Go ahead, You told me so....

Today is Thanksgiving. I was told this on the phone by my mom a couple hours earlier. Her calls have become less frequent and her voice a little less frantic and anxious. I don’t blame her at all. Today is my fourth day being shut off from the world and to be honest something I have come to realize is that it is the world that poses the stronger threat to me than my illness posing a danger to it. Sweet Hermana Keta brought me a plate of food, being careful not to cross the threshold she called out my name softly. I was on the verge of my endless trancelike sleep when suddenly the twisted pronunciation of my name Brewk broke into my blurred thoughts and interrupted my pending dreams. I shifted over on my side and my eyes traced the Spanish to the door and my hazy vision fixated on the plate covered by a napkin. In the next moment I was up on my feet headed ever cautiously to the door with my hands already out in great expectation of the gift I was about to receive. But something ever more precious than the gift of food that I just been handed was the gift of her counsel that she left me mentally chewing on as she walked away. She told me that sometimes God stops us and puts us into situations where we have no other choice but to be still and in that stillness He pulls us closer to Himself. She lovingly encouraged me and told me that they were praying for me in my forced stillness and quietness.

So what happened to me? Let’s start on Sunday. Everything seemed like a normal Sunday. I went to my beloved church, la Cumbre, and the service lasted almost two hours. Nothing peculiar there… Then we ate tacos and snacks and fellowshipped outside for the next 40 minutes… Once again, normal Sunday…. Then we made our way back to the school, looking forward to the 2:30 lunch because one of the professor’s wives makes lunch every Sunday so you knew you were going to get something good. And they served Mole (special chocolate sauce that you pour over your meat) which at one time I detested but now at the mere mention of this Mexican dish my mouth waters. So the perfect Mayberry Sunday continued as the students and I sat down, sang a song praise, prayed over meal, and dug in our food. However clouds formed and thunder rolled on the perfect Mayberry Sunday as we were washing the dishes from our meal. Pain started abruptly in the temples of my head leaving me dizzy and complaining of a major headache. Luis bought me a coke with the hopes that all I needed was a shot of that good ole caffeine. And with a cold coke in hand, I had to excuse myself to go lie down. I climbed up on the top bunk and went to sleep despite the light of the sun shining through my window and I awoke to pure darkness for I had slept until the beginning of night. My head still hurt so I crossed out the need for caffeine and tried some Advil and went to scoundrel up some food. Ten minutes later, I found myself in my pastor’s house, seated at their table, eating Oreos, and watching their fourteen year old son make me a sandwich. And I don’t have to go into details in how that conspired but it was a wonderful sandwich and I have you know (especially those readers who took Latin American culture with me in college) that not all Mexican males are macho and this is a perfect example. So anyways with a belly full, I made a few calls home and then went back to my room and little did I know that approaching was a night which would be in the top five worst of my life. My headache had gotten steady worse so I was looking forward to sleeping it off and I first went to sleep pretty easily that night. But I have no idea what time it was but I woke up sweating and trembling at the same time. My body was so hot, I felt like a fire was consuming me. I threw off my blankets in a fury and clung to my pillow praying for relief. I felt so bad and I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. My head was burning. Oh, was my head ever burning! Only God knows how long I was awake that night but it seemed like the dawn would never come and sleep could not find me.

