Pretense

I am of the opinion that we all live in varying degrees of pretense, a dozen different masks for a given day that can be worn a dozen different ways. Or am I the only one guilty of this?

At work, I operate under the pretense that I :
 1. Know what I am doing
 2. I’ve done this a hundred times before
 3. Sure I know where that piece of equipment is/how to use it
 4. That I am capable of accomplishing the daunting task of finding out what is wrong with my patient and fixing it.

Here is the truth: I only know what I am doing a fraction of the time (though much more than I did just a few months ago). I may have only done this procedure once before… or in some cases, never at all. I have no idea where to find things or how to operate them.  Sometimes I can’t fix what is broken…most of the time I can’t do what my patients ask of me. I can’t fix their physical, emotional, or spiritual brokenness any more than I can fix my own.  Some things in life require more than a band-aid or pain medication. I can’t mend your hopelessness, can’t heal your cancer, can’t bring back the unborn child you just lost. They only thing I can do, and it is something I don’t always do well, is point you in the direction of Someone who can. Sometimes I try to point you in that direction by holding your hand during a difficult procedure, or give you a tissue after you hear bad news, or bring you a warm blanket to signify comfort is a scary emergency room filled with strangers. Sometimes I whisper prayers over you as I see your fear, your sorrow, or your discomfort. It is in those circumstances that I abandon pretense for a short time. But then an ambulance pulls up and my next patient rolls through the doors in need of a nurse. I throw my masks back on, ready to face the next hurdle. These masks I am told I will grow out of eventually. To abandon pretense in my work may terrify my patients at this point in my career.  

Other areas of my life are just as deeply convoluted by years of pretense layered layer upon layer. Many of the masks layered so deep that I am just now beginning to notice them emerge. I recently started reading a book called The Cure, one of those books where nearly every sentence is convicting, thus I read at the average pace of two pages a day. There was a section that has stood out more than the rest.

“No one matures in bitterness. No one gets free is isolation. No one heals rehashing the testimonies of bad religion. No one gets to love or be loved well in self-protection.”

 Ouch. Reading that passage came only days after I sent an email saying something along the lines of “I’m just overly-protective of myself.” Here is more truth, I totally and utterly lack balance in any area of my life at this time. This includes relationships with other people. This has been an ongoing thing that God has been in the process of revealing to me. I have difficulty opening up to anyone. Last year one of my dearest friends asked me to share my testimony, how I got where I am in my relationship with Christ, with her. I told her no. There is a tremendous amount of fear around being vulnerable with others, even when I know them well. Of course, God smacked me (lovingly) across the face over the next couple of days and made it apparent that I should share my story. Where I was afraid of judgment, condemnation, and a general change in feeling towards me, I only found acceptance, love, and understanding. The single act of sharing who I really am, without pretense, was tremendously freeing. It made it easier to share my story with other people when I felt prompted, which was often in the months that followed. It was nice to lay aside some of my masks when I interacted with people.

The problem is, even after experiences like that, I forget who I am. It is so easy for me to lose sight of my identity and pick up the masks that feel that give false security. God is showing me that by living in pretense, I am unable to really love or be loved by others. I’ve been living in a world of self-protection. I have no simple solution for tearing down the walls I have built to “protect” myself. What I should do comes from a simple phase; Trust God. How can I let go and just do that? I keep asking myself, “What would I do if I started living a life without pretense? What if I relied solely on God for my identity?”

Sometimes there are days or maybe just moments where I fully trust God will my life. Coincidently, that is when I feel His presence the most. I’d like to do that more. The realization of this over and over marks the beginning of the process. It’s time to take a leap of faith. Do I have the courage to do it?

There is a chapter in the Bible that I have been reading and rereading over the last couple of weeks. It seems to fit the situation perfectly. God has a way of working like that.

Isaiah 55 Come to the Lord

 ¹ “Come, everyone who is thirsty, 
come to the waters; 
and you without money, 
come, buy, and eat! 
Come, buy wine and milk 
without money and without cost! 
² Why do you spend money on what is not food, 
and your wages on what does not satisfy? 
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, 
and you will enjoy the choicest of foods.^[a] 
3 Pay attention and come to Me; 
listen, so that you will live. 
I will make an everlasting covenant with you, 
the promises assured to David. 
⁴ Since I have made him a witness to the peoples, 
a leader and commander for the peoples, 
⁵ so you will summon a nation you do not know, 
and nations who do not know you will run to you. 
For the LORD your God, 
even the Holy One of Israel, 
has glorified you.”

