My King

I realized something this morning… I fear failure more than I fear anything else in this world. I fear disappointing people. Which in turn makes me become lazy and nervous to do anything: in language, in work, in relationships. I heap guilt on myself when I don’t complete a task to the best of my ability, or when I keep giving into that same temptation, or when I know that I’m being selfish in my decision making.

Most of the time I believe that Father looks at me with a scornful expression when I “fail”. I’m really good at believing that Father condemns me when I give in to temptation. I’m really good at not trusting Father with the things in my life.

By being good at these things, I’m not believing in the G0d of the word. I’m not believing in Yahweh, Adonai, Jehovah, the G0d of Jacob. I’m believing in the image that the enemy puts in my head.

Sometimes I feel exactly like Eve…

The serpent is saying “Did G0d actually say, ’there is not condemnation’?” And my reply is something along the lines of, “G0d said there is no condemnation for those who never fail him.” Then the serpent says, “Surely you are condemned, for you fail him everyday.” And when I see that what he says somehow makes sense in my head, I take a bite of his lies and fully believe in it.

The story continues…

Then when I realize what I’ve believed in and my fear of failure is the only thing I can think about, my eyes are open to the guilt of my sin much like Adam and Eve’s were opened. I feel the weight of failing G0d and the guilt that comes with that and I hide from Him, or I purposefully try to hide a certain part of my life from Him. Next, Father is so faithful to call out to me in the garden where I am hiding and all I can feel is shame and fear. Shame that I believed in the lies and fear of the condemnation that I still somehow believe is going to happen. Like he is walking towards me with his finger out stretched and has that same scornful look on his face ready to yell at me for my shortcomings.

This circle of guilt, shame, and fear is one of the enemies oldest and most effective traps.

I was reading this morning and talking to Father, but I was getting frustrated that I wasn’t fully “in” it. That same fear of failing G0d for not fully enjoying and basking in His word crept into my mind. Then, of course, the guilt and shame followed, pushing me towards shutting my word and moving on to what I have to do for the day. Ugh! I hate the enemy!

Father had incredible grace on me this morning and randomly reminded me of S.M. Lockridge’s “That’s My King” video in the midst of this mental battle. So I eagerly looked it up in hopes that it would bring me some focus. (If you have never seen this video I highly suggest you take a look, I promise its for your own good.) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX_7j32zgNw&feature=related

When I have watched this video in the past I usually focus on the great things he says about Father. But this time I realized that I knew those parts, and the only thing I could hear him say was “That’s My King” over and over. I’ve read about Him and I’ve studied about Him. I’ve read and I know that no means of measure can define His limitless love, He’s impartially merciful, He’s the sinners savior, He’s eternally steadfast, He supplies strength for the weak, He’s available for the tempted and the tried, He delivers the captives, His yoke is easy and His burden is light, He’s the gateway to glory, He forgives sinners, His word is enough, His grace is sufficient, He sympathizes and he saves.

As I sat there and thought about my guilt and shame and fear, I felt like G0d was yelling at me with a loving face full of tears saying, “I’m your King! Proclaim who I really am over your life.” (The complete opposite of the scornful face the enemy told me to believe.)

Now, if you know me then you know that I am a crier. Let’s just say that tears were flowing freely at this point. I looked down into the Psalm that I was suppose to read next and read…

“The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made.” Psalm 145:8-9

Oh how I love Him so! I don’t deserve this limitless love. I don’t deserve grace and mercy and love from the creator, but he lavishes it upon me. He “takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love.” (Psalm 147:11) He sees me where I am in the garden, hidden in my ball of guilt, shame, and fear and rescues me. And he NEVER fails to do so.

Now, I’m not saying that the serpent isn’t going to try to lie to me again and I’m definitely not saying that I will yank him out of the tree from now on. I’m a sinner; I’m going to fail every single day for the rest of my life. BUT this is the great struggle. The struggle against flesh and bone to be with and like our Savior. A sweet brother reminded me about a month ago that “we must continue in grace, knowing that the future glory far outweighs the present suffering. It will be worth it the day we step into the better country.”

So I urge you as well, to continue in the grace that our amazing Father gives and keep striving because it will all be worth it when we see His glorious face.

My King does not condemn me. Romans 8:1

My King will not leave me as an orphan. John 14:18

My King has adopted me as His daughter. Romans 8:14-16

My King will never allow anything to snatch me from his hand. John 10:28

My King will rescue me from evil EVERY TIME. 2 Timothy 4:18

THAT’S MY KING!

To Him be the glory forever and ever, Amen.

