Kucheza Wimbo

Recently I ventured back to Kenya on a medical mission trip 3 years after my first trip there. In a way, it felt like going home. I left a big part of my heart there, and for so long my heart had been bursting to go back to reclaim the pieces I had left behind. I missed everything about the country. I missed the people and their smiles. I missed the smell of the crisp air in the mara. I missed falling asleep under a million stars to the sound of hyenas and elephants roaming in the night. I missed having red dirt in every crevice of every article of clothing I owned. I missed being the good kind of exhausted, the kind of exhausted where your bones hurt from working for a purpose. But I think what I missed most of all were the maasai children. 

The maasai children are very unique from any other group of kids I’ve ever encountered. They uphold a sense of honor for their elders. Whenever one approaches an adult, they bow their head and wait for the adult to place a hand on their head as a sign of a blessing. They are unceasingly grateful. They get excited over the smallest things- stickers, bubbles, bracelets, face paint, beanie babies, soccer. They love to play and play hard. Their energy is unmatched and contagious. And they especially love to sing. 

I learned some basic words in swahili in my time in Kenya. But probably the most important words I learned were kucheza wimbo: play a song. And when we wanted to keep going, I would say, kucheza wimbo mwininge: play another song. They would erupt in traditional maasai songs and even english songs about Jesus. And they would dance and smile and laugh with a joy so pure and wonderful. It was contagious. 

At first, I felt a little silly when they would ask me to dance and sing with them. But looking back on the experience, I’m reminded of something Rob Morris, founder of Love146, said once when he visited a safe home: 

“When the broken ask you to dance, you dance.” 

These kids really have so little. Many of them walk for miles to get to school and more to get clean water. They have just enough food to get by. Their clothes are few and torn. They have little access to medical care. They have no electricity, no running water. And many come from families of very broken circumstance. 

In the eyes of the world, these children would be considered very poor and very broken. But when I looked them in the eye while they were dancing, I locked eyes with the richest human beings on the earth. They were abundant in the joy of their father, of their mungu baba. I, the middle class American, was the one who was empty and hollowed by the mundane cycle of conformity to the western world. The broken asked me to dance, and in turn, my brokenness was exposed. But the sweet thing about dancing, is that when you dance, you dance with abandon. All brokenness is taken aside and healed when you dance in the center of joy with the Father. 

I’m so grateful the Father asks me to dance with Him. For the joy that was set before Him, He was broken for my sinfulness and conquered death so that I may have life in Him. So that I may dance with Him. He invites the broken to dance with Him in the center of joy. And in that perfect joy, that sweet dance on our Daddy’s feet, there is healing. He asks the broken to dance. And the broken are made whole. 

Press In

The two most dreaded tasks of babysitting are changing diapers and putting the baby to sleep. Changing diapers explains itself. But the true challenge comes in trying to calm a restless baby. They kick and cry and squirm. They muster all the strength a small human can gather to resist falling asleep. And all I can do in these moments is hold them closer, sing over them and try to calm them down. Regardless of whether it takes five minutes or thirty to soothe them, it feels like a life time before they finally give in and sleep. 

While it can be one of the most dreaded tasks, it can also be one of the sweetest moments. One of the best feelings in the world is when the baby finally gives into rest and presses her head into your chest. It’s the epitome of peaceful. You feel so content and accomplished because something you tried so hard to pacify is finally at ease. 

Sometimes I wonder if God gets the same sense of satisfaction when we receive Him and rest in His presence. It can be easy for us to fall into a trap of resisting rest as we pursue our own ways. We fight and kick against anything that feels restricting. And even when we fight against God, He still chooses to love us, still chooses to hold us. He sings over us and pulls us closer. And the sweetest moment comes when we give into His embrace and press into His presence. In the quiet of surrender, if we listen close enough, we can hear His heartbeat as our head rests against His chest. How sweet a moment this must be for both the Creator and the created.  

God delights in us when we choose to rest in Him, when we give into the call to simply be still and know that He is God. He takes joy in being our protector, in being our perfect Father. He holds all of the oceans in the hollow of His hands, and with these same hands He reaches out to calm the storms in our souls. There is incomparable peace that comes when we press into the heart that beats to the perfect rhythm of grace. All we have to do is be still, listen in as He sings over us and rest in His unmatched peace.

