I'm passionate about the truth being told. I'm passionate about seeing the truth be alive in myself and in others. I'm passionate about the truth winning over lies.

But I have been finding something similar in a lot of people recently. People are told lies, but believe them as truths, and in many cases they would stake their lives on the lie, because they believe it is the truth so much.

One of the major fruits I see in this lie phenomenon is the basis of "feelings". "I feel this, or I feel that, so it must be true, right?" But I have a lie revealing truth for all...feelings do not always reveal truth. They are not where truth is birthed. Feelings can enhance an experience of truth. Feelings can also enhance the experience of a lie, and in that situation they act as "proof" of the truth.

But, for lack of knowledge, many people entertain lies. Let's take for instance the media. People will watch the news and then relay what's happening to others as if there is no twist in it. Or let's take a "Christian" book. Many people will read a book, and then relay it as if it was infallible, and receive the sole revelation based off an opinion, rather than a truth.

See Satan is tricky, and he can make a lie look like a truth. And I have seen the works of Satan in others lives as he has told his lie, offered his lie, had his lie received, and then the person mirrors their life, even defines their life, based off this lie. It goes even past a feeling to believing you were created to become this lie. You can see the easy progression from freedom to chains.

But there is ABSOLUTE truth, and the absolute truth is being told to you. I'm reminded of the story with the sower and the seed. The seed is being put out. But it falls on four different kinds of soil. And I believe as a believer, we can have four responses to the truth. One, it will fall on deaf ears, and not make it to the soil. Or it may fall on a soil that is shallow, and with out the depth, the roots can't grow down. Or it could fall on a soil that is full of weeds, distracting the seed from producing fruit. But lastly could fall upon cultivated soil that is ready to receive and begin to grow the truth into a revelation that bears truth up to a hundred fold. I know that different truths have fallen on different soils at different points in my life.

But here's the point people:

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BEAR FRUIT OF A LIE, BECAUSE YOU HAVE THE TRUTH BEING TOLD TO YOU. CULTIVATE THE SOIL OF YOUR HEART TO RECEIVE TRUTH. BE WILLING TO KILL THE LIE, IN ORDER TO PRODUCE TRUTH. ASK THE HOLY SPIRIT TO REVEAL WHAT LIES YOU HAVE BEEN DEFINED BY!

If you are looking for truth...let your search stop at the Bible, the Holy Spirit can open your eyes to the revelation of truth, and plant the seed. Then it will need time to grow. But as it grows, you will become the bearer of truth.

The poor will always be among us.

It poses a challenge for me to write about the streets I live in. My neighborhood. The people I encounter daily. The looks I get. You see, I live in South Bogota. South Bogota is one of the most dangerous places in all Colombia. It is the '"ghetto", it is the dark alley you don't want to walk down. It is not uncommon for me to hear gun shots, to be told to watch out for a murderer on the loose, to see gangs, to watch drugs being distributed, and to have the crime scene unit arrive because of a murder. This is the "dangerous" part of my world. But, those are just some of the faces I see on the street.

The other day I encountered 2 homeless gentlemen. One was dressed in a pair of pants that had been duct-taped down the seam, his clothes were dirty and he had tied a suitcase to his hand (so it wouldn't be stolen) and was just standing, waiting for someone to show compassion on his situation. The other was walking around looking for items that people had thrown out, he carried a pair of shoes, computer parts, and plethora of other peoples trash.

I also see the poor-working class. They are hard workers. One man is a car repairman. Everyday, he is out repainting or soldering...but the other day, he stopped just to tell me how beautiful my eyes were. (And unlike most of the guys who do similar things here, he was genuine, and not creepy about it!) Then you have your bakery, where maybe 5 customers come in all day, but the prepare as if it would be 1000. And hairstylist, and the fruit market...the list could go on and on...and the poor-working class people have one thing in common...THEY AREN'T GOING TO RIP YOU OFF. They work hard for their measly wages.

But, what the Lord has been stirring in my heart as I walk the streets, are the homeless people I have seen. When was the last time that you were so desperate for money that you duct-taped you pants? Or when was the last time you went digging through the garbage to find food, or something to sell? The Bible says that the poor will always be among us. I knew that was true, but now it is my world. What brought them to this place of having no home? Would you ever hire someone who was dressed up in their finest clothes that were duct-taped? Would you get angry at one of them for sitting in front of your high dollar business trying to make some money? How do you respond to the homeless?

Over the last couple weeks, the Lord has broken my heart for their souls, for their lives. My judgments, my perceptions, my fears of them have all had to come into account. What I wonder is how are we, the "rich", taking care of the poor? Are we being like the rich man who only fed crumbs to Lazarus? Are we trying to be "safe" by not letting one into our homes? Or are we offering a cup of cold water in the name Christ? Are we laying down our perceptions, so that we can think of them as better than ourselves?

I'm still fighting with all these thoughts, but I just wish you could see what I see every day. Souls in the balance. Men and women who have no hope of heavenly or earthly success. Many of the people I encounter are born into street life, others you may know may have made some wrong choices so now this is their lot. But let's not base a person's soul on past decisions. But instead, let's change the lenses in our glasses and begin to see them as God sees them.

What are you going to do for the homeless and the poor in your community?

