Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it

I have four more hours of waiting in Charles de Gaulle airport before my flight leaves for America.  I wish I could say I am crying because my adventure is over, but the sad emotions have lost to those that are excited to see home.  (Plus, Christmas is around the corner and what is better than that?!) I don't know where to begin in recapping my travels through France and Europe.  I am more than grateful, and I feel fulfilled in a weird way.  I have this mental checklist in my brain and save for one or two things I've always wanted in life, it's nearly complete.  It's weird to say that at the age of 23, and to be able to look forward to the unknown chapters.  We shall see what that has in store. May I leave you with one last quote from Eric Ludy that seems to perfectly sum up what I have found to be true in this past season: “We believe that the true Christian experience is epic and grand, a sort of Jane Austen meets Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings . It’s deeply pers

It took about two solid months before I could step outside of my house in Chamb éry and not be overcome with culture shock.  It was a feeling of an immense amount of vulnerability.   "Oh   yeah...I'm in FRANCE,"  and I  didn't have the simple security of a cell phone either.   This is my last week here and I realized I finally feel at home, but the hole in my heart for America grows bigger still. After this semester abroad, the false sense of security I've lived under in the US has been exposed.  I've been sitting under the covers of my bed all my life to try and protect myself from tragedy.  (Though as an aside, I have no country or place in mind yet, and God could very well call me to live in Nebraska the rest of my life. If you happen to find out, let me know.) My next thoughts went as follows:   "If I am to live radically for Christ (whatever that might look like for me) I cannot be scared of people nor the enemy of this world."   God

The previous post about Advent was a decoy...deterring from my heart and what was actually going on.  Now, I owe it to you.  I'm going to be simple, blunt, and ooey-gooey. God is constantly reminding me of my need for Him.  To expound on the verse I had posted previously, He sometimes subjects me to frustration in order to find me curled up in a corner (literally, I'm in the corner of my room by the heater), angry, frustrated, and at the end of myself. Sometimes He has to subject myself to my own frustrations so that I might learn my need and how to depend upon Him more, and more, and MORE. "For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God."--Romans 8:20-21 I found myself dealing with heart issues of years gone by today.   "Hey, I thought I got rid of you

I've been thinking about the Advent season lately.  Christmas is my absolutely favorite time of year because it gives me plenty of new perspective on the incarnation.  Perhaps this may assist you as well. ad·vent   [ ad -vent ]   noun 1.  a coming into place, view, or being; arrival:  the advent of the holiday season . 2.  ( usually initial capital letter ) the coming of Christ into the world. 3.  ( initial capital letter ) the period beginning four Sundays before Christmas, observed in commemoration of the coming of Christ into the world. 4.  ( usually initial capital letter )  Second Coming. So we continue to wait, even after His first appearing.  The Bible even tells us the world groans with eager expectation.  Even the world cries out in earthquakes, floods, and storms to be reconciled under Christ. "The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed.   For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own cho

On Monday November 12th, 2012 at 12:02  in the afternoon, my heart stopped beating and I took my last breath. Inhaled, and nothing came out. Save for the eyes rolling in the back of my head and actually dying, my life ended.  Some may think, and others may know, I'm a dramatic person, but that is the most realistic description I can give for when I mounted the tiny hill of the Pont Neuf overlooking the Seine river. What took my breath away (literally, no respiratory action of and kind) was possibly the worst view of the Eiffel Tower. All I saw was her spear engulfed in the Paris fog. I realized I had up until that moment doubted her existence all these years. I took a picture of that horrible view because I know it will be one of the most cherished pictures of my life. I walked across the Seine on the Pont Neuf connecting the 1st Arrondissement in the city to the Latin Quartier. I started to laugh. Then started to cry. I seized with His inexpressible joy. Then it hit me,

"They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death."--Revelation 12:11 We overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony.  It does not say I overcome by intellect and reasoning of my human mind (see also  here ). That's all.