Red Dirt

Within the seams of one of my most well worn TOMS, there lays a streak of red dirt from my trip to Kenya three years ago. In a weird way, the sight comforts me. It’s just dirt, really. But it’s a small part of a place where I left a big piece of my heart. One week from this Wednesday, I’ll be venturing back to that same soil to reclaim my heart and give it up all over again. It’s a beautiful mess of a process where I lose myself and find myself all at the same time in a way I never imagined was possible. But that’s one of the sweetest parts of any adventure with God- losing yourself a little at a time, until a pivotal moment of grace hits you. In this sweet collision, you find yourself completely washed away as Christ wells up within you to show your true identity, true life. And the adventure doesn’t stop there. It’s only the beginning of His waves of grace crashing on our shores in new ways every day. 

As excited as I am for a fresh collision with Jesus on this trip, fears well up within me at the sight of the red dirt as well. Kenya has been assailed recently with terrorist attacks, and while it’s on the other of the country from where we’ll be serving, dark thoughts of “what if” still plague me. A war wages in my mind and heart as my imagination explores all the potential dangers. And the brave force I’ve tried so hard to edify within me breaks down as I become victim to my own thoughts. 

In the midst of this tangled mess of worry and excitement, I wonder what Jesus thought through all of His adventures. I wonder what variations of soil from different countries laced His sandals, and how worn they were from his journeys. And I wonder what He prayed before He stepped into the adversity He knew lay before Him. 

I read once in Romans 10 that beautiful are the feet of those who carry the Gospel of peace, who are sent out to speak truth. While I feel sent, I don’t feel very beautiful. I don’t feel very worthy. I feel very small, and a little scared. And it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around Jesus, whose sandals I’m not even worthy to unite, calling me out to arise from the dust and journey with Him in this adventure of grace. In the midst of all of my fear, insecurity and doubt, He whispers to me that He is, and always has been, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That He will not lead me where He will not go. And that I said yes to this adventure with Him. I said yes. And in that yes was born the sweetness of new life. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” I think there is so much truth in that call to action. Jesus is wonderful at taking us by the hand and leading us on unique journeys to places we never imagined possible. He leads us to the uncharted territories of life and calls us to leave a legacy worthy of His gospel. And He’s placed this incurable itch in my spirit to have a soul just as worn as the soles of His shoes- laced with dirt from the harvest and sweetly torn from taking the uncharted path. 

I may feel small and unworthy. I may be a little scared. But the One who is exceedingly worthy of all praise and breaks through all human boundaries lives within me and goes before me. So I’ll stand with the one who has overcome all fear and darkness and trust Him when He whispers this adventure is worth it. And I’ll revel in the sweetness of new life that is born from saying yes to Him.

The Adventure of Trust

Trust is such a sweet place to be but a hard destination to reach. Daily I struggle with trust- trusting others, trusting myself and even trusting God at times. One of the most impactful examples God lays on my heart when I wrestle with trust is that of Abraham in Genesis 22. God speaks to Abraham and tells him to sacrifice his only son to God as a test of his faith. Abraham gets up early the next morning, in prompt obedience to God's command, and travels to the mountain to sacrifice his son Isaac. Before he leaves for Mount Moriah, he tells his servants that he and his son will be back after the sacrifice is made. When Abraham reaches that pivotal moment where he raises his knife to slay his son on the alter, God sees Abraham's faith and love for the Lord and provides a ram in place of Isaac.

What amazes me about this story is that Abraham trusts God without limits. Before he leaves, he tells his servants that both he and his son will return, completely confident that God will provide. And when Isaac asks his father where the lamb is for the burnt offering, Abraham confidently answers again, "God himself will provide a lamb for the burnt offering, my son." Abraham has one son whom he loves dearly. For years, Abraham and Sarah struggled to have this son. And just when they think they have everything worked out, God asks them to give him up. That's how much Abraham loves God- to sacrifice even his only son for him. And that's how much Abraham trusts God- to know that God would provide a perfect offering in place of his son.

