Well hello again! Another couple of months have passed here in Romania, I’m gearing up to come back to the states for my first Christmas with my family since I moved here, and I figure it’s time to write again! (Ooh also, this picture at the top has nothing to do with what I’m about to say, but it’s this cool castle that I got to see in Krakow, Poland recently, so I figured I’d share. Anyways…)

Many of you have probably heard some of the stories from my recent trips to immigration…and if you haven’t, here’s the gist: it’s hard. Every year, in different ways the process is challenging and sometimes unclear. And this year, I had a pretty hard deadline with trying to come back to the states at the beginning of December. I had heard from other Americans living in Cluj that it was taking upwards of three to four months to get an appointment at immigration, and I only had two months to submit my application. I had also heard that leaving the country after my current residence permit expired and before I had been seen by immigration would mean that I lose my application and would have to start over from scratch. As my family and I grappled with all of the possible scenarios, I learned a lot about my attitude towards the Lord, and about His goodness and His love for me. And as I was processing what to write about for this particular blog post, I figured I’d bring you along for the journey that was these last two months 🙂 Buckle up!

So, the scene is set, I’m wrestling with the possibility that traveling to the States for Christmas may not work out this year, and my heart is doing these flip flops between disappointment and reminding myself that I’m actually fine because “other people have it a lot worse.” (Side note: I hate that phrase. I know people say it because they’re trying to give perspective, but sometimes it tends to minimize whatever it is you are processing and I find that all around unhelpful.) Anyway, back to the story. My heart is doing these flip flops. I want to be able to go back, but I’m fully aware that getting my hopes up is setting myself up for disappointment. But, we started praying. I applied for my residence permit anyway, and a friend helped me draft a letter explaining my situation and asking for an appointment before December 1st. Then the waiting began.

And as I waited, I started to think “well, maybe I’m supposed to stay. Maybe I shouldn’t even ask for this. After all, it’s not the end of the world, and maybe I’m asking for selfish reasons, or for the wrong reasons.” (whatever those might be) But something that I have been learning about this year is this idea of approaching the Lord as an orphan versus as a child. And you know what I realized? Worrying about the ask is coming from an orphan perspective. “If I mess up this ask, He might reject me/be upset with me.” But kids don’t worry about whether they should ask their dad for something, they just ask. And then they trust their dad to know what is best for them. I don’t know how you approach the Lord in prayer, but too often I approach Him hesitantly, wondering if my prayers are “correct” or if I’m asking “for the right thing” when in reality, I don’t need to worry about that. He’s a good father, who knows better than I do if something is good for me. So I can ask, and I can be honest about what I want, but then I can trust that whatever answer He gives is what is best for me and those around me. And so can you.

So I asked, and I waited. About two weeks later, I got an email letting me know that I had received an appointment time not only before December 1, but so early before that I would even have my physical residence card in hand before I left the country (which will make border control soooo much easier). That morning, I realized something else that seems so obvious but still needs saying: God can do things that I cannot. I cannot make immigration move any faster than it currently is. I couldn’t “fix” this. But God, in His goodness, can do whatever He wants. And He loves to give good gifts to us.

This all leads to where I’m sitting now. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jesus’ illustration of having the “faith of a mustard seed.” He says that even faith as tiny as a mustard seed has the power to move mountains. It’s a common analogy, but I don’t think it’s often explained well. Until really recently, I thought that analogy was somehow pointing to the power of faith, that “even a little faith can do big things, so imagine what a big faith could do!” *face palm* I think I totally missed the point. After all, the amount of faith you have in something doesn’t really matter if the thing you have faith in isn’t big/good/powerful enough. No, what Jesus is saying is that God is so big, so good, and so powerful, that even the tiniest trust in Him, and He will do big things, He will work in and through us in ways that we cannot even imagine. It’s not about the power of faith, it’s about the power of the One we put our faith in. Because He is a good father who we can approach and ask for things in faith, and in faith trust His answer. We can also trust that He can and will do things that we cannot. So our mustard seed of faith in the One who is most powerful can yield more than we ever could have imagined. Not because of the power of faith, but because of the power of Who we put our faith in. So as we enter this holiday season, I challenge you to reflect on where you are putting your faith? Is it in something or someone that deserves it? Is it in the One who can take the tiniest amount of faith and do immensely good things because it is His very nature? I challenge you to let the Father’s heart hold you close, and show you that you are a child who can ask, and He is a good Father who will give in love.

Well, starting these blogs are always the absolute worst part for me. Is anyone else like that? Like, I’m getting flashbacks to trying to write a seemingly endless amount of papers while in college, and I almost ALWAYS wrote the introduction last. I think I put too much pressure on myself. The first sentence is like a first impression, and those can be intimidating. And sometimes the fix to that pressure is just to dive off the deep end and see what happens. So here’s my deep end introduction 🙂 It’s good to be writing again after several months of activity, rest, and then more activity. Also, a fun thing to acknowledge, I have officially been living in Romania for over two years! I don’t really have a whole lot to say about that, other than it feels like a milestone and I’m excited about the years to come!

Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now and get on with it. Something that has been on my mind this week has been the idea of lifelong learning. As kids, we hate the idea of school going on forever, and I mean, it doesn’t. But as an adult, the longer I live the more I realize how much I don’t know. And there are different ways that people cope with the realization that there’s so much we will never know. Some people close off their world, shrink it to a size they can understand, and then never leave that world they’ve created. Others become obsessed with understanding, seeking to become the most wise or knowledgable about a variety of subjects. Both of those options sound pretty exhausting and isolating to me. So then I have to ask the question, what’s the best response? And honestly, it could be different for different people, but here’s what I’m learning about me. Teachability is important. Like, not the ability to teach others, but the ability to be taught. Which is different than the ability to learn. Maybe I’m being too nuanced about this, but hear me out. Learning is something we can do “on our own.” Teachability requires a teacher, it requires a relationship. One thing that those two responses have in common that I just listed is that they both seek to reach a place of not needing to be taught. Either by blocking out new things, or by tirelessly trying to keep up with all of the new things, so as not to be outdone or found lacking.

And then I’m reminded of Jesus. He was a teacher. Not like a formally trained teacher, but people referred to him all the time as teacher. And that got me thinking. Who hung out with Jesus? Who actually learned from him? Cause it wasn’t the Pharisees who “knew everything” and tried to catch him up in a lie or an error. That’s not being teachable when you’re just trying to be right. Because being taught means you don’t know something, or even that you could be wrong about something. It also wasn’t the people who kept trying to hold on to their own view of their world. Like the young man who asked Jesus what he needed to do to be saved. Jesus gave him an answer outside of his understanding, and he left. Not because he was teachable, but because he wanted validation for the world he had created in his mind.

That leaves us with the people who WERE teachable. And they were an interesting group. Fishermen, lepers, foreigners, tax collectors, women, kids, and lots of other people demonstrated a willingness to learn from Jesus. People from different ethnicities, religions, social statuses, ages, genders, just about every identifier that comes up on a college or job application, there were people who listened to and were taught and transformed by Jesus. It wasn’t just the people who were good at school, it wasn’t just the people who were disciplined and did their homework every day, it was the people who were willing to suspend what they thought they knew, and believe him when he did what he said he would.

So where does that leave you and me? Well, for me, I like being right. I mean, who doesn’t? But I’m learning that there are things that are more important than being right. That doesn’t mean truth isn’t real or important, it just means that sometimes we have to be brave enough to think outside of our own worldview, and humble enough to admit that we could be wrong. And all of that can be done within the framework of understanding that Jesus is the only one who spoke only the truth all the time. So learning from people who are different from me is good, but it’s not gospel. Only Jesus can be trusted 100% like that. It also means that learning can be something that is relational, something that breaks down barriers instead of creating them. Because when I’m teachable, I’m learning from people who are in some way different from me, and that not only builds community, it also builds trust. So my challenge for you this time is to think through areas in your life where you are teachable, and areas where you are not. And then to ask yourself, what is it going to take for me to get to a place where I am brave enough to step outside of the comfort of my own world, and humble enough to let someone else teach me? I think we might find that doing that makes the world a little less scary, and a little less lonely.

Alright, time to dive back into writing again. 🙂 It’s been a whirlwind of a few weeks here with camp and teams coming and all the summer happenings. And the busyness isn’t over just yet. But thankfully, this weekend, I’ve had (or created) some time to just sit and reflect on what the Lord has been teaching me lately, and I figured it’s time to share. 🙂

I recently learned a new word in Romanian (okay, I’ve been learning lots of words everyday, my Romanian is improving a lot, but I still have a long way to go) but this word in particular is one that I’ve heard in several different contexts lately: belșug. It means abundance, like an abundance of a harvest, wealth beyond belief. I first read the word from a Bible verse posted in the kitchen where I live, and have since noticed it in sermons and songs that I hear. It’s kind of funny sounding to me, belșug, but the word abundance has been on my heart a lot. As has the word scarcity. Have you ever heard of the concept of having a “scarcity mindset?” Basically it’s the idea of living from the belief that there are limited resources, so the resources you do have need to be hoarded or used frugally. This is something that I see sometimes as a social worker, people who have gone hungry hoard food even when there is a huge dinner table set before them, or they hide money away in different places because they have gone without before. But these last few weeks the Lord has been showing me that I frequently live with a scarcity mindset too. But for me, I live believing I have a scarcity of time. 

For example, I pride myself on being an efficient person. I like finding ways to accomplish tasks well, but also quickly. Like literally, you should see me go to the grocery store. I have a list, I know exactly where the things are on the shelves of my preferred grocery store, and I treat the aisles (and if I’m being honest, sometimes the people) like an obstacle course that I’m being timed on. After all, the faster I accomplish task A, the more time I have to either spend on task B, or if I hurry through boththen I can accomplish even more tasks in a shorter amount of time! What a win, right? I can be super effective because I can do so much running through life! right? …well, wrong. I mean, maybe technically right, but at what cost? You see, I sometimes tend to measure my effectiveness by the list of things I can accomplish in a given day. After all, there are only24 hours in a day, and only7 days in a week and only52 weeks in a year…how am I supposed to do all that I want to, all that I believe God has called me to do in that amount of time? While my mind and heart know running faster only perpetuates the problem, sometimes it’s the easiest thing to believe. 

