Germany Day One - It's all part of the adventure

Yesterday I flew to Berlin after spending a really great week in Brussels at the YWAM base where I did my DTS. I took a train from Berlin to Dresden and then another from Dresden to Lobau. It went surprisingly well - seeing as I don't speak German and I didn't have a working cell phone or wifi. I missed one train but managed to get to my final destination though!!

All of that to say, I had no way to get a hold of the base here in Herrnhut, and they didn't actually know when I was coming because my original flight had been cancelled due to a pilots' strike. So as the train was pulling into the station, I was praying, "Jesus, please let there be some YWAMers here..." I didn't really know where to go, so I followed some people around. But there wasn't anyone holding a sign or waving emphatically at me... I was about to go sit on the sidewalk and wait when I saw a van with YWAM Herrnhut written on the side. They all looked a little surprised as I walked up to them because they weren't expecting to pick me up. The van was already almost full and they were picking up 2 other people, but they decided they could just squeeze me in. As they were putting my bags into the van, I realized something pretty terrible... I didn't have my purse.

Not having my purse meant that I no longer had my passport or the money for my school. And it was just laying on a seat on the train in plain sight for anyone to grab.

I stood there for a moment, kind of freaking out just a little, but then I started laughing. One of the guys, Dennis, started to looking for the phone number for the train company, and another girl ran around the station looking for someone who could help us. Dennis finally talked to someone who could contact the train I was on, but she had to contact them and then call us back later. Then four of us started praying. We prayed that God would make it invisible to everyone except for the person who would be looking for it. I can honestly say that I wasn't actually really worried after the first initial realization. God gave me a huge sense of peace. I am just so thankful that Jesus is bigger than my stupidity and forgetfulness.

15 minutes later we got a phone call from the lady at the train company. They had found my wallet with ALL OF THE MONEY AND MY PASSPORT STILL IN IT!!! Let's just say there was lots of screaming and "THANK YOU JESUS"s and jumping up and down going on. It was crazy. The only thing was that we would have to do was drive that night to another village about 20 minutes away to pick it up or they would turn it over to the police. But by this time the other two people had come, and the van was stuffed. Three of them decided to go to the base by bus, and then 5 of us went to find my passport. 

When we got to the other station, I just had to sign a paper, and then I got all of my things back!! It was a crazy day to say the least. Yesterday afternoon, I was wondering how in the world I was going to register for the school or pay for it because all of my information was in my wallet. Today, I was able to register with my passport and fully pay for the lecture phase of my school. Come on!

It's all part of the adventure, right? All I can say is, "Thank you, Jesus." Our God answers prayers and always provides for us - even when we're forgetful.

My Story of Papa's Heart

Well. It's time for me to get my story out there - the whole thing from the very beginning. This is who I am, this is what has shaped me and changed me. This is my testimony, my story of what Jesus does when He invades a heart. My prayer as you read is that you will experience Papa's heart in a way you never have before. His love for you goes farther than the skies and deeper than the ocean.

I was born in Salem - grew up in the same house, same room facing the river, have gone to the same church, still have many of the same friends since birth. I have been so blessed to be raised here. My childhood was not normal though. When I was 18 months old, my doctor found a hole in my heart the size of a quarter, and they had to do open heart surgery to close it. I still have the 6 inch scar on my chest. About the same time, my dad was dealing with a brain tumor and my brother Cole was just entering the family. I can't imagine being my mom then...

When I was 3, my dad passed away. I have very few memories of him. I think it was the night before he died, or very close to, our whole family was in our living room where his hospice bed was. I remember sitting at a table with all of my cousins when I decided I wanted to give my daddy a balloon. My mom picked me up and I gave him the balloon. The next thing I remember is a man rolling out my daddy's hospice bed through our front door.

The next couple years are a little fuzzy. I know that I was not happy. I would wake up in the middle of the night crying out for my daddy, or I would wake up hearing Cole doing the same. But at the same time I began to learn Who my heavenly Father really was. He was the Person my mom cried out to in the kitchen in the middle of the night. He was the One who was taking care of my daddy. He was the One that sent Christmas presents from our church family to a desperate single mother and kept our fridge full of lasagna. And He was Who everyone told me was my real Daddy.

