Jesus, Our Emmanuel

Several years ago the Lord laid it on my heart to meditate on the name Emmanuel. Before that time, I usually only thought of the name Emmanuel during the advent season. Though I knew that Emmanuel means God with us, and I appreciated this meaning and truth, I had never taken the time to dwell on what it meant for Jesus to be our Emmanuel.

Here is the driving force of the story of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, and the heart of the gospel: our God wants to be with us.

From the very beginning, God created us to be with Him and like Him. Though we sinned, and our sin marred His image in us and separated us from Him, He did not give up.  He gave the Israelites laws to follow, and he put His presence in the midst of them, in the Holy of Holies. But the Israelites were unable to keep the commandments – the commandments only served to show how far away from God they really were.  We could not approach God, so He approached us.

Jesus, who was and is God, left His throne and clothed himself in humanity, with all its frailty. He became Emmanuel – God with us. He did not put himself in the place of power and authority he deserved; rather, he was born into poverty and raised in a town that was a joke to the rest of Israel. This was no accident; He chose the exact circumstances of His birth. He allowed himself to experience poverty, pain, hunger, sorrow, temptation, and so much more, in part so that he could truly experience humanity. Not only this, but on the cross He bore the full weight of our sin and (can you imagine this?) felt our very separation from His father as he cried out, “My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?”

He knows, in every way, what it is to be human. Today Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father in Heaven, but we have not been left without an Emmanuel. Our Lord poured out his Holy Spirit upon us. Emmanuel no longer walks around in a body of flesh, but has taken up residence in our hearts and in the midst of the Church. He knows our hearts, and we are told that even when we don't know how to pray, He prays for us with groans we cannot understand. What is more, He pleads for us to the Father as our advocate.

As wonderful as it is to have the Holy Spirit, our current arrangement is by no means perfect. This is no secret to God! He dwells in perfect community within Himself and has clear understanding of what we are missing out on. We feel the dull ache of desire to be with Him, but he feels it ever so fully. Because of His kindness to humanity, He is allowing the world to continue as it is, so that more people may be saved. Someday, though, Christ will return. We will have a new Heaven and a new Earth. We will dwell with Him, and He with us.

In the meantime, let’s not give up hope. Our Emmanuel has never left us, and He will never give up on us. We are His desire, and he has pursued us relentlessly. He knows us, He stands in solidarity with us, He advocates for us. Every hope, every blessing, every bit of encouragement, is found in Him. He was, is, and will be, God With Us.

Note: This article was originally published in The Ecumenical Family

A Month of Changes, For the Better

When last I updated you, I was under the impression that I might be a bit bored during my month-long break from teaching. It turns out, I was anything but bored.

October got off to an interesting start. Omtei and I attended an all-night worship service from the evening of September 30th to the morning of October 1st. What an incredible way to start off the month!  At the outset, I wondered how I would manage to stay awake all night (I’m sneaking up on 30 rather quickly, and was never big on all-nighters, even in college) or to sing and pray for 12 hours straight. It turned out to be an invigorating experience, and I was able to connect with God in a way that I haven’t in quite some time. It was an amazing experience to worship Him through the night, and keep singing as the sun came up on a new day, and it set the stage for a wonderful new month.

The first week of the month was spent hanging out with a new friend, Isak, and his mother, Vani.  Vani was a missionary in Nepal for over thirty years, and she and Isak both have training in intercessory prayer and spiritual counseling. They are true kindred spirits, and it has been a blessing getting to know them.

My parents arrived on the 7th, and I had a lovely time with them.  One priceless thing about their visit is that it helped me to see how much I’ve learned and grown since I’ve been here, and how comfortable I’ve become since my little bout of culture shock and homesickness. Even though my parents have been here multiple times, it was fun to show them the parts of the city that have become special to me, and to introduce them to my friends. They were impressed with my ability to get around, and the way that I am able to walk down the street dodging people, cars, and motorbikes, all while watching out for uneven pavement and sudden drops into staircases. I’d forgotten how difficult that was for me not so long ago.