But then, the Lord just gives me a minute to stop. breathe.Recognize that I’m living with a scarcity mentality when He has given me an abundance. A belșug, if you will. And recognizing this abundance is only possible when I shift how I view myself and my role in ministry. When I see my work as so important, I start to think God needs me. And this, my friend, is a dangerous thing to think. Because it shrinks God, puts him in a box, makes Him less than all-sufficient. And we would never in our right minds call Him lacking, right? But sometimes I act like that. OR I think that somehow I need to earn a place in ministry, I need to earn his approval. But that’s also wrong. God lavishes his love and approval on me because He wants toand so He made that lavishing possible through Christ. And when I am in Christ, I don’t have to worry about a scarcity of time, because my sole purpose is to glorify God and bring him joy. And I will get to do that for ETERNITY. like, woah. Just sit with that for a minute. or, you know, an hour. 

Because you know what I’m learning? The only fix for a scarcity mindset is to dwell on the abundance that I really have. For me, and my scarcity of time, it means giving chunks of my day, my week, my year, to just sitting with the Lord. No agenda, no time-limit, allowing Him to fill me, so that I can work from the abundance of acceptance and love that He gives to me. I don’t have to run through life, because time will not run out on me. I can see people as He does, because in those quiet spaces He gives me His eyes for the world He loves. A. W. Tozer (one of my favorite theologians) talks about this in his sermons on the book of John. He states that even Jesus did not help the multitudes by staying among them all the time, he had to retreat and spend time(I italicized AND bolded that word, cause it’s really important, at least for me) with the Father, and be filled so that when he wasamong them, he would have what they needed. It sounds like a paradox, to save time, spend it lavishly on the Lord. But so much of the Christian walk is this way. To save your life you must lose it, to live is Christ, to die is gain. It sounds weird, I know. But to quote Tozer again, “If you can explain everything in your life, you are not living for the Lord. But as I walk with him in quietness, in silence, He nourishes aspects of my life that I do not even know are there.” So I guess my challenge for you today is this: find the areas in your life, in your spiritual walk where you are living with a scarcity mindset. Maybe it’s time like me, or maybe its resources, or relationships, or acceptance. And fill that scarcity with the abundance of the love of the Lord. Let his assurance wash over you, and let that abundance fuel the way you interact with others, yourself, and the Lord. 

Well, it’s been a rather long time since I picked up the pen, so to speak. But in my defense, I’ve been in the states for several months now, completing trainings and preparing to return to Romania. And boy am I excited to return. This time in the states has been so good and rewarding, and I have learned so so much about mission and the Lord and even myself. But I’m excited to go back again. One of the biggest things that has contributed to my learning is a four week course that I completed recently on cross cultural living. This course taught me many things, and gave me a framework for a lot of experiences I have already had from living abroad for a year and a half already. But that’s not really why I started writing, to talk about this course. But I do want to share what the Lord was doing in my heart while I was at this course.

My biggest takeaway from this time, and the thing that I have been chewing on in the last week since returning to Ohio has been this: when God calls me to cross cultural work, or whatever work it is He calls me to, He is just as interested in the work He is doing in me as the that He is doing through me. I’ll elaborate. 🙂 Something that I think is very common for missionaries, and people in ministry in general is this idea that we are the ones serving, so everything we do is seen through the lens of how it is benefitting other people. And this isn’t a bad thing. I mean, as I have been raising support to go back, I’m not focusing on how great Romania is for me, but on what God is doing in Romania and how I get be a part of it. It’s about what God is doing through me. Which is great, and important. But it’s not the only important thing. Because just as God cares about transforming hearts and lives in Romania, He also cares about my heart. I know, that sounds so obvious, but sometimes it gets lost in the busyness of everything else.

So what does this mean? That He cares about my heart, and what He is doing in me? I’m glad you asked. 🙂 The first thing that strikes me about this statement is the immense amount of love that I feel when I hear it. I am not just a tool used by God, though that would honestly be sufficient. No, He loves the people I work with immensely, but He also loves me with that same love. And I genuinely believe that His calling me to Romania is as much for my own benefit and sanctification (that’s just a church word that means becoming more like Jesus) as it is for anyone I work with. How amazing is that? And that’s true for everyone. Whatever your calling is, whether it’s in ministry or healthcare or teaching or information technology, the Lord has given that to you for your benefit, just as much as for the benefit of the people you work with. And that’s because of his all surpassing love for you. It makes me think about a section of John 15, which talks about how, because of Jesus, God no longer calls us servants, but friends. We get to lean in and hear what His great plan is, what His great work is, and we get to be a part of it, not as cogs in some cosmic machine, but as friends who are deeply loved and known by our Creator.