An oops days.

I wish that I could take back all the aspects of today.

Do you ever have those days when you make choices that you regret? Not ones that are "bad" or "sinful" but just not the right ones?

Well that was pretty much all my choices today. Dang.

Glad that the mercies of the Lord are new every morning...I look forward to receiving those!

And this is my God

For unto us a child is born

And the government will be upon his shoulders

And his name shall be called:

Wonderful, Counselor, Almighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace

Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end

On the throne of David and over his kingdom

To establish it and uphold it

With justice and with righteousness

From this time forth and forevermore

The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this

Pands.

It is bitter-sweet. Even more so than the day I came to Colombia. Two lives that were intertwined together for many years are now, most likely to be forever separated. Separated not because of our own doing, but rather the Lord's direction in our steps. A best friend is one that can never be severed from your heart...but the idea of never being able to live life again with her, to season through life together with her, causes my heart to ache and wish for it to become as it once was.

But alas...I have to let go. I thought I had. I thought me moving away and being independent was a sign of just that. But tonight with the great news of the journey that lies ahead of her, I can't help but think what I just might be forever losing. My closest friend.

Maybe all is not lost. Maybe I'm a bit sentimental. Maybe, I'm just selfish in my extreme loneliness to have a friend alongside of me for the remainder of my time on earth. What ever it is...sadness still rises up in me, accompanied with great gratitude for vision and direction in her life.

So it is bitter-sweet.

Today.

I want to crawl into his arms tonight and feel the safety of his breath on my neck, and his guarding embrace. Something real. Something I can feel. The one that God has chosen me to live the rest of my life with. I dare not utter the truth of my heart, for fear of my own dissatisfaction with my own lot. I want to be married.

I want to be married for a plethora of reasons. But tonight's reason is found in the events of today. Today, a raging fire was started in the building behind (literally their wall touches our wall) my office. Nothing intentional. It was a wax factory, and they believe that a cable caught fire, and because they use diesel in the wax, it began a blazing inferno and caused a small explosion.

I was in my office when it happened...completely oblivious. The others who were with me walked out. I could hear commotion outside, but nothing way out of the ordinary. But the sounds of the people grew. I assumed that we must have invited all the boys to our house for some reason...so I walked out to see what party was going on out there. I, naively, asked what was going on. They said turn around...I did, and as I turned, the heat grazed my face. What I saw was flames engulfed in smoke. The mixture looked like a chemical fire. They flames were gigantic, and I don't recall being able to see the sky. And the flames appeared to be coming from the building I was just in. But they couldn't have been...I was just there! Then came the all the emergency evacuation procedures...and my mind was left to wonder.

They weren't coming from there, but from behind there. The building I was in was the only one of our 5 buildings in the surrounding blocks to be damaged. Well, destroyed is probably a better word. I haven't seen it live, but the pictures showed much more damage than I imagined. We lost a bit...but not a lot. All of our 100 children were safe. All of the houses for the children were for the most part untouched. I saw the protection of the Lord in it's fullness. The explosion (from the diesel) happened very near to where I was...I was unscathed.

Bless the Lord for his protection.

I want to put out there a couple of things so you understand the ground rules of what I'm about to express.

1. I have drawn near to Him and He has drawn near to me. A husband is not a replacement of Christ and his workings, only an extension. One of the many things that are a tangible representation of Christ.

2. I'm not discontent with my season in life. I wouldn't change being a missionary in Colombia and giving up my dream of being married to an American and soon...for the world. You can gain the world, but lose your soul.

3. I'm not desperate, or actively looking for my future husband to fill a need that I have. I have needs...but they are being fulfilled through the love of God, especially in this season (If you want to know about my season, ask.)

What I'm about to express, is a want. A desire. A currently unfulfilled desire. AND THAT'S OK.

I'm scared. Not outwardly, but inwardly I'm shaking from the events of today. I want to have a husband to stand by me and help me stand when I want to faint. To bring out the tears that I can't express because I have to put on a strong face. To be able to put my guard down with, because he is ok with me being weak, seeing it as an opportunity to strengthen me by washing me in the word. To hold my hand, because he knows his touch will comfort.

I am far from the belief that marriage is only so I can be satisfied. Everything I have mentioned above is only for my benefit. Marriage is two-sided...and I would want to do the same thing for him when he was afraid. But tonight I'm afraid.

So tonight...I'm wishing for him. But as my dad says..."if wishes and buts were candies and nuts, it would be Christmas everyday." Don't really know what it means but sounds good, huh?

Hope.

Where destiny meets reality. Where reality is sparked and hope becomes real.

The Lord God is real! We all know that, right? Yeah, I know it. I have experienced him, I have felt him. But some days, even though I can feel the Lord, I'm not experiencing how he is actively involved in my life. I just go day to day, in intimacy with the Lord, but not considering his overall activity in where my foot treads, what my eyes see, what my ears hear, and what my mouth says.