We spent the second week of their visit at Burrows Memorial Christian Hospital, in neighboring Assam. We had a great time with our friends there, and even got to eat real pizza at Domino’s one day when we went into town! By the end of our visit, though, I was really excited to get home, to Aizawl. The realization that I was thinking of Aizawl as home was a pretty big deal to me. The drive back was long, and I was feeling carsick, but I had such joy as we approached familiar territory and I began to recognize the neighborhoods and buildings, and even saw a friend of mine walking down the street.

Last Tuesday when I took my parents to the airport, I was doing a good job of staying strong, until my dad hugged me and said how proud of me he is. I lost it and started bawling. Truth be told, I’m kind of proud of me, too.

On Friday I purchased another one-way ticket; this time home, to America. I’ll leave here December 20th, and arrive home the next day. I’m excited to see my family face-to-face, hold my little nieces, and spend Christmas snuggled up with my kitty in my nice warm house, watching cheesy Hallmark movies with my mom. But, I recognize that I'll probably miss seeing my Mizo family and friends, playing with Zuala, and snuggling in my bed, talking with Omtei 'till all hours of the night. I’m realizing now that I will never again have the luxury of keeping my heart in one place. I’ve got ties here in Aizawl, and I won't be able to stay away for long.

A Vision Renewed

When my initial plans for a lay counseling course did not come to fruition, and the teaching position at Aizawl Theological College landed neatly in my lap, I started to believe nothing would come of my desire to train lay counsellors. I started to think that maybe God had just put that hope on my heart to get me here, since I didn’t know anything about ATC, or their new counseling course. And, being on holiday from teaching, I’ve been getting a bit lazy and, once again, have been questioning why I’m here. (As an aside, I am learning just how fickle my emotions are, and how much I tend to let them control me)

Yet again I’m reminded that God is weaving a beautiful tapestry, and I am only seeing the loose strings on the back.

Last night one of Omte’s cousins, Lalrin, came over to meet me.  It turns out that Lalrin and another cousin have a desire to start a ministry to train counsellors and provide counseling for people with mental illnesses and provide support to their families.

As we spoke, we found that we share a common vision of holistic care within the Church body, which is the core of Mizo society, but in a way that is not intimidating or judgmental to those seeking help. We talked about the need for cultural changes in the way mental illness is viewed and for levels of training, with plenty of people who are equipped with basic counseling skills and others who are qualified for professional counseling, and others who are able to take what they learn to the villages, where help is most needed.

We have these big ideas that seem like they might be impossible in our own power, but it also seems clear that these ideas have come directly from God.

One of the most interesting things about this encounter is that Lalrin is not in the mental health field at all – she is a lawyer. But, God has put it on her heart to form this ministry, and I think she’s just the right person.  I don’t have an entrepreneurial bone in my body, and although I am well-organized in the ways I need to be, I lack the detail-oriented type of organization needed to take on a project like this. I’ve always said I just want to be someone’s employee and have them tell me what to do. But Lalrin clearly has a gift for administration. Imagine my delight today when I received a detailed email from Lalrin this afternoon with a review of what we discussed last night and an action plan for the month of October. Wow!  What an example of differing gifts working together!

God is doing something big here. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Good Medicine

One time I was really sick and I went to the doctor and was given some antibiotics. By the next day I was feeling way better, and I thought maybe I had been premature in calling the doctor. Of course, the ironic thing about that is that I was feeling better because of the antibiotics, which I got from the doctor. Have you ever had that experience? 

A similar thing happened to me last week. I was suffering terribly with homesickness. You, dear readers, were my doctors, and your prayers and encouragement were my antibiotics. I awoke Wednesday morning feeling quite cheerful, and by the afternoon I was thinking maybe I had been premature in writing about my homesickness. I doubt, though, that I would have been feeling nearly so well had I not wiritten that post and received so much encouragement. So, to every one who commented or sent me personal messages, or just prayed for me: thank you!

