Tag: healing

Posted in Living this Life

I had a dream

Posted on by Sara

I carried a dream – back in those days.

And then the dream died.

“unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies”, Jesus said, “it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

That didn’t feel very helpful, back in those days. How am I supposed to know what to do with that cold, hard, dead dream that sits in ones soul and refuses to let go?

On the day the dream died, back in 2009, I wrote these words in my journal: “Waves of discouragement, sadness, hopelessness. I feel like I’ve run out of faith – my well is empty. “

How can such hard pain produce many seeds? How can seed be multiplied in death?

It didn’t seem possible, so I tried to ignore it.

I pretended I didn’t care anymore.

I wouldn’t let myself think about it.

I certainly couldn’t let myself dream that dream anymore … it just hurt too much.

Do you have a dream? Are you braver than me? Brave enough to hold that dream close and hold your breath in anticipation? Brave enough to wait for the promise? Brave enough to trust when all hope is lost?

Back in those days, when the dream was still alive, we drew up plans you could touch – rough drawings for a building.

A building that would be a place of safety and peace for searching young people. A place to train and teach. They were simple plans – but they were the seed. Then, miracle of miracles, in the face of impossible odds, we had land – an acre to build that dream. For the seed to grow. So more plans were drawn – in more detail and greater color as hope suddenly had form!

Then, on that fateful day in 2009, it all faded to nothing, like a mirage. Bureocracy and red tape and roadblocks, and the plans were slowly tucked away, pushed to the back of a box somewhere. That seed of hope slowly died and was also tucked away. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. How could they be forgotten when the dream still lingered like a rock in the center of my stomach?

I’m guessing you know how that feels. We’ve been feeling these things since the beginning of time. 1,000 years before Jesus was born, King Solomon wrote “hope deferred makes the heart sick” Proverbs 13:12. Your dream might look different – but we all know the giddiness of hope and the agony of loss.

Then in 2016, the Spirit began to blow on that cold, buried seed. Glimmers of hope began to appear, but I was so scared. Those are the days I wrote these words: “Today we spent 5 hours talking about the dream. We did more than dream vapor – it is a real and deep sense that God is on the move in this – and the time is NOW… Lord, I stand here in fear and trembling. I have stood on this threshold before. And I have had my dreams dashed.”

My heart quakes when I read those words. I feel that tension still – that longing to hope and yet fearing hope itself. It didn’t happen right away – those were the first signs of spring when you know winter isn’t over yet. But slowly, that seed began to thaw and show signs of life. And then the floodgates opened… There were more plans drawn – pages and pages of detail. It was a time of wonder and endurance – when God’s promise to open the storehouses of heaven become reality, the flood can be overwhelming. Like desperate Peter, scrambling in a sinking boat because the catch of fish was too much to take in, we felt like we were sinking, some days. And other days it felt like we were dancing on the waves. It was all the stuff of miracles. The smile of God.

And these days, I walk the halls of the physical reality of that dream – realized in grander detail than I ever dared hope for. Every part of this building is built on the promises of God – literally. Scrawled on the inside beams of the walls and the concrete of the flooring are promises that poured out of the hearts of the many who were part of the multiplication of the seed.

My original dream – the one I lost – was just a single seed. Jesus said, “if it dies, it produces many seeds.” God combined the seed of my dream with the seeds of so many others, added His supernatural multiplication – and today we do life together in these walls. We laugh together and pray together. We create and learn together. We worship Jesus – together. People use words like peace and safety when they walk in these doors – because this was built on the promise of God and not the hands of man. “In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us.” Ps 62:8

I used to think this was my dream – but that seed needed to die. Because God had so much more to grow – so many more seeds to resurrect. They have names these days – brothers and sisters who work alongside me to make this vision a reality. Students who walk these halls with me, eager to change the world. And I believe they will.

This is the miracle – the multiplication of hope resurrected!