The second thing that strikes me about this statement of God caring about the work He is doing in me is the humility that comes from that. Because, well it means I have to admit that there’s still work to be done. I have not arrived or achieved or earned perfection. I don’t have it all together, and I still have a lot (and I mean a lot) to learn. It also levels the playing field. I’m not some great missionary here with all the answers to the problems. In fact, I have less answers than the people I’m serving because I don’t understand the culture in the same way they do. So any sort of savior complex goes out the window when I recognize that the Lord is using Romania to change me and draw me to him. And that reminds me of my great need for him. I have been learning to sit with and be thankful for this truth: it is impossible for me to preach the gospel to someone who needs it more than me. Think about that for a moment, no matter how “righteous” we feel, no matter how much work we do, how many prayers we pray, there is nothing we can do to make ourselves need the gospel less. And that changes how I share with other people. Because it’s not this idea of “I have the answers you need,” instead, I get to come from a place of “I was desperately lost, and I still would be if it weren’t for the gospel.” Every single day I need Him, I need His grace, and every single day He extends it to me. Not because I deserve it, but because He chose to love me. And He loves you the same way.

Okay, I’ve talked about myself a lot, so now I’ll address you a little more directly. (you know how I love to end with a good challenge :)) First, I’ll ask you: what is it the Lord has called specifically you to? It could be your job, your relationship to someone else (such as children, parents, or anyone else really) or maybe its something totally different. And then how is He using that to change and grow your heart? This specific challenge doesn’t have a lot of action steps to it, its more a challenge to reflect. Reflect on the work that God is doing through you, and then what that means for what He is doing in you. Because He cares about your heart more than He cares about your works. And I hope that knowing that moves you to gratefulness as it does for me. Because I cannot think of anything more beautiful than knowing that my heart is completely known by God, and He still wants me. More than that, He wants to draw me to Himself, creating something beautiful within me as He calls me to love and see the beauty in those around me.

Wow, okay it’s been a REALLY long time since I’ve written, and I feel like I can tell. While I sometimes write just for myself it certainly isn’t as frequent, and there’s something therapeutic about being able to organize thoughts in a way that I can revisit them and further develop them. That’s not really what I wanna write about though, but shameless plug, if you’re feeling scatterbrained, writing helps me a lot. 🙂

Anyways, as I have been praying over and pondering this post, the thing I keep coming back to is prayer. A lot of times when I’m preparing to write, I will read back over my previous posts. Sometimes it’s honestly just to make sure what I’m thinking about writing isn’t something I’ve already written about. Lol. But anyways, I really checked over them this time because prayer is something that I have talked about and written and presented about frequently, but I’ve never posted about it here. So it’s about time! Prayer is something that is so essential to the Christian life, and yet it is something that the church (at least in my experience) tends to relegate to the few “prayer warriors” out there. Especially when it comes to intercessory prayer. But that is never something that was intended by the Lord.

Now, I could probably start an entirely new blog dedicated just to prayer, and continue to fill it for the rest of my life, because I believe that prayer is an integral part of spiritual growth, and therefore the way I view and use prayer grows as I do. But there are a few key things that I’ve learned, especially since being in Romania, that I want to highlight. And the way I’m going to do that is to use a model of spiritual maturity that was presented by my pastor while he was visiting Romania this past fall. The way he presented it, there are five stages of spiritual maturity. 1) spiritually closed 2) spiritually seeking 3) spiritual infants 4)spiritual adolescents and finally 5) spiritual parents.

Now, relating these stages to prayer, the first stage would be people that are completely oblivious to the way that the Holy Spirit is working in their lives. They have experienced the prevenient grace of God, but they don’t recognize it. Next, we have the spiritually seeking. These people have not yet made the decision to become followers of Jesus, but they’re ready to know more. When I think of this, I think of the prayers that are very honest questions. Either asking the Lord for clarity, or asking for help in desperation.

A person crosses the line of faith, and becomes a spiritual infant. This is a Christian who is zealous for the things he or she is learning, and excited about what God is doing in his or her life, but does not yet have the understanding of what living in faith truly looks like and means. These Christians need the support of a strong church family to challenge and grow them in the faith. When I think of prayer as a spiritual infant, it’s either the most exciting thing (to be able to talk and commune with the Creator of the UNIVERSE) or it’s a minimized “necessity” that we do before doing the important things like outreach or worship or bible study or pretty much anything else.

Then comes spiritual adolescence, a person has learned about the foundations of the faith, and is beginning to amass a knowledge of scripture and the Christian life. But the practice of that person is still not fully mature, and that usually manifests in selfishness. This is the take where prayer (in my experience) tends to be a one-way road with us telling God all the things we want, and expecting him to deliver because we read that “whatever we ask in prayer, if we believe, we receive.” (Mark 11:24) So many of us take that verse so far out of context and use it to pray for wealth, for success, for ease of life. None of those are inherently bad things, but I believe it’s a huge misuse of prayer, and it hurts the spiritually adolescent for two main reasons. 1) it teaches them that prayer is designed to benefit our wants, instead of designed to align our hearts to the desire of our Creator; and 2) it discourages and disillusions when the things we ask for are not given. Then we either “didn’t have enough faith” or “God must not be able to do it or want to do it.” Both of these thoughts are very destructive to the Christian life.