This is a two-fold lesson the Lord has been teaching me time and again in the last several years; 

1. In my weakness, He is strong.

2. When I am transparent about my weaknesses, I find that others will either be encouraged or will encourage me, or both. 

In other news, the last week has gone quite smoothly. I have been in much higher spirits, and have been feeling better physically.  I've been making a point of doing something each day that makes me feel like me.  Some things that I love doing are: making teeny tiny things out of paper, drawing, knitting, and geeking out about psychology and theology. I'm happy to report that I had opportunities to do each of those things. I've also gotten to help Omte with some gum paste elements for a few cakes, which gives me the opportunity to make pretty things and be helpful; two more things I love doing. 

Please do continue to pray for me.  We have reached the end of semester at the college, and I will be off from teaching until October 25th. My parents will be visiting from the 7th to the 26th, and much of that time will be spent traveling around and visiting friends. In the meantime, I have a tendency to get lonely and depressed when I don't have any responsibilities. I have no doubt God will fill my time and put me right where He wants me, but I also want the strength to be able to be content with Him in the stillness. 

I'll just end by saying it again, because I can't say it too much: thank you!

Home Sick. Homesick.

Several friends have asked why I haven’t updated this blog recently.  I just haven’t known what to write. It is hard to know what to write when you don’t even know how you feel.  Each day is a swirl of emotions. I feel like I’m riding a roller coaster in absolute darkness – kind of like Space Mountain, but maybe a little less fun.

If you haven’t noticed before, I like to be positive. If I can’t say something positive, I keep my mouth shut until I can.  I have no problem sharing my struggles with the world once I’ve come out the other side and have some bit of encouragement to share. But, two of the things I hate most in the world are discouraging others and being pitied; so, in the midst of struggles  I withdraw.

That being said, here is the truth: I am so homesick it hurts.

It started out as short wistful moments that crept up on me when I was reminded of home. I would see Omte hold her nephew and wish I could be holding my nieces. I’d see a dog or cat in the street and long to take Rose for a walk, or to snuggle in my chair with Pyewacket purring away on my lap.

It has changed. Now, I have some blissful times of reprieve, usually when I'm busy – in fact, while writing this I was called into the kitchen to help cut out fondant letters for some cakes, and for an hour or so I felt quite fine  – but most of the time I ache for home.

The thing is, I don’t know if homesick is quite the right word for how I feel. It’s not so much that I miss my family (oh, I do, but I talk to them every day, and I know that I’ll see them fairly soon) or even my house or my town. I miss those things, but they don’t cause an ache.

It’s not the material things I miss, either. My host family bends over backward to make me feel comfortable. About a month ago I mentioned in passing that I could go for a nice tall glass of iced tea. Now every day Omte makes me iced tea in a 16oz cup, which is the biggest cup they own. If there were any material thing that would make me feel at home, I know they would do their best to provide it.

What I miss is feeling at home.  Those intangible things you never think about until they’re gone.

I miss walking  down the street without being stared at.
Without schoolgirls looking at me and turning to each other to whisper and giggle.
Without having to dodge cars, motorcycles, and sudden drop-offs into steep stairwells.

I miss knowing where to go to buy whatever I need.
Walking into stores and finding clothes and shoes that fit me, because there are not only women my size, but much bigger.
Browsing without a shopkeeper silently standing one foot away from me at all times.

I miss hearing people around me speaking my own language.
Hearing joking and laughter and knowing what is going on.
Speaking at a normal pace, without having to carefully enunciate each word.

Most of all, I miss knowing where I fit in.

I know I sound miserable, but I love Aizawl.  I really do.  I think the pain I feel is made all the worse by the fact that I  want so desperately to feel at home here.  It just doesn’t feel possible, though I know it is a lot to ask when I’ve been here just under two months. As I write this I see just how impatient I am.

And yet, I do see some light shining through the clouds; some little glimmers of that “homey” feeling.

