“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.

I hate being interrupted. Especially when I’m clearly busy or speaking with someone else or just going about my life, interruptions are something that frequently annoy me. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a creature of habit, but unexpected changes or requests are, if I’m being honest, not always welcome from me. Now, this may seem like a super weird beginning to my latest blog, and I don’t want to come off as complaining, but I do want to explain where my head has been recently, and where the Lord is interrupting me and teaching my heart to soften to Him and what He sees.

A couple months into my time here I spoke with someone who understands my life here better than most, and he gave a piece of advice that has been on my mind a lot lately. “Make yourself available. In everything you do, in the mundane, to the people at the hotel, to your friends, even to strangers, make yourself available.” For the past several months I’ve been mulling over what that looks like for me. And still struggling at times with the interruptions.

Fast forward to the New Year, and I’m sitting in church, hearing about new beginnings. One of the challenges that stuck with me from the sermon was to think and pray about what the Lord is teaching me in this season, and how I can really focus on that to learn all that I can from Him. The next day, we had our typical Monday morning prayer meeting at the community center, and prayed for each other in the New Year. While I was being prayed over, a word that stuck with me was the word “Presence.” I wasn’t sure what all this would mean but I filed it away to think and pray on.

Well, it’s been several weeks since that meeting, and I think I’ve finally been able to piece together these different events that are all pointing to the same thing: interruptions. Let me explain, making myself available means allowing my day to change based on other peoples needs. Making myself available means being open to conversations at inconvenient times, errands late at night, and decluttering how I spend my time so that these interruptions CAN happen (I’ll be honest I’m still working on that one.) Making myself available means being open to interruptions.

Also, being present with others means giving them my full attention when I am with them, not halfway listening when I am interrupted. Yeah I know, basic stuff, but I’ve needed the reminders lately.

I’ve also really been contemplating what it means to be present in a way that honors the Lord. How can my presence reveal His presence everywhere I go? After all, I’m not here in Romania to just be here. I’m here to be obedient to Him in a way that reveals who He is to those I encounter. And the conclusion I’ve come to with that is that I need interruptions from the Lord as well. It is only possible for me to live in a way that reveals the Lords presence if I myself am familiar with and actively spending time meditating on His presence.

As. I’ve been slowly learning all of this, failing at times and allowing frustration or selfishness to impede these interruptions, I’m learning to be thankful for them. Because when I do allow these interruptions, they lead to beautiful conversations, deeper friendships, and a greater understanding of how the Kingdom moves. So my challenge to you is to embrace the interruptions. Let go of the grumpiness that comes with unexpected change (at least for me), let go of the fillers that distract you from what others and the Lord may be trying to say, and give all of your attention when those interruptions call, because they might just be the still small whisper of God, following the noise of the wind, earthquake, and fire. (I’m reading in the Kings right now, if you don’t get that reference, give 1 Kings 19 a read. :))

Ok so it’s been a minute since I’ve posted a blog, and while I’m very tempted to turn this into an update on all things happening here after Russia declared war on Ukraine, I’m not going to do that. Mostly because there are other outlets where I have updated many on what is happening here, and also because I would like to share more about something that’s been sitting on my heart for quite some time now. But also if you want to know more about what life looks like here in this time, feel free to reach out to me personally and I’d be happy to have a conversation with you about it.

Anyways, unless you know Romanian, you’re probably wondering what the heck the title of this post is. Nădejdea. It’s my favorite Romanian word, and I’m going to attempt to define it well in English. If you type it into google translate, it translates as “hope.” But I’ve been told that’s not entirely accurate. The word used for hope is speranța, and unlike English that has six different words that mean the same thing, Romanian does a pretty good job of differentiating their words (at least as far as I’ve seen…definitely not an expert in this) anyways, I did look up the definition in an online Romanian dictionary, but I think the definition given to me by a friend when I asked about the word is most helpful. Basically, Nădejdea is something like hope, but it’s more than that. It is a combination of hope and assurance, when you “put all your eggs in one basket” so to speak. When you trust someone or something to come through for you and on your behalf.