Finally, we reach the spiritually mature, the spatial parents. While spiritual parents are by no means perfect, they come to an understanding of what prayer truly is, and the power behind it. Prayer is meaningful, it is not irrelevant as the spiritually hostile believe. Prayer is also more than the questions we ask or simply a mode of discovery, although it can be that as it is for the spiritually seeking. Prayer is not the menial side task that we “have to do” before the “important” stuff, it is the very life of ministry. Nothing can succeed without the Lord, and the way we discern from Him is through prayer and meditation on His Word. Prayer is also not a list of demands from God. It’s not talking til we’re blue in the face telling God all He should be doing. Prayer is first of all powerful. And the power does not come from ritual or the right words, but from the Holy Spirit. Prayer is us surrendering to the will of God, and discerning what that perfect will is. Prayer is then allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to our hearts, and to tell our hearts what to ask for. That doesn’t mean there’s never a time to tell God about our cares. There most certainly is. But there’s so much more to it. When we pray, we allow the Spirit to align our hearts with the will of God, and we begin to ask for things in His name. We begin to praise Him for all he has already done, and for the work He will continue to do. Prayer also breaks our hearts for the people around us. As the Holy Spirit opens our eyes to the suffering of our friends and neighbors, we are given a heart of flesh that beats for the Gospel to be proclaimed in every area of our lives.

I know this blog post is stupidly long, but I’d like to leave you with one last thought: I have a lot of friends who are far from God. Who are either indifferent or totally hostile toward him. For some of them, I know their background, their spiritual trauma, their support systems. I know some of them have family who are interceding (praying) for them regularly. But for many of my friends, I honestly don’t know if anyone has prayed for them before. I don’t know if they have a mother, grandmother, cool uncle, or best friend who loves Jesus and is bringing them before Him in an honest desire to see their lives renewed by His Spirit. And friends, that breaks my heart. I know that God loves and sees everyone, that prayer is not necessary for God to work in someone’s life, but when we pray for our family and friends, I believe it is one of the most honest acts of love. So, as I normally do, I will leave you with a challenge (well actually two) 1) where do you fall on the scale of spiritual maturity? I’ll be honest sometimes for me it depends on the day. I certainly still have infant and adolescent days. But where do you fall? And what’s the next step of growth for you? and 2) who in your life is God leading you to pray for? To love in this way that they may never know about. Because to love is the central theme of the Gospel, not just this, but to love in a way that is to give of ourselves and point to the one to gave it all for those He chooses to love.

I’ve been thinking about language a lot lately. English, Romanian, Hungarian, and now Ukrainian and Russian are all languages I hear on the regular. I’ll be honest, I still have a hard time telling Ukrainian and Russian apart when I hear them, but the other languages are quite distinct from each other. They all have different sounds, letters, sentence structures, and emphases. And while the idea of one day understanding all of them is so appealing, just tackling Romanian is a big enough task for me for now. But as I’ve been learning and progressing in language, one of the things I’ve come to love is listening to Romanian music. Whether it be Romanian versions of English worship songs, worship songs written by Romanians, or even the popular Romanian music played here, I love listening to it. I love trying to translate it (although some songs are a bit too poetic for me to fully understand) and I love seeing people I love enjoy these songs as well. It has gotten to the point where I prefer most Romanian versions of songs that have both Romanian and English lyrics. I could try to delve deeper into why I love them more, but the point is, I am surrounded by languages right now, and loving it. 

But I’ve also been thinking about how these languages came to be. I mean, not these languages specifically, but different languages in general. After all, a good long while ago, everybody spoke the same language. But then when God told people to spread out and fill the earth, our rebellious nature led people to congregate in one city, to seek their own gain instead of following the stewardship and dominion mandate given by God, to take care of all the earth. So, he confused their language. They couldn’t understand each other. And as someone who lives in a land where English is not the predominant language, even if there are many people who speak it, I understand how incredibly frustrating this can be. Trying to communicate across cultural and linguistic backgrounds can be difficult, frustrating, and lead to lots of miscommunication. Heck, you can probably think of miscommunications that happen within the same language. This is part of what living in a broken world means. We don’t understand each other as well as we once did, as well as we should. 

Now, I didn’t start writing this blog to complain about a language barrier, and I know I have already written many times about how language barriers can be overcome through action and presence, but that’s also not why I started writing today. No, today I have been contemplating the beauty of language. The beauty of different languages and how beautifully they come together when they are used to praise the Lord. Yes, the confusion of languages was given to punish a selfish and wicked people, and yes, there are barriers I must seek to overcome every day, but language is also an incredible example of how God works to bring beauty from difficult things. 