That's Normal Here #2 "Special Music"

One thing I love about going to fellowships here is that I get to hear songs being sung in a different language to our Creator. I enjoy listening to the songs that people from this country have written, but my favorite is when they have translated an English hymn. I love hearing the familiar tune and listening to my new language being sung to it. I have been studying how to read the symbols of this language, so while in a fellowship I practice my reading during the songs that are originals to this country, but usually I just can't help singing along in English to How Great Thou Art, Tis So Sweet, and Only Trust Him. People here have no shame about the volume of their voices when they sing, so the place is always booming in song. I can't explain the joy in my heart when I hear people from this country praising Him. Kinda reminds me of a vision when we will all be singing in every tongue to our King. So wonderful.

In a normal fellowship here there is a time slot for special music. Not the type of special music that is in the bulletin for a fellowship back home, when someone's name is in the bulletin and has "specially" prepared a "special" song for the "special" music time. This time slot is for anyone who wants to sing a song or if anyone wants to hear someone else sing a song. It's most likely not planned and is very spontaneous. Someone introduces the special music time and then the mic and the band are free use to anyone for the next 20 to 30 minutes. Usually I just sit back and enjoy the unashamed willingness to sing in front of large crowds. I have been warned by many that they like to get the foreigners up to sing, I had been fortunate to somehow get by thus far without being called out.

A couple Sundays ago, however my good friend was in charge of guiding the service. She had been telling me (or warning me) that she wanted me to sing one day at the fellowship. I always laughed and said, "No, thank you." Well yesterday she decided to call her best foreigner friend out in front of everyone. I think that they assume us foreigners also have no shame when it comes to singing in front of larges groups of people on the spot. As people turned towards me and encouraged me forward, I had no choice. My supervisors were also (literally) pushing me out of my chair in excitement to see how I would handle this reality check of culture. I nervously walked to the front of the room and racked my brains for a song to sing. The only one I could think of was How Great Thou Art. We had just sang it in L a few minutes before, they sing it in a very fast paced tune, so in those few seconds before I got to the mic I figured they wouldn't know that I'm singing the same song if I sing it real slow like we do back in the States.

Back home, I grew up singing in front of our fellowship. I was use to it and I loved doing it, so this wasn't completely foreign to me, but there is something about extreme spontaneity that really gets your adrenaline going. I said the traditional few words in L that everyone says before they sing a song, told them I would be singing in English, and began. Much to my avail, the band figured out what song I was singing and started playing along with me. I could tell that it was unnatural for them to play it so slow, but by the end they were really getting into it and I could tell that it completely didn't matter that I was singing the same song because I was singing in English and it was so different from the way they normally sing it.

At the end I thanked Father in L, like everyone always does and walked back to my seat. As I sat there, I realized how much fun that was. I haven't sung with a mic in my hand in so long and I didn't realize how much I missed it.

However, I learned my cultural lesson of the day and from now on I will be prepared for a "special music" foreigner call out...

TRUTH

One of my fellow workers sent me a link to this sermon, and it's safe to say I was either crying or in awe of Father throughout the whole thing.

This sermon is by David Platt. The audience is actually a room full of pastors, so any and all pastors take note, but in general these truths are for every believer to take hold of and live out. This is one of the most beautiful ways I have ever heard this preached. The title of it explains enough of what it is about.

Divine Sovereignty: The Fuel of Death-Defying Missions : Together for the Gospel

I know that it is long and you will more than likely need to give yourself some time to be able to listen, but please come back to this when you have time or make time. Save it for Sunday and listen to it on your "church" day, or save it for a not so busy evening and before you turn on the TV, listen to this instead. Podcasts may not be your thing, but with a little blunt love from me to you..... You need to make it your thing ;-)

Please grab your good book and your journal and talk some notes. Believe me, you won't regret it!

Easter Ponderings

For those of you that are a part of my crazy wonderful family please take a stroll down memory lane with me, and if your not please enjoy a blurb about my crazy wonderful family....


When I was growing up, every Easter we drove to Andrews, TX and celebrated with the crazy wonderful (sometimes half insane) Holman side of the family. My sister and I went through grueling hours of shopping to find that perfect Easter dress, matching handbag, gloves, socks, and sometimes if we were lucky, hats. (love you Mom!) We all crammed into 2 homes and we had a ball. Sometimes I wish I had adult eyes to be able to enjoy my family back then like I do now (if that makes sense) BUT, one good thing about being a kid on Easter was that we were the stars.


After church was the big photo shoot. The time when we got to shine in our cute little floral dresses and the boys in their cute little shirts and ties. Every individual family had their pictures taken, then we all knew the drill of taking pictures per "section" of family. All of Clyde's kids, all of Norman's kids, Herman, Darlene, Sue, so on and so forth. These were the pictures that are always carried with a kid. My parents will always have those pictures of me dressed up in those floral dresses all primped up, and there is nothing I can do about it....


