The Struggle Is Real

I could hear the nurses puttering around in the adjacent room as I waited for my appointment. My thumbs seemed to have a mind of their own --finding a rhythm of nervousness and twiddling away--until I couldn't take it any longer and asked her to tell me what the scale had read. I knew I didn't want to know, but I was like a month to a flame...I'm surprised I held out the five minutes I lasted. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, I knew felt my heart plummet to the floor.

There had to be a mistake. She tried to console me saying it was likely a misread so we should take it again. And again I got hit with the cold, hard reality of failure. I knew I had gained weight (it was either that or I suddenly shrunk all of my clothes), but I didn't know it was THAT bad. How could I be HERE? How could I have crossed the imaginary line that I had made up in my head--the line between the weight that you are and the special weight that you've identified as "You Know You've Gone Too Far When"...the point in my brain that separated me from just being fat to morbidly obese. (To be clear, that number doesn't match the body mass index that doctors use because ...well...I obviously like to live disillusioned. Hey...we all have our flaws.) It's like I have a thinner woman trapped inside of me who is simply aching to get out. It's hard to preach to people about their issues when mine are staring them right in the face on my hips and thighs.

So today I crossed the line and it really didn't feel good. I cried in the doctor's office in frustration for what has proven to be a lifelong battle. And then somewhere in the middle of my supreme pout, I remembered God. I can admit that those first thoughts were more asking why I got the fat genes in the family and why others eat and eat and don't exercise and have metabolisms from heaven. Meanwhile I am dealing with everything from motivation issue to thyroid glitches and can't seem to catch a break. Woo woo woo...whoa is me and all that jazz. I'm a pastor but I'm also human. I'm a multidimensional missionary and truly still a work in progress.

Once I got past all of my vanity and self-righteousness, I began to remember that 'I war not against flesh and blood' and that there has to be a better way. Yes there are physical things I need to do, but it would stand to reason that if I can trust God with my soul, then my body should be a piece of cake to him. He's probably just waiting for me to turn it over once and for all to Him. He said we could bring it all to him.

Easier said than done, but I'm surely gonna try.

Blessings, MinD

Spoiled

I had originally prepared another thought to share but am taking a detour and will revisit that one shortly. I couldn't let this day of Thanksgiving go by unmentioned. You see, being away from the U.S. for the past two Thanksgiving days has always lent a small twinge to the beating of my heart. However, God faithfully surrounds me with so much that I have to be grateful for that I end up feeling such great peace. Today was no different. The day began with a long bus ride through the countryside of Madagascar to visit my aunt for the long weekend. And, though Thanksgiving is COMPLETELY and American holiday, I was beside myself to see how much she had gone to great lengths to make this a holiday to remember. Her closest family friends came to eat and welcome me. And at the end of the day, I am simply overwhelmed with gratitude. She even made turkey "Malagasy" style. My friend who was with me told me I am spoiled. And all I could do was say "yes I am spoiled with love..." So as I begin to bring this day to a close, I wanted to say thank you for reading and indulging my random thoughts every now and again. It us my prayer that on this day, you feel spoiled today with the love of Christ. Happy Thanksgiving! with love, PastorA

What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times

I'm thinking of writing another book. This one could be entitled What Would Thin Be Like? And Other Silly Thoughts In Serious Times. Yes, you read right. While other people's blogs (especially my fellow friends here on Mercy Ships) detail the ups and downs of missionary work, the plight of the poor, and the trials of the world, the simple side of my mind turns to randomness. Something must be done.

I really want to be one of those ultra-serious people. I don't want to have to convince people that I hold two master's degrees and have a couple of pennies of sense rattling around in my brain. I want people to just know it. I want to exude intelligence and maturity, but instead I often feel like my silliness makes me seem much younger than my forty years (and not in a good way). I'm sure Mother Teresa didn't get shocked looks once people found out she got the Nobel Prize. It simply made sense that she should get it.

But when I think about the person I would like to be--loving people like Mother Teresa, sacrificing like Esther, evangelizing people like Billy Graham, forgiving people like Nelson Mandela, inspiring people like Ghandi, charming people like Oprah, praying like Paul, and basically fully embodying Jesus--I can only think of silliness. I wonder if I'm thin enough, smart enough, educated enough...am I enough? All of my insecurities shine through and I wonder silly things like "what would it be like to be thin or if my head was on the body of someone like Gabrielle Union?"

No matter how many letters there are behind my name, what I haven't accomplished shines through. No matter how many times I've stepped out on faith, I consider the opportunities I may have missed when I was scared. No matter how many people I've showed love to, I worry about those who I fell short with. Even in the midst of serving God in this wonderful way on the mission field, I feel like I should always be doing or being more. Serious people do more, right? ...Or so I ask myself. I mean, why haven't I personally found the cure to the Ebola crisis in West Africa by now? Ludicrous, right? It's funny how no matter where you go, your stuff goes with you. Every insecurity and every ... I find myself wondering how it is that no matter how much you work on it, those things seem to surface at the most inopportune times.