For example, I was at a mission conference in Sibiu this past week. People from all over the world (well, Eastern Europe and America) came to speak and learn and worship and be filled in order to evangelize wherever our respective communities were. This means that there were a lot of different people with different first languages. Now, being the privileged American that I am, I got to speak in my first language all week because the conference was held in English. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t get to hear and experience other languages as well. One of the biggest ways I experienced language was through worship. I had the privilege of leading worship for part of the week along with some wonderful people. There was also a Ukrainian band there who led worship half of the nights. We both led worship in English, but both of us would put lyrics up in other languages as well (for them Ukrainian, for me, when I had them, I would add the Romanian lyrics.) And we encouraged those present to sing in whatever language was most comfortable for them. This meant that some chose to follow whatever language was being predominantly sung, some sang in their heart language, and some just took in all that was happening. If you have never worshipped with people who love the Lord from different nations and know the same songs in different languages, I highly recommend it. There’s nothing quite like it. It’s a unique type of noise that never ceases to remind me of how big and wonderful our God is. For me, it is more special than singing in one singular language. And God being the good, big, loving Father that He is, gave me a calling and placed me in a church where I get to experience this nearly every Sunday. Wow am I blessed. But anyways, enough about me.

That story I was talking about earlier, the one where God confused the languages of that people a long time ago, that place was called Babel. And when it happened, it was a bad thing. It was a result of the sin of the people. But this is where I get stuck, and where this blog might not have as neat of an ending as some of my others. Because I’m not sure where I land on it. Was Babel truly something bad? If you read the story in Genesis 11, it certainly reads like it was bad. The people were selfish. They ignored God’s direction and exalted themselves instead of Him. No question, those things are bad. But His response, we could even go so far as to say His judgement, led to the possibility of worship in hundreds of languages. It led to different expressions and ways of life. Now, you may not think language has that much influence on how we live. But for me, even a basic understanding of Romanian made me realize that because the sentence structure is different in Romanian, people whose heart language is Romanian will process information differently than me, because they receive it in a different order. How crazy is that?! And while cultural and language barriers can be frustrating as I’ve already mentioned, the ability to express things in so many ways lead to beautiful worship. And just imagine, when we get to worship Him for eternity, and every tongue gets to profess how amazing He is, what that will sound like! Because people from every nation will know that He is king, and we will get to use the nuances of our language, our tongue to describe Him in infinite ways showing how great He is. So maybe this is all a big example of Him bringing beauty from ashes. Or maybe confusing the languages was a good and gracious thing that God did while it also foiled the plans of the people at Babel. Either way, whether it’s something that was redeemed from bad or a plan for good from the beginning or some combination of it all, I’m thankful for language. I’m thankful for different ways to express faith and praise, and I’m thankful for the God who understands it all. 

It’s been awhile since I wrote like this. Like three months if I’m counting right. Well, this morning, as I was doing my devotions, one of the things I have been doing since I got back to Romania (for those that don’t know, I was in the states for six weeks visiting family and friends and have now been back in Romania for about a week.) Anyways, as I was saying, one of the things I have been doing is working through a prayer journal that a friend got for me. Basically, several prompts for each day, spaces for me to put things that I’m thankful for, prayer requests, highlights, things on my heart, etc. Well, one of the things that was on my heart this morning particularly was the fact that I haven’t been writing. So, I simply wrote, “Lord, give me a desire to write again.” Then I moved on with my day and didn’t think about it too much more.

Well, the evening comes, and for the first time since I’ve been back to Romania, I felt bored. Here’s the thing about me: I’m REALLY extroverted. And I like being busy. So, for the last six weeks or so, when everyone and their brother wanted to hang out, get coffee, go bowling, go disc golfing, play some goaltimate (that’s a fun new thing I learned about, totally worth a google:) ) get sushi or whatever, I was over the moon about it! I was never bored. Like, at all. I promise I’m getting to the point, bear with me. Being back in Romania, there are still many friends to hang out with, and plenty of things to do. But, we don’t really hang out til 2AM like I tended to do with many high school and college friends while I was in the states. So, I had a great day today. BUT 8 o’clock rolled around, and my evening was free. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The weirdest thing happened. And no, it’s not what you think. That’s not when I wanted to write. Nope, that would make too much sense, I wanted to run. Okay for some of you that might be a normal urge, it isn’t for me. Let me be clear: I run for frisbee. That’s it. Nothing else. I hear about that thing called “runner’s high” and there’s no way I’ve ever run far or hard enough to experience it. But here I was, wanting to run, to burn some energy. So I did. 

