No Offense, But. . .

For the longest time, my idea of Christianity was anything but offensive. It was a lot of sweetly worded songs about love and redemption and a whole lot of empty promises of "I'll be praying for you" when someone tells you a problem in their life. But then you move on with your life and it's nice to mention God when things are hard or uncomfortable, but you never really do anything about it. This idea of Christianity is the one that largely rules the American church and is shown by American Christians. It's become the norm to sit in a comfortable house with comfortable things, living comfortable lives with comfortable jobs and attending a comfortable church. We admire those who accept the call to the uncomfortable and move their families across the ocean to live among the impoverished in other countries or take time off of school or quit their jobs to serve a different ministry, but we'd never actually do that ourselves. 
"God may have called them to leave their comfort behind and be so radical, but He would never call me to something like that."
. . . Right?

Somehow I don't think this was the plan God had when He sent His son to be rejected, beaten, and murdered like a common thief to save us from an eternity in hell that we totally deserved. Sending your perfect son to die for a lot of disgusting people that you love is a pretty radical act, so it actually seems a little bit crazy to think that He would go to those lengths just so we could live comfortably and drive a nice car. I'm just saying. 

Let's face it: We're called to be uncomfortable and offensive.
Flattering, right? We're called to step out and live uncomfortable lives and to be offensive. Every. single. day.
Webster's dictionary defines offensive as "causing displeasure or resentment". It wouldn't be far off to say most beliefs in the Christian faith cause displeasure or resentment to the world. Everything we are called to fight for and believe and everything we know as truth is exactly opposite of what the world deems acceptable. Right from the beginning, choosing Christ is choosing to be offensive. 
But if you look at the Christians you know, how offensively would you say they live? 


I'm tired of being comfortable and unoffensive. 
As Christians, we're really quick to claim that Satan's best weapon against us and biggest hold on the world is the stuff everyone finds to be evil: genocide, slavery, famine, and poverty. I don't believe this is true.
Satan's biggest weapon that he uses against Christians is his ability to scare us into silence, to keep up from speaking up about the truth in fear that we'll offend someone. We find it so easy to speak out against tragedies like children dieing from AIDS and entire people groups being killed off, and we're quick to run to the rescue on a mission trip. It's easy to go to another country with people you'll never see again and tell them all about the things God has done in your life and the love He has for them. Then you go back home to your normal life, your comfortable life, and that Jesus stuff isn't too relevant anymore. But what about the person behind you in the grocery store? The person sitting next to you in your English class? Your next door neighbor or even that really good friend you've known for years, but you've never tried to share Christ with them because it might be offensive and ruin your relationship? We're so quick to run off to Africa or Asia and claim they need Christ, when we can't even share Him with the people in our very own country, where every day an endless number of people are suffering and giving up and dieing without knowing Him. 
This should scare us way more than it actually does.
We weren't put on this earth to live comfortable lives in comfortable homes with comfortable relationships. We weren't put here to make the most money and know the most people and go on a comfortable beach trip every summer. We were put here with the sole purpose of being Christ's light in the darkness and sharing His love with those who don't know Him or of the outrageous sacrifice of His son. 
We're called to be offensive. In fact, I'd go as far as to say we were made to be offensive. 

Is that easy? No. If I'm being totally honest with you, I've sat staring at my computer screen for 15 minutes trying to think of a different way to word a lot of things I've just written in fear that people might take me the wrong way and be offended. (If that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.)
However, just because something is right doesn't mean it is easy, but just because we're called to be offensive doesn't mean we're called to stand on a street corner and scream that the world is going to hell or slap everyone you know over the head with a Bible and point out their every fault. We are called to love people and live out our faith through love, but loving and condoning are two different things (but that is another topic for another blog).

Pursue relationships, share the truth, but the most effective way to share your faith is to live it out in love.
While we're called to be offensive, we're called to love. Ironic as it sounds, it is possible to love offensively.   
And that kind of love pretty much always means leaving your comfort behind and stepping out in radical faith, whether that means moving your family to another country or simply speaking to the person next to you on the bus, no matter how offensive His love appears to them.  