However, when dawn did come sleep found me but only for a little while. I woke up at nine with that residing pain that inhabited itself so comfortably in my head now but a new sharp ache in my chest accompanied it leaving me bewildered and wounded. I got up and did some things that morning only to come back to my room defeated from this enemy within body. Jackie found me curled up, hands cradling my head, in my bed at 12:00 and convinced me that it was serious and it was past time to go talk to Dan about what I was feeling. We walked to his office together and I went in and told him everything that was going on and much to my dismay he said that they were going to take me to the doctor this instant. And later I would thank God like I have done on many other occasions for Dan’s discernment especially regarding this decision. So Hermana Mary took me to see the spicy Doctora Rocio. Now I love Doctora Rocio. She always helps when the American teams are here; we had worked side by side just this past weekend with the eye doctors. She is witty, intelligent, and simply put a beautiful person. We went to her office and sat patiently in the waiting room. Well Hermana Mary waited patiently; I waited in ever increasing pain. I tried to distract myself by watching the TV screen, which was smaller than a cereal box, but it was just the news covering the flu epidemic. I wondered if nothing else had happened overnight in the country of Mexico as time ticked and they still went on about this crazy influenza. It’s humorous to me now that the thought never occurred to me at this point that I could be the very next statistical number to the outbreak of the flu in Veracruz. Not once did this cross my mind. Not once… Yes, I know the flu got passed around sorority row during Rush and many LSU students came down with it but nobody here has gotten it. The only people I knew who had were in the States. So it never crossed my mind but those were the first words that came out of Dr. Rocio’s mouth after she listened to my symptoms. “¡Brewk, tienes la influenza!” Then she had to convince me that she was not kidding. We took a chest x-ray and it was incredible how much mucus had already infiltrated my lungs in less than 24 hours. Dr. Rocio then sat me down and explained the seriousness of my problem. She told me that this problem in my lungs is the exact complication from the flu that people die from and she also explained to me that with the progression of mucus in my lungs and without having treatment after seventy-two hours only God knows if I would have still been breathing. From that moment we treated my illness vigorously with a shot, antibiotics, tamiflu, and some pain meds to help with my fever. And I have been secluded to my room ever since. But it is not so bad. I have had plenty of time to think, pray, watch movies, work on a scrapbook, and listen to my music and podcasts. And now I feel better and refreshed. God is taking care of me here in Mexico. God is ever faithful and I thank Him for stopping me and keeping me to Himself for awhile.

La niña de tus ojos- The Conference

“Often when we thrill to the realization of a call from God, we picture going from our faces to our feet as He increasingly elevates our position. The reverse, however, is often truer in the earthly realm.” Beth Moore. During the process of preparing for this conference this quote rang true in every way as I was brought to my knees seeking God’s help not only with what I was going to say but also how I was going to say it. If you have met me then it’s a good chance that you know that I am not the most confident in my Spanish. It literally has been a continuous fight to learn this language and the majority of days I still feel pinned to the mat, overpowered by a stronger adversary with a flexible rolling tongue. Once again Beth Moore also states in her Esther study, “God isn’t interested in our stellar performance but in our hearts. He loves our willingness and obedience despite our insecurities.” Well I just finished my 8 week Beth Moore Study and those were two of my favorite quotes from the book because they hit home for me… And I don’t think it was a coincidence that I finished my study on the life of Esther right before the conference. Let’s just say Esther had to do something really scary to save lives. And although I am not a Jew and I don’t expect genocide here in Mexico, I honestly see what I had to do as something scary and also as something to save lives. Around eighty girls came from all over the state of Veracruz and also some from out of state to this young women’s conference. When the time came for me to give the first section, peace washed over me and I was reminded of Jeremiah when he said he had to speak the truth because his bones felt as if they were on fire. So I got up there. I got up there in front of eighty girls. All eyes were on me as I set up my laptop with the PowerPoint. And then I took a deep breath and walked out from behind the stand and started…..

I started with a story that any girl could relate to, a story of a broken heart, more specifically a story of my broken heart. Let me tell you the way I saw it; I had many boundaries between me and these girls and I had to break them down in order to get through to them. First off, my mere appearance could be a boundary although I prayed that my nationality would bring intrigue instead being an obstacle. I was aware that preconceived notions would inevitably come along with seeing my white skin and blue eyes. And with my introduction I was determined to break down this possible barrier. Peel back the skin, be vulnerable, and let them see my heart was my objective. Because like I said at the end of my introduction, it doesn’t matter what country you are from all females have the same basic desires and needs. After breaking down this obstacle, I was determined to put myself on their level and I tried this by salting my speech with Mexican slang words and also by making a joke about feeling more Jarocha (not just Mexican but a Mexican girl from Veracruz) than American sometimes. I think this proved effective because I had some students later mention to me that they loved the fact that I talked their talk, not just Spanish but their Spanish. Anyway, these are just things I prepared for but it was God who worked and did He ever work! I could feel the girls following my words as I watched their chocolate colored eyes move as I moved across the stage. I believe their eyes followed my movements in the same way as their hearts followed my words. It is an incredible feeling to be still before God and just let Him work through you. In fact, it is addicting. At the end of the second section, I didn’t want to step down because I was afraid that I would never feel the power and presence of God so close to me again. I didn’t want the fire that had been so mysterious lit and the sensation of my burning heart to go out or grow cold. But my job had been done. The Word of God had been preached. My points? You are a girl created by God and for God. You are a girl with real needs and longings that only Jesus can fulfill. And you are a girl completely lost without Jesus Christ. I wanted it to be simple and clear. Thank you for your prayers. Your prayers were answered. God did a mighty work. Many came up to me, some on the verge of tears, telling me that God spoke straight to their hearts and touched their lives. At the end Anita asked the girls who had never been to a church or a church event before to raise their hands. Around fifteen girls raised their hands. That is awesome! Some students even came up to me, telling me that they didn’t expect to learn anything but to their surprise God opened their eyes to some unforeseen things in their hearts and lives. Thank you for your prayers. I honestly can’t thank you enough for your prayers for my ministry. The power of your interceding to God on my behalf is what sustained me and empowered me during the conference. I am believing God that lives were touched and forever impacted by my obedience, your prayers, and His Word.

