Tag: prayer

Posted in Living this Life

Fortress of cards

Posted on by Sara

There is a turn on a long and lonely road that is imprinted on my soul.

It is exactly at the midway point of somewhere  and the middle of nowhere  – 48 miles from the middle of nowhere, to be precise.

This is the spot where I once heard God speak – perhaps the clearest in all my life.

I found myself on that road again recently, and as my eyes took in the vast miles of barenness, my heart remembered.

It was the most loudly whispered “no” I have ever heard. A “no” that still reverberates in my soul and echoes before me.

Let me back up. It had been a long, hard few years. My soul was as barren as the land it was planted in, and I didn’t know what had gone wrong. I mean, I could describe to you the litany of things that had been hard, but what had gone so wrong in my soul that had left me this dry and parched? What darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in? I needed to know…

After those long, hard few years, God uprooted me and me family, and our feet took us to a land of rolling hills and green. As we made our home in this new space, my soul began to heal. I found rest – I found myself again. The layers of pain and hard began to peel away and I began to feel alive again.

But I couldn’t shake the question that had been planted in my soul all those years: “what darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in?” I felt if I could only find the answer to that question, it would be the final key to my healing. The naked truth is – I wanted the control of knowing I could keep it from coming back. If I could only figure out what had gone wrong, I could formulate a life where the darkness could no longer get in, with walls of my own self-will keeping it out.

No matter how peaceful and beautiful life was, there was a constant nagging – like an itch in the back of my soul – that I wasn’t really safe until I knew the answer to that question. What if that darkness crept back in? How would I keep it out? I was desperate to protect myself.

Then that day arrived. The day I was to return to the place where my spirit had been held captive. It was just a visit – and yet the fear was overwhelming. Because God hadn’t answered my cry yet. And I didn’t feel like I could go back to that place – to walk those painful memories – without knowing the key to protecting my vulnerable heart.

The car slowed as it arrived at the town that was the midway point – and then we turned left. I stared out the window – at the flat, barren, red richness of that beautiful land, and my heart screamed at Him in silent desperation: “I need to know NOW! We are out of time. I can’t go back there without an answer…” And that is when He finally spoke.

It was a simple “NO”.

It was a “No” that set me free.

It was as clear to me as if Jesus was sitting next to me in that car. His next words that echoed loudly in my mind were this: “You don’t need to know why. What you need to know is: I was with you”. And that is all He spoke, on that day while we drove on that long and dusty road. Because that is all I needed to hear.

It was a “No” that set me free.

It was in that moment I saw the chains of control that had formed around my heart. He shone His light on the illusion that we can really protect ourselves, and showed me where true safety lies. True peace. True light. I had built a fortress of cards around my heart, thinking it would withstand the hurricane of life – and He needed me to know that the only safe harbor is Him. That in my darkest place, when I forgot who I was, HE never forgot. He never abandoned me. He didn’t expect me get it together and come back to Him when I was fixed … He was with me in it all. “Your walls are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16) “ See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16)

Let me be clear. It is one thing to acknowledge that our peace, our joy, or safety doesn’t come from our physical circumstances. But there is another distinction that must be made, and it is this: We say we trust Jesus – but what we mean is that we trust what Jesus will do for us. We ask Him for help – we say we trust Him to provide. But what if His provision is simply His presence?

Let’s back up a few thousand years – to an old man in a desert, arguing with the God of the Universe over the disobedience of a throng of people that God  has relentlessly saved. God has finally decided to send them on their way without Him; nonetheless, He wouldn’t abandon them alone in the desert. He promised to provide for them, to send an angel to walk with them and protect them … aren’t these the very things, the provision and safety, that our needy hearts yearn for?  And yet Moses knew so much more than we do, and he pleaded with God, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here…” (Ex 33:15)

Let’s race forward 400 years, to David, the man after God’s own heart. The man who knew from experience that even in “the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Ps 23) He had lived in fields with the sheep and in the palace of the king and his summary of it all that was, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my life and my portion forever” (Ps 73:26) 

His presence – our portion.  My friend, there are so many more I could tell you about, but the most important words rest in the very promises of God Himself. Read these – just a few of the innumerable verses that help us remember … and let them envelop you in a cloud of promise and strength. Whatever deep need you are facing, there is an answer, and the greatest answer He can give us is His presence. Rest in His embrace. Let Him be your portion and let your heart be free to rest in the only true safety we will ever find.

 “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Ps 46:1)

“He will hide me in His shelter on the day of trouble” (Ps 27:5) “

“I will be a hiding place for you,” says the Lord, “a fortress in the day of trouble.” (Jer 17:17)

“For you, O Lord, are a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of distress” (Ps 9:9)

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge, and my Savior” (2 Sam 22:2-3)

 “As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; He shields all who take refuge in Him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.” (2 Sam 22:31-33)

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps 4:8)  

“I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure” (Ps 16:8-9)

So …what about that day last month when we took that left turn? My heart trembled once again – but this time in eagerness and joy. I longed to touch that red soil one more time and remember – like the Israelites of old who set monuments in places where they had encountered God. In the shadow of my hard memories, the faithfulness of God shines like a beacon. My heart remembers – and I am glad.

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

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