feel the rays of God’s hopeful light pouring out of me.  The light, while a testimony to others, speaks to me in a profound way, telling me that God is here with me.  I may feel broken and tired and empty, but the truth is that God has me enveloped in his embrace.  I, we, are never alone.

I’ll close today with a short prayer I heard this week:

We ask that God may grant us peace.

That in our pain we may find comfort,

That in our confusion we may find a measure of understanding,

That in our anger we may find forgiveness,

That in our sorrow we may find hope,

That in the aftermath of fear we may find strength and healing.

We pray this in the name of the Father who is for us, the Son who is with us, and the Spirit who unites us all in the never-ending dance of Love.  Amen.

Go in peace.

The Curse of the Wandering Heart

Have you ever heard of the curse of the Wandering Heart?

Here, gather in closer and let me tell you:

One morning, we wake up and look around us. The world all seems normal... But it doesn't feel normal. For years we have lived our lives peacefully, happily even, in this normal world we know and so, this feeling of otherness comes as quite the surprise. Something is off, and our hearts can feel that.

Now there are two responses to this pull at our heartstrings. The easy response is to ignore it and continue living our lives as we have been, happy and peaceful. It's a life we know well and can easily traverse it. But I tell you, that feeling of otherness will never go away.

The other response, the more dangerous and mysterious one, is to feel the tug on our hearts and let ourselves be pulled to where it desires to go.

And so, as the valiant few, we put one foot in front of the other, wandering to where our hearts pull us.

We look and see and experience and feel the newness of life around us. We explore and dive into the worlds of newness we encounter and, as we do so, we realize something profound in our hearts--our hearts are growing, their depths to an unknown and unmeasurable distance. The new places and people we meet and know carve out their places in our hearts. As our hearts expand and grow and stretch, oftentimes painfully, we realize that our hearts know no bounds. For even as it hurts to fit in all that we come to cherish, we see that there is a space in and around our hearts that can never be filled.

We begin to realize that the world is too big for our hearts, and yet, it is not big enough.

We realize that our hearts deeply crave something otherworldly. Something in this world, yes, but not of it. Something that whispers lovingly to our hearts, calling out to us to seek the eternal source of that whisper.

And so we wander far and wide in a never-ending search for that which will Fill our Hearts.

And that, my dear, is the curse of the Wandering Heart. 

The Big Blue

My feet buried in warm sand, the ever present sound of crashing waves, the sun beating down through clouds heavy with rain, the smell of salt and fish and brine—yes, I had the wonderful chance to spend a few days at the beach this past week.  Even more beautiful than the setting was the company I shared it with:

Hi mom and dad!!

As I stood there one afternoon staring out at the endless horizon of blue waters, I was struck with just how majestic and weird the ocean is.  Have you ever thought about how big our oceans are?  How, geographically speaking, they have more real estate than land does?  Just last week I dipped my toes and tumbled in the waves of the Pacific Ocean, and so did some Japanese children.  I took a boat ride on the same waves that some dude was surfing on in Hawaii or in Australia.  The immensity of that body of water is just… well, too big.  I can’t wrap my mind around it.

Yes, that's a sea turtle :)

Not only are oceans ginormous, they’re also an alien planet unto themselves.  The many abysses of unknown depths, the unseen but ever growing submerged volcanoes, the new species being discovered every year, the numerous currents and strong tides, the submerged cities and shipwrecks: all are crazy mysterious things that boggle the mind and make you wish you could breathe water like a fish.

Instead, God gave us two land-dependent legs and oxygen-dependent lungs.  It seems we have been cursed to wander the Dirt forever.

In my mind, God is sort of like the ocean.  He is vast, mysterious, of unknown origins and depths.  He is teeming with new life, with adventure, with creativity.  He is powerful, strong, dangerous.  He is peaceful, tranquil, and beautiful.  He has no beginning, and no end.  He moves in us, waves of grace and tides of mercy.  We cannot control God, much like we cannot control the oceans. 

I suppose I also imagine the Kingdom of God like the ocean, where all His children come home to live in his watery Oasis.  Like drops of water, lost in the sea of not only other drops but also in the overarching presence that is His. 

It’s not a perfect analogy, but it does inspire the imagination, doesn’t it?

As you go to the lakes and the oceans, what side of God do you see?  As you ponder the depths of the seas and the life that calls those waters home, what lesson is God sharing with you?  Remember the early poets who compared God’s love with the endless seas, the depths of which could not be known.  Is that not amazing to think about? 

Someday, I will shed these land-legs and trade them in for my Kingdom-ocean ones.  Someday, the oceans will make sense and their secret places will no longer be a mystery to me.  Someday, I’ll join God in his watery depths and swim in his glory.  Someday, I will call those waters Home.

Someday.

Stay tuned!