During elementary school, I was the perfect church girl. Honestly, I could have been the poster child for the evangelical church. I was enrolled in a private Christian school (we're still not sure who paid for mine and Cole's tuition all those years), I did Bible quizzing and was always one of the highest placing kids, I was very involved in Sunday School and midweek stuff. Basically whenever the church doors were open, the Flanigans were there. And I loved it. I am so grateful for all of the people who poured their hearts into us and helped us have such a firm grasp of the Bible. But my elementary years were incredibly difficult. So many people in my life died. There has been more death in my family and family friends than I would wish on anyone. And every time, it would bring up more of the pain of not having a dad in my life. Every year on/near February 12, I would wear a locket with a picture of my dad in it. I would show the picture to [most] of the people who asked, and they would always say "Your dad was a very good man. He is so happy now with Jesus. And now you have God as your father."

And then middle school happened... Most of the things that happened between 2006-2010 are not mine to tell, but I can tell you how I reacted. And that was not well. It's kind of hard to sum up, but basically I became a victim of circumstance and poor decisions made by adults that I trusted completely. It seemed as if every time I turned around I found out about something about a very respected adult that I prayed wasn't true. I began to draw back into myself, and I built very high, thick walls around my heart. I fell into a deep pit of depression, anxiety, and obsessive negative thoughts. I had nightmares that I won't repeat. For almost a year, I couldn't sleep. If I could sleep, then I had to have the lights on and music going. But if I had music going, it would distract me and I couldn't sleep anyways. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes I would never wake up again. I became incredibly legalistic and held myself to outrageously high standards. The enemy convinced me that if I didn't read my Bible before I fell asleep, I would wake up in hell. I would have obsessive thoughts which lead me to not trust anyone - everyone was on a constant watch list. Every word they said was doubted, every intention thought to be a hurtful one. Even my closest of friends were not trusted. But how I could I trust someone when I knew they were just going to hurt me and let me down somehow?

I became nasty, bitter, angry, hateful. Anxiety/panic attacks become a regular occurrence. I couldn't do school because of the obsessive thoughts. I got so far behind that I basically felt like a failure. I had always been a straight-A student. I plastered a smile on my face and kept going to church and reading my Bible because if I didn't... Well, I didn't want to know what would happen if I didn't keep to my very strict rules. I hated God, but I cried out to Him anyways. I was angry at Him beyond belief, and yet I couldn't seem to get rid of His hand in my life. I couldn't understand how this God who said He was my Father could let all of those horrible things happen to me, how He could steal away the people I love, tear apart my family and my church, and still say He loved me and had a good plan for me.

Finally my mom had enough and forced me to go to therapy in 8th and 9th grade. Yes, forced. And I think only a handful of people know about this. I fought her every week. I tried to make up excuses not to go. And as much as I hated to admit it to anyone, it did help. I was ashamed though. What 13 year old goes to a psychiatrist? It didn't help that my brother didn't have to go, and neither did a couple of other kids who were very involved in all of the mess. Surely there is something horribly wrong with me, I would think, since no one else has to go. And so I would make up excuses to my friends why I couldn't hangout on Thursday night, etc. to hide what was going on. Always smiling on the outside, and yet dying from the darkness all around me on the inside.

When I was 15, I went for a week in the summer to Camp Risen Son. That place had been my safe haven for the last 5 years. I could run away from everything and just be with people I loved, far from the tangled mess at home. Yeah, they talked about God, but I was still trying to figure out where I was with Him. I believed He was real, I kind of believed that He had something better planned for my life, but I didn't understand His love or His forgiveness. It was the second to last night of camp, I think, and the speaker was talking about forgiveness. I lost it. I realized the depth of the bitterness and hatred in my heart toward a couple of adults who had severely hurt my trust. I was a mess, and I need healing. Jesus came and spoke His forgiveness over me. I was able to forgive myself, and I was able to begin forgiving all the people who had hurt me. Suddenly the joy that had been stolen from me returned. I can remember the next morning the feeling of freedom I had. It was incredible. I knew from that moment on that I had to follow Jesus with everything I was. I had known since I was a little kid I was made to be an overseas missionary, I knew it in middle school too. But I re-realized it that day, I guess.