I am slowly beginning to understand some Mizo. The rhythms and tones are becoming familiar. In any given conversation I can pick out words I understand, and if it is a simple enough conversation, I may be able to get the gist of it without being told. It gives me hope that some day I won’t feel so lonely in a room full of Mizos.

I’ve met some of the warmest and sweetest people at the college. I’ve been welcomed into student’s dorms and fellow teachers’ homes, and been shown great hospitality. When I’m passing people on the streets, I feel more like a thing than a human being; but the people I’ve actually met have shown genuine interest in and care for me as a person.

Omte and I are true kindred spirits. We talk for hours about baking, education, Mizo culture, spiritual matters, bodily functions… you name it. Nearly every day, Omte finds some silly little reason she’s glad I’m here, and I can’t help but smile when she says it.

I have spent so much time in my bed (I got out the calendar and counted – between dysentery, a cold, and an arthritis flare up, I’ve spent nearly half my days here in bed) with the odd result of my having come to love this cozy corner of the room. I’ve spent many hours deep in prayer on this bed, and I suppose that I am finding my home in prayer. This is the greatest gift.

{Thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to listen to my ramblings. I needed to think through all of these things, and I feel much better now. I have a pile of tissues I soaked through while writing the first half  of this post, but now I sit here wearing a smile of genuine contentment. Years ago I took an online quiz called “Which Book of the Bible are You?” or something like that. I got Psalms. It said that even when I start out in laments, I always end up in joyful praise.  That’s probably the most accurate personality test I’ve ever taken.}

A Divine Appointment

Life moves at a different pace here. People jokingly refer to IST (the Indian Standard Time zone) as Indian Stretchable Time.  Things will happen when they happen. I knew this before I came. I also knew that Mizos do not generally make firm plans. But still, this is a lot to get used to when you're one of those Americans who likes schedules and plans and things.

I've spent much of the last two weeks in my room listening to podcasts, reading, praying, playing on my phone, and working on learning Mizo.  Several times a day I go out to the kitchen where Omtei (my host sister, who is a baker) is decorating cakes and see if she needs help. Most of the time she doesn't. Sometimes I sit in the kitchen and visit with Omtei and her cousin Tei, but more often they seem very busy and I just go back to the room or go out for a walk and explore the city a bit. A few times there were places we were going to go or people we were going to meet to get the ball rolling on this counsellor training ministry, but those plans didn't come to fruition.

The first week of this was pretty nice, actually.  I had occasional twinges of guilt because, although I watch my fair share of Netflix and play plenty of games on my phone when I'm at home, I'm not used to the feeling of having absolutely nothing I need to do. It's a pretty rare occurrence to just sit and do nothing without feeling that there is something else I ought to be doing.  This rest was wonderful. But after a week of this I started to secretly feel discouraged and question why I'm here if all I do is loaf about.  I started praying about this, and asking God each day to use me in some way. This brought a change in my own attitude as I started to be on the lookout for ways I could be used by God.

On Sunday I attended services at the English Congregation Church. During announcements, newcomers were asked to stand and introduce ourselves and tell what brings us to Aizawl. Afterward the pastor stopped me in the back of the church to ask me more about my background in psychology and interest in training counsellors. He went on to tell me that he holds a doctorate in pastoral counseling, and that in addition to pastoring this church he is also a professor at Aizawl Theological College, where they have just launched a one-year counseling certificate program. He told me that he has been overloaded and that their faculty had been praying for God to send someone to help with this program and with a crisis counseling center he is working to start.

Today I visited the college and was asked to come on as an adjunct staff member to teach practical skills and group therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I taught my first class (talk about jumping in feet first!) and it went great!  There are four students - one male, three female - but only the female students were present today. I was able to connect well with them and we seem to be off to a good start.  I am so excited about working at the college, and thankful for the way God orchestrated the whole thing. I am certain that I was supposed to meet Pastor Ruata on Sunday, and even Indian Stretchable Time can't get in the way of Divine appointments ;)

Several people have asked how they can be praying for me, and I'm really bad about knowing how to answer that in the moment when they ask. Here are some thoughts:
- That I would continue to connect well with my students, and would be an effective teacher
- For the lay counseling course, which will begin this Saturday evening - that God would bring the right group of students and, again, that I would be able to teach them effectively
- For meetings in the next week with the principals of the Baptist seminary and Divine Intervention School - that if I should be involved in those schools my role would be clear and the details would fall into place
- That I would continue to be physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy. 