We had the BEST Easter Egg Hunts. This is when we got to change out of our fancy attire and into running clothes. First we ate such a wonderful feast of casseroles and yummy desserts. It was a family potluck like no other. Then it was time for the parents to hide the eggs. I remember all the parents and older cousins putting on this big hoopla about not going into the backyard (it felt like hours) so they could hide the eggs. The anxiety building inside with all of the little cousins not so patiently waiting. We all marched outside with our baskets filled with that green grass stuff and waited for the countdown and then of course it was all out madness. When we were little my Mom and Dad took us around helping us put eggs in the basket, but when we grew older, it became much a competition. I vividly remember us all sitting down after "the hunt" to count out our eggs and to see who got the best prizes. Such fun and memorable bonding time with cousins.


Those traditions have faded out, but I always think back on those weekends and the fun we had as a family. I was young and I have a terrible memory, so I have fleeting memories of those times, but one thing I remember well over all of these things is there was always lots of singing. Lots and lots of singing. 


This Easter was quite different from any I've had before. I spent my morning out in a very poor village with a community of very few brothers and sisters teaching their children about the cross, the tomb, and the 3rd day. A team of volunteers were with us this week and they brought lots of fun snacks to give away. We also acquired a few big bags full of children's clothing to give out as well.


We played games, sang songs, and told the story (with a little reenactment) of our King dying and raising again, then we handed out all of our gifts. I couldn't help but tear up as I sat at the back to take a quick picture during the story. These kids don't know much about the world, they don't know much about anything, but now they know this story. Now they know about the G*d who came down to earth and lived a perfect life all to die for us. To live perfectly so he could be our substitute. They know that this G*d is not dead! No! He is alive! He is not made of stone or wood or painted in gold like the gods of their culture. He is not buried somewhere like the gods of their culture. He is alive and well and loves us as his own children, and wants nothing more then for us to know Him and love Him.

The reenactment.

Funny little girl with her new clothes.

Some more sweet kids.

After we left the village we went on to a waterfall for an Easter picnic. As I was sitting and reflecting on the morning and then thinking back on the Easters of my childhood, I was overwhelmed with praise, adoration, and awe of Father. Who woulda' thought that the little girl in the floral dress with matching everything would be in that village on this Easter. I began to be overwhelmed with gratitude for my own salvation. Overwhelmed with humbleness thinking about how I don't deserve more than these precious children do. My heart was flowing with pr's for the kids to know him and thankfulness that I know him.

As I was thinking on these things, I had a conversation with one of the volunteer girls that came. She is a new sister of faith and she was struggling with seeing the poverty of the village and understanding Fathers will for them to still be living that way. Her main 2 questions were, "Why are these children still living in such horrible conditions and why are they living in a place where the good news is prohibited?" I didn't pretend to have the answers. These are questions that I ask myself every time I walk into a village. You begin to have a new appreciation for your own faith when you spend time in places like this. Days like today when you reflect on your own life and the blessings you have had and didn't realize it until your face to face with reality. I use to think I lived in reality. That the majority of the people around the world lived like me, but as I've grown older, I have learned the exact opposite. I am a minority in this big world.

My childhood is a massive blessing from Father. To grow up with a family who worships our King, to live in a place where I'm not watched by the police because of my faith, to worship without fear of governmental persecution. All of these things I never ever thought about growing up, but I think of them daily now. When I look in these children's eyes, all I can think is to ask that they will one day live with true hope.

I now understand this holiday. I understand the reason for all of the singing, for all of the praising, the amens, and the raised hands.

I began to sing (in my head) many of the songs I sang growing up on Easter with my crazy wonderful family. One that sticks out is Because He Lives. One of my most beloved songs from those days and one of my favorite hymns. Please listen right now to this beautiful beautiful hymn.

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL STINKIN TRUTH!!
And because this song was in my head, it is the only ounce of truth I could give the volunteer girl after she asked me such hard questions... This life is confusing, we don't know why we were given lives so different from these children, but we know our Father is sovereign and that the only reason we have hope at all is Because He Lives! We are given salvation for a reason. To love, adore, and worship Father. The overflow of these things is sharing his good news to the people of the world. Because He Lives I have hope and I pr that these children will too.
So as this Easter season comes to an end, please remember the kids of this village as you speak to Father. Ask that this story becomes life to them and that they will grow up with a thirst for this G*d and a yearning to know and follow him. 
Ask that they one day will lift their hands in adoration of the King WHO LIVES!

Spiritual Gladiator?

Fun Fact About Katy: I often wander through bookstores. 

It's one of my favorite things to do.

Stress reliever actually.

I wander from section to section, picking up books, reading the backs, taking my time.

This pleasure has been taken away from me for a while. Last month when I took a trip to the big city I found a bookstore with an English book section and indulged myself for a good hour or so in the few rows of English books. While over here I use my Kindle, which I am so thankful for and has been a lifesaver, but I do miss holding, smelling, feeling the books. I miss turning the pages and watching my progress through the stories as the pages turn. Anyways, now that I have reminisced on this beloved activity I shall digress to the point of this blog...