 ⁶ Seek the LORD while He may be found;
call to Him while He is near.
⁷ Let the wicked one abandon his way
and the sinful one his thoughts;
let him return to the LORD,
so He may have compassion on him,
and to our God, for He will freely forgive.

 ⁸ “For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
and your ways are not My ways.”
            This is the LORD’s declaration.
⁹ “For as heaven is higher than earth,
so My ways are higher than your ways,
and My thoughts than your thoughts.
¹⁰ For just as rain and snow fall from heaven
and do not return there
without saturating the earth
and making it germinate and sprout,
and providing seed to sow
and food to eat,
¹¹ so My word that comes from My mouth
will not return to Me empty,
but it will accomplish what I please
and will prosper in what I send it to do.”

 ¹² You will indeed go out with joy
and be peacefully guided;
the mountains and the hills will break into singing before you,
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.
¹³ Instead of the thornbush, a cypress will come up,
and instead of the brier, a myrtle will come up;
it will make a name for Yahweh
as an everlasting sign that will not be destroyed.

Epiphanies

I think epiphanies happen a lot when you are in my stage of life, trying to figure things out as an adult. I have had many epiphanies, some tiny and others more impactful over the last six months. It would be accurate to say that I have learned hard truths about myself. These truths, while shown to me out of love, have been hard to swallow. Mostly because, if I am being completely honest, they opened my eyes to things that I don’t like about myself and when you are already hard on yourself, negativity breeds more negativity. I am selfish and I am a perfectionist. I probably should have known or at least could have guessed, I’ve definitely seen glimpses of these, but still… I found the discovery of all of this quite shocking.

I am not perfect. I am a broken person and I live in an equally broken world full of other broken people. Sometimes in my brokenness, most of the time lately in my brokenness, I berate myself for being so broken, so hard to love. The perfectionist part of me wills me to become a better person, to be less selfish, to be more people-oriented, and to truly love others abundantly with my whole self.

It doesn't work like that. I can’t become a better person because I want to be. Honestly, it is too exhausting and I lack the capacity to do it on my own. I don’t believe that I can do it on my own. And the feeling of becoming a better person on my own perpetuates perfectionism and selfishness. It blocks my ability to be in community with the people I love. It creates trust only in self. It is a feeling that tells me that I can only rely on myself; with others it is just too hard and not worth the effort.

Here is the crux of the matter. I have a relational God. I need to stop just knowing this, going through the motions of this knowledge and start believing it again. I need to start pursuing a friendship with True Perfection. There is Someone out there who is perfect and who loves me, who loves me in my brokenness, selfishness, and idols. He desires to have a real, vibrant, significant relationship with me. I am his child. It is only through Him that I am changed. 

I've have often been uncomfortable of this idea of a God who persues me, who uses romantic language to gain my attention. Today, it is exactly what I need. I need to be reminded of the beauty of this relationship, the sacredness of communicating with my Creator.

Hosea 2: 14-23

To Start All Over Again

 ^14-15 "And now, here's what I'm going to do:
   I'm going to start all over again.
I'm taking her back out into the wilderness
   where we had our first date, and I'll court her.
I'll give her bouquets of roses.
   I'll turn Heartbreak Valley into Acres of Hope.
She'll respond like she did as a young girl,
   those days when she was fresh out of Egypt.

 ^16-20 "At that time"—this is God's Message still—
   "you'll address me, 'Dear husband!'
Never again will you address me,
   'My slave-master!'
I'll wash your mouth out with soap,
   get rid of all the dirty false-god names,
   not so much as a whisper of those names again.
At the same time I'll make a peace treaty between you
   and wild animals and birds and reptiles,
And get rid of all weapons of war.
   Think of it! Safe from beasts and bullies!
And then I'll marry you for good—forever!
   I'll marry you true and proper, in love and tenderness.
Yes, I'll marry you and neither leave you nor let you go.
   You'll know me, God, for who I really am.

