i melted...

I've started to write this blog over and over again. I suppose that it's very telling that the topic that's been on my heart has also been what has kept me from writing. Today, I've decided to conquer my fears and insecurities...so here goes...

Last week, I found myself in tears. I wanted to scream out "I'm melting!!!" Now, I'm sure that there are a myriad of reasons that may have been so. Perhaps my hormones were amiss. Or maybe the heat was pounding my skull just so. However, no matter the reason, I found myself walking quickly to get to the safe haven of a closed room with a friend so that I could just let 'er rip. What's interesting about the conversation I'm having here with you is that I consider myself to be a pretty confident person. The truth is that I'm confident in my abilities but not always my self. I know what I know and don't know. I know what I can and can't do. I know who God says that I am and what I'm called to do. I even know how He looks at me. But, in that moment last week, when the tears threatened to drown me, I was sure that none of that mattered. Though there was a trigger, it wasn't one person or situation that was truly behind the flood.

I don't know how to say it except to say it. What I do as a minister of God...what I did before I came to Mercy Ships and what I will do long after I'm gone...it's personal. A lot of people can say that their job is their job and then home and spiritual and friends are their personal space. You may get upset at work with your boss and be pissed off with a coworker, but then you go home and your wife makes you dinner or your friends go to the movies with you and it's forgotten (at least until you head back to work). That's not always possible when what you do encompasses your home, your spiritual life, your friendships... That's hard enough when you're a leader at the same church you attend and find your friendships. Setting healthy boundaries becomes one of the bigger challenges for many pastors and leaders. I remember standing in service with my hands lifted high, in the midst of worship, tears running down my face and crying out to God when someone tapped me on my shoulder and asked me to help them in the back office with something administrative (I think it was the copy machine was jammed). I was furious that day! It became a symbol for how I knew many people would see me moving forward. And here on a ship...well...sigh...yeah...that's often a challenge. In fact it's magnified. You get the best and the worst of both worlds. You have people that want to talk to you at all hours of the day and night (which is fine to a certain extent since that's sort of what we're here for...to a certain extent) and then you have the many people who are very guarded around you because they are uncertain about who you'll tell or if you can be trusted so they won't even have real friendship-bearing conversations.

So yeah...it's personal. I'm sure you know that this task of water walking is not easy. Because at the end of the day, it makes for a lonely life at times and makes me doubt myself, my likability (and let's face it we all want to be liked)...and wonder how on earth the Lord called me this broken, boo-hooin' mess to care for his people. Now, I know I'm not special. I'm just telling my tale. There are many victorious and fulfilling sides to serving on the mission field. But there are challenges too. There are plenty of people who could give you the same story--particularly here on this ship we call work, home, life...the lines get crossed so often. There is the doctor who gets asked medical questions in the dining room, the nurse who gets asked to look at a rash while drinking coffee on her break, the human resources person who gets asked about vacation time when they are about to leave on their own days off, the mechanic who gets asked "what's that sound" when they are about to take their wife on a date, the teacher that gets asked to correct something when reading a book at Starbucks and so on... We all have the space to fuss and complain about how our world seems to bleed together. Today's just my day because I melted last week.

I felt compelled to share because maybe you melted last week too. Or perhaps you're on the verge of a meltdown. What I felt the Lord say to my spirit as I finished drying up my tears was that I was "allowing doubts to erode away my confidence". At the end of the day, the responsibility for healthy boundaries is ours. Saying "no" or "can we talk about that tomorrow during business hours" seems like the most irrational thing for a missionary to do. And sometimes things cannot wait or should not wait. But then there are the times when we do need to draw lines and we do need to set ourselves up for greater health and effectiveness. When we allow ourselves to get run down and pulled from all ends, those are the moments that we give the enemy the most room to infuse that doubt that puts chinks in our "whole armor of God". When we try to make like the Energizer bunny and keep going and going and going, our fatigue becomes a foothold for the devil and his imps to whisper words of discouragement in our ears.

I'm not writing this so that people will write back and encourage me. No...I can truly say that I made it to "the other side of through" because of God's grace and because of the angels he sends my way. Today, I want to encourage you that if the melt down is coming...find a friend, a chaplain, a pastor...someone who can stand in the midst of the puddle with you like I did. Find someone who will speak life while you melt and help you clean up the puddle once the tears have dried. The person I cried to, sent me the picture above. You need to have someone who will send you pictures and read you scripture and pour back into you once you've poured out. Whether your mission field is in a foreign country or in the home you were born and raised in, know that you are not alone and that God called you (yes you...broken, melted mess that you are...) because in your weakness, HE is made strong.

Be encouraged in this day to draw good boundaries and when all else fails...feel free to melt...

Blessings,
MinisterD

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