But, he is involved. More than ever, and I'm just beginning to realize it, but the full picture is blurred. I'm quick to put hope in an image that is blurred. I look at the blurred snapshot of my life, and I begin to analyze what I see, what I feel. I try to make out the figures, the faces, the places. My examination and differentiation draw a new picture. One that I made up. One that doesn't actually mirror the intricate blurred photo. In my drawing I have about 1% correct of the actual...but I respond as if it 100 percent. And then my hope is deferred to my own drawing, forgetting the photo all together and I make my drawing the hope in my life, what I want out of life. 99% of the time, when the photo is made more clear, my heart is sick. "Hope deferred, makes the heart sick." Sick over my misinterpretation and reliance on it, and sick over what I have lost that I had begun to love and had become a part of me.

I had a great conversation with my best friend on just this subject last night. She said, "Sarah, you can put you hope in the fact that the Lord is moving and is faithful in your life, and even in what you can't see, but you can't put your hope in the flesh, what you think you see. You have done that before, and you have already found out that it doesn't work." This is slightly paraphrased...but definitely the heart of what she was saying. It sank in. I got it. I don't want to repeat the failings of my past. I want to put on foot in front of the other, not take steps back.

I am in a season that I am potentially, just maybe, seeing my destiny meeting with my reality...and that is fun and exciting. But the photo of my destiny is still incredibly blurry. There can be no hope in my drawing, but there can be outstanding hope, in HIS photo.

My Odd Passion.

I have a rather odd passion. I have been aware of this calling in my life since I was teenager, however I didn't recognize it then. I first began to recognize it my 3rd year at Teen Mania. I was 20 years old.

This passion I have is rather hard to describe. It is also rather hard to pinpoint. The passion of my heart has not traveled to my head. If it had, I would have a clearer idea of how I was to act up this passion. So I guess it would be better to say that I have a fairly inactive, not dormant, but inactive passion in my life.

Are you curious to know what it is? Drum roll, please!

I LOVE MEN. And when I say that, I don't mean it as "I'm romantically attracted to men,"...though that is quite true...it is not the meaning behind this proclamation. Somewhere deep inside of me is a roaring desire to see men be men. To be there for the gap as a boy turns into a man, the man that describes this: "...when I became a man, I put the childish things away." - 1 Cor. 13 To watch a man make the right decision, delights my soul to no measure. In my life, I feel there is no greater calling than to influence a man.

But...here is the kicker. I AM A GIRL! In one way, this is to my great advantage. I can pull out my girly charm, put my make up on my face, throw on some nice clothes, and walla bing walla boom: I can get a man's attention (especially in Colombia ;)). I can draw in his ears through his eyes. And to second that, one of my dearest guy friends regularly touts that, "Women have no idea how much influence they have on men's lives." I realize just being a woman is influence on them. But because I'm a girl...I can only go so far. There are many places in a mans heart that I will never reach for a multitude of reasons. All because I'm a girl. I'm not disappointed by this, because those places in a man's heart I can not touch, I actually don't want to. But this puts a taboo on my passion, rather my calling. I believe others would question my motives and intentions if I acted out on this calling in certain ways.

I have actually had quite the opportunity in my life to influence men. To start off: I have had some great male friends that the Lord has allowed me to influence, and then there was Teen Mania...where I co-led a coed group for 3 years. I have had the opportunity to do just what I described I loved to do...speak into men's lives and watch them change. I'm beyond grateful this.

But I think there is more to my calling...not just more men to influence...but how I'm going to influence. I may have to wait until that blessed day when I'm wed and have boys of my own...but is it a requirement to wait until then? I hope not.

The question that remains is: HOW?

Dear God,

Tonight I want to crawl into your arms and have you answer all the questions of my heart. A true sign that my heart is alive...I have longing. So much longing and desire. Intimacy is created just being near to you, rather, you being near to me. I feel the transition...I feel the answers drawing nigh. They are not veiled as I expected them to be. I'm just beginning to realize that is because you are not veiled. You are my longing. You are my desire. You are the stirrer of my heart. You are the butterflies that I have swarming inside of me.

You are more exciting than I ever thought. You are real. You are not just words on a page. You are not just a sermon at church, or a pretty song that ignites my emotions. You have become my dear friend. I take to heart what you think about the way I ought to live my life. I desire to be loved by you. Solely you. All other love disappoints as I compare it to you.

My loneliness is being transformed into an exciting adventure of friendship with you. I'm marveled at your care, your understanding, your thoughtfulness, your joy over me. Your sing over me the song of my heart. You are the reason I want to wake up. I can do things I never thought I could because you have given me the confidence. I feel your support, your my biggest cheerleader.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I don't want to live my life apart from you. My life is rich. You're sweeping me off my feet.

Embrace the Rain

I hear the rain falling. Some of our roofs our made in such a way that when the rain pours, it is almost deafening. Trying to speak over it is a futile effort ending up in a yelling tone with the one you are communicating with catching one word, maybe. I like it this way. It causes you to stop for a moment and reflect.

A few nights ago, I fell asleep to the pouring rain. I had been experiencing distance from the Lord. I prayed that he would just speak to me, remind me that he is here with me in these incredibly lonely nights. Then I heard the still small whisper. "I am your house. I am the refuge from the storm. I am your safe place. I am your comfort." In your own home there is no need to entertain. It is where you are really yourself and you are accepted, and most of the time loved because you are just that. You can let your hair down, you can relax. The veil was not torn for us to come in and preform, but to come in. And that presence is what changes us.