 ^21-23 "On the very same day, I'll answer"—this is God's Message—
   "I'll answer the sky, sky will answer earth,
Earth will answer grain and wine and olive oil,
   and they'll all answer Jezreel.
I'll plant her in the good earth.
   I'll have mercy on No-Mercy.
I'll say to Nobody, 'You're my dear Somebody,'
   and he'll say 'You're my God!'"

I am a Somebody, broken as I am. Loved through grace by the God of the universe. That is pretty awesome.

Hitting the Pause Button

Hitting the Pause Button

In the last month, err make that week, I have experienced a couple of major life changes and I feel as if things have kicked into fast forward. After several months and dozens of applications, I was hired as a resident nurse in the emergency department at Harrison Medical Center in Bremerton. This necessitated not only preparing to begin my career as a nurse, but also a move. To save up money and gain some time to look for exactly the right place to live, I am moved in with the parents of my friend and college roommate, Elyse. She also got an emergency department job with Harrison. I feel blessed to have a temporary place to stay with people who have claimed me as their fourth daughter and to be able to have a good friend who will be able to relate to my experiences as a new nurse. Two dramatic changes within days of each other. Sometimes it feels like a lot to take in, but mostly I am just excited about the next phase of my life.

As future-oriented as I have been, especially over the summer, I do feel the need to push the pause button and spend time in reflection. Perhaps I am more mindful of this because tomorrow, September 11^th, is a significant day. It is the 10^th anniversary of the terrorist attacks that claimed the lives of thousands of people. I remember walking down the stairs that morning, during my sophomore year of high school, and watching the news as the second plane hit the World Trade Center. It was surreal, as was the rest of the day which was spent sitting in class watching the news. There was a pervasive feeling of fear of the unknown that permeated the atmosphere that day and for so many days to come.

However, September 11^th has a more personal significance. It would have been my dear friend Allison’s 25^th birthday. She passed away in a car accident on Thanksgiving, nearly five years ago. It was another surreal day, also with memories tied to walking down the stairs at my parent’s house. I had heard the phone ring and my dad talking. I wasn’t even down all of the steps when he told me what had happened. Allison’s car had been found flipped over in a deep ditch on a farm road. She didn’t survive the accident. At first, I thought he was joking. When I realized it wasn’t a joke, I felt sick. I felt completely wretched. I remember having to call my friends, Allison’s friends, to tell them. The grief was extraordinary.  I remember thinking “why is life going on?” as my cousin wanted to play board games and the turkey cooked. It was a day spent going through the motions. My solace was found in my faith though out that whole period.

Matthew 5:4 states, “Blessed are those who morn, for they shall be comforted.”  Later in Matthew 11:28 Jesus promises, “Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” In losing Allison, I felt incredibly burdened. In Jesus, I found comfort, rest, love, and peace. Missing my friend did not change, but with God’s help the weight of grief became bearable.

By hitting the pause button, I take the time to think about that day, but I also have the opportunity to think about all the wonderful memories that I had with Allison. These things remain even as my life feels as if it were flying by me. Allison had many gifts. My two favorite were her hugs and her focus on people. Those gifts went hand-in-hand. Allison had the unique ability to make so many people feel like they were important, her best friends. Her focus towards other people, her fun-filled personality, her smile made people light up around her. She also had the ability to hug not just squeezing the life out of you, but it felt as if she hugged with her whole heart .The year after Allison died, I dreamt of her often. In my dreams, I always knew she was gone and I would never fail to make sure that I got a hug from her. I think it was my sub-conscious’ way of saying good-bye, something I didn’t really get to do during her life.

I try not to think of all the what-ifs. It would drive me crazy. Though, I do wonder what Allison would have been like at 25^th. There is still a void, a piece missing since she left taking her gifts with her. 

Giving out of abundance

I have been thinking a lot about the concept of giving lately. More specifically, I have the phrase “giving out of abundance” rolling around in my mind all the time.  What does it mean to give out of abundance and how does it differ from say, giving out of complacency or giving away what we have cast off? Does it matter how we give or just that we gave?

When I was in Zimbabwe in February I heard about a container full of donations that had arrived from the US  from an organization that probably had good intentions. The missionaries who received the container did not say anything negative about the individuals or organization responsible. However, what I heard about the contents of the container made me angry. Along with useable medical supplies were things that were complete junk.