I learned this word because of a song we started playing in church “toată inima” (if you care to give it a listen:)) the title means whole heart, and in the bridge of the song they repeat several times “ești nădejdea mea” which basically means “you are my only hope and assurance.” And that phrase has been on repeat in my mind for the past month or so.

There have been so many uncertainties in my community and also in the world at large lately. So many curveballs thrown our way. From large procedures of close friends, to visa troubles, to a war next door to us, there have been lots of uncertainties. And yet through all of it, I have this hope. This Nădejdea in Christ because no matter what the battle looks like right now, he already won the war. And I’m clinging to that right now. Through fears about Romania, about Ukraine, about what will come next, through waves of covid and the constantly changing mandates, through my own struggles with selfishness and pride, Isus Cristos, el este nădejdea mea.

And that leads me to another point, while I have been learning so much about trusting him with my future because of uncertain circumstances around me, I also am reminded that I can trust him with my eternity. Not only is he my hope and assurance in the face of war and tragedy and exhaustion, he is my only hope in salvation and sanctification. I can trust him with my heart as well as with my future. In fact, he is the only one I can fully trust with these things. But being able to fully trust him means the fear of the future, and the fear of my own failures are gone. He’s got this. I don’t need a fall back person. I don’t need to “diversify my eggs” (to refer back to the earlier expression), I can leave my whole heart, my whole future in his care.

So my encouragement to you is to remind yourself of this too, no matter the circumstances, no matter the state of your heart, you can trust him with your future and with your eternity. He’s got this. The hope and assurance (nădejdea) you can have will not be put to shame.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” -C. S. Lewis (The Four Loves)

Ok, so I know it’s kind of a long quote. And I wasn’t sure when I was thinking through this blog if I wanted to start or end with it. But I think that starting with it will help me, and maybe you, digest more of it. I love C.S. Lewis. He has some really great writings. This quote in particular has been on my mind since Sunday when I was in Sibiu and the pastor there spoke about love. He mentioned this quote, and while it wasn’t the first time I had heard it, it’s stuck with me. I think there might be a couple of reasons why.

First, recently I’ve seen firsthand how painful love can be. Recently, several extended family members of mine have passed away. And while they were not immediate family, I still feel the pain of loss. But more than that I am observing the pain of loss in others who knew them better than I. This pain truly is a result of love. These people were loved well and although we do not grieve as those who have no hope, we feel the pain of loss because of the love we gave.

I also feel the pain of distance quite keenly right now. Christmas is in just a few days, and this is the first time I will spend it completely away from family. I love my family, and that makes this distance painful at times. One of my very good friends got married this past weekend, and I couldn’t attend the wedding. I felt the pain of distance in that moment. But weddings happen in America everyday, and even weddings of people I kind of know, it’s no big deal. But when I miss a beautiful moment like that from someone I love, there is some pain. Finally, seeing the people I love grieve loss makes it difficult for me to be so far from them. To not be able to comfort and show love in this time is painful.

One more example: I’m a social worker. I hear stories of trauma all the time. When I worked as a social worker in the States, there was some distance from the pain of those stories. While I still cared deeply about my clients and the pain they faced, it’s different when it’s your friends. Now, living in Romania, I’ve heard some extremely painful stories that my friends here have experienced. While I don’t know the pain they know, hearing the injustices they’ve faced brings me pain because I love them. To love is to be open to hurt.

