Am I Homeless?

Home - "A place where a person or family lives, perhaps spends much of their time, or where a person is comfortable being."

A home for me is more than a four corner space where one lingers while devouring time for self-amusement. It is more than a sturdy roof that shelters me from the heat of the sun and protects me from the wrath of the storm. A home for me simply is a sanctuary, a safe haven, a comfort zone so to speak.

I have begun to notice in recent weeks that my idea of home, with all its comforts and security, has proven to be less of a reality than my heart had hoped to find. My past experience of home with all its warm, cozy memories has seemingly eluded me as God appears to be redefining what this really means at this point in my walk.

Now don't get me wrong here...I do recognize all the beautiful things/people/places tied to my hometown that have brought me great joy and loving acceptance, and continue to do so. For that I am grateful beyond words. But what I'm speaking of is the difference between hometown and HOME. I have noticed a shift in where my comfort, my shalom lies....and it isn't found in my old stomping grounds. It has occurred to me that the more I step into my love for Christ and the closer my heart burns into His, the further I am pulled away from this world and all its unsatisfying offers.

Let me explain.

Contrary to the popular propaganda that reads "Jesus is Homeless," I have entertained the thought that HE is in fact home. That the rest, the security, the profound peace to which our hearts long, is discovered when we dwell in, or upon, the One that has promised us these very things and so much more....if only we will walk through the door of His dwelling. True, we must not expect a fancy door like you might see on the banks of Beverly Hills. It may not even resemble that of the cookie-cutter subdivisions of middle-class America. I think more accurately we could expect a one-room, humble shack similar to those you might find in say, the slums of Cambodia. The kind where there is no door, as it displays an open invitation to come and rest. We must always remember that with the Kingdom of God, things aren't always as they appear.

And this brings me back to the question, "Am I Homeless?" In the sense of the world, yes - I do not have those four walls to claim as my own. But as I walk as a foreigner on this earth, I can rest, I can sit in peace in the sanctuary of my Savior. Let me go home.

"They agreed that they were no more than foreigners and nomads here on earth. And people who talk like that are looking forward to a country they can call their own. If they had meant the country they cam from, they would have found a way to go back. But they were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland." Hebrews 11:13-16

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us." John 1:14

Rejected but not Defeated

It's been a rollercoaster of a ride this past month, transitioning from urban culture to rural customs and a schedule that breathed serving and ministry to one that has involved rest and reflection.  We are doing our best to live in the present as we entrust God with all the uncertainties that lie ahead; all the questions swimming through our thoughts.  Surprisingly, I feel a deep sense of peace as the days unfold one at a time.

Something I have been anticipating for months (aside from Chipotle) is the return back to my women's group on Monday nights.  I have looked forward to hearing how God has been moving in each person's heart as we enter back into that priceless gift of community.  Not only do we share some laughs while gathering around the table, but we also get the occasional perk of leaving with a giant bag of clothes from someone's closet-gleaning expenditure.  Ahh, the many benefits of the ya-ya sisterhood.    

 

Two nights ago, my mates and I made the decision to spend our alloted time performing a kind deed for our neighbors.  Neighbor in the literal sense - we determined to bake and bestow some goodies in an attempt to foster friendship and community with the neighbors down the street.  As the gooey treats filled the house with sugary scents, we all felt a sense of excitement in our attempt to be Christ on display through this small act of love.

Ten houses later my eagerness turned to disappointment.  Though a few houses hesitatingly accepted our gifts, others flagrantly rejected us.  One actually responded by turning the porch light on, looking directly at us through a window, and turning the light back off.  Ouch.  Here we were, 5 young innocent-looking women with plates of compassion in our hands, receiving reactions of shock as if we were involved in a conspiracy to poison all who took a taste.  One saving grace was our final house - a birthday party with several 4-year-olds running around on sugar highs greeted us with cheers and applause.  They received TWO plates of cookies.

I suppose I came into this moment with high expectations - hopes that people would feel loved, and perhaps make a new friend.   And maybe, just maybe we might receive an invitation to come in and stay a while.  Alas, this was not the case.  I quickly became aware of the walls that we surround ourselves with - not just in the figurative sense but also literally, as the walls of our homes act as cocoons where we lock away our lives.  I became conscious of a state of fear as the faces revealed questions of "Are you here to hurt me?"  and "What's REALLY in those cookies?"  Some even thought there was a catch, as we were offered money in exchange for this deed.  

Perhaps the days of yore are gone.  Perhaps I expected too much too quickly.  Yet there's something inside of me that screams NO, you were not created for isolation.  You are designed for each other.  And as I ponder the grand scheme of things, the monumental task of fostering community in a nation where independence from others is the name of the game, I can't help but become overwhelmed.  