There is a part in the movie "Good Will Hunting" where Robin Williams' character gives this monologue about life.  He unravel's Matt Damon's character and pride of knowledge because there is a plain difference between knowing about something and actually experiencing it. "So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that."   This week I believe marks the half-way point on my travels through Europe.  As little as five years ago I thought I would be living somewhere in the middle of America, in a studio apartment, working two jobs and dancing in three shows a year.  Today I find myself about fif

This morning I woke up ready to take on my second day in the city of Rome. Feet willing.  Before I hit the streets Jesus invited me to sit with Him for a minute.  Just after one day already in and among Romans (and their tourist counterparts) the feat of bringing the gospel to them  felt overwhelming. " They know me from afar ," He told me.  It was in the same sense that I know Brad Pitt--recognizable but yet not known personally (but how cool if I did know Brad?).    After the nearly dozen basilicas I went to I was sitting in the last one a for a bit longer feeling somber and drained by the stares of ivory saints.  What was this fear that suddenly welled up in my heart toward what felt like cold places of worship?   "Jesus what is this fear?" I couldn't look into His eyes. His eyes seemed lost from my sight as I searched for His warm embrace. The Jesus I knew and have experienced was distant. "This isnt who I am!  If only they knew my love

So I began writing out a bit more of my testimony but I never got a chance to finish it.  I erased all my paragraphs I wrote earlier now after a steaming pile of sin forced me to seek Grace.  Now I am looking at my Savior from a new angle; it feels more like from the ground up.  Or back on the ground if you will. Seriously, what I find more dangerous than a murderer is a girl like me.  All presumptuous and proper.  I've got everything right and put together in one place.  In fact I might have dared to think myself better than you.  See, more so than a dead body to deal with at the end of a day's work, my sin secretly tries to hide behind a nice clean fa ç ade with no one to call it out.  That is, until my sin meets the Holy Spirit.  That's why I would like to say that my testimony is more a miracle than anything else.  I don't have any seemingly good explanation for why I need Jesus Christ's forgiveness and peace with God except that in comparison to His perfecti

Here are some late night thoughts: I've hated people that don't apologize as much as I do.  That is, until I realized I wasn't angry at their lack of consideration, but the fact that they could be so comfortable in being themselves.  Oh, the audacity of it all!  So what God  is showing me is that I'm completely valid in His eyes and heart.  I stand upon His approval and all else may run off like a drop of water on a bird's back. Make apologies where there are offenses.  Accept the grace from the only One that can give it.  Feel approved by the only one who knows the intentions of my heart.  I think I'll call this simple living. Oh and I forgot I even took this picture.   C'est moi avec le drapeau de Savoie Psalm 17 A prayer of David. 1  Hear me,   Lord , my plea is just;      listen to my cry. Hear  my prayer—      it does not rise from deceitful lips. 2  Let my vindication  come from you;      may your eyes see what is right. 3  Thoug

I feel like I have to play for both teams when it comes to the topic of the Holy Spirit.  This whole week Jesus has brought about events that are far beyond my own knowledge and way of doing things, but the stories come through a person that I deeply trust.  I trust her by her fruit (Matthew 7:20).  She is rooted in the Word.  It is how we know God, His character, His fruit, His voice.  So, why must I feel a fight between my intellect and following the Holy Spirit?  Instead of t-shirts for the Twilight movies, I feel like I have to choose a TEAM BIBLE or a TEAM HOLY SPIRIT.  Selah. So here I am.  What I really want to do is wear them both.  I think Jesus does.  If I believe the scriptures, I must believe the work and miracles of God with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and all its gifts.  I also find  myself on the outskirts of radical Christianity wanting to play along but feeling the need to appease my mind.  I want to see Jesus Christ's authority established here on earth wi

I have this Hillsong CD, and every time I listen to it I am brought back to a season in life that surprisingly brings some of the most innocent and fond memories of my life.  I am put back in the basement of a friend's house where we would hold worship nights and I return to my car driving the windy roads of western Omaha.  I envision myself looking into the dark night sky crying out to God for answers to lots of questions I had about my life and dreams and the orchestration of them all.  These times were not necessarily the happiest.  In fact, they were some of the loneliest.  I would consider them a great contrast to France--dark and light. One thing I find surprising is that when I hear this song that triggers these memories I am not pushed back into the pain, but into the thankful attitude of what God did in my heart of hearts.  He was awfully silent during that fall-turned-cold winter season.  I didn't get any answers I was looking for except the Character that was