Cha-Cha-Changes

Courtesy of Carlye Tazelaar

Pensive, I stare off into the distance, not really seeing the vista in front of me.  I think of the future and, quite quickly, get lost in the emotions and dreams I have swirling around in my mind.  Caught in the powerful vortex, I am sucked into the great questions of which I have no answers:  Where will I be?  Who will I be with?  What will I be doing???  I have a fairly concrete plan for the next 3 months (no really, you should see my calendar—there’s no white space left), but have intentionally left blank my year of 2016.  

Why, you might ask? 

For the first time in my life, I don’t have a red carpet laid out in front of me.  There is no doorway open with a bright light shining through, beckoning me to cross that threshold.  There is no guide blazing a trail ahead of me in this jungle, no one to follow in their footsteps.  For the very first time, my future seems quite… well, open.  Blank.  Free.  Which at first terrifies me!  I am the girl with a plan, a well thought-out plan, I might add.  I always have my ducks lined up, the details sorted through, the options well labeled and categorized.  I hardly ever just wander blindly, hoping to bump into the right door to open or the right path to follow (though this sometimes happens if I misplace my glasses, bewildering moments I try to avoid).  So the idea of me intentionally not planning anything is bizarre. 

My only reason seems a bit feeble, but it’s all I’ve got—It comes down to the fact that if I think too much about the future, I’ll forget to live in the present.  As silly as it sounds, planning and dwelling on my future feels like an escape from the challenges and drudgery of my reality right now.  I will invent such a beautiful and perfect future that the world around me right now will become dull, annoying, and burdensome.  I will polarize the two, seeing the grass as very green over there, on the other side.  I will yearn for the future, and begrudge the present. 

And I don’t want that to happen. 

So I am avoiding the temptation of daydreaming too much so that I can find joy here in the present too.  The key is in noticing the small things, the little gift bundles God throws into every day.  When I look up, I can see the clouds in the sky and cherish the rain they bring.  When in the countryside, I can see freshly planted coffee and savor the taste of cacao fruit.   At the markets, I can marvel at the handiwork of Nicaraguan artisans, both past and present, and admire their artwork.  In my rocking chair, I can sip my coffee in the mornings and enjoy the company of my little hummingbird that visits me.  Every day, I can laugh and smile and just be with the people I’ve come to call good friends.  These are the good times. 

Even though my future seems dauntingly blank and looms over me from time to time, I find that it also motivates me to fully engage in the here and now and see how blessed I am.  The future will come, and I will be ready for it when it comes. 

But not yet, not yet.

My Old Friend

It’s been just over a week since the last time I enjoyed a thunder storm.  I miss those rain showers, those cacophonous moments of rain pelting tin roofs and thunder booming in the dark clouds above.  I miss feeling the chill of the fresh air, the smell of water-drenched earth, the feeling of the cool drops on my bare skin. 

Last week, I spent a few days traipsing around the countryside down by San Carlos, mostly in a small pueblo called Guasimo.  These small towns butt up against the border with Costa Rica, giving them a very different feel to the colonial city I call home.  The jungles engulf the countryside and villages in their wild foliage and teem with wildlife like monkeys, parrots, boa constrictors, tarantulas, and jungle cats.  To make it even better, it rains there.  A lot.  As you may know, rain and I get along rather famously.  Although recently we haven’t seen much of each other…  So this trip of mine, though tiring, turned out to be quite the blessing :)

During one particular thunderstorm I felt inspired to write a small poem of sorts… A poem to my old friend, Rain:

The rain, she calls out to me

Like an old friend.

I welcome her greeting warmly;

I pull up a chair,

Put on a pot of water

And brew us a cup of sweet tea. 

I snuggle up in my warm sweater

And sip my hot tea,

Grateful for Rain's fresh air she's brought

A gift of air that smells of wet earth, puddles, and green.

She invites me to talk first,

Listening ever so gently.

And so we talk,

Just her and I.

I talk of deep things that weigh on my heart:

My feelings of the past,

My desires for the present,

My dreams for the future.

And Rain listens to me well,

Giving me advice and counsel.

She speaks of patience and timing,

Of rhythm and passion and balance.

I ponder her words and

Savor their wisdom

like the cup of tea I currently hold.

She is wise, my old friend Rain.

And then she takes her turn,

Sharing with me her thoughts and hopes.

As her passion rises,

So too does her voice of watery droplets.

Crescendos of raindrops pelt the earth around us,

A symphony of notes and beats.

Thunder and Lightning join in from time to time,

Forever lost in their mighty dance.

And I sit here,

And listen

As we share this moment in our lives,

Just Rain and I.

And then the time comes

When Rain must go.

I thank her for bringing me a bit of peace and wisdom.

I sigh, content and refreshed.

Farewell, Rain.

Until the next time when our paths cross.

Until then, here I will wait for you.

Stay tuned!