And then I give it to God.  

While it's true that we mustn't stand by while this detachment separates us from all we are created to be, there exists a need for surrender for fear of becoming buried in discouragement and frustration.  Though I grieve the loss of the goodness that can indeed exist, I still choose to remain undefeated as we co-labor with the one who accomplishes all things with a love that has already defeated death.  

Yes, even death on a cross.

Thawing Out...

We recently headed back to our winterized garden to discover that it is no longer lying dormant. New life was springing forth under the frozen clusters of icicles that resembled something of a crazy prism.


Spring is definitely on its way, and with that realization before us we hauled our shovels and buckets to begin preparations for another year of growth and abundant harvests.


We were welcomed by cigarette butts and other random pieces of trash strewn throughout our beds of lettuce, garlic and turnips. Sunflowers had to be hacked down and leaves were ready to be raked away in order to make way for more crops.



Isn't he handsome...perhaps a job with Rumpke in the future??

Amazing how we are always so happy to get dirty.

Look at all those goodies. Again, somehow garbage = excitement.


"Brokeback Owl" (as we like to call him) had the luxury of cleaning out our composter-turned-waste bin-with-lots-of-nastiness. Moments like these remind me just how much he is like Jesus.

I'm not quite sure what's happening here. Either sinking in quicksand or trying to surf on dirt.

All jokes aside, it's amazing to see the parallels of the seasons of the garden in congruence with the transformation of our lives this past year. It sounds cheesy and the garden analogy is, I admit, exceedingly overused. But there's something about the rhythm of the cycles that mimic that of our own lives. Death, rebirth, life. Another way to put it practically might be suffering, strengthening, joy. Over and over again, it is a daily tempo for me. It's a valuable reminder to witness the glimpses of green buds and new sprouts of life - one that shouts a message of hope and beauty in a world that is waiting to see it restored.

It's so close I can almost taste it....

Vulnerable Vision

In recent weeks, we have spent a great deal of time conjuring up images and dreams of what we envision next. I suppose next could be anywhere from tomorrow, to 2 months, or for all eternity. It's a chance to delve into the desires of our hearts, examine if they are being birthed from God, and bring them to life by painting pictures with words of what we foresee in the future. It actually proves to be a complex, laborious process as we dig into our deep-rooted values, interests and longings - and then constructing an image or "vision" out of the creative juices my imagination can so often fail to produce. In the midst of my quest for a revelation, I was enticed with an epiphany. Here is my latest and greatest draft of my hopes and dreams for the future of God's Kingdom:


My vision is to be a catalyst in the transformation of those wishing to go deeper in their journey with Christ. I believe God desires me to create environments where people can discover more about themselves and God, and how they can take part in the “battle for the broken.”

As a wife, I will strive to value Ryan as Christ does, supporting his unique self and co-laboring with him in the calling that is placed on our lives. I will uphold the qualities of dignity, honor, love and truth as it pertains to our relationship while we maintain a God-centered marriage.

I desire to use my gifts of exhortation, mercy, and evangelism as I reach out to those who feel inferior and estranged from God with a message of greatness and mercy, bringing them to a point of greatness. I feel called to encourage, guide, uplift and serve those considered “outsiders” in ways that can bring about restoration and beauty.

I will seek to live simply and intentionally in the context of a values-keeping, vision-oriented, and Kingdom-seeking community. At the same time, I commit to caring for creation by the way I live, and through my actions aim to encourage others to do the same.


Welp, there you go folks. My whole heart and soul spilled out on an unlaced blogsite for all to behold. Funny how a few lines of simple words can generate such eagerness, delight, and trepidation all at once. Sometimes it makes me feel like an emotional basketcase.

I've found that the trick to not freaking out every time I take a peek at the page is to extend my open palms toward the heavens and release it to the Father. My statistics have shown that 10 out of 10 times He usually has the brighter idea anyway.

Thank God for that.

Dignified Feet

This morning I woke up to a less-than-usual winter wonderland. It was glorious, mostly because it meant I would receive a delay en route to my duties at Genesis. After preparing for my life-changing class on pedicures (insert chuckle), I scurried out the door to catch the #20 bus. Because Vancouverites love public transit as much as they love saying "eh?", I found myself packed in like a squished sardine - a less-than-desirable way to travel. Oh well, at least my only pair of semi-waterproof shoes were still dry.


Upon reaching my destination, I nearly knocked over 2 grannies and a small Asian man as I extracted my body from the congested carriage. Thankfully my remaining 15 minute walk provided much more pleasure as I feasted on the ravishing mountain landscape situated directly before me. And yes, my shoes were surprisingly still dry.