Doy gracias a Dios por tu vida y tu amistad

I didn’t realize just how special my friendship with Debi is until this past weekend. Her younger sister, Loida, and I set out early Friday afternoon for Rancho Chico, Puebla. This little dusty town that I like to call “la tierra de Debi” or “the land of Debi” has taken a special place in my heart. I guess you could call it my home away from home. My first memory of Rancho Chico is of me walking down the streets of dust and everyone turning their heads to look at me as if I was an alien. It felt like an old black and white episode of the Twilight Zone. Debi explained to me that I was the only guerra (white girl) that many had seen in her town. Taking in the surroundings of this new environment that I found myself in left me pleasantly surprised at how dissimilar Rancho Chico, Puebla was from my ever familiar Cordoba, Veracruz. Let’s just say that Cordoba is covered in lush green while a thick blanket of dust covers the ground in Rancho Chico. Cordoba’s palm trees adorn the verdant environment while cactuses dominate the land of Rancho Chico. Cordoba is full of Abercrombie clothed city boys while real life cowboys with Levi jeans and spurs ride horses and donkeys in Rancho Chico. Horrendous thunderstorms threaten Cordoba while the wind likes to pick up, throw around, and twirl dirt in rotating spirals in Rancho Chico. One other austere difference is the issue of water. 100% of the time water flows through the facet in Cordoba while in Rancho Chico you would be lucky to take a bath with running water one or two days out of the week. So how in the world did I ever find this place and how in the world did a dust bowl with hardly any running water become a second home to me? The answer: Simply put, it’s Debi’s hometown and her family has become like my own…

Loida and I arrived around 6:00 that night, and just like the first time I went to Rancho Chico the Gonzales-Sanchez family welcomed me with open arms, doing everything to accommodate me and love me. During this quick trip home, Loida and I spent the days visiting family and friends. I left this weekend understanding the grace of God a little bit better and completely overfed from the abundant supply of meat and homemade corn tortillas. I do admit that it was difficult to understand their Spanish every now and then because I didn’t have Debi with me. It’s hard to explain but the last couple of times I was at her house Debi was my translator. This might seem absolutely absurd considering the only words Debi knows in English are “God bless you” but yes she would translate from Spanish to Spanish sometimes for me. All I can say is that God has created a special bond between us. I can only describe it as one of those extraordinary relationships where spoken words aren’t always needed to communicate. I have never met anyone who can so easily read my moods and at the same time discern my future actions and thoughts. She knows and understands me so incredibly well and I don’t understand it all because I can be a very closed off person. Like I said, I don’t understand it but I thank God because she has been a huge blessing in my life.