Also note, he said this house protects you from the storms. There are storms. Colombia is just beginning it's rainy season. It lasts for several months. Last year thousands of people lost their homes due to faulty foundations and structure. I'm very reminded of the blurb from the Bible that says "Anyone who hears and obeys is like the man who built his house on a rock." And as for me and my house, I serve the Lord. My foundation is sure. My structure is sure. And here comes the storms that seem to last forever. It is now a choice to walk out from under this house and into the storm. The storm that leaves you cold and miserable. The better option, however, is that we can stay safely inside, and if you are anything like me, we can embrace the rain. How? Not by pretending it is not there, because it may be deafening, causing you to be unable to communicate. It's definitely there. But instead, hiding yourself in the safety of his presence, in the safety of his communion, in the comfort of his sacrifice, listening and obeying. There is nothing more relaxing than falling asleep to rain. If I was outside my home trying to fall asleep in the rain, I would probably want to curse God and die as quoted by Job's wife. It is slightly dramatic, but I don't want that. I want my home. I want a roof and walls and a sturdy foundation.

The Lord is alive. And he speaks. Let's listen and obey and then enjoy his refuge instead of taking our umbrella of self satisfaction, or religion, or impatience out into the cruel storm that leaves us with our umbrella broken and soggy clothes.

Embrace the rain...inside your house. :)

I miss you.

I don't even remember what state or city I was in. I had gone out of town to take a friend to a youth conference. The weekend had been going well, for the most part...until one of the days in the afternoon, like I said, all of the details are very blurry. My sister started texting me and telling me to call her immediately, that something terrible had happened. I called her. She was weeping. I couldn't make out the words she was saying. I asked her to calm down, and then I heard...he killed himself. Matthew Brett Coven, a son, a brother, a husband and a father of three small children, took his own life. The details surrounding and of his death still horrify me.

Matthew was a dear friend of mine. He and his beautiful wife, came into my life when I was in high school. They started attending our church when they only had their eldest boy. Emily and I babysat for them often...but as time went on, they became more than just parents of the child we babysat, they became dear friends. We would have AI (American Idol)/ Amazing Race parties, we would eat ice cream until our bellies exploded, we would drink more Diet Coke than 100 people could in one sitting, we would talk until late in the night about life. We would laugh. We stood by their side when their second child was born and had major medical issues.

And then they moved to Little Rock and I to Texas. Emily still remained very close to them. Visiting them often. Matthew's wife, Morgan, became Emily's closest friend. And I lost touch. I would hear about them through Emily, and keep tabs with them that way. I would visit them every once in awhile when I would go home. But for all in intention purposes, I lost touch. I naively gave up that friendship.

I went home after I left Teen Mania, and I didn't want to go. But a dear friend told me that I ought to go...that it was important. I did and on the way home we stopped by Matthew's house, had dinner and caught up. That was the last time I ever saw him. I'm so grateful my friend told me to go.

See in those five years that I lost touch, he made a series of poor choices, ones that affected his whole family. I wasn't there for that...I only remember the good times. The way Matty once was. Which in many ways save my heart from a lot of heartache. But there is also a huge part in me that regrets losing touch with him. Wandering if he only knew how much I cared about him, how I wasn't judging his actions and calling it his identity, how much he meant to me and my family if there might have been a different outcome.

I'm not one who lives in regrets, and I'm not going to begin now...my wandering thoughts, however, beckon me to consider the importance of human life, and human connection. Acting on the love you have for one another...not just waiting until it's convenient. Because, in my case, there is now no convenient time, because there is no time.

It's been a year. And I miss him. A lot.

Fear

Fear inhibits my ability to hear the spirit of the Lord speak to me.

I have found myself in an atmosphere of trepidation recently. It is almost constant. I'm incredibly aware of all my surroundings. I look at people and judge their intentions, I look around my flat sometimes to make sure that I'm the only one in it, and on nights when I'm alone I momentarily ponder my own safety in falling asleep.

Recently, I woke up in the middle of the night after having a scary dream. I woke up terrified and couldn't really grasp onto reality for the next hour. Fear engulfed me. I couldn't think rationally. I wanted someone I could wake up, and ask them to help me. But there was no one.

I have heard stories here of men and women being woken up in the middle of the night by the spirit of God to protect this house hold. When I woke up, that is where my mind went to. "Ought I get up and begin to protect?" But even if I wanted to, I would have been unable.

There are elements that have contributed to my fear...a scary movie I watched, multiple murders (targeting women) in my neighborhood in a matter of a couple weeks, stories of murders, stories of horrendous acts being committed. They have all contributed to my lack of security in my life.

What's more, there was a much gunfire that was being heard in my neighborhood as I drove home the other night. I was warned to be very careful. As I was driving, I realized that I don't want to die yet. Not because I haven't filled my earthly calling, I mean in the Christian world's eye, I'm a hero of the faith, being a missionary and all. But as I took a look at my spirit, I was clearly reminded that I'm not living up to my daily calling...dying to myself.

See, I have this fear of dying, the actual death part of it, not being with Jesus. But I think a new fear, a holy fear is being created in my life. It's not a fear of dying. It is a fear of dying with out already being dead, having not lived with eternal accountability.

Those who want to save their lives...must lose it.