The Bible talks about this idea too. The verse that immediately pops into my head is in Romans 12. Romans 12:9-21 is one of my favorite passages in the Bible. Definitely worth looking up (shameless plug:)) but at the end of this passage that describes the actions and marks of a true Christian, it says “never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God.” Now, this might not seem to connect much to what I have been talking about, but bear with me. What is avenging yourself? Is it not ultimately an act of selfishness? Someone did something that hurts me, so I need to protect myself, I need to “make it right” and what does Lewis say about this? To protect oneself from hurt is to wrap oneself up in selfishness. Love, at it’s core, is unselfish. It is giving of oneself. Even when it hurts. Even when it means you’re on the other side of the world during good and bad happenings back home. Even when it means hearing stories that hurt. Even when it means making yourself vulnerable to someone who could reject or hurt you.

Even when it means giving up your glory and majesty to become the most vulnerable for a people who would hate you, malign you, eventually kill you. Even though they themselves were the guilty ones. Love takes that pain, and instead of dulling it with strong drink, refuses the sponge offered. Because love KNOWS that to love is to be vulnerable. And to keep loving is to feel pain. Feel it fully. Because Love endures all things for the object of His affection. And we, the ones receiving affection, are called to do the same.

So this Christmas season, in the midst of the love you share with your family, your friends, those closest to you, remember the Love of your creator. The truest example of love we have. Who became the most vulnerable, an infant, in order to love us so perfectly. And when the love you give makes you hurt, remember the pain He felt, and the pain He calls us to feel. Do not harden your heart in the casket of your selfishness, but dare to feel the pain of vulnerability. And let the Balm of Gilead (Jesus;)) heal that pain in whatever way He chooses.

It’s THANKSGIVING!!!!! Or at least this week it will be. For those that don’t know, thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday (behind Easter, and yes, in front of Christmas.) and this year, I have SO MANY things to be thankful for. But this season has gotten me thinking. Thinking about what I am thankful for. But also thinking about why I can be thankful and what that means.

I think in this season for me it’s really easy to think about all of the good things in life. To think about the easy things in life right now. I know the holidays do not always lend to this kind of thinking for most people, after all, hospitals see a significant uptick in domestic violence and elder abuse cases this time of year. But for me, the holidays are usually a season of busyness (which if you know me, I LOVE being busy) a season of time with friends and family (which is also a blessing for me, and I know it’s not always one others enjoy as much as I do) , and a time to celebrate all that the Lord has done for me.

And that’s my sticking point today. All that the Lord has DONE for me. Don’t get me wrong, the Lord does do so many good things. So many wonderful, transient things. Wow, that took a cynical turn. All of these things, good things that God gives us, can also be lost. We can lose family members, our health can deteriorate, our living situation can be disrupted. All of these things we think about and are thankful for and even hope for in this season are not guaranteed. So where does that leave us? Do we stress endlessly about when we will lose someone or something close to us? Do we live in ignorance about change and become blindsided with grief when our circumstances change?

No. Not if our true thanks is in the right place. At least that’s what I’m coming to learn. A question that I heard in my devotion time this morning: do I want the Lord himself more than I want all of the good things He gives me? The example on my heart today: if the Lord said no to me being in Romania, would I still rejoice in Him? Would I be able to thank Him even if this were gone? I know, kind of a downer for the week of thanksgiving.

But not actually. Because here’s the thing, Jesus is better than Romania. Wow, weird sentence right? Like on the one hand, obviously Jesus is better, He’s better than everything! But on the other, there’s something different about being specific about this. And there’s something different about saying it about good things. Like it’s so easy to say Jesus is better than covid, or Jesus is better than immigration (that’s basically become a curse word to me). But when I sit down and look at all of the wonderful things, can I honestly say Jesus is better than all of them? Can I say with my heart, if I lost everything, if I lost family, friends, music, frisbee, yes, even Romania, would He be enough for me to be overflowing with joy?

If the answer to that is honestly no, then maybe I need to recenter my life on Him. I recently read the Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer (highly recommend, shameless plug) and in this book he stresses that what we think about God is the most important part of who we are, the most important part of our theology, the most important thing we could ever think about. Which leads me to ask, do I believe that the Lord is better than the gifts He has given me? Am I living as if that is true?