It took me going to Debi’s house without her to realize just how much I miss her. Debi is a fourth year student, meaning that she is in her year of practice. She is currently serving the Lord in a village in a mountain in Oaxaca. It’s going to be nearly impossible to try to explain in this blog how God created such a beautiful friendship between this American girl and a Mexican chica who thought she could never love or grow close to an American. Our friendship started two years ago in the kitchen of MITC. She was the one in charge of cleaning and what started with a couple jokes turned into a water fight and that’s when I knew I found a friend. Later I gave her a sour Warhead and told her that this candy from the States would help loosen her tongue so she could speak English better. She quickly unwrapped it and popped in her mouth only to be bitterly surprised. Our friendship which started with these practical jokes turned into a true comradeship. We have shared so many experiences together including going to Tlacotepec (yes this word took me the whole the week to learn how to say) and when we were there I was the one who ended up giving her my Pepto Bismol after she was so sure that I was the one who was going to get sick…. haha… and that’s not all that happened on that trip… She has made such an impact on my life and I can honestly say that I am a better person from knowing her. Over the past two years she has been there for me. I don’t understand how she sees things coming and I don’t even have to explain things to her before she already knows what’s wrong. For instance, how did she know that guy was lying to me? How did she know that I was going to make that decision? How did she know that I was crying? How did she read me like that? I thought I was unreadable but she sees right through me. And the beautiful thing is that she’s not American, she doesn’t speak English, she couldn’t read this Blog if she tried, she didn’t grow up with running water, and she has never stepped foot in an air-conditioned church. With that being said, we have all these differences but we have the most important thing in common; we serve the one true living God. It’s so significant to understand and at the same time so completely spellbinding to comprehend that Jesus Christ is not a white American with blue eyes and He did not die just to offer abundant life free from the punishment of sin to American citizens. Traveling in Europe and living in Mexico has made me realize that the US is not the center of the universe. America is an incredible country full of opportunities and freedom and I am proud to be an American but we must realize that our national identity doesn’t make us the chosen people of God. Our decision to repent from sin and follow Jesus makes us His people. Jesus Christ died to offer true life to people of every nation, every tribe, and every tongue. Debi and I are from different nations and of a different tongue but we both serve the Lord God Almighty and the Holy Spirit lives inside both of us and that is what makes this friendship possible. And that sweet reader is the Gospel…. and I dearly miss my sister in Christ.

Red Rain Jacket

The day was a juxtaposition of emotions. Excitement salted the air like a coastal town but there was also that accompanying saline scent, which was subtle but undeniable fear. There was a sense of pride that you were now the top dog of the school but at the same time a humbling notion because you were putting yourself completely out there and leaving your beloved school behind. This was your moment. You were now a fourth year student and you knew what that meant. It was your year of practice. You would not have classes this year but instead a yearlong assignment. You were going to a place that the faculty chose and live among the people and put into practice what you had learned over these past three years. You were now a pastor, a worship leader, a missionary, a Sunday school teacher; whatever that church needed you were it… For the past three years, your professors had been tirelessly teaching you and preparing you for this moment. You had learned enough to know that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of the Bible but somehow by the grace of God you are now equipped enough to preach His precious Gospel. Your parents and home church had been earnestly praying for you all this time. Your American brothers and sisters had ensured you a free education and you know that they were covering you with their prayers as well. Where were you going? You didn’t know but you knew you were going wherever it was. It could be up in the mountains where the people don’t speak Spanish and the thick mud envelopes the ground. It could be in the middle of a prominent city or a small isolated rural community. You could be going to Puebla. You could be going to Chiapas. You could be going to Veracruz. You could be going to Oaxaca. You might be able to use your cell phone or you might be completely out of range. You might be going to a place where there is a flourishing church or you might be going to a town where there are only a couple Christian families. You might face severe persecution from the town’s people or you might encounter only small disputable church matters. You might have your own room. You might be sleeping in someone’s living room or you might be sleeping in the church. What will you be eating? Chicken feet soup? There is some weird food up in the mountains and sometimes there might not be food at all for you.

These thoughts along with many others ran rampant through the minds of my brothers and sisters. Fear etched the faces of my dearly loved friends but there was also this irrefutable light of willingness and anticipation in their dark eyes. Their faith astounded me. Here they were… in the midst of everything… I’m sure it was hard to pack, not knowing if they were going to some place bone chilling cold or unbearably hot….I’m sure it was hard to leave their families… I’m sure there were some tears shed on the bus ride here…. I’m sure a doubt or two crossed their mind… I’m sure the devil tempted them to turn back… But here they were… We were sitting in a circle in the Chapel… 20 sold out believers ready to take the Gospel to the ends of the earth… Nobody said anything for a moment just eyes darted back and forth from the floor to Dan to the ceiling back to the floor. Rain started falling hard on the roof with the occasional clap of thunder. The lights went out… Mr. Richardson spoke a few words of encouragement. The professors gave some spiritual and also paternal advice. You could tell how much the students meant to their teachers by their proud and watery eyes and choked up words. I felt so honored to be in this circle and witness this emotional time. I was sitting in between my best friend Debi and my pal Abner. I looked across the room to Oscar, Yoiner, Ivan, Cesiah, Marisol, Angel, Evelia, Tania, Suset, Danny M, Julia, Eva, Lucia, Cesar, Mimi, Danny G, Nancy, and Nacho and I was overwhelmed with not wanting them to leave, but excited to see them heed the call of Christ, and encouraged by their obedience. Dan read the list…. the list of names with assignments…. Nacho, La Cumbre…. Julia, Puebla… Cesiah, Puebla…. Yoiner, Vega del Sol…. Debi, Oaxaca…. the list goes on…. After the list was read the faculty and I stood behind these great men and women of the faith and we prayed over them. When it was my turn to pray, tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with God on their behalf. I thanked God for their lives, I begged Him to protect them from evil, and I prayed that His Kingdom would be advanced through them. And then that was it. Debi and Nancy, two sisters and two of my closest friends left within a half hour to two different villages in the mountains of Oaxaca. As we rushed to make sure they had everything packed, I noticed Nancy didn’t have a rain jacket; I gave her the one off my back as she got in the car to leave. It was the least I could do as I stood in the rain watching the truck pull away….