But, at the end of the day, I was reminded that I am, indeed enough. A fellow minister was interviewing me and asked me about the book(s) that I felt every minister should read (beyond the Bible). I sat there stumped as I looked at him, and all those insecurities began to surface again as I drew a blank. I thought of how no one would ever believe that I graduated from seminary if I don't come up with acceptable answers to the question and begin quoting A.W. Tozier, D. Willard or the like. And then an overwhelming peace came over me as I realized that I was not them and that God didn't make a mistake. I really felt the reality of what Psalm 139 says when it talks about being 'fearfully and wonderfully made and having your soul know it well.' While serious things can be important, God has gifted me with a joy that simply flows over and may seem silly to most. So my soul kicked in and reminded me that I don't have to prove my intelligence or commitment to all things serious. My soul kicked in and reminded me that the greatest job that I have is to love and do so in my own skin with my own silliness and my own style.

Now this knowing won't stop the occasional return of the my-head-on-actress-body thoughts or wondering how I can do more to heal the world. It's those random thoughts that fuel the passion of great people to do great things. Perhaps I'll finally get healthier and have my body be a living reflection of God's deliverance from our vices (like chocolate) or maybe I'll even stumble across a cure for HIV/AIDS in my spare time. Who knows? But for now, all this silliness in these serious times is enough for God and so it's enough for me.

Pieces Coming Together

There is a guy from Sierra Leone on the ship who part of his job is to regulate the chemicals in the water and make sure that we have safe drinking water aboard the ship. And there's the Dutch young man serving as a barista in the Starbucks who always has a smile for everyone who goes by. We all sleep more comfortably knowing that our Romanian friend is busy ensuring that the HVAC units are running well. And then there's a lady from Liberia whose primary function is to bake the bread...well acutally ANY baked goods served on the ship and a young lady from Australia who serves as our preschool teacher. Or how about the Canadian girl who spends time making sure that each of the nurses feels safe in their job and gets appropriate professional feedback? You almost never see the Ghanaian woman who works with the department that provides all training to staff from Microsoft to management and more. If you look really closely, you'll probably catch an English woman or a Malagasy young man mopping and shuffling through the halls--ensuring the cleanliness of the ship. Finally, you cannot forget the young guy from Panama who helps steer the ship and keep us safe.

In all, there are over 40 nations represented on the Africa Mercy. Over 400 people at once and 1200 in the course of a field service that make our little world go round. I guess I just was thinking of the fact that I rarely talk about them. We, as an organization, have a mission to reach the poorest of the poor with a specific method--through surgeries. So much of the focus is on the men, women and children whose lives are forever changed because of the expertise of our surgeons, nurses, and other medical crew. But most of the world probably doesn't begin to realize what it takes to bring that hope and healing to pass. Without clean water and smiles at break-time, without controlled air or adept computer training, surgeries do not happen.

This week, we began surgeries for this new field service. It was a monumental day filled with a lot of energy on the ship. We are so proud of all of the ways we are able to serve God. We are so excited to get to use every gift that we have for His glory. We are so blessed by all of the ways that God's light can be shown to the world. So today I just had to take a moment to praise God for all of the pieces of our little puzzle coming together. Yep...I'm happy to be here.

Blessings,
MinD

My Hugutation

Several years ago, I went on a mission/vision trip to Lucknow, India with the express point of ministering to the Dalit people. If you know anything about the Indian caste system, then you know that the Dalit people are the lowest on the ladder. In fact, they are what some call "The Untouchables". These are people who have historically been cast aside and relegated to the dirtiest of jobs--handling trash, waste and blood products. They are bound by this cultural, sociological system that says they are nothing to God and therefore nothing to man.When I heard about them, all I wanted to do was fly across the world and hug.

Three Dalit girls I came across in Lucknow.

Now I realize that everyone doesn't want a hug, but it was in that moment that I began to see how much we (society, humanity) had allowed the enemy to steal something so precious and such a simple way of showing people the love of God through physical touch. Without being lascivious, there are hugs and human touch that simply about communicating the message "I care".

Then the other day, I sat in the room across from a momma and held her little girl's hand. As soon as I touched the little girl's hand, tears began to flow from her mother's eyes and sprung into the recesses of her own. She was about 8 years old and looked like any one of my god children... They had gone from doctor to doctor and heard the same answer--no. And we were no different. We couldn't give the girl the medical treatment that she was looking for, but I knew in that moment that I could give her something different--a touch.