My Life: Dependent on Grace

Wouldn't you think that the moment you became a missionary, that you would automatically become a saint? Heck, I thought so. Maybe it's not a missionary, maybe it is just stepping into your calling. The moment you obey that one big thing God has told you to do, you become Mother Theresa.

Well...let's be real here. That is a LIE. A big, fat, hairy lie. I'm am not a saint. I am not a hero of the faith. I am sinner. A wretched awful HUMAN FLESH, with daily fleshly desires, and an array of temptations that try to divert my head to the wide path. And, my brothers, sometimes I do tip-toe my way to the wide path.

I have had to fight harder as a missionary, than as an intern. The good fight of faith. Pressing on towards the end goal...WITHOUT giving up. Some days, I do want to give up. I do want to ring the bell, I do want to be selfish.

This morning I was planning on taking a vacation day, as I had work 2 weeks straight. I slept in. I watched Boy Meets World, and I went back to sleep, only to be awoken with a phone call to come into "serve." Oh man, did I have a choice...I could either choose to "serve", or choose to "work". Bless the Lord, he gave his grace to serve, with a joyful heart.

But these types of things happen to me all the time, physically, emotionally, and spiritually...

This is what separates the life lived for self and the spirit: CHOOSING GRACE.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me...

The sweet melody of grace plays in my ear as the theme song of my life. A song so sweet...that even Owl City can't compare. :)

Grace. So undeserved, so humbling. I'm a wretch...saved by grace. And it is only by moment to moment dependence on it, that I can not be wretched. The struggles still remain...but in that, His GRACE abounds more and more.

Of his grace, we can't find an end...but we can find in end to is our carnality, in fact, that is our calling as Christians. DEATH. It is his grace, that enables us to put to death the misdeeds of the body.

I sin...thus I need to be even more dependent on his grace. I don't have it all together...thus I must become fully dependent on his grace. The attitude of my heart is wrong...thus I crave the grace of God to change my heart.

Fully. Am I fully dependent?

...like a child...

Have you ever had a moment that was so emotionally overwhelming that everything you saw began to seem like you were in a dream? Maybe you felt like you were having an out of body experience, or something of the like. Either way, it was SURREAL.

I recently had a moment like this, and just recalling it for this post takes my heart to a similar place, though the music in the background may be playing a part in that as well. :)

At CVII, we have short term missionaries that come in to serve and love on these kiddos. One specific missionary spent two months here. He had one major "up" on every other short-termer, and also myself, he spoke Spanish, fluently. He was able to communicate. I'm a firm believer that without proper communication ability, you are handicapped in being able to love. He had no handicaps. The kids felt his love for them and all grew very fond of him.

Well, the day arrived when it was time to say our goodbyes. No one was looking forward to this day. He had been such a great asset to CVII, but most importantly, he had become apart of the family here. But, alas, he was flying out the next morning, so that night had to be "goodbye night." He had already said goodbye to some, but then he came to the home of the weest ones, (which also happens to be my home).

And it began. He started bidding them farewell, and one girl began crying...then like a set of dominoes falling, each girl began to cry. I'm certain you have an idea of what it looks and sounds like to cry. Erase those images from your head, and begin to imagine MOURNING and WAILING. Crocodile tears fell from their faces as they embraced this man they had grown to so deeply love. They didn't want to let him go.

I came upon the scene later than I would have liked. I could hear something from my room, and my roommate confirmed that it was coming from this sorrowful goodbye. I had to see it for myself. I haven't heard such sounds before. It was the sounds of mourning over death.

As I walked down the 2 flights of stairs, the sounds only began to deafen my ears. It was so loud. I rounded the corner and the sight I saw was one of heartbreak. Utter heartbreak. There was a girl, literally "crying in her soup". Head down just sobbing. However the majority were crowding around this young man, begging and pleading with him not to go. They wanted to be the last one to be hugged, to be the last one he touched.

I was overwhelmed. I fought not to have my eyes filled with tears. It was love without abandon. Love without shame. It was emotional love. It was true love. It was full of hurt and pain...but one that each baby girl considered worth it.

It was only in talking to this man afterwards that it began to sink in. Why are we adults not like this? When did we begin to fear showing the emotions of love? When did we begin to protect ourselves from being hurt in love? Why is it that we don't cry over those we love?

"...like a child."

I remember being a child and crying when my out-of-state grandparents would leave. I was so tender towards them. I would want them to stay, to be with me always, but they always had to go. I loved them so much, yet my love couldn't keep them near me. But that didn't stop me from showing them every single emotion of my sorrow in their departure.

Love is a beautiful thing. It is a challenge to revert to our child-like paradigm, and to love with out abandon. Some may believe it is childish to do so...but after this incredibly overwhelming experience, I don't believe so. It is the new prayer of my heart to love like a child.

My thoughts after drinking caffeine for the first time in months...

Tonight a group of highly respected people who are currently in my life, began to discuss submission. Oh, submission. So many women tremble at the sound of those words. But I am not one of those women. So to be fair to those women, I'm just going to put it out there right now that I don't fully understand that stance...so all I say is certainly built on certain feelings I have about it, but is also, Lord willing, based on what the word of God says.