But this story isn’t just about me or my dream – the seed God buried deep in my heart. This story is about the Sower – the planter of Hope and the Reaper of miracles. The Multiplier of dreams and the Resurrecting Power that turns all death into life. Slow your racing mind for a moment. Quiet the distractions that fill your world with noise. Listen for it. Do you hear Him?

What is your dream? What longing do you carry buried in your heart, planted deep and desperate for hope? What hope have you given up on and tucked away in the deep recesses of your heart because the dream was too impossible? Do you feel His Spirit breathing? After all, that’s what resurrection does – it moves the power from us to the Source of all Power – to “Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20)

Hold that dream that lives in your heart – and breathe deep of His presence in that place. Water that seed with the Word of God. Release it to Him to grow it. It will look different than anything you imagined – that’s the beauty of it all. “One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love” Ps 62:11-12. Ultimate Power fused with Unfailing Love – complete safety. In this sacred space, you can breathe deep… and rest.

For this isn’t the end of the dreams or the quietly waiting seeds. Some have been buried deep in my heart for longer than this one. And I am at peace with it. The restlessness has faded into eager anticipation.

I feel the winds stirring – “Aslan is on the move”, my soul whispers.

and so I watch the horizon and wait.

Posted in Living this Life

When you can’t get out of the cave…

Posted on by Sara

Another arrow pierces the heart. I don’t have any fancy words today. The fact is, it just really hurts. We have watched the world convulse this year. There has been fear, violence, suspicion, sickness, anger – and that all feels so distant when compared to this heaving of the heart.

I know we’ve all been there. Walked through that intangible grief of watching a life implode. We’ve watched the one we respected and honored from a distance fall in a flame of tabloid fanfare.  We’ve seen that dear soul we’ve poured everything into, sometimes it’s your own child, brother or sister… imploding their life with a string of bad decisions. Walked alongside someone as a sister or brother, fought great battles together, until the day when you discover you no longer follow the same Lord. You’ve walked in the fire together, and suddenly they are walking in a fire of a different sort. The heart cries out – not another one?

What do you do when you stand in the smoldering ruins and wonder who is left standing with you?

There’s this story I keep being drawn to – it’s a sub-plot, if you will. Almost an afterthought in the shadow of a larger story. But this quiet little afterthought is shouting loud in my heart right now. I need to put these words right here, if only for my own sake. If only to remind myself of what is true when emotions threaten to reign.

We know about Elijah. The guy who saw a boy come back to life as a result of his prayers and participated in innumerable miracles with God. This Elijah who prayed fire down from heaven in an ultimate showdown between good and evil. This same Elijah – the one who seems so bold and fearless; the one with no reason to doubt God; riding high on the winds of victory – what does he do in the wave of this greatest victory? Well, he runs for his life – afraid. I have always been intrigued by this part of the story, because it feels so… human. So real. So much like something I would do.

Elijah finds a cave and hides in it. And here I sit, in the cave with Elijah, emotions all amuck. Feeling confused, sad, heartbroken – alone.

And God says, “What are you doing here?” Elijah replies with all his pent up evidence against God – “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” (1 Kings 19)

Do you sometimes feel like you’re the only one left? The only one who really cares in a world gone mad? Sometimes the hits come so close together and the waves of loss build up until you’re crushed by the grief. And you just feel alone. Sitting in a cave with Elijah and me – issuing your complaint against the God of the Universe. That’s where we all have to start – letting yourself face the emotions that threaten to consume. All the anger. The sorrow. The confusion. The questions – all of it.

I’m glad it doesn’t scare God. It doesn’t make Him turn His back in disgust. It doesn’t make Him lose patience with you or even make Him join you in feeling like giving up. Here is what He is actually doing in this sacred moment.

He is revealing Himself to you. Open your eyes and look – you will still see Him. Right here. In this place. But you have to stick your head out of the cave. “The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” (1 Kings 19:11).

He is revealing Himself to you. Open your eyes and look – you will STILL see Him. Right here. In this place. But you have to stick your head out of the cave

Go out and look for Him! And He will show up. But not as you expect. Be very careful not to only look for Him only in fire and earthquakes – He shakes our world in a much more subtle, life altering way. He whispers His presence. What could be more intimate than that?