The rest of high school was better than middle school, but it was pretty rough and doesn't really need to be talked about right now. A couple of concussions in junior/senior year and I basically dropped out. I knew I didn't want to go to college or a university - why spend thousands of dollars to learn about stuff that I would probably never use when I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my life? Besides, I really just wanted to tell people about Jesus, and it didn't seem like I should have to have a degree to do that. (Acts 4:13, anyone? Totally kidding. Go to school if that's what you want to do.) I felt God nudging me to look into YWAM (Youth With A Mission). Several of my friends/acquaintances had done a DTS (Discipleship Training School - YWAM is all about their acronyms...) and they came back changed. Changed in a very good way. They had passion, vision. They had gone on adventures. They had tried something new. And new was very much what I needed.

So in January 2012 of my senior year of high school, I started looking around the YWAM world base map. I was already planning to go to England to meet a penpal and stay with her family. I was looking for bases in countries about as far away from Oregon as I could get. I figured if I was going to do this, I was going to do it all the way. I was looking at Australia and New Zealand and countries where I could go backpacking and such - places I wanted to go. But nothing was getting me excited, nothing was grabbing my heart. Frustrated I prayed, alright, God, where do You want me to go? And He said, Europe. I said, Ehhh, don't think so. And He said, Look. I did. The first country that popped up was Belgium. Honestly, I had forgotten that was even a country. I read through the base information and I was hooked. It had grabbed my heart. I couldn't get it out of my head. We'll just fast forward through the next 8 months... But basically, I bought a one way ticket to England before I knew if I was accepted to the base in Brussels, got accepted, and it was a really, really crazy few months leading up to it.

I had absolutely no idea why God wanted me in Brussels. My time in England was awesome, unforgettable. And then it was time to go to Brussels. I had expectations and an idea of what my DTS would be. But I was also freaked out of my mind. It was one thing to go live with a penpal for two months... We had skyped, facebooked, written letters and emails. I knew her, and I trusted her. This though? This was much different. I was going in alone, to live with 10 other people I didn't know, who were from all over the world, and who would have different stories and personalities than me. Let's just say I learned more about my personality and how I work than I have ever. DTS is not really for those who don't want Jesus to break down their carefully built walls. I was so closed off the first few weeks. But I couldn't trust them! I didn't know who they were or if they would hurt me if I opened up to them.

We all went on an emotional rollercoaster the first few weeks of lecture phase. The some of the first topics were identity, Fatherheart of God, and Kingdom Living. Identity killed me. I believed so many lies about myself - that I wasn't beautiful or pretty or worth it, and because I wasn't all of those things, I didn't think anyone really wanted to be my friend - I was really just an annoyance that my "friends" put up with. Definitely lies, but lies that I probably wouldn't have had if I had had a dad who affirmed me in my beauty and femininity. And with all of that, I struggled to make new friends because I didn't think they would want to be anyways. Well, after lots of tears, I broke with those lies I believed about my self image and acceptance.

The next week was Fatherheart of God. Going into the week I had already decided that I wasn't going to cry or get emotional at all. I already knew that God was my Father. I thought I knew that better than any of my teammates. No one knew that my dad had died when I was little. So I sat there in my spot in the lecture room the first 3 days not engaged at all. I wasn't really connecting with the teaching, so I was just there. I had felt God's Presence all around and in me that whole week. On Thursday night we would usually have ministry night where the lecturer or our staff would do a special evening of worship or prayer or something like that. This particular Thursday night they had set up different prayer stations - a table for communion, a cross for surrendering, a place to write a letter to God, a place for confession, and a couch to just sit and be with Papa. I went straight for that one. I curled up on the couch with a pillow, and not even 5 minutes later I was sobbing from somewhere so deep within me that it scared me. Suddenly I was overcome with these emotions and this pain I didn't even know existed. All of these desires I had for an earthly father that I had not allowed to grow since I was a little girl burst out of my very soul. I realized how badly I wanted a daddy to hug me, to hold me, to tell me I was beautiful, to walk me down the aisle, to be there for me when I needed to talk about boys or just needed a hand to hold. I finally told God how unfair it really was, but that I wasn't angry.

While all of this was happening in my head, I was basically hyperventilating. The lecturer came and started praying over me. Over the next two hours, I never moved off the couch, but he came back a couple of times and did things that I always wanted my dad to do. He brought over a blanket and tucked me in. More hyperventilating. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead and prayed over me more. Even more hyperventilating. Finally after two very long hours, I had cried all my tears and felt more wrung out than a sopping wet dishrag. I was so exhausted I could barely talk let alone walk. As I was about to head upstairs with my leader Nele, the lecturer stopped me, gave me a hug, and whispered "I am so proud of you". I knew that was really what Papa was saying to me. I lost it again.