God saw the faith of Abraham and was pleased. God delights when we obey Him out of a place of love and adoration for Him. And seeing this faith of Abraham's, God provided a more perfect sacrifice in place of Isaac. God saw. God provided.

True trust is this: to jump off into the great unknown and fully expect that God will provide His living waters to catch you in the fall. Taking the jump is scary. The fall is even scarier. But the sweetest moment is when we are encompassed in His living, thriving waters that fill us with life. We may not know what the leap of faith may look like for us, but we can know that God has already provided a safe place for us when we step out of our comfort zone and into the great unknown where our faith truly comes to life. And the wonderful thing is, He has already provided the living water into which will we fall. We don't have to manufacture a safety net on our own to catch us. Every human effort to provide for ourselves on our own smalls in comparison to the all-sufficient provision of the cross. Jesus Himself laid down his life in place of ours as the perfect sacrifice, and when we say yes to the adventure of new life with Him, He provides his living water to catch us in our leap of faith.

God still sees. God still provides. And newer, richer depths await us when we step out of ourselves and into the adventure of trust.

The Present

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us, then, who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. Only let us live up to what we have already attained." -Philippians 3:12-16

With graduation less than two months away, I'm entering into a new season of transition. Everyday I'm bombarded with hundreds of wildly exciting and scary thoughts of the future. I dream of college, where I'll be living, the people I'll meet and the places I'll see. But I also worry- about leaving my family, the mistakes I'll make and how I'll make it in such a huge city. And I dwell- I think deeply on my past, the good and the bad, what I'll be leaving behind and how all of it will shape me.

I get so caught up in this tug-of-war between the past and the future that I forget to live in the present. Pulled in a thousand different directions by a a thousand different thoughts, I struggle in this never ending limbo between what has happened and what has yet to come. Living as a vagabond between the past and the future, I deny myself of one of the greatest gifts God has to offer me: the present.

When I plan my life based on my past and what I expect for my future, I create a false allusion for myself that I have it all together. I think I know everything based on my past and that I've have everything mapped out based on what I think my future holds. But truth be told, I know absolutely nothing. I realize the utter bankruptcy of my soul only when God invades my heart and whispers, You don't have control over this. I do. Let go. And press into my presence.

So I'm letting go. I declare that I have nothing apart from God. But in Him, I have exceedingly more than I could ever ask or imagine. My goal is this: To press into His presence in each present moment. To endure for the joy that is set before me. And to live up to the grace I have already attained. For in Christ, there is no other standard to which we hold ourselves. I'm abandoning my efforts to compete with my past self and measure up to the image of me I want to attain. Instead, I'm living into the identity to which Christ has called me: Grace. Purely, simply Grace. I'm taking hold of that for which Christ took hold of me, to press into His mercy, to press into His sufficiency, and to press into His purpose for me in the present. His presence in this present moment is enough for me.

Choose the Adventure

 



When people found out that I got into the University of Texas, they were ecstatic. Everyone told me how proud of me they were, how hard it was to get into UT and what an accomplishment that was. However, when they found out that I was actually considering going there, they thought I was crazy. Absolutely out of my mind. So many people told me I would never fit in there, that they couldn't picture me there and that it was totally the wrong college for me.

In all honestly, even I think this is all a little crazy. But God has an incredible way of taking even the craziest situations and turning them into the most beautiful stories.

Up until early March, I was totally set on Baylor. I knew whom my roommate would be, where I would be living, how all the finances would line up. I was set. I was absolutely positive that Baylor was where I was meant to be. I never thought I would get into UT, so I never really considered it as an option. And even I thought that UT was the wrong place for me, that there was no way in a million years I would ever go there.

But then I found out I actually got in. I screamed into the phone when my mom called me and told me, mainly because I knew how hard it was to get in and I was mind blown that they accepted me. As much as I loved Baylor and in that moment believed that was the place for me, God kept placing UT on my heart in the days that followed. The more I researched it, the more intrigued I became and felt a really weird stirring in my heart that I should keep pursuing this path and see where it lead.