You see, I've developed a bit of a reputation for being "that person". I'm the one who when you've had a bad day or you're missing home while here on the mission field or you simply realized that it's been days since anyone has touched you besides a hand shake who will reach out in bonafide, Christian love. There's no cost for what I give. No judgement. There's no malintent. I have no hidden sexual desire that I'm fulfilling. And I want nothing in return. The reason why I hug is because it's a simple way to bridge the gap and say "you matter". It's a simple way to put action to my words "Jesus loves you and so do I." It's a simple way to cross socioeconomic, geographic, gender, cultural lines and speak the same language of caring.

My kind of fun. This lady in Canada along
with her friends took a day in winter (when
people are depressed and lonely) to spread love
one hug at a time. Genius!

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm talking about my hugutation (hug+reputation). This week, someone confronted me about my hugs and tried to convince me to squash them. I can admit that I was saddened (and irritated) that a fellow Christian missionary would be so limited in how they thought about (appropriate) human touch. But I know that person isn't alone. Having been on the mission field now for almost a decade, I even understand the cross cultural dynamics of where this person was coming from. But, the truth is that we live in a world where the enemy has us so thoroughly convinced that all touch must be interpreted through the societal "naughty filter". But I choose to use a different filter to govern my actions--JESUS. I know that an appropriate hug on the right day can make all the difference in anyone's day. I may even have a T-Shirt printed that says "free hugs here" or a sign around my neck. But in the absence of those marketing tools, I'll just tell you: if you pass me in the street, and you're having a lousy day...reach out and maybe, just maybe, I'll be there to catch you. But if it's not me, then I hope that you'll pass a hug, a touch of simple care along to someone else you encounter who just needs their day to be boosted.

Be encouraged and don't be scared! God's love is bigger than the devils innuendo.

Blessings,
MinD

Lifting My Gag (Again)

I feel like I've failed.

No...not in the most conventional ways. I have had a lot of "success" in the 40 years that I've been on this earth. I've had a lot of moments to cherish. I've had a lot of opportunities for growth and better understanding and wisdom. I've been blessed beyond measure. So, why, in the middle of all of that can't I keep an appointment with myself to do 2 simple blogs? Yep...failure.

And then I read other blogs and I'm so impressed and so inspired and so...well you get the point. Here's my "reason" (a.k.a. excuse): I'm not usually sitting at a computer at those moments or it's not convenient. And I realize that I hate writing a blog on my mobile devices because I feel like I'm literally all thumbs and my fingers can't keep up with my brain like I do on a keyboard. So the inspiration comes and then I write off-line in this place or that and have good intentions to post "when I get a chance" but then the fire for the message dwindles. I begin to feel a gag sneak on my words/thoughts and I second guess whether anyone would even want to hear/read what I have to say until sleep comes upon me, a new day dawns, I look up and the whole idea is gone.

Such is the cycle of my writer's life.

And then today I was so convicted about my silence and had a revelation as I talked to a friend and read another inspiring blog. It's a serious revelation. You ready? This is BIG little stuff...seriously...wait for it...wait for it...I'M SCARED. I admit it (sorta). I'm one of those people who is filled with ideas, filled with motivation to start and often waylayed in trying to maintain and/or finish strong. I know it's just me (haha...suuuure...), so I'll just ask you to pray with me. Because, honestly, I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of allowing the enemy to win by making me self-conscious. I'm tired of feeling gagged by the enemy's lies...tired of feeling like there's stuff bubbling up inside of me just waiting to burst forward but then being too nervous to let it flow freely and with excellence and order and timeliness and commitment. If I am willy-nilly about my blogs, then you won't expect anything from me. You won't hold me to it. But I don't want that anymore. So I'm asking...no begging for accountability. I know I've been here before--where I try to get jump started again after my fears submerge my fingers. I could listen to the devil and throw in the towel and just say "forget it", but I was convicted today that God is a God of second, third...million chances. And so if there's a new opportunity to be obedient, to get closer to His Will, then I should reach out and grab it with gusto! I'm asking for you to reach out in email or comment and say "hey...we haven't heard from you in a while and you need to get on your job".

Because, in the end, it's not really my job that I need to get on. I need to remember it's not about me or being worried about what other people may think about what I have to say. In the end, it's God's business I need to be about. I feel like Jonah in the proverbial big fish running from this part of my call. All the rest of the stuff I've accepted with gusto and fervency. This side...not-so-much. So here I type...asking for your iron to sharpen my iron and help me in my quest for obedience.

Blessings,
MinD

Sounding Crazy But Oh So Satisfied

I've really been reflecting on just how ludicrous I sound when I tell people what it is that I'm doing. Most people can get excited when I tell them that I'm volunteering. They even get behind the idea of doing missions. And for those who have heard of Mercy Ships then it's another step in the right direction for them...that is until you explain that Mercy Ships is a purely volunteer mission. No matter how long you stay, each and every volunteer employee pays his/her way. Can you imagine?! It even sounds foreign to my own ears when I repeat it out loud. Who does this?!