I couldn't explain what had happened to anyone because I had absolutely no idea myself! So for the next week I was an emotional train wreck. One minute I would be laughing at the dinner table, the next minute I would be sobbing on my bed for an hour. It was great... Anyways, during that bipolar week it was also the week of Kingdom Living teaching. The lecturer was from Scotland. Now, I don't know what your theology says about prophecy, but this guy was doing it. All week he would just stop in the middle of his lecture, look at someone, walk up to them, and tell them something about their life that only they knew. He would then pray over them and speak truth over their lives. But he never did that to me. In some ways I was relieved, in others, not so much. We had talked a lot during meals and stuff, but he never got into anything spiritual. I was so messed up emotionally I didn't really care.

That Wednesday night, I had it really rough, and I was journaling my prayers in my bed. I was so upset, I finally wrote in my journal "God, just give me a dad!" I could show you the page. You know when you say things out of emotion but don't expect anything to come of it? Yup. That would be that sentence. So, Thursday morning I thought nothing of it. My team, my outreach leaders, and Michael the speaker went on a prayer walk that morning around the EU buildings in Brussels. We were not ready. If I'm not ready for a prayer walk, I get depressed and angry. We went back to the base to debrief and pray, and I was hiding deep in myself. I was sitting next to Michael and another teammate. While they were praying to close off the morning, I started sobbing again. I lost it. They kicked everyone else out of the prayer room so it was just me, the two outreach leaders and Michael. I finally explained what had been going on all week, and they started praying for me. Michael prophecied over me - I honestly don't remember what he said, I was crying to hard! He did say something about Papa filling my loneliness though. After about a half hour, I felt much much better and headed up to the DTS student apartment to get cleaned up. Michael was staying on the same floor so he followed me.

Just as I was about to go in to the apartment, Michael stopped me and said, "Papa wants me to ask you something. He wants me to ask you to be my daughter." *enter Katy's dropped jaw here* I was floored. I stared at him for a bit, and he looked quite worried. And then I told him that I had just prayed for that the night before. (Not for him particularly of course!) He seemed slightly shocked and said he needed to go call his wife and kids... And I walked dazedly to the shower where I freaked out a bit: I realized that I didn't know how to have a dad or how to be a daughter.

And so began a very strange journey for all of us.

It's kind of a weird thing to skype your mom and tell her that a guy from Scotland is adopting you or how that even came to be. My brother had men step up in his life and be a father figure, but I had never had anyone really do that for me. My mom was excited for me, but also a little hesitant I think. Michael and I talked quite a bit while he was still in Brussels, and just a couple days after all of that happened, he told me that he and his family wanted me to come visit them after my DTS was over. Me: woah... hold up. Sudden realization of what God was really doing hit me like an anvil. I was excited and man, was I scared.

Over the next couple of months I wrestled with God. First, He takes my biological dad, then He gives me a new one out of the blue, and then the new one goes back to a country that is halfway around the world. Fantastic! It was hard. I felt like Papa really wanted me to go stay with Michael and his family after my DTS, but I was scared. My mom was neutral, and all my teammates thought it was a great idea. So while I was on outreach in Bulgaria I bought a ticket to Scotland for 10 days before I came home to Oregon.

It was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made. I was so scared flying into Glasgow. As the plane touched the tarmac, I had a minor panic attack. Holy cow, Katy, what in the world are you doing?? What if they don't like you? What if it's horrible? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? But man. It was so worth it. Michael's kids, my siblings, Emily Joy and Joshua are the greatest. His wife Gail is the best. And I loved everything about the town where they lived. But not gonna lie, the first couple of days were pretty hard for me when it came to Michael. I was putting so much pressure on myself - I was so afraid that I was going to mess it all up. I had no idea what I wanted or expected from the relationship, or what he was thinking. I wanted it to not be awkward so badly! And it really wasn't. 10 days was not long enough. I got on the plane to leave Scotland, and I felt a part of my heart stay there.