One night I called my sweet friend Laurena and asked her about her experience at UT. She told me all of the amazing things God was doing in Austin and how she had grown so much in her walk with God there. The stories of her faith encouraged me so much and gave me a little more hope that I might be able to thrive there.

Out of all the experiences and stories she shared with me, one thing she said stuck with me the most. She told me to choose the adventure, because that was where I would grow the most in my faith and as a person. And in that moment I knew UT was the adventure.

If you know me, you know I'm not typically an adventurous person. I can be pretty shy and quiet at times. I'm a huge over-thinker and worrier. I love to plan things out and know every detail of the next step I'm going to take. So when God laid on my heart that this was the adventure on which He wanted to take me, I flipped out a little bit. But this past weekend when I finally went to see the campus and explore the city and meet other believers thriving there, I knew. I knew that Austin was the place to which God was calling me, and that I could trust Him in this adventure.

Throughout this whole decision making process, God has reshaped my definition of adventure. When we say yes to God, we say yes to a life full of grand adventures with Him. We say yes to living outside of out comfort zone and diving into the infinite depth of His presence. We say yes to trusting that He is our provider, our comforter and our steadfast foundation through every season. We say yes to being completely dependent on Him and leaving no room for fear in our hearts. We saying yes to enduring through this marvelously messy journey for the joy that is set before us. And we say yes to boldly walking with Him daily, even when we don't know what the next step will look like.

So I'm diving into His deep, living waters. I'm drinking in all of Him in each present moment, expectantly awaiting this new season of my life. And I'm saying yes to this crazy adventure He's placed on my heart. Will you say yes with me?

Deep Calls Out to Deep

This week I had a chance to escape to the hill country with my friends, away from the suburbs and the concrete, away from all the stress and to-do lists. We laughed deeply around a fire and stared at the stars, and we goofed off like high-schoolers do (in the most responsible way, of course). We climbed Enchanted Rock and looked over all the rolling hills, and we explored Pedernales Falls in all its beauty. And I was able to really relax for the first time in a long time.

But the best part of the trip wasn't the loud laughter or the beauty of the land that left us all awestruck. The best part was the sweet quiet time I had with my best friend Ashley, in a secret place tucked away in the forest.

As the sun was rising, we set out to a viewing deck that overlooked a small waterfall flowing into a steady river. We plopped down on the deck and opened our bibles, reading and journaling away. I read Colossians 1, about how by Jesus all things were created, and in him all things hold together.  It was so sweet to just sit and soak in that promise at work in His creation around me. Everything around me proclaimed His faithfulness and His sovereignty, and it was our turn to do the same.

When we finished our quiet times, we stood up and marveled at the sunlight spilling over the hill and breaking into a million little rays through the branches. We talked about life and the sweetness of the moment. And randomly Ashley said, "We should sing!" So that's what we did. The two of us stood there and sang old hymns and our favorite worship songs, no one around to hear or see, only the depth of the river below and the height of the sky above as our audience.

As our voices carried over the trees and the falls, I thought about this verse that had been pressed on my heart a lot lately:

Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me. (Psalms 42:7)

And I thought how sweet it is that our life can be like that moment in the forest, in the quiet and secret place. In the depths of our sorrow, in the depths of our joy, He hears us. No matter what is consuming us, no matter how strong the storm may be that is washing over us, when we call out to Him, He responds with an even deeper depth. For His presence is far deeper than all our suffering and all our joy combined. He is infinite and immeasurable in greatness. And when the infinite depth of His presence collides with the very limited depth of my circumstance, something miraculous happens. Suddenly, I am overtaken by a new kind of depth, and new waters rush over me. And these waters are alive with promise and fresh with hope.

So today I declare to live life like that morning in the forest, calling out to the Lord with reckless abandon. From the depths of my soul, I will call out to my Lord as the waters of a new day begin to rush over me. And I will stand there and watch as His waters come rushing in, drenching me in His grace and filling me with new life. This is the promise that spills over into our hearts every morning: That He is the all consuming God whose infinite depth never fails to cover over us. Rejoice in that today.