Usually the first place I head to in a bookstore are the biographies and autobiographies.

I love autobiographies because they are real. They have real emotion, real circumstances, real reaction.

A friend here has a small library of books, I went straight for the autobiography and this was my first "check out" from their stock. 

This book was written by Elizabeth Elliot. She is a woman I look up to. She is a 'spiritual gladiator'. A pioneer in many ways and for many years did amazing work for Father. I think the world of her character and persona while doing the work she has done in the circumstances she was given. This book is somewhat of a record of her first year as a "worker" in Ecuador. I borrowed this book because I was so curious to read about how this pioneer handled her first year overseas as a single woman. I don't really know what I was expecting to find in this story, but what I got somewhat stunned me. 

As I read, I found myself smirking at the similarities. At some points I felt like I was reading my own journal. Elizabeth had many tribulations her first year. Some I can't comprehend going through as a single woman in her early 20's. She wrote about uncontainable excitement to get to her destination in the beginning, about eager anticipation to just get a glimpse of the people she traveled so far to serve, then about hardship after hardship that her first year held. 

My first few months overseas have not compared to hers whatsoever, but I can understand some of the emotions she had, the eagerness matched with disappointment, the excitement matched with frustration, the desire to become "all things to all people" matched with culture shock and adjustments.

This particular quote stunned me. This is an exert from one of the letters she wrote to (at the time) her future husband Jim Elliot during both of their first years as single "workers".

“I find that because nothing actually presses me to activity, I dawdle in quiet time, let my mind wander in prayer, and daydream when trying to study. Sometimes, I confess, after a long time on my knees and very little praying done (for the thousand trivialities that beckon my attention), I call it quits, saying to myself, “This isn’t prayer. Might as well be up and doing something, even if it’s only baking a cake or sharpening a pencil.”… I feel that I lost much since college days. It cannot be excused because I’m getting old or because the devil tempts me more now – the Lord has promised to “lead us in triumph.”

-Elizabeth Elliot "These Strange Ashes"

Now to say I was encouraged by this is an understatement, I was almost overjoyed reading this, and that might seem odd to many or all of you reading this blog, so let me explain...

These last couple months have been somewhat of a dry season for me and have held a few difficult days. I have tried so hard to focus in pr and dig deep in reading, but my efforts often became futile. Much like what Elizabeth wrote. My journal can match her words almost word for word. In the midst of this struggle and guilt of not being or doing what I thought I needed to be I read this book. When I read this quote I had to reread it several times because I just knew I read it wrong. I thought, "This woman could not be confessing this. This 'spiritual gladiator' could not be struggling with the same things I am. This can't be right. This woman is built of faith." But after about the 6th time, it sunk in. 

This amazing woman of Father had the same struggles in her first year that I am having in my first year. Wow! What? Is that right? It is! Now, it still might seem strange that I was overjoyed at this fact, so I'll explain some more... (this is verbal processing at it's finest)

Having this job title sometimes brings about this stereotype or pressure to always be at the top of your game (so to speak). This was making me crumble faster than anything else. This pressure to be a 'spiritual gladiator' was and is too much for any person to handle. When I read her words I realized the massive amount of pride in my heart, for believing this pressure or for believing this stereotype. Who am I to think I should not be struggling? Who am I to think that I should be doing "better" than someone else? Father drove me to repentance of my own pride and a cleansing from this false pressure.

I realized that I am not alone. I'm not weird/crazy/insane for having these struggles, like I thought I was. By Fathers grace, I was able to have a meal with 4 beautiful women (doing the same thing I am doing) shortly after reading this book. We all expressed this struggle in some form or fashion. The reason I was overjoyed is this… Father was so good in showing me that I have a great cloud of witnesses that have gone behind me and are alongside of me that love Father and are following Him, but still at times struggle with trivial or futile things, like focusing in pr and in reading my word. 

BUT like Elizabeth said Father promises to "lead us to triumph".

“And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.”

Colossians 2:13-15

What a wonderful promise we have in these dry seasons. He will always ALWAYS lead us to triumph. JC has already won. He is already seated at the right hand of Father. To be incredibly cliché... the war is over but the battles still need to be fought. The battles will be tough and will be strenuous, but we KNOW that we will triumph in the end. We suffer as our Savior suffered, so that we may become like Him. What greater gift in all the world then to be like JC? But this comes with a cost. It comes with discipline, it comes with struggles, and it comes with battles against the enemy. Most of all it comes with endurance.

I was reminded by this beautiful woman that holding fast to the promised triumph is what brings us out of the greatest struggles.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to JC, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God."

Hebrews 12:1-2