Hearing the Call

My, it has been rather a long time since I last wrote! At the time of my last post I had just purchased a one-way ticket to India. I said that I would tell more later about why I was going to India. I also told people that I would try to post more regularly while in India. Well, I've been in India for a week now, so I suppose it is about time to make good on both promises. ;)

I really love telling people how God led me to India, and if you've seen me in the past several months, chances are high that I've already told you this story. Feel free to stop reading if you've heard this one:

I made my first trip to India in 2008 with my mom and our friend Liz. There were certainly things I enjoyed about that trip: the food was incredible, there were interesting things to see and do, and we had the opportunity to visit several close family friends and make new friends. But, I also got a heavy dose of culture shock. I was glad to return home, and mentally filed the trip under "Interesting Experiences I Don't Need to Repeat."  I was fairly certain I would never go back.

Late in 2014 my parents started planning a young adults trip for the following summer. I was surprised to find myself drawn to the idea of going on this trip.  I did not want to go, but every time they talked about it I felt like I needed to go. But, I had good excuses not to go! My biggest reason for not going was that I was on a time constraint to finish the requirements for my psychology license. I was unemployed and knew that I would need to be in a full-time job by the time of the trip in order to finish my required hours, and what employer would ever let me take off three weeks of work to go on a mission trip when I had only just started working there? Whenever I felt that nudge toward the trip, I would remind God of this, but I never had peace about not going.

One day I just couldn't get rid of the feeling that I should go on the mission trip. I prayed about it, and I told God once again that I couldn't go; but he spoke to my heart and told me something else. He told me that He wanted me to go, and that He was not going to call me to do something and not take care of the other details of my life. I knew I needed to be obedient, so I told my mom that I would go on the trip, wrote a deposit check and sent it to the church.

The day after I sent in my deposit check, I got an email from Bethany Christian Services asking me to interview for a family therapist position! When I went for the interview I told the supervisors that I had committed to this trip. Not only did they say that I would be allowed to go on the trip, but they were genuinely supportive and excited for me.

As the trip approached I sent out letters asking for prayer and support. I don't like to ask for money, so I didn't say much about it, but I was secretly very concerned that I wouldn't be able to raise all the money I needed for the trip. I didn't need to be worried. Within a few weeks all the money for my ticket and expenses came in, and more, so that I was able to transfer some of the funds to others on the trip.

There were several other requests I asked my partners to pray for, and God answered all of them beautifully.

I asked for prayer for guidance and wisdom in discerning if I was called to longer term missions in India. I remember feeling silly even writing that in the letter, because my heart was not at all open to the idea of living in India.

It didn't take long for God to change my heart. We spent the first week of our trip in Aizawl, Mizoram. The trip got off to a seemingly disastrous start for me: my legs were painfully swollen from traveling, I fell down a flight of cement stairs on the first day of VBS, and I was exhausted from jet-lag, which led to a cluster of seizures.

Despite these things, I found myself falling in love with Aizawl. I knew that there was a high suicide rate and lack of counsellors. I started to think that maybe I could come back and start a counseling ministry and train counsellors. My mind started going a million miles an hour with this, but then I stopped myself. I told myself “this is just mission trip high! You don’t really want to come live in India!” But the desire was still there. I prayed about it, and I told God that I would not mention this to any other person; if He wanted me in India, He would need to put it on someone else’s heart to invite me.

The next morning I walked down the street to our friends’ house for coffee.  Before I could even sit down at the table, Hranga said to me, “Emily! When are you going to come live in Mizoram and train counsellors?”