"Then Jesus told his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me,"    
                                                  - Matthew 16:24

sweet sisterhood.

I've never had a large group of girl friends. In fact, that is basically one of the constants anyone close to me can rely on.  It's not really something I've chosen, it's just how it has always been. I don't know how to do girl things. I don't like rom coms and Ryan Gosling and nail polish and shopping. I'm sarcastic and like old vampire movies and minimal drama.  So when my Thailand team pushed me and prayed with me and challenged me this summer, you can only imagine my reaction when they gave me an ultimatum: Make girl friends by the end of the semester.

Um. . . excuse me? 

No thank you. 

I made excuses and did my fair share of hiding. Instead of looking for a community of female friends at the beginning of the semester I spent my time hiding out in my guy friends' room, watching Jurassic Park movies and football games. But I knew deep down that something wasn't right and I needed to branch out, I just didn't want to make that move myself. I finally just sat down one night and had a real chat with God about it and I gave him a challenge: 

If I'm meant to have girl friends, they'll find me, so send them. 

A friend from freshman year convinced me to go to Campus Crusade with her one night, and I decided it was time to get involved. I looked for a Bible study just in case I felt like going, but I wasn't planning on staying there in any kind of permanent situation, because I figured I would be fine with just the Tuesday night group meetings. 

Before we move on with this story, let me give you a piece of advice from an experienced wise woman:

Don't challenge God if you aren't ready to see big results. 

Through a chain of events, it turned out that the friend I went to Cru with was really good friends with the girl leading the Bible study I had looked into joining. We met at Cru and then church on a Sunday morning. I figured I could slide around the issue of Bible study and go with my plan to casually drop in now and then, but little did I know this girl was a serious pursuer. By the end of the service on Sunday morning, not only was I feeling obligated to show up that Thursday night but I also had a coffee date planned with her. 

A little over a month later, I've basically taken up residence in the room she shares with her roommate, am a regular attender of the Bible study, and have spent a weekend at aforementioned girl's home. 

Basically, in the time it took me to think up my sassy little challenge to God, He was already laughing and had a group of sister handpicked for me; He was just waiting on me to surrender my ridiculous pride and ask. 

In the past month, I've been blessed with an amazingly solid group of beautiful, passionate, Christ-loving sisters who have taken me in with open arms and have really helped redefine my definition of community and sisterhood. I've been pushed and challenged to grow in my faith, challenge common beliefs with a Biblical perspective, really look at my life, and to always be striving for better all while really embracing how truly fearfully, wonderfully, and beautifully made I am. Because of these girls, my faith has stayed grounded through hard times and my identity in Him has stayed firm because they are always there to encouragement and push me when all I want to do is run off in a corner and toss all inhibition into the wind and give into every raw, fleshy desire that in within my gross little soul.

Even though I've tried to deny it for 19 years, having a solid group of Christian sisters around you is so crucial. I walked out of freshman year with a hefty trail of emotional baggage, broken relationships, and a whole new set of rejections to deal with. Don't get me wrong, I am a big advocate for guy friends, and mine last year helped me through the toughest times I've ever faced. But there are some things that only girls get, and you can't get around that. That was where my first year of college was lacking, and things would have been a bit different had I just accepted this in the first place. 
But thank the Lord for second chances, because I can't wait to see where this adventure is going to take me as I do life with a crazy group of girl and enjoy one of the greatest blessing God created for us: sisterhood. 

Living In a Precious Rejection.

I wrote a blog in Thailand touching on the subject of rejection. (check it outtttt)
I'm not done with the subject though. Apparently its relevance isn't going away anytime soon. 