But I don’t want to leave you on that *slightly uncomfortable* note, even though I think it’s sometimes important to be uncomfortable as that most often leads to growth. I want to leave you with this: what joy we can have knowing that when we do find our joy in Christ, there is NOTHING that can shake it. Like seriously, nothing. Because He is constant. Always. We can be thankful for the good things he gives is, but thankfulness for him himself is something different. It’s something we can depend on. It’s something that gives us joy and hope and peace even when the other things we are thankful for are shaken. So this thanksgiving, I’m thankful most of all for the Lord. Because he is good, he is with me, and that brings me a thankfulness that lasts.

Well, I think I’ve officially settled into life here, and that’s a truly wonderful thing. As I sit on the windowsill outside of my room with the warm October sun shining on my face, I realize it’s time to share again. 🙂 it’s been six weeks (or just over) since I landed here in Romania, and life is settling in to a new normal for me.

I’m definitely busier than I was when I posted last month, I am actively working with several NGO’s and with the churches here in Romania, but there’s still a lot of unstructured time. (I hesitate to call it free time because there is work to do, but there’s not a lot of guidance on when where or how to do it, which I am learning to appreciate.)

As I was thinking about what to share, several things came to mind, but I think today I really want to encourage you with some of the joys I have experienced here, even as Romania is approaching another lockdown due to skyrocketing Covid numbers (something I would appreciate prayers for as we all are trying to navigate this well.)

Anyways, the joys I want to discuss can be summed up in one word: creativity. I have had so much space to be creative this past month, to make things, organize things, bring people together in different ways, and I’m so incredibly thankful for it. Here’s just a few examples: 1) I started crocheting again. I’ve been making scarves, hats, and blankets for myself and others and it’s been so fun to try to make new things. 2) Baking. I currently live in a hotel/community center with three other young adults, and we spend quite a bit of time together. But my favorite thing that we have done together is bake. Romanian dishes (the picture from this post is of us rolling Sarmale, a DELICIOUS traditional Romanian food), American dishes, whatever we feel like at the moment (today I took a whole pumpkin and made roasted pumpkin seeds and pumpkin purée to use for later recipes because canned pumpkin doesn’t exist here:)) 3) Crafting. I have become the point person for all things crafts with kids for two different NGO’s here and I have absolutely loved it! 4) Art. A friend here talked me into trying my hand at painting and drawing again, and while I’m not exactly where I used to be with it, I’m enjoying picking up an old hobby. 5) Hair and makeup. Another friend loves to have her hair and makeup done…for some reason by me😂 while I enjoy doing hair, I’ve never considered myself an expert, but being around her more I have started to try different ways to style her (and my) hair, which has been fun and another way to build community. 6) Music. There’s a guitar here! And I’m allowed to practice with it whenever I want!! It’s beautiful!!

Wow, ok when I started that list I didn’t even know it was going to be that long, but ideas just kept coming, so I kept writing them down. Anyway, as I have thought about all of these avenues allowing me to be creative, to make things and sounds and foods and images that didn’t exist otherwise, I’ve realized a couple of things.

First, when we create, we are living into one of the core parts of being created “in the image of God.” After all, God is the eternal Creator, and only by His grace and divine will do we have the capacity to create anything ourselves. But more than that, I believe that creativity is a part of the stewardship mandate given to Adam and Eve in Genesis 1. God tells them to “be fruitful and multiply, fill and subdue the earth.” A lot of times we think about this passage as referring to families and nature, and I think that’s definitely true, but I think we are also called to take what God has given us, and use it to create good things.

And second, I have come to realize that many time creativity facilitates community. For example, when I started to bake here, I would just do it alone. But then as I became friends with the others living here, it’s become more of a community event, something we share together and enjoy together. One of the crafts that I was able to design helped me to get to know some of the younger kids at one of the community centers here, which also is facilitating community. And even in discussing interests with new friends, when we find something that we both like to create, that strengthens the friendship and gives us a unique way to spend time together.