The first thing that drew me to look twice at the open doors next to my hotel was a strategically placed tray of eclairs.  I had just left my hotel building to spend a few hours walking around the city of Nice before returning home .   In a matter of about three brain synapses I discovered it was a church.  It went something like, "Eclairs--music--church--Jesus!" and into the building I went. The room was much smaller than a typical sanctuary of sorts and the only decorations on the white stone walls were pictures of their missions teams.  The crowd included various homeless men probably looking for an eclair just like I was.  You could tell this church was placed in the heart of the town where sex shops are the norm and poverty is plentiful.  During worship we sang songs that were familiar to me such as "Our God", yet obviously different in French.  There was a sort of "call and response" as I have heard it described before.  These people went after God

"What about those other religions?  You don't know much about them.  How can you be sure?" "Hmm...I may not know much about them, but I do know the God of the Bible. This particular God claims to be self-sufficient, in no need of anything.  Then He went and created man.  He also created free will so that there can be a meaningful passionate relationship between them.  Then this God watched man choose their own ways and creation over Him.  At just the right moment in a complete act of humility this same God became a man.  He was spit in the face by His creation yet He showed man how to perfectly love others.  He exposed the pride of religion and perfect outward appearances and brought a surefire resolution that was not subjective by a grading scale of good deeds.  Rather the story of the Bible continues that He found a resolution all by His own doing...an obedient death on a cross!  Then this God's story doesn't end there...He conquered death to prove it!  O

By chance my roommate found a flyer on campus advertising the "FEU" (Foyer Evangelique Universitaire)  It's the French word for "fire"--cute!--and it's a Bible study for the university students. The two individuals that run the campus are from Baltimore and Philadelphia who have been in ministry in France for over 20 years!  For some reason it gave me a sigh of relief that I could connect with more Americans.  After singing worship songs in French to the God of the universe, including the oldie <<J e loue ton nom Eternel>> ( Lord, I lift your name on high), we dove into a lesson on the basics for continuing our walks with the Lord. My highlight of the night was praying for another American woman who was "closer to sixty" than most of us in the room but she is going back to school to study international business.  Her hopes are to work with the Congo and set up something there.  It was the fellowship I'd been praying for.  We gig

I have three weeks off until my classes start.  Before I do a little bit of traveling these next few weekends (once to Germany--er--Deutschland ja!, and the other to the South of France) I've taken the liberty of planning my wedding.   I found Pinterest to be very helpful for ideas and I think   ranunculus with baby's breath might be the way to go  instead of peonies because  I'm told they keep longer and are less expensive--ALICIA YOU DON'T HAVE A  BOYFRIEND!   Oh, THAT.  Yes, in due time Mr. Conscience.  In my reasoning, I will never have another three weeks "off" in my entire life so I should make use of it.   On another related aspect, in my Housewife In Training sessions (also known as HWIT), I've been trying my hand at this cooking thing.  Here in my French living quarters I've discovered the cheap and great joy that is couscous.  This is thanks to my roommates that are a little more learned at this thing than I ( a TRL shout out to Jacie a

This is my second post of the evening.  Judge me if you must but I'm exhausted from this week.  I went to a pub tonight for about thirty minutes out of social obligations to my fellow 22-year-olds and then it hit me that I'm actually 65 at heart.  My room, tea, and writing were calling my name (as well as a bed which I will visit in just a few). I've had a few minor victories whilst in France this week.  At one point on Wednesday I began thinking in French.  The only thing that made me conscious of it was that I got to a word I didn't know fully and then thought, "What?!  I'm so cool!  I'm so, 'comment-dit-on' French!"  My second victory lies in the saliva I spewed across the room during a conversation with a classmate.  At that moment memories of my teacher in high school, Madame, came flooding back and I realized that my pronunciation was getting better.  C'est si bon. Lastly, I'd like to introduce you to Yves: For these