This actually happened the first week of September, I just recently found the words to describe it. And this picture was taken two months before Nancy left. We were heading back to MITC on a bus after hanging out downtown.

Rambunctious kid … Rebellious me…

Working with little munchkins is not what they call in Spanish my “forte” or the word we know as strength in English. There are two things on this Earth that you can be sure of… #1. I will never be the first or second or third or even fourth in church to raise my hand to volunteer my time and efforts to babysit kids on Mom’s day out and # 2- I’ll never be that elated girl in the room begging to hold the newborn at the sight of that little wrinkly bald headed little eyed babe enter the room. With that being said…. Deep down, I do love little kids as you can read about in my blog titled And Kelsey Sang and I do hope to have a couple miniature Brookes running around someday- my own little moldable disciples. However, give me a rebellious teenager any day over a little rambunctious five year old kid. With this preface, I will begin my story of what happened today and how God turned it on me.

My words, thoughts, and Karen’s movement from 4:00 to 5:00 today:

“Siéntate chamaca” (sit down chica)… “Vas a volverme loca” (You are going to drive me crazy)… well, that last phrase shouldn’t have been in the future tense…. She was up walking on top of the kitchen counters... She was eating jello… She was finding a glass of water… She was looking for her gummy vitamin candies… She was flipping over my poster… She was changing the subject…. The list goes on… then finally for a moment she stopped and sat Indian style on the top of the counter in front of me… the poster of the ABC’s in the middle of us… we started with A and got through to letter D when she had to get up again… She came back three minutes later with her notebook… She decided to write the letters which took forever than wanted to write them again… She was ignoring me... Yes, every now and then she would repeat the sound but it took me saying it five times for her to repeat it once…. And then after that one time of repeating the letter she wanted to go to the next letter, and it didn’t matter if she didn’t say the previous letter right…. She wanted to learn all 26 letters at once with the least amount of effort as possible…. Then after I got through to the letter F she decided it was time for another unannounced break…. My eyes trailed her little body as she walked barefoot on the counter to the stove… She plopped down and took a large spoon out of a dark pot on the stove and started licking off the black beans…. You would have thought it was raw cake batter the way she licked that sucker clean… and by the time she finished, her face and teeth were coated by a thin layer of black beans… it was quite humorous and it caused me to take out my camera and take a picture… and of course my camera started a frenzy… she wanted to take some pictures so I went ahead and let her take some and then some more and a couple more and a couple more…. You can tell by my facial expression from the last picture that the words following this picture were “Karen, dame la camara” (give me the camera).

Sweet reader, let’s just say that my numerous and stern warnings that we were not going to play a game until after she learned her alphabet was to no avail. The game was Bingo and of course this game would never have worked if she didn’t know her letters. I couldn’t seem to do anything to keep her attention for longer than 35 seconds. I finally looked down at her older sister, Erin, who was patiently sitting by my side. Our eyes met, mine silently pleading for help and hers rolling back into her head. Her shoulders shrugged as she softly spoke the following English words in her cute and irresistible accent, “My sister is crazy.” It was undeniable and also endearing how she put an extra emphasis on the word crazy as if her pronunciation added depth to the meaning. She wasn’t just crazy but craazzzyy. After all hope seemed to be lost, I came up with a different game plan. I decided that we would play Bingo even though Erin would inevitably win because she knew the alphabet as well as she knew every word to her favorite Hannah Montana song. This would then create jealousy within her little sister which would then cultivate into a strong desire to learn the alphabet. I knew I could bank on little Karen’s competiveness and jealousy just as I could count on black beans and tortillas being served for lunch. And magically it worked- Karen got upset at how her older sister knew the letters which sparked a sudden interest in her to learn the ABC’s in English. I chucked to myself as I left their apartment, thinking of how effective my little devious plan worked.