Why is it that we assume that because people have nothing they could use our castoffs, our broken, damaged, rusting junk and we send it half way across the Earth under the disguise of “blessing” the disadvantaged? Not only that, but we feel good. We have obviously done a good deed by sending this rusty three-legged table to a poor African country because they can use it… somehow.  I am all for sending much needed goods to help out my brothers and sisters, my African family, but I think it disgraceful to send them things that they can never use. I find it embarrassing. We are from one of the wealthiest countries in the world and yet we don’t see that we should be giving to others out of this abundance. It does matter what we give. It should be more than a half-hearted attempt to “do something nice”.

African’s are the most resourceful people that I have ever met. And Africa is full of people who have taught me about true generosity. I have learned what it is to give out of abundance from people who give out of what we in America would describe as nothing. I have seen an elderly grandmother, struggling to feed her grandchildren, give fresh eggs to visitors out of custom, respect and love. I have seen ice cream cones shared among several children because the one with the cone wanted the other to experience the goodness of the treat. I been invited into homes and given meals by families with little to share but their stories. I am in awe when I see what it means to give abundantly unfolding in front of my eyes. I have much to learn.

-A Zimbabwean home where I had a meal

I want so desperately to give out of abundance and lately I have been challenged by this concept. I cannot give out of financial abundance. I am an unemployed college grad, but I want to give! How can I give out of my abundance if I cannot give monetarily? I can give of my hands. I can give of my feet. I can give of my time. Of those things I can give and give abundantly.

Last night I helped out at a fundraiser for an organization about whose mission I am totally, completely, passionately committed. Serve the Children provides access to education, healthcare, and psychological support to over 1,000 children in Liberia, West Africa and India. Having gone twice to Liberia with Serve the Children, I have witnessed the impact that this organization has on the lives of children born into families recovering from the effects of a devastating civil war. These children have a hope and a future because teachers give out of their abundance, their time and knowledge, to invest in the lives of others. These teachers often run short on food to feed their own families, but they know what it is to give abundantly.

I wished that I had spare thousands of dollars to give to Serve the Children last night, to give a “big” gift, something to impact the lives of those students and teachers. Truthfully, I had to borrow the money just to pay for the dinner portion of the event and to put gas in my car to drive down there. I gave the only thing I could and perhaps it doesn’t have the same feeling of impact that giving three thousand dollars would, but I gave it out of my abundance.

 I gave of my time, of myself, and I dreamed of the future when I could give more. I dreamed of saving money every month so that next year at the fundraiser I could give a ton of money. I dreamed of buying dozens of raffle tickets or spending an enormous amount of money on a cake at the dessert auction. I also dreamed of one day going to Liberia… to stay for a long time. These are not dreams of complacency or cast-offs, but neither are they dreams of abundance. I have no idea what the future holds. I have a God who dreams bigger than I do and chuckles when I dream of desserts and living somewhere else. I feel that He would say to me that even if I used my imagination to the greatest extent possible I could never come close to what He has in store. After all, didn’t the idea of giving come from Him in the first place? He is the God of abundance.

 ²⁴ The world of the generous gets larger and larger;
   the world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller.

 ²⁵ The one who blesses others is abundantly blessed;
   those who help others are helped

-Proverbs 11: 24-25

I am not saying I have this figured out. It’s going to be one of those life lessons that I visit again and again. I do know it is something I want to hold onto, to see where it takes me, to encourage others to do the same.. To GIVE

www.servethechildren.com

For love of Africa

"When you’ve acquired a taste for dust,

The scent of our first rain,

You’re hooked for life on Africa

And you’ll not be right again

Till you can watch the setting moon

And hear the jackals bark

And know that they’re around you,

Waiting in the dark.

When you long to see the Elephants,

Or to hear the coucal’s song,

When the moonrise sets your blood on fire,

You’ve been away too long.

It’s time to cut the traces loose

And let you’re heart go free

Beyond that far horizon,

Where your spirit yearns to be."

-Africa by Emily Dibb

The picture above was taken on my most miserable day in Africa. I woke up sick and could not keep anything down, but in spite of feeling ill, I went with the rest of my mission's trip team to a rural school on the edge of the Firestone Plantation outside of Monrovia, Liberia. I felt weak and disoriented as I watched these beautiful, amazing school children welcome me to their school. Somehow, by God's true grace, I did not become sick to my stomach there. Instead, I found myself outside of a car, singing with them. Even in my physical misery, I could not stop loving Africa.