We've all heard it (especially if you read my blogs from this summer); my story is rejection. 
Rejection from peers, family members, supposed friends, and mainly large groups of Christian girls. You name it, I've probably got a story for it. But through Christ I've overcome a lot of it, and found peace in His amazing love for me.
But the funny thing about my life is that I'm still really human. While my soul wants so desperately to always follow Christ and live out His love, my flesh is at constant battle trying to run away and please everyone. Some days (okay, lets be honest. . . MOST days) I'd really love to just say, "Screw it," and dance around like I don't have a care in the world, saying what I want to whoever I want and doing whatever makes me feel good. But when it comes down to it, I know that giving into my flesh would only bring a temporary sense of happiness and ultimately I'd end up right where I started; miserable, defeated, and a sobbing mess on a dorm room couch. 

On Tuesday night, I went to a campus ministry with my guy friends from school. I was really excited to begin building my Christian community at school and having the guys by my side for it. We walked in, sat down, and exchanged a few looks over the overdone announcements that started off the night. Then the lights were dimmed, the band took their place, and we started into my favorite part of any service: the worship. 
Standing there prepared to worship like I had for the past two months, I was gripped by a sudden bought of insecurity. I was standing in a room with 200 some people who didn't worship like we did in Thailand and standing between three of my guy friends who I had never actually openly worshiped around. Satan is a sneaky little punk sometimes, and I let this insecurity stop me from worshiping with the freedom I had known all summer. 
The speaker took awhile to get going, so I opened my Bible and started reading where the pages fell open, which happened to be 1 Peter. The first verse I read smacked me in the face like a sack of bricks straight to the face. 

"As you come to Him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ," 

- 1 Peter 2:4-5 

I don't think He could have spoken to me any more clearly had He ripped off the roof of the building, pointed a crazy intimidating finger in my face and said, "When did it slip your mind that following me meant walking straight into rejection from the world?" 

The moment I chose to follow Christ and leave the world behind, I unintentionally chose to live in the one thing I've wanted to escape my whole life: rejection. Rejection from the world, including people close to me, friends and family who love me but don't understand me, and especially people who just outright disagree with me. By choosing Christ, I'm choosing rejection while ultimately choosing acceptance from my Creator and Father and Relentless Lover. But this makes everyday life a challenge and constant struggle, especially when I find myself in a situation where no one understands, no matter how hard they try, why I'm doing what I'm doing. I can know for a fact that Jesus has asked something of me, but convincing everyone else of that isn't always easy and isn't always necessary, but the price of it all is anything from a strange look to a condescending response to outright abandonment. My beliefs are offensive, my God unwanted by the creation He gave so much time for and gave the ultimate sacrifice for, and before now it was so easy to live as if this wasn't the case. But I've had my eyes opened to the crazy, wild love He has for us and the plan He has for my life, and there is no way I can turn away from it. 

Therefore, the thing I've run from my entire life, I'm choosing to walk in it. Why? Because while I'm rejected by the world around me I'm CHOSEN and PRECIOUS in the sight of the Lord who made me and delights in me and wants to see me prosper and sharing His overwhelming love with anyone and everyone who needs it, whether they want it or not. 

I chose rejection, because by choosing rejection I'm choosing to walk in the love and acceptance of the only One I need acceptance from. 

And that is a kind of rejection I'm pretty confident I can handle.

 

She Walked Out.

Last week my teammate Kelly, our YWAM friend Claudia, and myself went on a lunch date with two people we’ve built a relationship with on Bangla Road. They are a couple in their early twenties who work on two of the streets. He is a bar tender in a tiny bar on Soi Crocodile, and she is a bar girl at one of the bars on Soi Easy. They came to tour SHE and see what they had to offer, then the five of us went to eat at a place down the road where Kelly and Claudia ate chicken so spicy they compared it to eating a bowl of the sun. The whole afternoon was just really fun, and once they left we were really excited to go visit them next time we out to Bangla Road.