So, my encouragement to you is to lean into the ways you are creative. Maybe you like to write, maybe you like to design programs or organize people and events, maybe you’re logically minded and can solve puzzles and problems by creating new solutions. However you find yourself creating, remember that you were designed to do so, and that you were designed to enjoy it, and let that knowledge fill you with thanks for our Great Creator.

3 years. It’s been 3 years since I’ve posted. (give or take a few months) well, not really, I have a separate page, but it didn’t feel right to write in “Ohio to Romania” when I wasn’t…you know, IN Romania. I left my last post here off with a “ne vedem târziu” a “see you later” because I knew that it wasn’t the end. SURPRISE!! It wasn’t. And I’M BAAAAAACK. Like, in Romania. Living here for a full year this time, and wow, two weeks in and I’ve already got some stories. 🙂 But I really just wanted to take some time to tell you about a big thing the Lord has been teaching me since I arrived.

Ok, so background information, this summer leading up to my time here was HECTIC. Yeah, it was absolutely my fault, yeah, I did it on purpose, yeah, it probably was a little much, even for me. I was busy. Like, all the time. And I liked it. Down time was not something I had or even really wanted. I like being active, doing lots of things, seeing lots of people. My time since coming to Romania has been quite different from that. It’s been an adjustment for sure. Having time to myself, being alone (this is my first time ever living by myself) in the evenings, I am learning that there is beauty in quiet. Which is so, like NOT me. As in, I’m not quiet, and I don’t usually like quiet. So when I had THAT revelation the other day, I knew it had to be the Holy Spirit, cause I’m loud.

But anyways, downtime is not something that I think is very valued in American, and maybe even western culture. I think we (or at least me) tend to value busyness, I think it makes us feel important. Like the world would stop functioning without us. News flash: it won’t. I am learning that I am not that important. But in a good way. Not that I don’t have value, I know I do. But my value comes from the Lord. And I think in my busyness, I began to believe that I could do something for the Lord he couldn’t do on his own. I would have never actually admitted this, but I think it’s what happened. But here’s the thing, Jesus doesn’t need me. At all. In fact, he doesn’t need anyone. That’s a big part of the whole “eternal” thing that comes with being God. If he were to need me, that would mean that I in some way were superior to God. Which means, I think for me at least, my mindset and my busyness had become an idol. That doesn’t mean busyness is always bad, or that we should just stop doing things because “I’m not needed” quite the opposite actually.

God in his amazing all powerful, good, just, oneness that He is, decided He wants me. Even though He most certainly doesn’t need me. And that, my friend, is even more amazing than being needed. Because it means that his great plans will not be stopped by my failures, and it also means that I am valued not because of my merit. Because let’s be real, next to him I have none. Zero, zilch. “Negatory good buddy”(name that movie;)). It also means that my limited time on this earth, while important to bring under his discipline and guidance, does not have to be packed every second with good things to accomplish. He has ordained my days, and he knows in his timing what he wants to accomplish with me. And sometimes, that means sitting still, being quiet, and trusting that He will lead me in his time.

It also means that I have had a lot more time to spend learning from him through his word and the way he speaks when I actually take the time to listen. Something my pastor said this…evening??? Morning for him but evening for me (gotta love that 7 hour time difference) 🙂 was that in Jesus’s ministry, in his time with the disciples, they spent a ton of time walking. Going from town to town to teach and heal and build the kingdom. And as he was saying that it kind of dawned on me that walking between cities and towns takes a lot of time. Just doing nothing but walking and maybe talking with those around you. The down time did not make Jesus or his disciples less effective, in fact, that time, I am sure, Jesus used to deepen his disciples faith so that when the time came to witness, they knew who Jesus is, and who they were in Him. I believe that’s what he is doing with me right now. As things change and I start to really find my place here, continue meeting new people, and start to maybe get a little busy, I hope I will respect the quiet. And I would encourage you to do the same.