I read the book Under Cover a few years ago and it changed my ENTIRE perspective on authority. We live in a culture that regularly promotes undermining, disrespecting, demoralizing, and all out disobeying authority. Have you ever heard the saying, "What they don't know, won't hurt them?" There are thousands more sayings just like this, and the purpose of those comments is for you to be exalted, and your authority to be made stupid.

But what is spiritual authority? And what is it's purpose? I honestly don't have all the answers to those questions, but one thing I do know that it is not meant to restrict, but to give freedom. "For it is for FREEDOM that we have been set FREE." So we are free. I heard a story once of children playing in a back yard. For a period of time there was no fence that gave boundaries to the yard, and the children didn't play much farther than 10 feet away from the house, not because they were told too, but because they didn't feel safe venturing off. The parents then built a fence, and the moment that fence went up the children felt the freedom to run ALL around the fenced in area. They were no longer confined in lack of safety. I believe that authorities, of all kinds, are like that fence. Giving us the freedom to run where we ought to run. It is, however, our choice to jump the fence, and that, my friends, is called rebellion.

Entering into a marriage, a woman naturally comes under the submission (the authority) of a man. It is her role. "...wives, submit to your husbands." Many women believe that it takes away from their independence. "Having to submit means that I will never be able to win a battle, or that my thoughts won't matter, or that I will be bound so closely to a man, I won't have my freedom." Those are valid, but immature thoughts, in my opinion. It should be considered an honor, a protection, even a blessing to be under the authority of a man. Why? Well...one major reason is because his level of eternal accountability will be 100 times more extreme, than yours. Another is because, that is who God created HIM to be. We women like to steal the role of men because we think we have some right, but we were NOT created to be the spiritual authority, we are created to be the spiritually submissive! We should be esteeming him in his role, and be identified by our role.

I realize that I'm BARELY scratching the surface here...

Don't you want to be protected? Submitting to your husband is one INCREDIBLE way that God has given you protection. Don't you want to enjoy freedom, the way the Lord intended it? Then submission is the answer for you!

And a warning, oh daughters of Eve, we are manipulative. We know how to let the "Man be the head, but the woman (us) is the neck, and we can turn the head which ever way we want." Don't have a false sense of submission, trying to manipulate the "head" is NOT submissive. Trust your husband, he has the world (his and yours) on his shoulders. You can help him carry it by being humble in heart, and submitting under his authority.

Once again, these are words from an unmarried woman...so...take it or leave it...

Welcome to South America, Sarah Gnagey

I have now been here for over a week. My heart is full. Upon arriving, I was met by a team from Jonesboro, AR...nothing like leaving Jonesboro to find more people from Jonesboro. It was the gracious hand of God. I have begun to settle in. It is no easy task to learn the differences in my life in the US versus my life here. I live on the third floor of my building (out of four)...there are no elevators or escelators so you beast up your 51 pound bag all on your own. We walk most places, rather than drive. It is not unusal for a man to stop in the middle of the road you are walking down and say "Well Hello"...many of the men of this culture are quite vulgar. The differences in food here are minute...but there is no Dr. Pepper. Flexibility is my new favorite word as it often takes 4 tries to get everything right here, and neither try is easy. There is nothing easy here. It all comes by hard work...and that is good for the soul. I waited 4 hours to become a resident here, for a long while my passport was in the wrong pile. They communicate differently, they live differently.

But the weirdest thing, is that I'm the happiest I have ever been. The JOY is returning. Closure to my previous season has happened and the excitement has begun. It is good to be led by Jesus Christ.

The Plan

Today my Grandma said to me, "Last year at this time you would have never thought that this is what you were going to be doing with your life...you have had a hard year." And she was right. Last June I was in a relationship with a man I loved and I was expecting to be getting engaged right around right now, I was going to be a wife by December 2011. That was my plan. And I loved that plan. I put my hope in that plan. I put my joy in that plan. I had a PLAN.

Tomorrow morning at 8:30 I will be boarding a plane in transit to South America (with no man). I was asked recently what my "plans" were once I got to South America, and when I planned to be back. I looked at them and I said, "7 years." Now, that is my way of saying, what ever God wills. I have no plan, other than going to serve, with undivided devotion, Jesus Christ.

I have incredibly mixed emotions. My heart aches with sadness as I leave those I love. My mom just told me that God was going to do marvelous things there, and I replied, "I know, I just don't see them yet." But when my spirit lets me see with spiritual eyes what is ahead of me, I can't help but become excited. I'm all about some adventure! I just didn't expect to be going on an adventure, especially this adventure, alone.

But I'm not alone. "I turn my back on my father, my mother, I turn my back on every other lover, and I press on, yes I press on...Because I am in love with YOU." You are safe. You are hope, you are joy, you are my future, you are romance, you are love, you never leave me. And I will gladly give up my life in this world for life in your Kingdom. "He is no fool to give up what he can not keep to gain what he can not lose." So true, Jim, so true.