I chuckled until God interrupted my thoughts with His Holy, Higher Up, ever Humbling, Loving thoughts. And all of sudden, it was as if a light had been turned off and a red curtain pulled back…. I suddenly saw the Karen episode replay in my mind but some major roles had been changed. I, Brooke Carter (the twenty-two year old college graduate), took on the starring role of little rambunctious 5 year old Karen as I bounced barefoot on the kitchen counters, distracted by the littlest thing, unfocused as all get out, and rebellious to the core. And then The Lord Almighty, The God of Jacob, My Creator and My Father, slipped on my human flesh skin, propped Himself up on the blue stool, and began to coax me to sit down because He had something He wanted to teach me. I knew He was there just as Karen knew I was there but it was a matter of me stopping what I was doing and sitting down on the counter, Indian style, in front of my Teacher and listening to His Words. What He had wanted to teach me was not hard because a) He was going to break something as scary and big as the English language down into the ABC’s b) He had a colorful poster with pictures, a song, and a game to go along with the lesson to help me learn and c) He was going to go as slow as it took for me to comprehend each letter. But instead of submitting myself to my Teacher’s authority, I went about my own business. For instance, I was hungry so I ate some jello and black beans. I was thirsty so I went to find a glass of water. I also needed to get up again and locate my gummy vitamin candies because I hadn’t consumed them today. Clearly as you can tell, I was taking care of my needs and desires; however, I was neglecting my most vital need …. I was neglecting my one on one time with God… I wasn’t doing per say bad things and yeah I acknowledged His presence every now and then as I repeated a certain sound after He had said it the fifth time…. But I wasn’t sitting still, in front of Him, soaking in His infinite knowledge. I wasn’t watching His mouth as He pronounced the words. I wasn’t watching His eyes encouraging me to take that step and say that letter that sounded uncomfortable and weird. I wasn’t in close enough proximity where He could give me a high five after I said something right or reassuringly rub my shoulder if I said something wrong. And then my time was up, and I missed the opportunity to fully learn what He had wanted to teach me. It wasn’t His fault for He had patiently and lovingly waited for me to come to Him but I didn’t take the time out of my day and submit myself to Him to enjoy His presence and fully receive what He had to offer. I in turn, was just like that beautiful black bean stained craazzzyy little girl and the question is how many days am I like that? It took my experience today to realize that I have been missing out on God’s presence this past week… It’s funny the ways God can grab your attention… It definitely took a little rambunctious girl for me to see the rebellious girl in me.

Please stay with me a little bit longer…. I have two big questions for you…. But first you have to realize that God is in the same room as you. He is sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for you. He loves you. He wants to spend time with you. He is there. The Creator of the Universe is lovingly watching you; in fact, He is calling out to you. It is a matter of you, hearing His call, stopping what you are doing, sitting down, and receiving Him.

Questions

1. Have you ever submitted yourself to God? Have you realized yet that the one thing you are desperately searching for will not be satisfied with things of this world? Your jello, black beans, water, and candy vitamins will never be enough to keep you from stopping your carousel ride of finding fullfillment? In essence, have you ever sat down and received His love?

2.If you have received His love, are you daily spending time with God? If you are not, it doesn’t make you less of a Christian just an unnourished one. God’s presence is something unrivaled. His sweet presence is worth stopping your busy activity and sitting down on the counter. What else is there to life than knowing and being loved by God?