And so here we are, a year later. My dad and I have messaged back and forth and we've skyped as a family a couple of times. I am so excited to go back. I will be staying with them for almost two weeks before I go to Germany for my next YWAM school. During the last 6 months especially, I have felt a pulling in my heart for Scotland. I was able to do some ministry with them and some of the YWAMers in West Kilbride and I love the work they are doing. We'll see what Papa has in store :)

This is my story. This is my story of Papa's love for me. This is His work to restore the brokenness in my life. And this is His heart for all His children. Of course, you probably won't have a random guy adopt you, but I know that God is always working to redeem the things stolen by the enemy.

Psalm 145:13-20

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does.
The Lord upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time.
You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.
The Lord is righteous in all his ways and faithful in all he does.
The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.
The Lord watches over all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy.

A little recap on 2013 and why I'm going to Germany!

I thought maybe it would be time for an update for anyone remotely interested in what is going on in my life seeing as I'm leaving the country in 49 days and all. Wow. 49 days. When I got home last year, I thought this spring would never come. Now it's almost here, and I'm not sure how we're already here!

I mostly wanted to let you know a little bit of what God has been up to and where exactly He's leading me. 2013 was one of the hardest but best years so far. Last January I was in South Africa and now here I am sitting on my bed in Oregon. It is so crazy how things have changed. This year at home was nothing like I had planned or imagined on so many levels. Friendships came and went, opportunities were taken, mistakes were made, tears were cried, and joy was multiplied. I saw God literally provide my daily needs during the first six months that I was home. When I got off the plane from Scotland, I didn't even know how I was going to put gas in my car. But time after time after time God was faithful. Random checks, house cleaning jobs, babysitting, an incredibly loving mom, and then a full time job (that started just at the perfect time!) were all reminders that Papa always knows what I need and He is my faithful provider.

While I was home this summer, I was able to spend almost 4 weeks at camps. I love camp. It was so great to be able to serve the kids in our area and to be able to do it with some of my most favorite people in the world! Coming home to these camps again made me realize how incredibly blessed I was to be able to grow up going to them.

I have to be honest, my re-entry from a European/African YWAM experience back to good ol' Salem was much, much harder than I expected it to be. During my DTS my leaders kept telling us that being home was going to be the true test of what we had learned and changed when we were gone. They said it would be hard, lonely, and probably not that much fun at the beginning. As much as I didn't want to believe them, they were so right. After I left Belgium, I struggled with a deep depression and loneliness and a feeling of uselessness and disconnect from life here in Oregon. But again, Papa was faithful. He provided friendships that I needed to encourage me, to lift me up, to point out where I was wrong, and to just love on me. Some friends were literally only present in my life for 4 days or two weeks! But, they were such a blessing and such a gift from God.

So, why did I choose to go to Germany this spring? Great question! I heard about this school (Kerusso School of the Kingdom) when I was still in Brussels in February. A team from YWAM Herrnhut in Germany was visiting our base there, and they were basically on an advertising/recruiting trip for their base. Well, they got at least one new student from it! They were talking about second level schools they offered there (you have to have completed a DTS first before you can attend one of these), and Kerusso jumped out at me. I literally have not been able to get it out of my head since that day!

YWAM Herrnhut is a castle!!

Kerusso is all about Jesus and learning how to follow Him, doing the things He did. It focuses on practical, tangible ministry - praying for people, healings, prophetic worship and evangelism, and mercy ministries. It's about bringing revival to the nations, hope to the broken, poor, and needy, light to the darkest places, and Jesus to people who desperately need Him. I want to be a part of something like that. I am so excited for the opportunity to live in community again and to be constantly surrounded by people who are passionate about our sweet King Jesus and the people He so desires to see brought back to life in His Name!

I am confident that Kerusso is a crucial step in the way Papa is leading me. I know He has called me to full time mission overseas. I don't know where that means I'll be in 6 months after the school or in 5 years down the road. I don't really have a plan right now. Of course, if you know me even a little bit, you know I probably have some cockamamie idea swirling around in my head... :) But I am so excited to just take Jesus hand and walk this way with Him!

If you've made it all the way to the end of this, thank you! I'd like to ask you to please pray about partnering with me financially for this school. I thought that I was going to be able to pay for the tuition and travel expenses by working full time this fall and winter, but you know how life goes sometimes... And I'm learning to trust God to provide again! So if God puts it on your heart to give financially, you can give through my home church (Labish Center Community Church, 7114 Labish Center Rd NE, Salem, OR 97305) or to me directly (Katy Flanigan, PO Box 21207, Keizer OR 97307).
But even more than that, please partner with me in prayer. There is no possible way I will be able to succeed in this school or in future ministry without my friends, my family, praying for me. I have tons of reminder pictures that you can stick on your fridge or in your Bible or wherever! All I know is that I can do nothing without God and the encouragement that comes from knowing people are interceding for me.