Faith

In 6 days, at this time, I will be sleeping in a bed located in Colombia. Fear is setting in. The unknown is by far my biggest fear in this move. Fear even defines my dreams when I dream of Colombia. My mind can not wrap itself around anything other than the unknown, and in ALL of my thoughts about it, the resounding feeling that arises is fear. But my spirit is crying out from within me another tune. Peace, that surpasses all understanding. There is one thing I know, and it really is all I know about this journey. His name is Jesus Christ. In this knowledge of him, I indeed consider surpassing worth, and for his sake I suffer the loss of all things, even my grip on "all I've ever known." He is the Author and the Perfecter of my faith. And what is faith? "It is the...conviction of things not yet seen." <--The UNKNOWN.

I have been reading in 1 Kings. Over the last week I have read about Solomon and his journey to kingship. Right as Solomon became king, he worshiped the Lord in his own inadequacy, desiring God to be in charge. God looked down and saw his humility and took the position Solomon desired him to have...FULL CONTROL. Then he asked Solomon what he could give him, blessing him for his humility. We know the story after that...

I have bound myself to the service of God as Solomon did. Humbly taking an incredible position, but completely inadequate to fulfill it apart from his grace. This is my moment on a "high place." My place of worship and surrender, and I am crying out to God as Solomon did. Now I don't know if the Lord has asked me the question of "What can I give you?" but I do believe that if it is not being asked, I have the boldness to enter into the throne room and humbly ask him, if need be. And that is what I have done.

Tonight, I asked the Lord to give me authority over fear. To walk as he walked, but more specifically as his disciples walked after he ascended, not being afraid of what they didn't know, but acting in faith. Acting in faith...even unto death. My mom has told me for years that fear and faith can not abide together. But they have. One at a time, but definitely both.

I draw my line in the sand, I make my altar. I will stand in faith.

The Door

I hear the tap tap tap on the black ironwood door that is called my heart. Was the door closed? I last left it cracked months ago. If it were open, would they not just walk in? So why the tap? The tap concurrent with the beat of my heart that guides the syncopation of my breath. Anticipation is the entry way to the door. I quickly arrive at the door and turn the knob, which I affectionately name romance, and wait, for just one moment.

The moment seems to last forever, but I want to soak it all in; I want to feel every emotion I can experience. I know that the moment I open the door, it will be like Christmas day, but don't we all know that at 4 o'clock every Christmas, all you really have left is your memories. But Christmas Eve, that is where the magic lies. This is my "Christmas Eve". So I wait. But it taps again, with more vigor.

With great joy and nervousness we open the door that takes two to open (which you may have figured out is the reason I could not close it.) And what stands before me is the landscape I see upon opening my door. No one is there...again. Ding-dong ditch is what I used to call it. Tears stream down my face as I realize my foolishness. I have imagined the tapping. Images of Mr. Darcy have clouded my ability to hear and know the true tap. My alternate reality. My false reality has become my ultimate reality, except in this reality, my prince doesn't sweep me off my feet. So the door remains open, and I will wait for Him to close it again.

But wait...WE OPENED THE DOOR. Why would he open the door to disappoint me? He has never disappointed me. Even when he allowed me to peer through the peep hole, or under the crack in the door, or even through the keyhole. And what about the time that in my strength I was able to crack the door. But no one ever awaited me outside. He was inside. He didn't go and come, he didn't become impatient with my failed attempts to open the door. He always waited for me to return, and as surely as the coming of the dawn, he was there, in my every walk back of shame.

So why did He open the door? I turn around and look at him. His smile returning so kindly to me. His eyes beckon me to turn around...back to my assumed disappointment. I don't want to turn around, He is all I want. I can't bear the pain of rejection again, and I know he has not and never would reject me. But I can't shake his kind eyes, that give me the guidance and the confidence to turn around. I slowly turn.

There he stands, the only one the door could fully open to. He was familiar because he looked like Him. Clothed in humility, eyes of kindness, a heart of patience, hands eager to serve, feet eager to GO, and words that cut through the marrow and into the soul. He was, however, evidently weary because the road to my door was filled with obstacles. But they were obstacles he was willing to endure and overcome. He did not back down when fear surrounded him, he only pressed on. He did not turn back, even when he wanted to, because of the peace that had decided this. He was also faithful. Why? Because he had not made the journey alone.

And here, at the door, awaited his prize: Me. Our eyes met and instinctively knew the path we would journey next. A journey of 3. A three-stranded cord is not easily broken.

It is eternity to know God...

It's not that I don't want be here, it is that I want to be there. I want to be back in my comfortable little lifestyle where flesh was alive and there was no death on the horizon. But death is here now. Death to my self will. Because if it were me, I would have it like Burger King every day, so I could just "have it my way".

My way would have me where my pain could be dulled by an unrealistic sense of security. Security in friends. Security in my future. Security in the KNOWN. Let me repeat, the known. I have never lived on the edge, but the mountain I have been climbing has has not gotten me to a plush valley at the top but rather the edge, the edge of the mountain, with no way down, all I can do is JUMP. Jump into the unknown, where it all looks like a black hole of fear. What if I fail? I can't see the bottom, I can't even see my hand in front of me.

And then with much trepidation I jump, and it is peace like a river that attends my way. I'm surrounded by the glory to glory. And my hand feels something. Something I've felt before. A hand, Another's hand intertwined with mine. BUT NONE OF MY FRIENDS JUMPED WITH ME. They didn't even make the climb...to the top. Who's hand is this? None other than the One who formed my hand, who invented the hand. And it "fits". My stomach no longer drops because of the free fall, rather I become content in this darkness. Because though it is unknown, He is KNOWN. I know him. I'm do not want my false security because he is all my security.