I proposed my usual prayer on the ascent up the stairs, requesting that God would take all my preconceived strategies of saving the world so that He could do it the right way. I entered the room and in my most charming tone of voice warmly greeted Nikki*, a woman who apparently doesn't enjoy snow, people, or friendly greetings. "Hello there!" I said. She replied by staring at the computer. "Dang, shot down," I thought. But she wasn't going to get the best of me as I entertained the thought of 'killing her with kindness.' Well, not literally. I instantly took another stab with a compliment on her cardigan. Nothing. Not even eye contact. This one was a tough cookie to crack.

I decided to let her soak in the shock of overt affection while I initiated another conversation with Charlene*. Charlene rocks. It's true that though I may not be able to understand where the heck her streams of consciousness are headed as she rambles on about strange things in fragmented sentences, she at least acknowledges my existence. And she complies with anything you ask her to do. Quite rare at a place like this.

After a round of board games, I set up shop for my lesson on foot therapy. Needless to say, Nikki wasn't enthralled. However, through a bit of coaxing as I depicted this event as revolutionary, she agreed to receive her very first pedicure. Victory #1.


Amazingly enough, this experience had the uncanny ability to defuse all animosity towards her previous irritations. Touching her feet with gentleness and care provoked laughter and an unpredicted tone of gladness that lightened everyone's spirits. I suppose I really shouldn't be all that surprised, considering that this was one of the Savior's most disarming acts of service. I reckon I might consider this Victory #2.

All this got me thinking as I prodded through the snow on the 2.5 mile walk home. Thinking about the power of kind words and tenacious compassion. How something so trivial as touching one's feet can impact their humanity as a person. You could almost feel the self-worth returning to her spirit.

On a tangent, I also perceived an awareness of what life must have been like for our grandparents trudging home miles after work in rain, sleet, and snow. No wonder they maintained their girlish figures so well.

And in case you're wondering....my shoes didn't come back in the way they had left. Sloshed.


*names changed for protection from crazies

Identity Theft

I am discovering a new kind of Christianity through a radical Jesus, in his flawless character and unequivocal love. I thought I had a grip on the essence of the Savior and am realizing more everyday that I have barely even scratched the surface.

"Whoever shall lose his life for my sake shall gain it." (Matt. 10:39) I had always believed this statement to be true, knowing that by forsaking my worldly possessions I would find a profound freedom in the reality of Christ. But it has recently occurred to me that by LIFE, perhaps Jesus meant identity or ego? We have the tendency to view this command solely in practical terms: houses, money, careers, etc. But what about the inner work? What about all the boxes and labels that have shaped who we are? How do we define ourselves?

I can't help but wonder if Jesus is really asking for ALL of us, comprising all that is internal. In fact, this is the part we as humans find most difficult to abandon. We will appear weak, vulnerable, insignificant. No one will approve of us in this way! It is embedded deep in our human condition to desire acceptance and to feel valued, which we seek from other people. Why is it so difficult for us to be content exclusively with God's acceptance of us?

Many questions swim through my mind as I ponder these notions: Does this speak of little faith in the Almighty if we need assurance from people? Is there a balance of love from God and love from our neighbor? What does it look like to release something so intangible to Him?

Yet I believe this is what Jesus is requesting - no, commanding - us to sacrifice: our self-centered ego. To give up all of us - everything we know and hold onto, including how we define ourselves - for His purposes, His desires. To constantly take the back seat and be last in everything, all out of love. Perhaps that is how we shall find freedom. To claim our label as "follower of Christ" instead of by what we do or achieve. For all of that is His too. And as we slowly loosen the tight grip we have on our lives and hand them over to Him, only then will we begin to see that a life in the Father is far greater than any label or box could ever define.

Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

This age-old saying has taken up real-life meaning for me. Only me. Yes, not my dear husband. Just me.

If you're not quite picking up what I'm putting down, I will give it to you straight. Carrie has bed bugs. Well, I would say this conclusion is 98% accurate. Here is the current supporting evidence:

-I wake up nearly every morning with little red bite-looking spots on various body parts
-Many people in our apartment building have claimed to have these creepy varmints
-During our trip home I had no signs of any spots. The night we came back, so did the spots.
-We come into contact with many people each day that are cursed by this beastie.

And here is the opposing evidence:

-Ryan has no indication whatsoever on his limbs of spots (a previous scabies immunization causes him to believe he might be resistant. However, scabies does not equal bed bugs)
-I have searched our mattress 5 bajillion times and see nothing to prove they are there (according to Google, bugs should be present in mattress seams)

Based on the given data and attestation, I'm leaning towards the confirmation of their presence. Am I a hypochondriac? Or more appropriately, a acarophobic?

What would your assumption be? Help me solve the mystery...