O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
Psalms 63:1

I need your prayers

“You will be the next Beth Moore but in Mexico.” I dismissed the thought as soon as it left Sarita’s mouth. However, I did appreciate her affirmation for she was only trying to encourage me after I made the terrifying decision to be the speaker at the young women’s conference this November. Let’s just say I had been trembling since Anita took me by surprise a few hours earlier in the kitchen. We were just cooking some beans for lunch when suddenly what seemed like a normal nonchalant conversation took an unexpected turn and I had to ask her to repeat herself to make sure I understood her Spanish right…. My thoughts became sporadic (surely she was just inviting me to attend the conference and not inviting me to actually be la Conferencista). Immediately, I could feel the heat rising from the beans that were on the verge of boiling as my mind switched to panic mode, piecing together the string of Spanish words that rapidly rolled off her tongue. And there it was again .... that word “conferencista” . It was as unmistakable as the green hot sauce and it stung all the same. She looked up at me as she finished her request, eagerly awaiting my response. My first stuttering words echoed the thoughts that rushed in my mind as I said, “Anita I can’t possibly be the speaker.” Did she really think about this question before she asked me? She asked the girl who still struggles on a daily basis to communicate to stand up in front of a group and share God's Word… This place is crawling with seminary students perfectly capable of doing an outstanding job not to mention their native tongue is in fact Spanish. Then right on cue, images flashed in my mind, one after another, turning my stomach as the devil pressed rewind on that infamous tape of my past sins. It was as if the devil had the perfect game plan. First, he started with reminding of my weakness and uncovering my deep insecurity concerning my Spanish and then topping it off with making me feel completely incompetent by jogging my memory of every past failure and rebellion. I felt sick to my stomach with these horrendous past reminders coupled with the sudden pressure. I stared down at the pot of black beans in front of me, wishing to dive in head-first and hide from everything. Instead, I chose to escape through the back door of the kitchen, welcoming the gush of fresh air behind the screen door... It never felt so good to breathe. Then the tape of my shortcomings was paused by the interuption of the ever recognizable Garth Brooks’ song “Shameless”. Hmm… of course I thought… It was a sweet reminder of my self-proclaimed theme song. Let's just say that six years ago, this song played on the radio and the words took on a different twist for me. I listened to the song as if Garth Brooks’ voice was my own and I was singing to God. Ever since this moment, this song has been something very special between God and me. You should listen to the song this way; it is very powerful and a picture of the desired intimacy we should want to have with God. I love it. And God knew it was just what I needed. Bottom line, I am in love with God and I am willing to do almost anything for Him even if it means making a fool of myself. And the thing is that I know God will not make a fool of me, no matter how paralyzing the feeling is of this speaking engagement......

..... This conversation with Anita took place two weeks ago. Today at lunch she gave the students (the ones leaving for the weekend to go to their assigned churches) the invitations for the conference. It was a very surreal and humbling feeling to look down at this invitation and see my name listed as the conference speaker and to think these pink papers were about to be spread in the surrounding cities and towns of Cordoba. Please pray for me as I am preparing myself for one of the biggest steps of faith I have ever taken. I honestly don’t have a clue as to what I am doing. Please pray that God would show me what to talk about and use me as His mouthpiece so that hearts would be healed, sins uncovered, and souls saved on November 7. Thank you my sweet reader. John 15:5





Click on this link to listen to "Shameless" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdDD8hSiKZs


"Shameless" Garth Brooks

Well I'm shameless when it comes to loving you
I'll do anything you want me to I'll do anything at all.
And I'm standing here for all the world to see
Oh baby, that's what's left of me
Don't have very far to fall


You know now I'm not a man who's ever been
Insecure about the world I've been living in.
I don't break easy,


I have my pride
But if you need to be satisfied I'm shameless, oh honey,
I don't have a prayer
Every time I see you standin' there I go down upon my knees.
And I'm changing, swore I'd never compromise
Oh, but you convinced me otherwiseI'll do anything you please.


You see in all my life I've never found
What I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down
I could walk away from anyone
I ever knew But I can't walk away from you.
I have never let anything have this much control over me


I work too hard to call my life my own
And I've made myself a world and it's worked so perfectly
But it's your world now,
I can't refuse I've never had so much to lose
Oh, I'm shameless.


You know it should be easy for a man who's strong
To say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong
I've never lost anything I've ever missed
But I've never been in love like this.
God It's out of my hands.


I'm shameless,
I don't have the power now
I don't want it anyhow


So I got to let it go.
Oh, I'm shameless, shameless as a man can be
You can make a total fool of me
I just wanted to you to know.