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

I told him I needed to finish my licensing requirements, but that I would be free to come in one year.  So, here I am.  I have never been so certain of anything in my life. I am not entirely sure what the months to come will bring, but I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Lord has led me here, and that He will use me.

There is no better place to be than in the middle of God’s will.

At Just the Right Time

In case you haven't heard the news, I am preparing to go to India on July 13, and I plan to stay for six months. I'm super excited about this, and would love to share all the details of how all this came to be and what I plan to do, but we'll save that for another post. Right now just take this bit of information as a backdrop for this post.

I don't remember a time in my life when I didn't want to get married. In fact, my whole-hearted desire for marriage and motherhood is a significant part of why it took me so long to settle on a major in college; they don't offer formal MRS degrees these days. The intensity of my desire has waxed and waned over the years. Some days I am perfectly content in what I hope to be a temporary call to singleness, and other days I beg God to just plop a man in my life who will love me till the end of time.

There's nothing like the prospect of leaving my family and all that is familiar to make me wish for a husband.

A big part of me is thankful for the gift of singleness which allows me to leave everything and traipse off to the other side of the world. But this other part of me, that longs for comfort and familiarity, wishes and prays there could be a husband at my side for this, or at least a boyfriend to come back to.

Sometimes the most gracious and kind response our Father can give us is "no," or "not right now." At the same time, He knows that our requests come from some sense of need, and does not leave us to fend for ourselves.

Rather than send a man into my life, the Lord chose to send a friend. Amy and I met about a decade ago and got along well from the start, but soon fell out of contact. Through an incredible chain of events, we met up last summer in Kolkata, and over the months since she returned from India our friendship has been renewed and deepened. As we've grown closer we've shared joys, victories, hurts, and insecurities, in a way that is deeply encouraging and soul-filling.

Last night it dawned on me that God put Amy and I back into each others' paths at just the right moment. I'm certain we could have been good friends years ago when we met, but God chose to use our shared love for India and for Him to cement our friendship, and he has used our friendship to encourage our hearts in a special way that we needed right now.

Isn't that just like our God? He's an in-the-moment God, and He makes no apologies about that element of His character.

Abraham was all set to sacrifice his only son, and at just the right time God provided a lamb to sacrifice in Isaac's place. Throughout the Israelites' wanderings in the desert, God provided just the right amount of food they needed, right when they needed it. Mirroring Abraham and Isaac, God sacrificed His only son "at just the right time."

As humans we have the ability to see patterns, and we also have the ability to understand the possibility of calamity. Rather than look to the pattern of God's character and his provision in the past, we look to the pattern of the world and expect that He will follow that pattern. When he does not provide when or how we want or expect, we become discouraged and doubt His goodness.

This is by no means a call to stop desiring or asking for good things. Rather, it is a call to "devote [our]selves to prayer, being watchful and thankful." I am still asking for a special someone to come home to, but that is certainly not where my hope lies. I know that my Father loves me, that if marriage is in His will for me, it will come at just the right time, and not a moment too soon. And I know that in the meantime, He will provide the encouragement I need for each day.

From Glee to Sorrow to Joy

Earlier today I was talking with a friend, and mentioned something about a mutual acquaintance. It was clear from my friend's response that she is not at all a fan of this person. In fact, it would be safe to say that she holds this person in contempt.

And I felt a little bit of glee.

Because I don't like this person, either. I felt vindicated in my disdain for this other human being; because this friend whom I hold in high regard does not like this other person, suddenly it is excusable for me to be totally anti-that-person. I even went so far as to text another friend, whom I know dislikes the other person as much as I do.

After I hit send, I was struck with shame as I realized how utterly wrong my attitude was.

Does any of this sound familiar?  This is pretty normal human stuff. People rub us the wrong way, and we tend to try to find confirmation from others that we're right in our judgments. So, it is not right, but it is normal.

I spent the rest of the day feeling kind of guilty for my attitude toward this person, which despite weeks of (admittedly half-hearted) attempts to change has remained cold and judgmental; two-faced, at best.