Thank you again to everyone who supported me during my DTS last year and who helped me and encouraged me this year! I couldn't have done it without you.
Be blessed, fam. Cheers.

Being Independent is Overrated

It is so important to live in community. When I was younger, I always wanted to move out, live on my own, be independent. By myself. Ha. 

The last few years, God has really been changing my heart when it comes to being independent. It's not all that it's cracked up to be. Our family has always had someone from the "outside" living with us. I think probably since my mom and dad bought this house there has only been about 2 years when no one else lived here too. That is pretty rad. We've had druggies and addicts, homeless and outcasts, aunts and random friends, those who loved Jesus and those who did by the time they left. My mom is such a great example of what it means to love people the way Jesus loves people - she could care less whether you are rich or poor or employed or have a good or bad rep. She will bend over backwards, sacrifice her time and resources, to make sure you are cared for. That's how I grew up. I have a bazillion horror stories I could tell about growing up here with all of these other people living here, but the good stories and the lessons I've learned would outnumber them a million to one. 

Right now, I'm eavesdropping on the two other women who are living with us... And it is bringing me so much joy. This is how life should be: talking about the serious things, the conflicts, laughter, swapping stories of life lived at the Flanigan homestead, and talking about the dreams Jesus has given us. It is absolutely beautiful because this is all God. It's all about relationship - the good, the bad, and the ugly of community. 

"Being independent doesn't mean doing it alone." - my mom. You guys, she is so incredibly wise. I don't know how I got to have a mom as great as she is. And I know you would all agree that she is pretty top notch...

But anyways. Why in the world would anyone ever want to live life on their own? Life is meant to be lived and shared together. I am so thankful that my mom has made this truth a reality in my life. 

Dreaming

Before I left for my DTS with YWAM in summer 2012, I kind of had a dream/vision for my life... I really wanted to open a coffee shop that served GOOD coffee, had super chill music, comfy chairs, and an atmosphere that welcomed the broken, the joyful, the hurting, the outcast, the misfit, the radical, and the everyday kid. But more than that, I wanted it to be a place where people could find Jesus. I wanted it to be a place where the homeless had food and shelter and a friend. Somewhere the desperate could find hope, the broken could find healing, and the tired could find rest. 

I dreamed of there not only being a coffee shop but also a community house where people who loved Jesus and other people could live together like the church in Acts 2. Of course, it wouldn't be limited to only followers of Jesus; as one of my lecturers last year said, "every person is a child of God... Some just haven't realized it yet." I love that. But the community would be centered on worshiping Jesus through music and tangible, outward expressions of love toward others - no matter who they were. There's a lot more, but that's pretty much the roots of my dreams - live in community, love on Jesus, love on people, and drink coffee. There's not much better, right? 

I don't really know what happened, but slowly, near the end of my DTS, that dream slid into the background. It had been in the spotlight for so long, yet somehow it managed to just trickle away. Something I always knew about my future was confirmed several times while I was on my DTS - I am going to be a lifelong missionary and life is going to be nowhere near ordinary. Deep in my heart, I've always known God would have me go overseas to who knows where doing who knows what. And that's what I want so badly. So that has become my dream - to move overseas as soon as I possibly can. I guess I let the coffee shop/community house dream go because, honestly, I don't know when that will ever become reality. I don't even know where I will be in a year. Or in 6 months, for that matter. 

But today, my coffee shop community dream came back in full force for the first time in months. I don't even know what to do with all excitement and the ideas that are flying around in my head at 5 billion miles an hour. The only thing I can do is give it back to Jesus. He knows the desires of my heart even better than I do. He knows how He is going to use my gifts and passions. I think I'll just sit back and see what doors He opens and where He leads me next. 

Freedom from Negativity. And a bit about Elephants.

The last few weeks I have been struggling with negativity and a complaining spirit. I've been struggling the last few months actually. It has mostly just been in my thoughts, but I have noticed it coming out more and more in my conversations with friends and family. All the good things in my life have been getting drowned out by my constant complaining about everything. And I have been having an incredibly hard time shaking off these new-found pessimistic tendencies. Not going to lie though, the last 6 months since I got home from my DTS have been incredibly difficult with a lot of ups and a lot of downs. 