Oh, I'm shameless,
I just wanted you to know
Oh, I'm shameless,
Oh, I'm down on my knees shameless

And Kelsey sang

It was hot… I am talking about the kind of hot that motivates you to share the gospel from the sheer horror of knowing that Hell is real and worse than the current environment you find yourself in. And I forgot my deodorant… The wet stickiness under my armpits reminded me of those days in middle school when I first started wearing deodorant. I’m sure you remember your first wearing deodorant days and the unmistakable regret that welled inside you on those days you realized you forgot to apply that sweat protector. I painfully reminisced of how I would fake sick just to go home because of my impending smell. Now being a veteran deodorant wearer, I couldn’t remember the last time I forgot my deodorant and it seemed paradoxically fitting that here I was in a village in a mountain in Mexico on the seemingly hottest day without my Mitchumen antiperspirant. Not only was I reeking of body odor, but also my body was tired and achy from the work that I had been doing in the kitchen the previous week. My mind was tired from teaching 10 classes and translating; I was at the point of speaking English but with Spanish grammar. Let’s just say that “She is a girl pretty” sounds strange. My feet were swollen and reminding me of that ever familiar dulling pain. I was sitting on a wooden pew in the middle of seven Mexican children who chattered away in their Indian dialect when I glanced up at the ceiling and admitted “Father, I am tired. I don’t think I have anything left to give.” I was at the end of myself. But something happened. Something made me come alive and conquer my physical exhaustion and mental tiredness. All I can say is that Kelsey sang. Yes, Kelsey sang. Man, did she ever sing. I have never met anyone quite like her who was so musically talented and so consecrated to God at the same time. And that is all it took. She played her guitar and sang. Suddenly the heat within the church transitioned from something unbearably uncomfortable to the warmth and protection of a winter coat in a storm. The sweat on my face turned into tears making their way down the curves of my cheeks. The disarray of words and grammatical rules of two languages that were mixed in an alphabet soup in my mind formed words in comprehensible ways. Peace and strength resonated within my body to the notes that eloquently and unashamedly flowed from Kelsey’s mouth. And I joined her as we sang praises to our King in this little church in some village in a mountain in Mexico.

And then the little girl, who had been sitting in my lap since we started the VBS, looked up at me with those beautiful mesmerizing brown eyes and every inconvenience, sore muscle, and discouraged thought disappeared as she tugged and pulled on the loose strands that had fallen on my face. I inclined my head, giving her little fingers the advantage to my rebellious strands of hair. In this moment in some village in a mountain in Mexico, God spoke straight to my heart and evoked within me His love for humanity. The people that we coin as “the lost” became more than terminology or some abstract concept that we Christians throw around at Bible studies or mission conferences and going to the nations became more than a command. It became a little five year girl. Lost now had a name; it was Arelia. Lost had a smell and it was a mixture of dirt, sweat, and tortillas. Lost had a soft curious touch. The nations had a heartbeat and I could feel it rhythmically pulsate against my chest. Lost liked blueberry lollypops and in fact her tongue and lips were stained blue. So many times we think of Jesus’ command to share our faith as some kind of burden. Let me disagree with you completely. To forsake the so called American Dream, to give up your comfortable lifestyle of instant macaroni and cheese, to leave your family and everything you have ever known is hard and challenging but something happened in my heart as I gazed through those little fingers that were playing with my hair to those precious brown eyes…. In those eyes I found the purpose of my life… I was born to tell Lost that Jesus loves her… And whispering these three small words “Jésus te ama” in Arelia’s ear made everything I left behind in the land of hamburgers and movie stars no sacrifice at all. To share your faith is no burden at all but a privilege, great joy, and something I take very seriously. I know everyone reading this blog has a little Arelia in your life. You don’t have to go to a foreign country to find her. She might look different, talk different, act different, than my Lost but I bet if you look close enough you can find that same hunger and curiosity in your Arelia’s eyes that I saw. What is stopping you from whispering those same three little words in her ear? What is blocking you from being synced with the compassion God has for humankind? ... And Kelsey sang. It wasn’t her amazing voice, skillful hands, or the words of the song that awakened my spirit but it was the power behind the song; moreover, it was the God of the song. I know life is hard and your environment might not be conducive but I pray that your spirit would hear Kelsey’s song and first that you would rejoice in Our Maker and then that you would look at the little girl on your lap with Jesus’ eyes. Do you hear the music? Have you looked around? Believe me, lost is not some religious term. Lost has a name, a smell, a heartbeat….