Another thing about me: I love music. A lot. Mostly really heavy music too, although lately I’ve been exploring regular worship music again. So anyways, I have a running playlist that is comprised of the heaviest, fastest songs I have on my phone. And that’s what I usually run to. Not today. Today, for some weird reason, I felt I needed to listen to that regular old worship music while I ran. Now, I don’t know how much worship music you consume, but I’ll tell ya, it’s not really the pump-up stuff that metalcore is. It’s slow, simple, and straightforward. But I did it. And honestly, I wasn’t thinking about it being some nudge from the Lord, although I recognize it as that now, I really was just thinking I was antsy and needed something different. So I ran. To Maverick City and Phil Wickham and Andrew Peterson. LOL. But the funny thing about this combination of running and worship, it really clears your head. And another thing I’ve been learning lately is how important discipline is in discipleship (I know, they’re basically the same word, this should be obvious) but sometimes the application of obvious concepts is just not there. 

For me, the application came when I was reminded of the verses in Hebrews 12 (verses one and two to be exact) where it talks about letting go of everything else and running with endurance the race set out before us looking to Jesus as the founder and perfecter of our faith. Like I said before, I run for frisbee. There’s a purpose. For some people who run, the purpose is health, or joy, or another sport like mine. But none of us run aimlessly. If we do, we usually end up quitting early or injuring ourselves or getting lost. Or maybe that’s just me. But this is where it hits me (no, not a frisbee…this time) Jesus is why I run. Like, in life, metaphorically. Well, I’m not gonna say he never asks us to like, actually run, but you know what I mean. Discipline is so important, but it only makes sense when we keep our eyes on the prize. Our eyes on what we want. And what I want is Jesus. It’s crazy how easy it is to forget that in my pursuit to please him, I forget to want him. I start doing all the motions that seem most important, and forget that He is the only reason I do any of this. So when I stop looking at him, I quit too early, I get hurt, and I get lost. Discipleship is hard work. But it doesn’t feel so hard, so overwhelming, when it’s just me chasing Jesus. Just like running isn’t so terrible when I remember it’s just me chasing plastic (like, the plastic of a frisbee). I always like to end with a challenge, so my challenge this time is this: what do you run for? Why do you run? Or are you even running? Have you forgotten who you are running for? Have you never known the One worth running towards? For those like me who like doing things and sometimes forget why I’m doing them, I challenge you to look to Jesus. Remember why he’s worth all your energy, all of your discipline, for the rest of your life. For those who maybe are stuck on the sidelines, who haven’t found that thing to run towards or have just forgotten and have atrophied muscles, I challenge you to look to Jesus. Whether it’s for the first time or the thousandth time, look to Jesus. He makes running worth it.

“For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭9:19-23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I have always found this passage interesting. In a postmodern world where the most valued thing is the individual and independence, this passage makes Paul sound like something we all dread being called: “fake.” Now, I don’t believe for a second here that’s what’s actually happening, but it kind of sounds like it doesn’t it? “I have become all things to all people” kinda strange. Especially in a world where people tel you to be yourself and don’t care what anyone else has to say about it. Paul seems to say instead, deny yourself, let go of your freedoms and rights, and serve everyone in whatever way you can, becoming like them so you can share with them the richness of the Gospel. (He puts some disclaimers in there though, like clarifying that he is not under the law like the Jews, but that he is also not lawless and still answers to the Lord.)

Now, fast forward roughly 2,000 years, and I’m here in Romania, recovering from our yearly church camp. Maybe recovering is the wrong word, it was a wonderful weekend, and I’m so glad to have been a part of it. But yeah, I’ve needed this week to be a bit slower paced because of the exhaustion. Many things happened at this camp, and I feel as though I got to know many people of all ages better. One girl in particular has been on my mind this week. I had met her before this camp, but we had never really talked. I didn’t really know why we hadn’t, but it wasn’t something that worried or bothered me. Well, this past weekend, we found ourselves in a group of people together who were chatting in Romanian. While I’m still slow to respond in Romanian (I try, and I’m getting there, but I’m slow) a lot of times I can understand what people are saying. This girl saw that, and immediately was more open to speaking with me. In fact, at one point she straight up told me “I don’t mind hearing english and I understand, but I don’t like to speak it.” All of a sudden things started to click for me. She wasn’t super shy or against talking with me, she just didn’t know that she didn’t have to speak english with me. After that, we had multiple conversations throughout the weekend, and both got to know each other a little bit better.

So what does this have to do with common ground? With becoming all things to all people? I’m glad you asked :). When I was in high school, I hated foreign language. I mean, I HATED it. Not the language itself, but I was convinced that I could never learn a different language because I didn’t even like English, how could I learn the grammar for something totally different? (funny how the Lord takes the things you say you can’t do and makes them part of your life) 5 years later here I am, certainly nowhere near fluent in a different language, but learning more everyday. And if I hadn’t been putting in the hard work to learn and be able to understand, I wouldn’t have been able to make this new friend.

And this is why I learn, this is why I study. Not because I have to, not because I love different languages or they are something I am so good at, but because of the people. I will become all things to all people so that I might share with them in the gift of the gospel. This weekend was such a good reminder to me of how powerful common ground is. Even something as basic as language. When we realized we could communicate, even if we were speaking two different languages, it created common ground. I wasn’t being “fake” and neither was she, we were both simply adapting in order to build relationship.