The thing is, I used to hardly ever complain. I don't like being around people who complain. I have always tried to be as positive as possible, whether it is about a personal situation or a friend's circumstances. There's no point in being a pessimist. Life is too short to be a Moaning Myrtle. So, as I've been doing some self-reflection, I have not enjoyed seeing these things in me. 

At least step one is completed: recognize and accept the fact that you have a problem. Check. But what is step two? How do you get free from a negative mindset? I really hate all of the negativity inside of me. Besides for the fact that God tells us to "rejoice in the Lord always" and to "give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus," (oops), I also know that being negative is not good for me as a human being. We, as a human race, have been learning more and more the importance of having good mental health. Thinking positive really does have more of an affect on us than we admit. And I have been beating myself up with my thoughts for months and months. Negativity and pessimism also has a damaging effect on our spiritual lives as we are spiritual beings. Over and over again the Bible tells us the only way to approach the throne of grace with confidence is to enter His courts with thanksgiving because He has done great things for us. When I have accepted the complaining and negative spirit, how can I honestly expect to communicate with the Holy Spirit? I am pretty sure Jesus doesn't speak the languages of Whine or Self Pity. 

I realized that this issue was deeply rooted in selfishness on my part. Life has not exactly gone the way I wanted or expected, so obviously it's okay for me to throw a fit and doubt God's goodness. He is always good. The thing is, God's goodness in my life far outweighs all the other stuff that I have allowed to shadow it. Once I gave into the selfishness (basically me trying to claim control over my life which I have already given to Jesus' full control...), of course I would become unhappy - losing my joy and peace. For some reason, I keep forgetting that my life is hidden in Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. The desire of my old self, the dead self, is to have control again and to have things work out the way I want them to for my own happiness. But the desire of my new self is to just let Jesus have it. Because why not?? His ways are higher than my ways, and the plans that He has made for me are good. I'm so forgetful, but He always reminds me that He is the only one who brings me peace. 

So I have been praying the last couple of weeks that God would free me from the chains of this negativity and to give me the freedom that comes from living a life of thankfulness! It's been a really hard struggle for me. One of the staff members from my DTS, a beautiful woman of God - Nele, challenged us to never say anything negative about anything - not the weather, our hair, anybody else on the team, the slowness of others. Nothing. That, my friends, is incredibly more difficult than you may think. I figured that would be a good place to start in my desperate search for freedom from this nasty darkness I have been living in the last few months. It is really hard for me to not speak out the complaints in my head, but I've been working on it. Instead of complaining, I have begun to speak out the good in situations because there are usually more good things than bad in pretty much every situation I find myself. It has helped quite a bit. 

On Tuesday night I got to go to an outdoor worship night with my favorite worship bands in Knoxville, TN. I went with my friend Graham from my DTS. It was fantastic. Most of the songs were about breaking chains and finding freedom again in Christ. It was just what I needed. Jesus broke so many of the chains that the devil had ensnared me with for months. It was incredible. I felt so free afterwards. But not only was this negative spirit a chain, it was a habit. And breaking from bad habits is the pits. This last week I have been praying that God would help me break from this habit. Last night, Jesus spoke to me. 

I was writing in my prayer journal, and I couldn't stop saying thank you! I literally couldn't. I was suddenly overwhelmed by gratitude for everything. I had to stop writing so I could just sit in God's presence in thankfulness. I was about to turn off the light when the Holy Spirit showed me a picture and taught me something about spiritual bondage. I rarely see pictures so it blew me away, and I had to start writing again!

I saw a picture of a full grown elephant tied to a tree. I was reminded of something that I had heard a long time ago: in India (and other countries where they train elephants), they chain baby elephants to trees. They use thick, heavy chains so the baby won't escape. The trainers leave them chained as long as it takes for the elephants to calm down and stop trying to escape. The elephants soon learn that weight on their leg means they are trapped. Eventually, as the elephant grows, the trainers switch the heavy chains for light ropes. The elephant still believes it is not strong enough to escape even though, with one quick motion, it could free itself. 