On Wednesday night, our group headed out to Bangla Road for another night of ministry. Music blaring, tourists staring, and crowded streets; another normal night. We began to prayer walk down the street before deciding which bar to go to, and after a few minutes we decided to check out a place down Crocodile that we had visited once before. At the entrance, we saw our friend preparing for another night of bar tending. On our way past, we stopped and had a short conversation. As we prepared to leave, we asked him if his girlfriend was working that night; we’d love to stop by and see her as well.
He told us yes, she was working that night. We asked which bar she was working in, and made a mental note to stop by after this and check to see how she was doing.
A huge smile broke across his face as he told us where she was working:
Seven Eleven. Not a bar on Bangla Road, but the Seven Eleven store down the road from our house.
She quit.
SHE WALKED OUT.

I could write you a novel describing the incredible joy we all felt upon hearing this news, but I’ll put it in a short and simple way:
God is good, all the time. He is moving and working in the hearts of the people on Bangla Road, and not just the women in the bars but the tourists and bar owners and lady boys and bartenders. There is a change in that place that is slowly occurring with each and every day. Chains are breaking away and bonds are being shattered; hope is being restored and life is being renewed. There is a revival coming, and Satan is being constantly pushed out of every bar, every closed club, and every street in Patong. Christ is here and active, and He is pouring out His love in that place and bringing abundant and redeemed life.
How do I know this? How can I claim this is happening amidst such darkness and despair?
Because she walked out.
She felt the love and saw the light and is walking in it.
She no longer has to sell her body night after night or dance on a table for desperate men or take her clothes off to feel she is worth something.
She is free. Her chains are broken. She is no longer captive.

She walked out.

Just Call Me Peter.

God and I have this really neat aspect of our relationship where I ask Him to challenge me or grow me, and He calls me to something incredibly uncomfortable so I can learn that lesson. This past fall, He presented the latest part of this growing process by calling me away for the summer. 

To do what, exactly? Spend two months in Thailand with an all girls team of 24, going to bars and playing Jenga and Connect Four to build relationships with prostitutes while drinking a lot of Sprite.
More than anything, I wanted to run. I wanted to head in the opposite direction and never look back, but instead of letting that metaphorical whale come swallow me up in the style of Jonah fleeing Nineveh, I took a deep breath, packed my bag, and with gritted teeth I ignorantly told God, “You better know what you’re doing,” as I boarded my flight to training camp.
Two and a half weeks later, I sat on the balcony of our home in Thailand and felt defeated. I was homesick for the first time since middle school and found myself wanting to do nothing but stay by myself with Jesus. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else or be with anyone, and slowly I was finding my way back to internal processing from verbal processing.
It was in this moment of weakness that I remembered the words a teammate spoke over me in Romania last summer when discussing our struggles on the trip.
“You remind me of Peter. You ask God for something, but once He gives it to you, you look down at the waves and forget to look to Him. Don’t let the waves take you down; keep your eyes on Him,”

I asked God to refine me and make me uncomfortable. Good move, right?
My team gets labeled as ‘women only’ once I’m too far into the process to change trips.
I looked down at that wave.
Homesickness hits when the actual length of two months becomes a reality and I realize I’m missing my cousins graduation, my sisters birthday, and another family vacation.
I looked down at that wave.
A conversation in the bars doesn’t go quite as planned and our team gets shaken up about it.
I looked down at that wave.

Just like He did with Peter, I can hear Jesus as He takes my hand and pulls me out of the raging water,
“O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31).
There’s this beautifully cliche saying claiming that God doesn’t call the equipped, He equips the called; that saying holds a lot of truth despite how quick most Christians are to repeat it.
God didn’t call me to Thailand because I was ready to go and had the perfect skill set for our ministry; He called me here to refine me and teach me so He can use me to speak His life and love over these beautiful, broken women. He didn’t call me away from home for the summer because I was dying to escape; He called me here to show me that even when I’m halfway around the world in an unfamiliar environment, He is the one I am to rely on.
Our God is a God of redemption, and even when He has to pull us out of the waves more times than not, His love never fails and His mercy never ends. How incredible is it that He chose me, an ordinary, sinful college student from North Carolina, to travel all the way around the world to look into the pain filled eyes of a prostitute and tell her she is worthy, she is chosen, and most of all she is loved? I’ve been chosen to bring life to these women and maybe be the only person that ever shows them real love, and despite the beauty of this amazing call placed upon me, I let my eyes slip away and look at the waves below me.
From here on, my eyes will stay focused on the One who gave me life and called me to discomfort, who with each morning brings new mercy and continues to romance me and cover me with His unending love.