And if I’m being honest, I think that’s a central part of the great commission. “Go and make disciples of ALL NATIONS” that requires growing in a way that creates common ground even when it’s hard to find. It takes time, and it takes work, but when you have those little victories, when you get to see just how beautiful the love of Jesus in a context totally outside of your own is, man is it beautiful.

Now I’m not saying everyone needs to move to a foreign country and learn a second language, (although it’s been a huge growing experience for me so I’m not gonna say DON’T do it either :)) but I am saying growth happens outside your comfort zone. Even further than that, growth happens with PEOPLE outside of your comfort zone.

A lot of things have happened back in America this past week, a lot of people are hurting and angry. We’re in a place where we feel sometimes that there is no common ground between “us” and “them.” So my challenge to you is this: find the common ground. And then plant yourself there. If the common ground is a language, keep learning that language. If the common ground is desire for options for women’s healthcare, plant yourself there. If the common ground is a type of music, or a sport, or a food, or even if it means being open to creating common ground where there is none, plant yourself there. Because we as Christians are called to become all things to all people so that through our witness we might be able to share in the blessings of the gospel with those we plant ourselves next to. And that begins with common ground.

So fun fact about me, I have these sayings. I mean, I feel like everyone has “sayings” or phrases that just kind of become habit to say. But there’s a couple that I’ve kind of held onto for years that have come to the forefront of my mind this past week. One of my favorites is from a song I love, and I’ve actually written a previous blog post about it. “Trade your certainty for awe.” It’s a powerful reminder for me that any limitations on God that I want to put on Him make him too small, and that reveling in who He is is way more life changing than living a safe or boring life. But there’s another saying that I’m not actually sure where I first heard it, but it’s been cemented in my brain and on my heart for a long time now. And that one is “go back to what you know.” On the surface, these phrases almost seems to contradict each other, but this past week as some difficult things have happened, I’ve come to realize they can go hand in hand. But first, let me explain this second phrase.

The first time I remember telling myself “go back to what you know” I was a teenager, figuring out where I fit in, and feeling pretty lonely. Those early high school years can be brutal, and I was feeling the weight of it. But when I felt alone, even in something that felt so huge then but feels so small now, going back to what I knew meant saying the most basic truths I could think of. It went something like:

“I know I exist. I know the world exists. I know the world could not exist apart from God, therefore I know God exists. I know the Bible is trustworthy, therefore I know God is good. I know that even when I feel alone my emotions do not equate truth. I know that God said He would never leave me. I know that He said He loves me.” And I would go on. This exercise helped me to work through lies about myself that I believed. But as I’ve grown, I’ve started to use this phrase in other ways, to encourage others, and to work through difficult situations in which people tend to blame God.

For example, a friend has had medical problem after medical problem. When she asks “why is this happening to me?” What do I say? “Everything happens for a reason”? Absolutely not. I kind of hate that phrase. I think it minimizes pain that we should be allowed to feel. In times of extreme pain, I think it’s okay to feel more like the author of Ecclesiastes “vanity, vanity” stuff, ya know? Instead, I say something along the lines of “I don’t know. But you know what I do know? I know that God is good. I know that He loves you more than we can comprehend. I know that your pain pains Him too. And while I don’t know why He is allowing this pain, I know He promises to make it right one day, that he will “wipe every year from our eyes, there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, these things will be gone forever”” (Rev 21:4)

Does this answer fix things? No. Does it even really answer her question? Not really. But I’ve found that it does something different. It gives us room to grieve the pain because I can say “I do know that this is bad, that this is wrong, that this is not the way God designed the world to be. Pain, illness, death, these are effects of the fall. It is not wrong to grieve these things.” It also begins to subtly turn my focus to my Creator. Because the most basic of truths that I can go back to, the most foundational things I believe, revolve around Him. And when I look to Jesus, “I can endure all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil. 4:13)

I also run to this phrase when I cannot understand the pain of death. When someone I love dies, I go back to what I know. “Death is not natural, it is a part of the fall. While I do not know why this happened, I do know that God loved and continues to love him more than I could ever comprehend. And for those who loved him best, I know that God is near to the broken-hearted, that He saves those crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18)

Ok, so this is a long post, but I’m starting to wrap up, I promise. I want to end with how these two phrases tie together. Maybe you’ve already started to see it. Compare with “everything happens for a reason” it’s certain, there’s no awe, it’s a platitude said when we simply don’t know how to feel the pain of loss. But when we go back to what we know, it leaves room and demands that there are things we don’t know. It admits our frailties, and our incomplete knowledge. (It admits our uncertainty) which is where the second part comes in. When we start with what we know “God exists, God is good, I can trust Him, the Bible is true” then moving to our uncertainties we can take what we do know, and allow that to form our trust in the One who does know all of the things we don’t. And that can allow us to approach Him with a sense of awe, trusting in what we know, and trusting Him with the rest of it. Allowing awe to form our view of Him and the World, even in pain, even in uncertainties. So my challenge to you from this is to go back to what you know, and then allow what you don’t know to leave you in awe of the One who does, and who is always good.