I am the elephant. We are all elephants. We all have things restraining us, spiritual chains on our spirits that keep us from loving God with all we are. But how easy it really is to break free! We are covered by the blood of the Lamb, we are new creations in Christ! The sinful nature has no control over us anymore! Satan isn't really a lion - he is a mouse with a megaphone. He distracts us and blows things out of proportion. He is the king of lies and deceit, but my King, King Jesus, is the Father of Light. He alone is the Way, the Truth and the Life. In Him, and Him alone, is freedom and peace. He longs for us to realize that, with Him and through His grace, we can have life and have life to the fullest. The things holding us back are merely thin pieces of thread compared to His redeeming love. Do not be deceived anymore. 

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." - Galatians 5:1

Life as a Story

I've been thinking about my life as a story with the hope that someday, somehow, it might end up being a story that a person a few generations down the line would be interested in reading. I would hope that by the time they finished my story they would be encouraged and inspired to continue on, to make a difference, to be all that God made them to be. Then I was thinking, why don't I see my life that way right now? Aren't all of our lives worth being written about? Our stories are all so unique. The way that we have done life up to this very moment has been so vastly different than the way the person down the road has done theirs. Perhaps our lives are book-worthy now.

I just finished watching The Hobbit for the first time about an hour ago. Yeah, I'm behind the times. Not my fault. Anyways, something struck me in the storyline that I had not noticed when I read the book about 5 years ago. I have been noticing the same thing in the Harry Potter series that I have been listening to on audio book. It has been rolling around in my mind for the past couple of days. It's that in most good, well-written stories, the main character is generally a nobody when you are first introduced to them. They are going about their lives the way that they have always gone about their lives. They do the things that their culture, society, and social standing expect them to do. There is very little disturbance in their comings and goings. The character seems content with where they are. Likely the thought of changing their surroundings or lifestyles has not even been considered, or if it has been, the thought is thrown out immediately as preposterous and possibly dangerous to the well being of anyone that might be involved in the change.

Then the inevitable happens. A random circumstance or run-in occurs. The character, the nobody, suddenly finds out that they are a wizard or a princess or even just somebody created for an incredible adventure. And then they become a somebody. Several challenges may present themselves throughout the story, whether a physical challenge or a situation, to test the true character and charisma of the hero. Pretty basic story material.

But there's something else I have noticed in these incredible stories I have let my brain and emotions become involved in (I tend to get lost in a good story...). There is almost always a subplot dancing its way alongside the main plot. Most stories have the good guys and the bad guys. Then there are the inbetweeners who desperately cling to what they have experienced before, the "facts" that have been proved by evidence they can see, and the way things have always been done while the more extreme-leaning characters hold fast to what they believe is true even if there is no way to prove with tangible evidence that what they are saying is true and the inbetweeners think they are crazy. No matter how many times someone tries to get these stubborn inbetweeners to open their eyes and understand reality, there appears (much to the onlooker's frustration) that they will never accept the truth. Often times, the main character will go to great lengths and risks to try to convince the naysayers of the truth that might save them from perilous situations or embarrassment when the truth comes fully into the light. And yet these inbetweeners hold unswervingly to their idea of the truth because of their pride, their fear, or their lack of discernment and trust. In most cases, by the end of the book or movie the main character finally defeats all odds, and the "ridiculous" truth they had been trying to convey the whole time proves to actually be true. The inbetweeners are proved wrong... with great humiliation on their part.

I don't want to be an inbetweener. I don't want to get so caught up in the way I think things must be done or in the way I think things should work that I become the character in the story everyone hates because of their ignorance and pride and I miss out on being part of the team that defeats the bad guys, realizing the truth too late. I don't want to be the stuck up person in the story that everyone hopes becomes involved in a tragic accident and never returns to the dialogue.

I want to be the character who fights for what I know is the truth. I want to be in conflict and trial so I can be developed and my personal character can be tested and strengthened. I want to be part of the group that goes after what is right no matter the cost to reputation, health, or personal gain.

Maybe if I put down the pen and stop trying to write my story the way I think it should be, God can start writing it the way He wants it to be written. I have a feeling He has some crazy plot twists in mind for the story of my life that will be unlike anyone else's story. Maybe if He writes it instead of me, it will be a story others will want to read. He might write a story that will challenge people to learn and grow from reading about the experiences and adventures that only happened because He had the opportunity to be the pen holder. Maybe it's time for me to stop trying to think of a creative plot for my life story and let the Creator of life do it for me.