Normally I'm all for confessing sins, moving on, and allowing the Holy Spirit to work in me to want to do better next time. But today I felt the need to let this conviction sink in a little.

As Holy Week reaches its peak, I am reminded of Jesus' agony in the garden as He prayed, sweating blood and begging the Father to provide a way out from what He knew was coming. Knowing there was no other way, and longing for reconciliation with humanity, He took every sin and bore the punishment.


He took on murder, but He also took on contempt and gossip.

It wasn't just the "big" sins that drove him to the cross. It was those "little" ones we don't usually thing much of; those sins we brush off, that break His heart, because they are so far from the image we were supposed to bear; those little sins that drive the wedge all the further between Him and us, because we will not allow ourselves to admit they are worthy of punishment, let alone forgiveness.

Please don't get me wrong here. I do not think we need to spend time sitting around feeling guilty and ashamed over every sin. Heavens, no! We are free from sin and shame!

But!

Let us take this opportunity, these few days, to meditate on the cost of our sin and feel the weight.

Sunday is coming, and with it comes the celebration of lavish grace, but it is only when we allow ourselves to feel the true weight of our sins that we will feel the freedom, joy, and victory of the resurrection.

What my Purity Ring Taught Me

I was sexually abused by an older child at the age of eleven. The details are fuzzy, but they're not important. The important part is that it happened, and although I did not understand what had happened to me, I knew it was wrong and felt ashamed. I kept that secret for a decade before beginning the slow process of telling some friends, and eventually family members.

It's safe to say I was a fairly sexually ignorant kid for a long time. No joke, I was 13 before I learned the meaning of the word "virgin" and that it did not apply only to Mary. By the time I understood what virginity was, mine was gone. Imagine the compounding effect that had on my sense of shame.

So, I kept the secret.

It ate at my insides, but I kept it.

There's no way to predict how childhood sexual abuse will affect any given child. Some children will become hypersexualized and eventually promiscuous. At the other end of the spectrum are those who are terrified of anything even remotely sexual. I fell somewhere in the middle. My play became sexualized - let's just say Barbie and Ken were spending an awful lot of time sans clothing - and as I grew into my teen years I struggled continually with lust. But, I also had a bit of a fear of the opposite sex and would generally fall hard for guys who were way out of my league, while pushing away any guy who showed interest in me.

Then there was my involvement in youth group, at the height of the purity movement. At least a couple times a year we'd get a "purity talk" in youth group, and at the big youth conferences, too. I've got to be clear that this wasn't being forced down my throat; I loved those talks, and I read every book on purity I could get my hands on. The message I got through all of this is that I needed to guard my purity (read: virginity) at all costs. Well, I wasn't a virgin, but they had that covered, too. I could have a spiritual virginity, or something like that.

I had a sincere desire, even at a young age, to please God. So, I took my desire to please God, and I took all the things I heard in youth group and read in these books on purity, and I set strict rules for myself out of fear that I would mess up and tarnish my purity. I made a long list of dating do's and don'ts, and I decided I was not going to kiss anyone until my wedding day, because I couldn't trust myself not to "go too far." Oh, and I started wearing a purity ring - but I think you knew that from the title.

I actually had two different rings when I was in high school. The first one was silver with little gems in the shape of a flower, and the second was just a silver band with "purity" stamped into it. Those aren't important details. What was important about those rings was that I was wearing them because it was what Christian girls did when I was in high school.

At some point, early on in college, I noticed how pretty my friend Lauren's ring was, and decided to get one like hers. This is the important ring. The one God used to teach me a big lesson. The one I cherish.  The ring is called the "gift-wrapped heart." I know from reading the little card that came with the ring that the designer intended it to symbolize a commitment for girls to save their hearts (and virtue) for their husbands. This is a good and noble thing, but it is also something that always felt like a bit of a sham for me, or at least like it wasn't completely possible. Not only was I not a virgin but I also had this intense, out of control struggle with impure thoughts, and I knew what Jesus had to say about that.