It is eternity to know God...

My support letter

April , 2011

Dear Family and Friends,

Many of you have either heard from my mouth or from the grapevine, that I am getting ready to begin a new journey in my life. For those of you who don’t know, I am MOVING to Bogota, Colombia! This is a dream of mine being fulfilled. Years ago I felt the calling to leave the comforts of the US and relocate my life in Bogota. Why, you may ask? Because there is an incredible organization there called Children’s Vision International that has grabbed my heart in unimaginable ways. They not only rescue the highest-risk orphans from the street, but take them into their home and give them shelter and protection, food and nutrition, an education, and most importantly, a foundation of the knowledge of God. Beautiful children who had no hope are given hope.

The woman who began this mission has inspired me in many ways. Having known her from my youth, I would hear the stories the Lord’s faithfulness, the Lord’s provision, and the Lord’s protection that has carried her through her journey in Bogota. For 20 some years, she has taken upon her the authority of Christ over these street children and that nation, selflessly laying down her life to serve “one of the least of these.” I got the opportunity to work hand in hand with her during my Christmas break last year. During my time, she asked me to come and be her secretary so she can continue to focus on the calling she has received. I jumped at the opportunity to serve my Lord, His servant, and His children. So, Lord willing, June 22^th, 2011 I will be moving to South America.

As you may have guessed, I am going “missionary” status, and will be raising all my own funds, which brings me to the reason I have sent this letter to you. I need financial support to fulfill the Lord’s will for my life. The cost of me living there will be $500 a month. This will cover food, transportation, insurance, a work cell phone and travel from Colombia to the US. On top of that, I will also need to raise $5000 up front. This will cover my flight there, a Colombian ID, visa costs, my room and board, and a laptop.

This is what I would ask you: please don’t disregard this letter. Take a few days and pray. Would you ask the Lord how He might want you to be a part of this? If He so leads you to financially support me monthly or by a one-time donation, my commitment to you is to keep you a part of this journey during the time I’m there with a monthly, personal update that will include pictures and prayer requests. I also commit to pray for you and your family as an act of gratitude for your support. I have already begun to set up my “support team” of people who are actively involved in my service in Colombia, and I would love to have YOU join.

If you do decide to support me through your financial gifts, would like more information, or would like to be apart of my “prayer team” back home, please shoot me an email or give me a phone call. I would like to connect with you on a more personal basis to explain the financial process or to answer any questions.

Thank you!

Sarah Gnagey

sarah.gnagey@gmail.com

785-209-3794

And the journey begins...

Two days ago, I bought my one-way ticket to South America. Let me repeat that...ONE-WAY! Yes, I'm moving to Colombia. I will be taking you along on the journey, that is if you would like to join. Many updates and stories to follow on my re-vamped blog site.

Let me start with this. My story: It all started with my beautiful mother, Cheryl...who you should follow as well @ http://cherylgnagey.blogspot.com/ She went to Colombia when I was just a wee child. She came back with a brand new perspective, and some new friends. One of the new friends she met, had just moved to Colombia. This woman, who I will name Mary, had a huge heart for street children. She began to risk her life to save them from the dumps and gang-ridden neighborhoods and give them a home and family, but most importantly, an opportunity to know Christ. After 20 some odd years doing this, she has raised over 120 children and has given them an education.

This woman has remained a friend of our family. Making visits and staying at our house during some of her time in the states. I would hear the stories of the faithfulness ofYHWH and his protection, and of his miracles, and my heart would come alive. I would tell her often, "Someday, I will be there with you." BUT AFTER 22 YEARS, I still had not had the opportunity to go. My family went, my friends went, my church went, BUT I NEVER went...that is, until Christmas 2010, when a door was opened.

As I entered into that culture, I was shocked. I had never spent a good amount of time in a country like this...that is an impoverished and oppressed nation. It was as if my spirit began to experience what truly defined Colombian culture, and this grandeur dream of mine had a huge reality check. Yet, despite the oppression I was experiencing, I connected in an UNBELIEVABLE way with Mary and her husband. It was like I was with old friends, or my favorite extended family member. It was a level of connection that I have rarely experienced. I wanted to work for them. I wanted to be around them. We could be a great encouragement to each other.

"Could be." Those are the key words. Despite the great connection, I was continuing to let my dream die. But on a rare night, that was full of fellowship rather than work, Mary asked me if I would ever be interested in coming to work for her as her secretary. UH? In fact, that was the ONLY thing I was interested in doing in Colombia. My heart had been in a prep process for this question, beginning months prior to that day. What was my response? My spirit leaped within me (potentially in the manner that John leaped in Elizabeth's womb when Mary, who was carrying Jesus arrived), and my perspective changed in that moment and I knew I would be moving to Colombia to serve YHWH, and to serve Mary and her husband in a matter of months.

4 months later...here I am, send me. I leave June 22 on an incredible journey. Through fear, I choose trust. Through lack of comfort, I choose the comfort of the Spirit. I'm not ready, but I'm ready. Ready to gain more oneness with my Father.

Now to much work that needs to be done beforehand!