I’m done looking down at the waves.

Donnie Moonfry.

I had plans on Friday. Then at last minute, things came up and these plans fell through.
So I found myself on the road to Asheville with my dad, still without plans when we arrived in the downtown area for his meeting. 
I wandered, at first a bit frustrated, but the more I walked the more I realized that being irritated by things beyond anyone's control that brought these plans to an end was only going to make me miserable. The weather was beautiful, the setting ideal. Sure, I was not spending this time the way I originally had planned and I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do for the next three hours, but I certainly was not going to pout and waste a perfectly good afternoon. As I walked, I prayed for the people around me and the places they were going and the problems they were having, even though I didn't know them or anything they were going through. Soon an hour had passed without my noticing as I kept praying and walking and praying and walking. Finally, I prayed that, since God had obviously brought me there without plans for a reason, He would use me during my time there to be there for anyone who needed someone or just to be a blessing in someones day.
I parked on a bench and pulled out my copy of Lord of the Flies that I was working on and decided to just chill for awhile and give my feet a rest.
That was when I saw him. His feet were the first thing I noticed as I looked down at the pages of my book, and they were well worn, covered by a pair of broken in leather sandals. He wore a pair of camo patterned pants, a worn out grey t shirt, and a shockingly teal suit jacket. Travel mug of what I assumed was coffee in hand, he came up and simply asked me if I had 50 cents I could spare so he could get on the internet. I had a random assortment of change, but no quarters, so using a lame excuse ("I'm so sorry! I legitimately have no spare change or I really would give it to you!") I told him I didn't. I thought he'd move on with this, but instead he noticed the book in my hands. "Dude! I read that book in high school. It's a good one. How far in are you?" He asked, enthralled. I answered his question simply and politely, not really knowing what to say. He asked if I was into poetry, and the next thing I know he's sitting next to me showing me a book of poetry he carried with him at all times.
I knew the reason He had brought me to Asheville without plans. 
For the next hour, I sat on that bench talking about poetry and music and the reason he was there at all. His name was Donnie, but he went by Moonfry. His life was not glamorous, but judging by the smile on his bearded, youthful face, you could tell there was something about him that was happy, although troubled. Two months on the road had taken him from New York through Tennessee and now into Asheville; next destination unknown. He had been jumping on trains and living off nothing, living in tents in the forest and (like he had the night before we met) sleeping in bushes to keep out of the rain. He read me the poetry he had written and showed me the tattoo of Donnie from The Wild Thronberries that he had on his left arm and told me how he really wants to go back to school for graphic design. 
The craziness of his life and the hard times he had seen or even the teal suit jacket were not what stood out to me about this new friend. In the middle of our conversation, right as he told me about sleeping in the bush the night before, a cool breeze rolled down the street and a beam of sunlight hit us from over head. Smiling, he looked around and said simply, "The weather is beautiful today. Who the hell could complain about anything?" 
There I was, this selfish little eighteen year old home from college for the summer, arriving in Asheville unpleasant about spoiled plans, sitting on a bench with a homeless man without a penny to his name, and I was the one who had been complaining. 
Suddenly, my fallen out plans didn't seem quite so monumental anymore. 
After the hour had passed, I knew I needed to be getting back to meet my dad before we left. Apologizing for needing to leave, I reached into my purse and pulled out a hand full of coins. "It isn't much," I told him, "But every little bit counts, right?" He nodded and accepted the handful of coins, shaking my hand and saying, "Hey, thanks for taking the time to talk to me. It was nice to actually have a conversation with someone who has a brain for once," I told him it was no trouble and wished him luck on his travels, where ever they take him. With one last nod and well wishing, he bounded up from the bench and back into the real world as I walked away down the sidewalk. 