One day I was looking at this ring on my finger, and suddenly it dawned on me that maybe this heart wasn't gift-wrapped for my husband. Maybe it was gift-wrapped for me. I began to think about God's mercy and grace, and it was as if the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear "I have given you a new heart." I began to realize that my purity was not something to earn back or keep; I was not born pure. I was born a sinner. I am pure, not because of what I have or have not done, but because Christ has said so.

I won't lie to you. Lust is still a struggle. Shame still creeps in. But, they do not consume me, nor do they define me. I am not ashamed. There is little visible difference in how I practice purity, but the motivation is completely changed. I obey not so that I can be pure, but because I am pure.

Trust and Obey

Last week I wrote about my growing desire to put God first and to want Him more than anything else. Even so, I am a sinful human being, and a product of my generation, steeped in postmodern moral relativism. My gut response is to cringe at the thought of anything resembling a moral absolute. I have a hunch most millennials can relate.  I have a hunch that the chorus of this simple hymn might be offensive to those of my generation who would give it more than a moment's thought:

Trust and obey!
For there's no other way
To be happy in Jesus,
But to trust and obey!

Really? No other way? Can't I just hang out with God and be spiritual?

Nope.

We need to trust and obey.  And I'm just going to throw this out there: it is impossible to have one without the other.

Obedience is the visible fruit of trust. Jesus said that if we love him we will obey him; not just that, but that if we don't obey him, he won't have anything to do with us.

So, yeah, we can't trust God without obeying Him. But, I think it is equally important to note that we can't really obey without trusting. Or, at the very least, our ability to obey is severely limited without trust. In order to obey we need to trust that (a) the orders we are following are, in fact, from God, and that (b) God is, in fact, good and worthy of our trust.  If we're honest with ourselves, that's a challenge for all of us at some point - for some more than others.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that we all have sin issues in our lives that we have convinced ourselves are either morally neutral or maybe even good. These could be "big" or "small," but remember that all sin is big; all sin has the end result of separating us from God.

I'll be really real right now. I have a huge problem with food. I wonder how my struggle with overeating would change if I called it what it is - a spiritual problem - and gave it to God. What if I gave over this area of my life, trusted God to provide the food I need, and trusted His grace for the times I falter?  I bet I'd see some changes in my attitude toward food. I bet I'd be a lot happier, too.

Are you up for a challenge?  Ask yourself these two questions:
- Are there any areas in my life where a lack of faith is leading to disobedience?
- If God himself told me this was a sin, would I be willing to give it up?

Desiring and Delighting

For over a year now, a simple phrase has been reverberating in my mind:

I want God more. 

I have spent countless hours meditating on these four words. Asking myself if this is true; rejoicing when my actions prove it to be so and mourning those times I choose the other thing. As I have meditated on this phrase, a curious thing has happened to me: I have grown more and more content in my circumstances.

Don't get me wrong: I still want some other things to the point that it hurts sometimes. But you know what? Those things aren't controlling me anymore. I know this, because I am making major life choices knowing they will most likely result in a delay of those other things I want; but these choices are bound to bear the fruit I most desire - intimacy with God through obedience to Him. 

It isn't all smooth sailing.  No progress is linear; it's more like a cha-cha. I have days of victory, and I have days when I turn into a big old cry baby because God hasn't given me what I think I want. 

Every once in awhile when I feel most content, this little thought creeps into my mind: "don't get too comfortable, or God will keep you here and never give you that thing your heart desires!" I am convinced this thought is from the devil. It's just like him to make our loving, gracious, generous God out to be a mean old spoil sport. 

The truth of the matter is that God desires to give us joy in any circumstance. He says if we delight ourselves in Him, He will give us the desire of our hearts. I think if we delight in Him He will become the desire of our hearts. And as He becomes the desire of our hearts, we delight in Him all the more, and can't help but be filled with His joy. Then all the other blessings along the way are just icing on the cake.