Then I remember that I do. There are so many parts of my journey that have been challenging. Relationships have come and gone. I'm still waiting on Mr. Right to sweep me off my feet. Still no kids and my ovaries are withering. I'm still waiting on my financial ship to come in. But I have to admit that in the midst of it all, I'm extremely content in the place that I am. It doesn't mean I don't want more. The more I want means I am still leaving room for God to fulfill hopes and dreams and heart's desires. However, I'm not pining after those things and I've really been trying to cherish every single moment that comes my way.

And so I realized something after I got over the shock of how crazy I sound. I realized that I also sound satisfied. They say you're really doing something you love when you would do it for free, so I suppose that if you pay to do something then you are over the moon. And for today, I'll take that...

Set It Off...

I really do try my best not to compare myself to others. Over the years, I've tried to develop a good sense of worth--knowing that my ultimate worth comes from God and all that jazz... But the truth of it is that beyond that "Sunday School" answer. There are days when I feel nothing like that. Especially on a hospital ship where you're not a doctor or nurse. It can be easy to lose sight of the bigger picture and not feel like what you bring to the table is of value. Or if you're married, comparing yourself to your "free to mingle" single friends. And if you're single, envying the thighs and legs in your married friends' buckets... I mean I can quote Psalm 139:14 about how I'm fearfully and wonderfully made and sure of God's marvelous work in me; but then when I was being hateful last week or struggling with trying to bring every thought into subjection I didn't feel so wonderful or marvelously worked. .

So it made my walk the other day all-the-more special. I love how God works with me even in all my non-marvelosity (yes...I just made up a word). I was walking around the other morning and saw a daisy-like flower in the midst of the rose bush. And I thought to myself, "what would it be like to be that daisy amidst the roses?" It could go one of two ways: 1) I could decide that I am nothing compared to these fancy flowers that everyone covets or 2) I could decide that I am so FABULOUS that it only takes one of you to set it off.

Yeah...I'm I'm leaning towards the second option, and I'm hoping that today is one of those FABULOUS days for you too. #ThatIsAll!

Right F.O.C.U.S.

I've always struggled with the idea of writing for the sake of writing. I don't do it. If there's nothing pressing on my mind, you better believe that I probably won't keep to the "schedule" of email delivery that I thought would work best. But that's only part of it. Because the truth is there are times when God really is working something in my heart, mind and spirit and I'm being a bit of the proverbial ostrich with my head in the sand and not facing it. Because yeah...we all know the truth is that...once it's "out there" (When Harry Met Sally reference for those who do that kind of thing) then it's just plain "out there" and we all know that EVERYthing on the Internet is true...(riiiight...).

So, real talk...I've been in a particularly vulnerable place the last couple of years and I haven't necessarily felt like living that fully in front of everyone. I think that finally the Lord has convicted me enough to know that I can't continue to do this and I must FOCUS. So here I am...reviving the blog. And what's the first thing that God puts on my mind? A tape I've been playing in my mind for about 15 years now--I'm a "Jack (or Jill in this case) of all trades and a master of none".

You see, I had a friend tell me this as I was about to make a big move in my life. It was an interesting time and my friends had sat me down to basically "tell me about myself" and in the midst she said this thing: "Andrea, you're a Jack of all trades and a master of none" and then proceeded to tell me how I needed to decide what I wanted to master and focus. From that point forward, I became a bit self-conscious. Every time that I felt the Lord tugging in a different direction, I'd have her words in the back of my mind--focus. Every time I felt free to express myself in this creative way or the other--focus. Every time my life hasn't aligned with what "normal" people would do--focus. Every time my faith has challenged me--focus. Focus, focus, focus...until I finally got the revelation that GOD was the one who gifted me in many ways. And, though those gifts don't always make sense to someone from the outside looking in, but they do make sense to Him. He is the giver of every good gift. The fact that I can sing or write or take a picture or preach or teach or...well whatever...Should I just become a singer because that would lend to someone's definition of focus? Should I only write because that would mean I'm "focused".

I've decided to take her advice finally and FOCUS for real...I'm focusing on God and focusing on faith and focusing on using EVERYthing He gave me to meet the end goal--glorifying Him. And I continue to struggle with that tape playing. But at least at this point the tape is so warped that these days it doesn't have the same power it used to...And I'm praying that for you. I'm praying that your tapes begin to warp and eventually just plain stop working. I'm praying that as you walk in faith you maintain the right focus--Faith Obscuring Communication Unearthed by Satan.

Blessings,
MinD