Plans fall through and people let you down, but just because these things happen doesn't mean we should ever forget the blessing we have in our lives. From a roof over our heads to simply clean clothes to wear each day, we should never take for granted the blessings in our lives. 
Thank you, Donnie Moonfry, for that hour. In some ways, I think you blessed me more than I could have ever done for you.

The most destructive disease.

[With the semester wrapping up and my freshman year coming to a close (AH. WHAT?), blogging has not been a real possibility in my world. I'll be home on May 4th and back in action though, and I have a few things I've written down that I've felt compelled to write about once I have a free second that isn't taken up by exams and papers and endless math formulas. That being said, I just wanted to share this brief but very serious point.]

I'm currently in the middle of Panarctica (The Panera close to my house which is always freezing) working on my American Lit final essay. For my topic, I've chosen to compare the point of view in John Woolman's "Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes" and comparing it with the issue of modern day slavery. Human Trafficking is not an issue I take lightly, so you can take it without any surprise that I am currently looking like a fuming hot mess in the frozen corner booth, slurping down unending amounts of Dr. Pepper and lemon while furiously highlighting away articles upon articles with statistics on human trafficking in the United Stated.
The United States. America. Ah-mur-i-CAH. The country known for freedom and prosperity and greasy McDonalds sold in elephant sized portions; not exactly the place that comes to mind when one hears the term "human trafficking". But it should.  See, the seedy back alleys and red light districts of Asia and Europe are not the only places that women and children are used and exploited for sex.
Want to know some scary facts about human trafficking in America?* 

- 75%-80% of human trafficking is for sex, and 50% of all people trafficked are children.
- There are currently more people enslaved than there ever have been in history, and the cost of a slave is lower than it ever has been.
- The United States is listed among the top destinations for clients of human trafficking, with the most popular locations being California, New York, and Florida.
- Human trafficking has been reported in all 50 states and Washington D.C. 

- There is a large number of children and teenagers being trafficked in America between the ages of 9-19, with the average being 11 years old.
and the one I personally found the most disturbing:
- There are currently an estimated 13 million children enslaved around the world.

Take a second and let that sink in. Until I began to research this topic not only for my paper but for my trip this summer, the numbers didn't seem real. It's easy to look at "13 million" and think "Oh, that's a big number," and move on with your life without letting the reality of how completely huge it is set in. 13 million children is a freaking ton of them. 13 million is larger than the population of many countries in Europe, and not just the tiny ones only nerdy little home schoolers like myself know about and memorized the capitals of in middle school.

The population of Finland is 5,357,537. The number of children currently enslaved is 13,000,000.

The population of Austria is 8,470,929. The number of children currently enslaved is 13,000,000.

Iceland has a population of 304,261 . There number of children currently enslaved is roughly 43 times larger than that number. 

Wrap your mind around how huge that number is. If that doesn’t deeply disturb us, we have a problem. 

Children are supposed to be innocent and carefree and obnoxious and snot nosed, playing with unrealistically proportioned dolls and racing bikes around a neighborhood street, not being forced into having sex with men old enough to be their fathers countless times a day.
This is a serious issue. It’s a disease plaguing the entire world, not just America. It’s disgusting. It’s destructive. It’s just flat out evil. 

These are the things my team and I will be facing and fighting in Thailand this summer. This is the evil we are up against. It’s real and spreading and constantly growing, and it will not be an easy force to contend with. We have to arm ourselves with prayer and incredible spiritual strength, trusting entirely in the strength and power of Christ to get us through it, with Him fighting along side us. 
Keep my team in prayer as we prepare for this journey, for strength (not only spiritually, but mentally and physically as well), for unity and love among us and pouring from us, and for all of us to be used as we are needed during our two months in Thailand. 

[As the trip gets closer and closer, I’m slowly put surely reaching the fully funded point. I’m currently at 75% exactly and still need $1250 before my deadline next month. Praise God for the money that has come in so far and thank you all for the support, both financially and prayerfully, that you have given me so far!]

* information from http://facts.randomhistory.com/human-trafficking-facts.html