So let’s start there. Take that one step out of the cave, and watch for His presence. Wait for His whisper. Hold your breath in between the sobs, and let His gentle whisper find it’s way into your soul.

But hold on – the story isn’t over! It may feel like that is all, because it is already so rich, so real. Right here – in this holy whisper – this is just the beginning of our healing! This next part is the flower in the ashes that has held my attention for this last chapter of my life. The part I just can’t seem to get over. Two things happen next in Elijah’s confrontation with God that will define the rest of his life.

  • He is given His next step. God lets Elijah have his moment of grief, but He doesn’t let him camp there. After the whisper, Elijah complains one more time about being the only one left, despite his zealousness for God. And God’s response this time is to simply tell him to what to do next. “The Lord said to him, “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram.” (v. 15) There’s more work to be done – get out of the cave and do the next thing.

There’s more work to be done – get out of the cave and do the next thing

And finally – almost as an afterthought – is the crescendo to the entire conversation. Elijah’s complaint against God centers on himself – I have been zealous for the Lord God Almighty…the Israelites have abandoned you… I am the only one left (v. 10 & 14) Do you feel that some days? Just watch the news cycle. Hop on to facebook or twitter and watch the vitriol swirl. Do you sometimes feel like the only one who still cares? Who still longs for truth and beauty and grace and kindness and for Jesus to be lifted high?

  • God sends Elijah on his way to do the next thing. And then He says, “oh, by the way, Elijah. You’re not alone! “Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and whose mouths have not kissed him.” (v 18). You may think you’re the only one left, Elijah, but there are 7,000 others out there! I don’t know about you, but this blows my mind. God has His people spread throughout His land, and just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not strong. Does this breathe courage and strength into your heart like it does mine?

So where does leave me on this beautiful summer morning when the darkness licks at the edges of my soul? It gives me the courage to stick my head out of my cave and listen with bated breath for His whisper. To see His glory. To let His truth be louder than all the taunts leveraged against me in my own head. To let Jesus be bigger and more real than any disappointment or heartbreak.

It opens my ears to listen to His next step. Who needs a voice of encouragement today? Who has God brought into my life today? What is He asking of me? Take my eyes off my own self pity, my own disappointment, those who have let me down, and simply do the next thing.  Because we are not alone! God has His people scattered throughout this beautiful world, and we can lock arms with those who are still faithful and walk boldly forward. Elijah’s next step after his encounter with God was to find Elisha. I just smile at this – how very good of God to bring him a brother during this vulnerable time in his life. Someone to walk with him, encourage him, breathe that life back into him. Someone to carry on after Elijah was gone.

Lock arms with those who are still in sync with you and Jesus. Let Jesus figure out how to handle those who break away. Walk boldly on into the next adventure, take on the next challenge, quiet the accusing mocking voices in your heart, and hear this clarion call: “since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Hebrews 12:1)

I’m glad there are people like Elijah in the Bible. I’m glad I got to sit in his cave with him some this morning – I needed this reminder.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=6zaI7UMzyQU%3Fstart%3D66

Posted in Living this Life

the e-mail

Posted on by Sara

I could tell by the subject line that I didn’t want to open the e-mail.

Yet, I knew by the subject line that I just had to open the e-mail and read the words I didn’t want to read.

It was true. Another place closing. Another place that I love – gone.

Thing is, this isn’t just another place. I drove by one of my favorite restaurants the other day and saw the for sale sign. That was a bummer. This was different. This hit deep, and I suddenly didn’t know how to process it.

It’s one of those places that I have never been able to get out of my soul. One of the first places I understood the word “home”. In a life of feeling perpetually out of place, this was a place that welcomed misfits like me and gave us a sense of belonging.

It was my sophomore year of college – that summer when I walked through the doors of a The Shelter, a youth hostel in the middle of the city of Amsterdam on the edge of the red light district.

I had no idea God would forever change the trajectory of my life that summer. That He would show me who I was created to be and that I would never be satisfied settling for anything else.