My first trip to Liberia, West Africa was in 2007. I had a vague dream about going to Africa some day, but did not think that it was a dream likely to come true. In the Fall of 2006, I took a research writing class. After deciding on a topic, HIV/AIDS and its effect on the family unit in Uganda, I figured Mission's Fest would be a good place to get information. Missions Fest is a large gathering of missions groups with booths and workshops about organizations that operate all over the globe. At one point, I stopped at a booth covered with pictures of smiling African children in orange shirts. The organization was called Serve the Children. I talked with someone at that booth for nearly an hour. It was love at first sight. I told my parents later that day I was going to Liberia, where Serve the Children operated tuition free schooling to over 1,000 children. I also called one of my best friends and asked if she might pray about going with me. Eight months later I was on my way.

It wouldn't be honest to say that I loved everything about Liberia that first trip. Even after I read everything I could get my hands on about the country, viewed countless pictures, and listened to Doug Collier go over every detail of the trip, I was still unprepared for what I saw. It had been nearly four years since the end of a 14-year-long civil war ended in Liberia and there was still a 15,000 strong UN Peacekeeping unit in the country. I had seen the effects of war and poverty in other places; Nicaragua, Romania, Russia, but in Liberia the magnitude was SO much greater. There was no electricity, no running water, no garbage collection. There were malnourished children stricken with malaria that stared at you with haunting yellowed-eyes, soccer players missing limbs practicing in a field strewn with garbage, bombed out buildings, squatters next-door, and bullet holes in the now-stripped telephone poles. The need was great.I felt insignificant, unuseful, and questioned why God would send me somewhere I was so ill-equipped to serve. Strangely, it was from that place that my love began to grow.

Have you ever experienced a hug several children deep? I could not help but feel deep, resounding joy when squished, almost to the point of being unable to breathe, by a dozen smiling children. My first trip to Liberia taught me about the depth of man's capabilities to be inhumane towards their fellow man. More importantly, it showed me that even in the midst of great adversity, even after suffering from unspeakable atrocities, man can be incredibly resilient. I opened my eyes to see a people who trusted in God and praised him with all of their being and with more vibrancy than I can muster in most exuberant moments. I saw people who shared what they had, gave generously and lavished love, even on a stranger. When I left Liberia, I knew I would be back. Even so, it took months for me to process the events of the first trip. In that time, my love for Liberia deepened even more. By 2009, I knew God was calling me back. I joined a team of pastors, oddly the perfect fit for me, the lone nursing student. Just a few days after completing my first year of nursing school, I was on a plane headed back to Africa.

Stepping off the plane into the sticky Liberia evening, my feet touched the ground and I was hooked. I feel as if I almost became a different person. Driven by some compulsion, I HAD to soak in the experience. I listened, I watched, I ate. It was a feeling of being alive and being in exactly the right place. The rhythm of life in Liberia was soothing to my stressed, over-tired soul. I built relationships with people who constantly amazed me, enjoyed riding around the city, playing with the kids. So much had changed, while the need was great, I felt much more at peace. I could see hope where previously I had only seen despair. I saw growth where before I could only see what had been destroyed. 

I seem to have this pattern of thinking that I will be doing something for someone on a mission's trip and it never quite turns out how I think that it will. This time was no exception. I wanted to do something big medically for the school children. It never happened. God totally redirected me. He wanted me to learn... not just to go and give, but also to build relationships, learn about people, love them, and to accept their love in return.

My friend Martha is one of the best cooks in all of Liberia. I loved learning how to cook "the Liberian way" with her. I love singing along to worship music with her in the overwhelmingly hot kitchen. I have had the immense privilege of being a recipient of her abundant generosity. Martha is one of the most hard-working women I know and if I could be even a little bit like her, I would be better for it. 

In a little over a month, I will be making my third trip to Africa. This time I will not be going to Liberia. Rather, I will be heading South to Zimbabwe. As part of my nursing program, I will be spending a month participating in a cross-cultural nursing clinical at Karanda Mission Hospital, near Mount Darwin on the Eastern side of the country. It is the culmination of another dream of mine, nursing in a developing nation. I'm excited about the challenges that await me in Zimbabwe and hope to fall as much in love with the people there as I have with those in Liberia. I'm ready to go adventurin' again!