Well, I’m back! It’s been a little over a week now and this is really the first time I’ve had to sit down and write about coming home. So I’ll just dive right in! Re-entry is hard. Like, REALLY hard. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be home. I love spending time with my family, getting brunch with friends, and being involved in church again. Those are true blessings and I’m so thankful for them. But let me tell you, when I woke up that first Friday back, my first thought was “the kids are meeting and I’m not there.” That sucked. But missing people isn’t the only hard part about returning. There’s also this wonderful thing called reverse culture shock. Yep. It’s real. Now, I had fair warning about it and I’ve been preparing myself for it as much as I could, but you don’t know what’s going to bother you until it does. Luckily, I am surrounded by people who care enough about me to listen when I get frustrated and I know enough people who have experienced this as well that it’s easy to work through. But, ranting about culture shock is not why I wanted to write this post.

I wanted to write this post because now that I’m back in my native country, eating Cane’s, playing with my dog, driving again, and so on, I’ve had some time to reflect about what I’ve learned in the past three months. I’ve learned things about myself, about culture, and about Jesus that I didn’t necessarily realize even as I was learning them. Here are a few:

I learned that I can do more than I thought I could. I learned that when situations get stressful or there are unknowns, I can remain calm and deal with them. Basically, I learned how to not turn into a ball of stress over things and that I’m a lot happier when I don’t.

I learned a little bit about how hard it is to integrate into a new culture, and it makes me appreciate the diversity in America more. In fact, now I just can’t help but smile when I hear a language I don’t understand, because I know how it is to try to communicate cross-culturally.

I learned about following Jesus, the immense adventure that it is to chase Him wherever He leads.

I learned about the quickness of life, and how hard it is to say goodbye, but also how good it is to know that goodbyes are not final when we are in Christ.

I learned how to receive well (or at least better.) Getting gifts of any kind is not my favorite thing in the world, but living in a culture and environment where people want to give and want to accommodate me, I learned that to not receive well is to deprive the other person of the joy of giving out of their love.

All of these things and more have continued to mold me into the person I am becoming, but the mantra that has been resounding within me this past week was “I’ll be back.” Yep, Arnold Schwarzenegger voice and all. But the point remains, no matter what happens, Jesus isn’t done with me yet, and he’s certainly not done with Romania. And if it’s in His will, He’s not done with me IN Romania yet. I’ve been saying to everyone who asks that I want to go back. And this is true, but I’ve questioned the wisdom in saying this to others.

Here’s why: it’s scary to say that. It’s terrifying to think that at 19 years old I’m going to start planning to move to a different culture, a different environment, a place that precious few in my circles in America have ever thought about, let alone been to. And then I start to think, “nothing is set in stone, what if you DON’T go back? Or even worse, what if you do and it’s NOT God’s best for you?” But as soon as this happens, I’m reminded of some really good advise I got once. STORY TIME! 🙂

I was in high school, at a typical youth meet up, and one of the pastors in my church at the time was sharing her God-story. At the end, we were aloud to ask questions, and as a senior pondering what I wanted to do with my life, I asked her if she ever doubted her calling, and what she did about it when she did. Her response is something that rocked me to my core, and continues to encourage me as I chase this unconventional life laid out for me. She said “when I start to doubt my calling, I think about standing before God at the end of my life. And I would much rather hear Him say ‘what you did wasn’t my call, but I know you did your best to follow Me’ than hear Him say ‘I called but you didn’t answer.'” So I’m gonna keep chasing where He leads, trusting that He’ll take my best and do something better than I ever could with it. Because I’d rather live a difficult life chasing Jesus, than a comfortable life bored with what I’ve done.

As I prepare to sign out for a while, I’m not really sure when I’ll post again, but I do know that I’m not done. So I’ll leave you with this: ne vedem târziu. See you later. This isn’t goodbye, just see you later. 🙂