I went back after college and spent a year in those walls – eager to learn, eager to meet people from around the world, eager to share my Jesus with them. God used that place to forever alter my life.

You may say it’s just a building surrounded by a multitude of other buildings. But it was on that rooftop I would pace when I felt my world crumbling around me – I would pace back and forth – praying and pleading with God for His Truth.

It was in that dining room where I would eat with people from around the world – Laughing, singing, talking, doing life together.

It was in that kitchen where I learned to make Moussaka and Boerenkool. But it’s really the place I learned that the simple act of spending a day cutting onions and peeling mounds of potatoes can carve out quiet places to let the Spirit in.

It was in that snack bar where I would discuss the beauty of my Jesus with a Spanish traveler who had just from a Tibetan monastery. Where I would pore over the Scriptures and rest in the peace of the Psalms with my friend Jess, a gay prostitute who was desperately hungry for balm for a hurting soul.

It’s where I learned not to fear the questions – for if you keep looking you will find the Truth. It just takes a lot of courage to face the real questions and a lot of persistence to uncover the answers. It’s where I saw that we aren’t really all that different under the surface – where a smile has the power to transcend all cultural, racial, and political differences. And sometimes when trying to register a group of 20 travelers who don’t speak English, a smile is all you have.

It’s where I learned to love shoarma and frites with mayo. And I learned the value of knowing how to ask for coffee with whipped cream in Dutch (Koffie met slagroom, alstublieft)

So I read the e-mail, and as the truth soaked in that they were having to close their doors due to the current condition of our world, the tears started to fall. Not just for all the faces I saw, the people I had come to love, the memories I cherished… I wept for the loss of a place to return to.

Oh how the heart longs to remember what fades so quickly! How often we long to return to places that matter because they remind us of who we were. More importantly, of who God is and what He has done. And I don’t have many of those places…

Growing up in the jungles of Africa was an unmitigated blessing and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But my home no longer exists – the ravages of war destroyed my childhood village many years ago, and I will never be able to take my family to the place I grew up. I can show them the country as it is, but it will forever be a different place than the home I knew.

So all these years, my heart has clung to this special place on the edge of the red light district in Amsterdam. I longed for the day I could show my family the place where God changed the course of my life. Where I learned how real He truly is and discovered that He really will catch us when the world crumbles around us. I have walked through those old hallways with my family so many times in my mind – just waiting for the day it could become reality.

And I wept for the loss of that opportunity.

God has placed eternity in the heart of man (Ecclesiastes 3:11) – and yet we try to fit this small earth around that. We grasp for the ideal of an unchangeable good – a place where our hearts feel safe. But buildings crumble and heroes let us down.. What do we do then? Construct new idols? New mirages of control or illusions of contentment? Or do we reject the stuff of earth and place all our hope firmly and only on heaven?

We’ve all experienced loss this year. And I know my story is light compared to the life changing loss many have endured. But we all share this one thing – longings for something we may not be able to return to. It comes out in grief, sorrow, rage, cynicism, depression… and I wonder – what do we do with all these feelings?

When the longings start and we are torn between what is and our nostalgic memory of what was … we often think we have to choose between the two. Instead of rushing past the callback, why don’t we linger a couple more minutes and let it bloom into something of beauty? What if we’re experiencing a foretaste, a promise, a shadow of what is to come? In His moments of greatest agony on earth, Jesus looked to the “joy set before Him”. (Hebrews 12:2)

Do you see it? Can you smell it? The welcoming notes of the fresh baked bread? The delicate aroma of flowers we have yet to discover? We blush and call it childish nostalgia – but could it be so much more?

“In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves… These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.” CS Lewis

So today i don’t think I’m going to wipe these tears away too quickly. I think instead I’ll try to just rest in the magic of the mystery. To let the ache in my heart intensify my longing for heaven – that great unending good that will never be taken from us. That we will never outgrow, move away from, or lose. This is the gift.

“For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come.” Hebrews 13:14